#i cannot stress enough how much of a workaholic office man this man is. he has neglected to be a father and husband for most of his life to- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ravennm84 · 3 years

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Doctor’s Note

We all know how Lila fakes having different diseases and medical problems, but what would happen if she actually got sick and her mother went to the school to drop off a doctor’s note and pick up Lila’s assignments? Want the answer? Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!

Greta Rossi could admit that she was a bit of a workaholic. Being the secretary to the assistant ambassador of Italy, in a city that was constantly under attack by a magical terrorist, was not the easiest job in the world either. It took a lot of early mornings, late nights, and even some weekends to make sure everything was prepared for her boss. But that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t drop everything for her one and only daughter when she needed her.

Right now, for example, Lila was trapped in bed with a nasty case of strep throat. The poor girl had a fever, white pustules at the back of her throat, and could hardly stop coughing. It was only due to some very strong medicine that she was able to stop coughing long enough to pass out from exhaustion.

She had contacted her work to let them know she would be taking the week off, and the ambassador had been very understanding. Stressing that he knew how dedicated she was to her work and that it was good for her to take time off for her family. It was only after Lila was sound asleep that she made the phone call to her school, she wanted to make sure they knew why Lila was staying home and that she would be in later that afternoon to pick up her daughter’s assignments for the next week.

The principal, M. Damocles was his name, seemed very happy to have spoken to her and said that he would have her assignments waiting when she came to pick them up. Also, if she could bring the doctors’ notes with her, that would be very much appreciated.

Checking again that Lila was sound asleep, she left a note on her daughter’s bedside table that she was running some errands, would be home soon, and to text her if she needed anything.

Arriving at the school, she was surprised to see everything running so smoothly and that the reconstruction after the two month akuma attack had been gone so well. She was impressed that she couldn’t even tell the difference between the old and new parts of the building. But then, she wasn’t overly skilled with architecture or building construction, so that wasn’t a surprise to her.

A few knocks on the door and she entered M. Damocles office. She had only met the man a couple times, but he had seemed like a decent person. It was a shame that he had been akumatized for so long and she was curious about what had happened to cause him to be akumatized, but she wasn’t sure if it was proper to ask him.

“Mme. Rossi, good to see you. I understand that Lila has fallen ill?” He asked, spinning around to grab a blue folder behind his desk.

“Yes, the poor dear has strep throat and has been coughing nonstop for days.” Greta told him as she pulled the doctor’s note from her purse. “Here’s the note you requested, do you have her homework packet?”

Damocles looked over the note for a moment before nodding and looking at her expectantly. “Thank you, do you have her other doctor’s notes?”

Greta tilted her head in confusion. “Does she need more than one? It’s just strep throat, she should be back to school after next week.”

“No madam, this is all I need for her current leave from school. I was referring to the doctor’s notes for her tinnitus, arthritis, sprained wrist, and her lying disease. That last one especially, and any information you can give me on accommodating that one so we do not have a repeat of the incident last month.”

Nothing in the world could have kept her jaw from dropping. What he had just told her? “M. Damocles, everything you just said is completely false. Lila has no such ailments, and I don’t think there is such a thing as a lying disease, unless you are referring to pathological lying.”

The man blinked back at her a few times before raising one hand to rub his brow. “Oh my, Mme. Rossi, I believe you and I must have a long discussion about the things your daughter has been saying and doing since she started school here.”

Her legs were stiff as she lowered herself into a chair, a sick feeling growing in her stomach as M. Damocles pulled a different folder out from his desk.

~oOo~

Over two hours later, many truths had finally come out.

1) The school had never closed for months due to akumas.

2) When M. Damocles had been akumatized, it had been at night and did no damage to the school.

3) Greta was not the ambassador, but a secretary.

4) Lila did not suffer from any diseases.

5) They had been in Paris since Lila had started school, no globetrotting whatsoever.

6) She and her husband were not estranged, he had simply wanted to stay at his dream job in Venice and she would never force him to leave it for her temporary assignment here in Paris.

7) Lila’s grandmother was alive and had never owned or given Lila a foxtail necklace.

8) The phone number on file was Lila’s number, not Greta’s. And the email was supposed to be ‘.gov’ not ‘.com’.

Damocles had also called one of Lila’s classmates to his office, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. When the principal told Greta about the incident from the previous month, she was shocked. Then Marinette told them her side of the story; all the lies, the threats, and finally setting the poor girl up to be expelled. Greta had never been so angry with her daughter in her life. Sure, she had been a good little story teller and actress when she was little, but she never would have thought she could be so cruel.

By the end of her explanation, Marinette was practically in tears.

When she mentioned that Adrien Agreste also knew of Lila’s lies, he was called to the office as well. He was a little more reluctant to talk about what Lila had been saying, but Greta insisted that she wanted to know what her daughter had been doing since coming to school, so he told her. If she hadn’t been disgusted before, she definitely was now. Getting Adrien’s father’s employees in trouble, lying about being friends with Ladybug all while telling Greta that she was a useless hero, sexually harassing Adrien while the boy didn’t even realize that was what she was doing to him. She had become a Gabriel model without her permission, which meant that Lila had likely forged her signatures on the contracts, so she would need to contact M. Agreste to get that sorted out. One of the things that surprised her was hearing that Lila had been akumatized, not once or twice, but three times!

Not long after that, M. Damocles dismissed the children so he and Greta could finish speaking. He told her that, due to falsifying contact records and two months of truancy, Lila was likely to be expelled. Greta accepted this, knowing that she would have done the same thing in that man’s position. In fact, she already had a plan forming on how to thoroughly punish her deceitful daughter. And since Lila had basically been quarantined for the next week and a half, she knew exactly what to do.

First, she began the paperwork to have Lila pulled out of Francois Dupont, effective immediately and asked to go speak to Lila’s classmates. After hearing what her daughter had put Marinette through, she wanted to make sure everyone knew the truth. Damocles allowed this, first pulling Mme. Bustier from the class to alert her as to what was happening. The woman was appalled to hear what had happened but insisted that she had been in contact with her for months via email, to which Greta informed her that it was not her email, but one that Lila had likely set up to keep the school from contacting her. This shocked the teacher to the point where she heavily leaned against the wall and M. Damocles had to support her to keep from collapsing.

When Greta was finally permitted to address the class and debunk the lies that her daughter had been spewing, there had been a lot of shock and questions to follow. But when a girl named Alya began furiously typing on her phone to blow up at Lila, Greta stopped her.

“I’m going to ask that none of you contact Lila from now on.” Alya and the other students looked at her in surprise, but she continued before anyone could interrupt. “I have already begun putting her punishment into motion and know for a fact that it will not be something she will forget anytime soon. So I ask that you do not call, text, or email her. If she attempts to contact you, tell her that you are busy and can’t talk. If she attempts to invite you over or make plans for the future, tell her that you are unavailable or that you already have plans. If she makes any threats or rude remarks to anyone, please forward those messages to me, I will leave my number for you to do so. Do this so that I may move forward with her punishment without her suspecting that I have discovered the truth.”

Having finally had the wool lifted from their eyes, the students realized just how much attention Lila seemed to demand on a daily basis. So, by acting like they were too busy for her or not in the mood to talk, that will drive her crazy and be a nice bit of revenge for lying to them. The class agreed.

After that, Greta headed home to find that Lila was still asleep but beginning to wake up, if the coughing was any indicator. While still having the chance, she called up her husband back in Venice.

“Pronto.”

“Mio amor, how are you? How are things at the school?”

“Ah, mia bella, the school is wonderful, though I must admit, my urge to see you and Lila grows by the minute. When will you come to visit me?”

“Very soon, actually. I’m afraid that you and I need to have a talk about our daughter.” About thirty minutes and a lot of cursing later, Ciro Rossi was now completely up to date on the actions of their daughter.

“I wish to say that I cannot believe Lila would do such things, but I can’t help remembering that boy, Roberto, from two years ago.”

Yes, Greta remembered him well. He had been a very popular boy at Lila’s school; handsome, rich, from a very well connected family, and from what she understood, completely dedicated to his boyfriend. She hadn’t paid him much attention until Lila came home crying that Roberto had attempted to sexually assault her. Greta and Ciro had refused to let such a thing go unchecked and went to the police to report him. During the weeks to follow, Roberto was put through hell; bullied at school, he was beaten up a few times, his boyfriend broke up with him, and his name slandered all over Venice. They had believed what happened to the boy to be justified… until proof was provided that he was nowhere near Lila when she claimed to have been assaulted.

She suddenly recanted her story, saying that she must have been mistaken and someone that looked like Roberto assaulted her, but the damage had already been done. The boy and his family moved somewhere far away, and Greta and Ciro were forced to pay restitution to Roberto for ruining his name and reputation. Through her tears, Lila convinced them that it had been an honest mistake and that she hadn’t meant for any of that to happen. It wasn’t long after that, Greta received an offer to be the secretary for the assistant ambassador in Paris. Lila had begged her mother to go with her, claiming that her classmates were now bullying her for what happened to Roberto. Wanting to protect their daughter, they agreed.

Looking back on it now, and noticing the similarities between Roberto and Adrien, both Greta and Ciro were disappointed in themselves for not seeing the truth. Which likely was that Lila had tried to get close to Roberto for his money and connections, and when he turned her down, she lied about the assault to ruin his life, much like she had done to Marinette. And when it came out that she had lied about Roberto, her classmates had turned on her. So when she got the chance to start somewhere new, with people who didn’t know about her lies, she took it. Not caring if she harmed anyone at her new school while repeating old habits. But they were not about to let Lila do the same thing to Adrien or Marinette. Once Greta told her husband her plan, he was all for it and began preparing things on his end. By the time Lila was done being sick, her entire life would have turned upside down.

~oOo~

It took a lot more effort than Greta had expected to hide her intentions for the nine days it took for Lila to get over her case of strep throat, but she had been making good use of that time.

She had contacted Gabriel Agreste’s secretary and asked about any contracts that may have been signed. When she told her she hadn’t signed any contract and that her daughter would no longer be modelling, the woman had no choice but to accept this and inform M. Agreste of this development. The woman also informed Greta that such a breach of contract would result in Lila being blacklisted from the fashion industry. She agreed and promised that she would inform her daughter of this once she was better.

Greta then looked into Lila’s savings and trust fund, of which she had control of since Lila was still a minor. She drained the accounts to pay restitutions to Marinette for bullying and slander, Adrien for sexual harassment; and then sent the rest of it to Roberto, along with a message that she was now completely aware of the type of person her daughter was and would be adequately punished very soon.

And to keep too much suspicion off of her, Greta began mentioning to Lila how her father desperately wanted to see her after she got better, so after the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, they would be going to Venice to see him. Now that she was watching, Greta saw the twinge of uncertainty at the mention of Venice, but quickly covered it with false excitement for going back to visit her father.

As the day grew closer that they would be heading to Italy, Greta also noticed Lila glaring at her phone with utter malice. She might not have known what was going on if Lila’s classmate, Alya, wasn’t keeping her up-to-date on what Lila was telling them. Her daughter was attempting to tell the class that she was going to be going on a trip with a famous singer after she was better, but her classmates were doing as Greta asked and treating the lies as if they meant nothing. When she accused Marinette of calling her a liar while she was sick and couldn’t defend herself, the class stopped responding.

One message that was forwarded to Greta nearly had her abandoning her plan and confronting her daughter at that moment. It was a message that Lila had sent to Marinette, who had shared it with Alya, who then forwarded it to Greta. It read:

You fugly, no talent bitch! You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Those stupid sheep were eating up every single one of my lies before I got sick, and now they won’t even talk to me! Just you wait. When I get back to school, I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself. Maybe I’ll convince someone that you tried to kill me and they’ll kill you for me. Either way, you’re dead. And even if you show someone these messages, no one will believe you over me.

Greta forwarded the message to Ciro as well. He called her right away to discuss other accommodations that they would be making for Lila in the coming days. There was something seriously wrong with their daughter, and they refused to turn a blind eye to what was happening.

When the day finally came that Lila was better and they were heading to Venice, Greta instructed Lila not to pack her more expensive clothes as she would not want to lose them if their baggage got lost. What her daughter didn’t know was that Greta was planning on selling all of her designer clothes, jewelry, her electronics, and everything else to continue paying restitutions to Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto. And it wasn’t like she would need them soon, anyway.

The plane ride was a bit nerve racking for Greta, as she worried about giving something away and Lila figuring out her plan; but if she did, it didn’t show. When they landed at Venice Marco Polo Airport, she had to resist her sigh of relief. The plan was almost ready to be put in action.

When she saw Ciro waiting for them in his dress whites, her heart sped a bit more. The man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she’d ever met, and was the love of her life. Being away from him for so long was difficult, but what else could they do? Her husband was a Capitano di Vascello of the Italian Navy and had worked very hard to get where he was. Although he was semi-retired now and no longer served on a ship, he had followed his dream and became the Vice Principal for the premier naval academy in Venice, Francesco Morosini Naval Military School.

He had gone to the school when he was younger and always claimed that it was the best experience he could have ever wished for. That being in that school saved his life. So when he continued into the navy to serve his country, he made it his goal to one day become the Principal of the school that saved him, so that he could do the same for other students. And now, they would be doing the same for Lila.

Greta and Ciro had thought of admitting Lila to Francesco Morosini when she came of age, but quickly realized that she was not the Navy type and did not want to force her into it. That choice was no longer Lila’s and she would be staying at the military school where it was Ciro’s job, not only as a father, but as an administrator of the school, to keep a close eye on any problem children.

Ciro embraced Greta and then Lila before taking their bags and walking them to his car. Lila was talking at length to her father about all her friends at school, all the happenings in Paris, and even mentioned her boyfriend, Adrien Agreste.

“You would like him, Papa. He’s a model, a gentleman, and his father is the designer, Gabriel Agreste. And he treats me like a princess!” Lila gushed as she showed her father a picture of Lila kissing the blonde boy’s cheek. Greta had seen that picture and had even asked Adrien about it while they had spoken in M. Damocles office. Lila had apparently kissed him without permission when she took that picture, and then sent it to every girl in Adrien’s contact list to make it seem like they were dating.

Ciro played along, asking questions about her classes, Adrien, the akuma situation that he had heard about over the news, and other things to keep Lila from growing suspicious. Sure enough, she prattled on through the entire car and ferry ride to Venice. Only seeming to look around questioning when they arrived at the Naval school, rather than their apartment.

“What are we doing here?” She asked, looking at her father in confusion.

The two parents dropped the act and glared at their daughter in disappointment and anger. “I’m surprised at you, young lady,” Greta started. “Did you really think you could keep lying to us? We. Know. Everything.”

They watched as her olive skin quickly paled. “What do you mean? I didn’t lie, I sw-”

“We know the school never closed,” Ciro interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument or interruption. “We know about you lying to your classmates and teachers about having disabilities and diseases. We know about you changing our contact information on your school records. We know about you bullying and sexually harassing your classmates. We know about the threats you’ve made to that one girl. We know that you’ve been akumatized multiple times. We know the truth about what you really did to Roberto two years ago! WE KNOW EVERYTHING!”

With every word he said, Lila seemed to inch away from her irate parents and shrink into herself. At the same time, they saw the rage and contemplation in her eyes. She was angry at being caught and was already trying to think of a way out of trouble. Not that they would give her a chance to even try.

“But I didn’t li-”

“Lie number one, Ladybug is a useless superhero that let your school get damaged and spent months trying to deakumatize your principal, which is why you were out of school for two months.” Greta interrupted that time, pinning her daughter with a glare that she usually reserved for idiot interns who screwed up important paperwork at the embassy. “I personally spoke to your principal and looked into Ladybug. The school never closed. Ladybug and Chat Noir have always defeated the akumas and restored the damage thanks to their abilities. And you told the school that you and I were off globetrotting to places like Achu.”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. She was just beginning to stammer out an excuse when her father spoke over her.

“Lie number two, a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been bullying you because she is jealous of your relationship with your boyfriend, Adrien Agreste. We have seen the texts that you have sent that girl, the most recent saying,” Ciro pulled out his phone to read off of the text “‘...I’m going to ruin you in every way imaginable. No one will want to be your friend. By the time I’m done with you, I hope you kill yourself…’ Does that sound familiar to you?”

“I also personally spoke to Adrien after I spoke to Marinette, and found out that not only are you not his girlfriend, but you have been sexually harassing him! You even showed us proof in that picture you took where you kissed him!”

“But that’s not sexual harassment!” Lila shot back at them as her panic grew.

“Any unwelcome sexual advances, requests for sexual favors, and other verbal or physical conduct of a sexual nature constitutes sexual harassment. Your mother and I memorized that when you accused Roberto of assault, which is another thing you lied about! And let me guess, you wanted to use that boy’s popularity and family connections for a leg-up, but he turned down your advances since he was gay. You didn’t take that rejection well, so you told us he assaulted you. Is that what happened?”

“How did you-” Lila interrupted herself that time by slapping her hand over her mouth, quickly realizing that she had confirmed what her father had just said.

“Well, congratulations young lady. You have earned a complete overhaul on your life.”

“What do you mean?” Lila didn’t want to know, but it seemed like she had no choice but to ask.

“Your modelling contract with Gabriel is done,” Greta told her, noticing her wince since they weren’t supposed to know about that either. “I spoke with his assistant and discovered that you forged my signatures on the contracts to let you model. They were kind enough not to pursue legal action against you, but they have asked that I inform you that you have been blacklisted from the fashion industry, so that career option is completely closed off to you.”

“Your mother educated your friends at school with the truth. They know about all your lies and have kept us apprised of what you have been saying, the rumors you have been attempting to spread about going on a trip with a random music star, and were kind enough to forward that threatening message you sent to that girl, Marinette. They are no longer interested in being your ‘sheep’.”

“Not that you will be returning to that school,” Greta continued. “Your truancy has made that impossible, even if we did want you to stay there to face the consequences of your actions. Which includes paying restitution to the people you’ve hurt.”

“Paying!” Ciro and Greta watched as Lila’s right eye began to twitch as she snapped at them.

“Yes, paying. I’ve already emptied out your savings and trust fund to pay back Marinette, Adrien, and Roberto for what you’ve done to them-”

“You can’t do that! That’s my money!” She screamed, stomping her foot at her mother like a five year old throwing a tantrum.

“Money that you earned illegally modelling after forging my signature. And you are a minor, I am well within my rights to take that money to pay for the damages you have incurred. I will also be selling your laptop, tablet, mobile phone, as well as the clothes and jewelry you left in Paris. Seeing as you won’t be needing them anymore.”

As she said this, Lila clutched her phone and hugged it against her chest. “How am I supposed to talk to anyone without my phone?”

“Pen and paper, and if you need to speak with your mother, there’s my office phone or the payphone in the barracks, where you will be staying.”

The girl’s eyes grew impossibly wide as she looked at her parents in a panic. They couldn’t mean…

Ciro smiled the smile that he used to greet the families whose children were in need of discipline. “Welcome to Francesco Morosini Naval Military School, where we strive to give children an education that will help them for their future and the world that waits for them.”

~oOo~

There had been a lot of begging, crying, and screaming after that as Lila did everything she could to try and change her parents’ minds. This was a total nightmare for her. Forced to wear a uniform she hated. Surrounded by students, teachers, and her father; all of whom knew that she was a liar. No one gave her the type of attention she craved, but everyone was giving her the overly watchful attention she despised. She couldn’t even enjoy becoming an akuma anymore, as she was far out of Hawkmoth’s reach.

Greta and Ciro had gone out to dinner afterwards in an attempt to de-stress, only to get a call an hour later that Lila had tried to steal a boat and run away from the school. She was put on a 24/7 watch after that, now required to wear a tracking monitor wherever she went and was on bathroom and floor cleaning duty for the foreseeable future.

When Greta returned to Paris, she went about doing exactly as she promised. She sold Lila’s electronics, clothes, and jewelry; only keeping a pair of plastic stud earrings that her grandmother had given her. She met with M. Damocles again to let him know that everything had been taken care of. She contacted the Dupain-Cheng family to let them know that Lila wouldn’t be bothering their daughter again. That was probably the most pleasant thing she did, as they were a lovely family and sent her off with a box of assorted scones, so yummy! When she had them send a box of goodies to her husband in Venice, he called her a few days later and begged her to send more whenever she could.

Lila absolutely hated seeing her father enjoy pastries from the bakery of her rival’s family. That, along with being forced to talk to a psychiatrist three times a week to make her admit that she was a liar and to figure out why she feels the need to lie. All while wearing a horrible uniform and actually having to clean. She was in her own personal hell. How she wished that she had never gotten sick.

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#lila salt #lila gets exposed #lila lies #lila karma #lila bashing #mlbjustice #miraculous ladybug #lila's parents #parenting done right

883 notes · View notes

therenlover · 3 years

Note

can we get some modern hux as a boyfriend headcanons

You know what? Yes, you can anon! (I need to put down some inspo for a requested fic anyway, so here goes nothing!)

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

18+ headcanons will be marked with a line towards the end!

WARNINGS: Mentions of childhood abuse (aka Brendol Hux’s A+ Parenting)

First of all, Armitage works somewhere pretty high profile. I like to lean towards it being a pretty generic big office where they do nondescript business things and make lots of money, but I’ve considered that he’d be great working at a law firm too.

He’s also a workaholic

This means he’s busy like... always.

You want to grab lunch? Sorry, there's a huge meeting with the higher-ups that day and he needs to get a raise before Pryde does. You want to take a weekend trip? Well too bad because a big case is coming up and he needs to be in the office until 8pm every day.

That being said, if you ever brought it up to him that he spent more time pulling extra hours at the office than with you, he would be more than a little mortified and do his best to try to balance things a little more evenly, even if it meant losing a promotion to Ben “Nepotism” Solo because losing you would be so much worse.

Speaking of which, you’d also have to get to know his only 3 friends- his bestie Phasma, his work frenemy Ben, and his assistant Mitaka- pretty well because they tend to show up uninvited at random times.

A lot of the time you spend together with ‘Tidge (his nickname, because he hates it less than Armie and saying Armitage 20 times a day can be a real mouthful) is at his big-ass apartment. Date nights on the town are lovely every once in a while, but Hux doesn’t exactly know how to act like a normal person in public,

Before moving in with him, you’d just drop by after work every day and spend some time with Millicent while waiting for him to get home. Once you do live there you’d pretty much do the exact same only in your pajamas.

He likes to know that, once he gets home from the insane stress of work, his two favorite things are sitting there waiting for him.

Hux outside the privacy of his own home is, to put it kindly, a man who constantly acts like he has a stick up his ass. When he’s home with you though? Completely different dude.

Lots of kisses and affection are MUSTS for him because, after his childhood, he craves a lot of physical affection and he only trusts you to give it to him. It’s all in private, though, because he’s uncomfortable with the idea of being seen as weak

The two of you have a lot of little rituals around the house that make him feel more secure.

Like every day he sits on the floor between your legs while you sit on the couch and brush the gel out of his hair. It takes about 15 minutes and you both just sit and talk about your days. He loves the feeling on your hands running through his hair after a long day. It makes even the worst days bearable when he knows he has that to come home to.

Armitage also loves to cook dinner for you.

You always try to insist that he’s worked late so you could do it, or you could just order in, but he loves to cook for you and thinks it’s a great way to show his affection. Surprisingly, he’s a pretty great chef.

If you ever met his father, which Hux would try to prevent with literally all his might, it would probably go very, very poorly, because the second Brendol made some asshole remark about your boyfriend being less-than-enough you’d defend him.

And the second Brendol started getting on you about anything, Hux would just beat the shit out of him. Because it’s one thing for his father to ridicule him in front of people, but you? No way.

He refuses to let anyone make you feel the way his father made him feel, even if it means standing up to him for the first time.

Also, Armitage is rich. Like, old-money rich. And even if his dad tried to get him cut off from the fund his mother put in place for him during the divorce, he makes enough money at his job that it doesn’t really matter.

Basically, expect ridiculously expensive gifts.

If you don’t like gifts or don’t want him to ‘waste money’ on you (which would never be the case, but he wants you to be happy) he’ll spend the money on things you both enjoy instead, like really good ingredients for dinner or a new mattress made exactly the way you need it to fic your back pain.

--------- 18+ from this point on! ---------

Armitage isn’t very confident in bed, but he makes up for that with enthusiasm and pure skill.

It’s more comfortable for him to be on top. He likes to feel like he’s always in control of the situation because it’s already kinda weird for him to be so vulnerable and exposed. That being said he trusts you more than anybody else. If being on top is what you want then he’ll try it.

Even when it comes to getting pegged/fucked, he’d be open to it, but only if you were the one doing it. (he’d probably be a crier as a sub tho, fair warning)

He tends to get self-conscious when it comes to his scars, they’re a reminder of his ‘failure’ in the eyes of his father, but some nights when you make love you kiss them and tell him all the things you love about him to try to give him something else to think about when he sees them.

‘Tidge LOVES giving head

You never would have guessed it, he does seem like the kind of guy who will take what he wants to chase his own release, but he really just likes making you feel as good as possible at all times.

Hux tends to cum second. His whole goal is to make you feel as good as possible and that usually means taking care of your needs before his, but even when he neglects himself you take care of him (in the bedroom and outside of it)

Both at home and at work he wears a lot of suits, so if a sharp-dressed man is a turn-on for you, congratulations.

He tends not to go for quickies, they’re too reminiscent of work to him where the idea is to do as much as possible in a short amount of time, but sometimes if you show up at the office with flowers or lunch he’ll take you in his office.

Finally, he has surprising stamina.

No, like... surprising.

For someone who looks like a fucking twig and works in an office all day, he can absolutely keep up with whatever you throw at him.

--------

a/n: whew! This was like a writing warm-up before a marathon! I know Hux is definitely not the main bitch I post about on this blog, but he was my first love. Technically, even my username is paying homage to him (and Kylo, who I love dearly but cannot stand a lot of the time lol) I loved returning to my roots for this one. Thanks for the request anon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @another-emotional-wreck , @lovelymischief

#hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #hux x reader #star wars #brendol hux's A+ parenting #headcanon

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years

Text

hypothesis

Part 16 of Whumptober 2020

Fandom: The Magnus Archives Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Tim Stoker, Georgie Barker, Annabelle Cane Tags: Whump, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Body Horror, Unreality

Read on Ao3

It was probably foolish, Jon thinks belatedly. To assume that the second time he looked toward their next destination and saw nothing but nothing, it would be another utopia. A place to rest. Peace, even if he wouldn’t remember it.

This place is none of those things. Jon doesn’t know if this thing of spiraling webs and fractured realities has ever truly known peace. It might have once been Hilltop Road, if something as simple as a name could ever be assigned to a place that isn’t a place. Now, it’s less a where and more a when. And when is now, and then, and will be.

It’s everything that has never been, and Jon does not deal in hypotheticals.

The threshold steps over him, and he begins to fracture.

“Here you go.”

Soft hands pass Jon a steaming mug of black tea—stronger than he usually takes it, but with enough milk and sugar to compensate. The steam fogs his glasses, and in the moment it takes them to clear, he remembers cold beaches, and figures dissolved into mist, and the last cries of a man who only wished to die alone. Then, his vision clears, and it’s gone. And Martin’s there, his skin a vibrant mix of pinks and peaches that wash away the greyscale still lingering at the edges of Jon’s vision. “Thank you,” Jon says, and he marvels at the way a simple set of words coaxes a wider smile onto Martin’s face.

“So,” Martin says, settling next to Jon on the soft green couch they’d picked out a few weeks prior as an ‘early Christmas present for themselves’. “How was your day?”

Jon takes a long sip of his tea. “Oh, you know. Grading papers and trying to pretend like I don’t supernaturally know the answer to every question I’m asked.”

“So, the usual?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Jon curls tighter into Martin’s side, unable to hold back a soft sigh of contentment as Martin’s lips press gently against the crown of his head. “You?”

“Bread is still bread, and when you own a bakery, bread is pretty much all there is,” Martin says, which draws a soft chuckle from Jon. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

He reaches behind him and pulls out a small, tightly-wrapped package. He presses it into Jon’s hands with a delighted anticipation. “I got you something.”

“I can see that,” Jon says, amused. He turns it over in his hands; it has an unusual weight to it, and it yields slightly under his touch. “What is it?”

“If I told you it would ruin the surprise!” Martin chides. “Just open it!”

Jon smiles, and tears away the paper.

And freezes.

“Martin,” he says slowly, nausea rising from within him. “What… what is this?”

Martin grins, and he has too many teeth. “It’s my heart!” he says pleasantly.

The heart pulses in Jon’s hands, and he drops it on instinct. It hits the ground with a wet splat.

Martin looks at him, with a face slanted just a bit to the left, and says, “Why? Why did you do that, Jon? Do you not want it?”

The heart continues to beat, and Martin begins to laugh, and Jon begins to scream.

Jon’s convulsing on the ground, and Martin doesn’t know what to do.

“Jon, Jon, Jon!” Martin says, placing as firm of hands as he thinks is safe on Jon’s shoulders and squeezing tightly, if only to keep him from knocking his head against the wall. “Oh, fuck, please wake up Jon. I- I don’t know what to do.”

He hesitates, then places a hand on Jon’s face, trying to get him to- well, to what, Martin doesn’t exactly know. But he has to do something.

Jon’s eyes snap open in a brilliant flash of green and silver, and when they meet Martin’s, Martin can see everything.

No. Not everything. Everything that’s not. The spaces between what’s known, what’s real. The stories never written, never known, never archived. It’s a spiraling, metaphysical blind spot, and it’s tearing Jon apart.

Martin tries to blink, but he can’t look away.

“Hey, boss!”

Jon sighs, setting his mug aside. “I really wish you would stop calling me that, Tim.”

Tim grins and leans against Jon’s desk, his hand casually brushing Jon’s as he sets it lightly on the desk beside him. “Well, you know what they say about old habits. Besides, it’s only been—what, a week since you fired me? I believe I’m entitled to a bit of a grace period.”

“Tim,” Jon says, in the voice of someone long-suffering. “I did not fire you. I had you and Sasha and Martin transferred from the Archives.”

“Potato, potahto,” Tim says with a pout. This time, the brush of his hand is less than casual as he takes Jon’s hand deftly in his own and presses a chaste kiss to Jon’s knuckles. “You just didn’t want to deal with those pesky office romance guidelines. I know you saw last month’s email about them.”

Jon snatches his hand back, trying very hard to ignore the hot flush rising to his cheeks. “I- I did- that was not a part of my considerations!”

“Just a very fun coincidence, then,” Tim says with a wink and a shrug. “Either way, as pleased as I am that we can all stop dancing around each other at work—because I know it was starting to stress Martin out; that man is not as subtle as he thinks he is, particularly when he starts leaving half-finished cups of tea all over the flat, because we both know his nervous tick is making tea—I do have to wonder whether you intend to organize the entire Archives by yourself now. Even you, a chronic workaholic, have to acknowledge that that’s just a bit unreasonable.”

Jon sighs and runs a tired hand down his face. “Yes, I- I know. I just—well, you heard the tape. I… I’m stuck here. According to Gertrude—"

“If she’s even remotely telling the truth, and not just incredibly senile.”

“—I’m in danger now, and I will be until… until I die. Until something kills me.” Jon feels the terror rising within him again, the kind that had given him many sleepless nights shaking with panicked sobs, with two pairs of arms trying to wring from him the fear that now sits nestled so snugly within him. “But you—all of you—you don’t have to be. This- this place, it’s not safe for any of us, but if it’s just me down here, I… I think you’ll be safe.”

Tim hums, as if in thought. Then: “Well, that’s just bullshit.”

Jon sighs, because he knows what Tim’s going to say, because they’ve had this conversation so, so many times since Jon had uncovered the tape, covered in dust and cobwebs and tucked neatly under a loose floorboard. “Tim, I am not having this argument again, you know that I’ve done the research and what Gertrude said checks out—”

“No, that’s not it,” Tim says, and when Jon looks up, he sees that Tim is smiling, ever so slightly. “You think we’re safe? That locking yourself down here, scared and alone, is safe? I’m still going to die, Jon.”

Jon recoils slightly. “Wh… what?”

Tim’s smile grows wider, and his skin begins to peel away from his face. “I’m still going to be stripped, slowly, of everything that makes me me, and I’m going to die alone, and scared, and it’s going to be all your fault.”

Jon scrambles back, away from his desk, and hits something warm and yielding behind him. Its breath hits his neck, hot and sticky, and he doesn’t dare turn around. “No, no it’s- it’s going to be okay, because I know now! I know, so- so I can fix this!”

Tim laughs, then, and it bursts every blood vessel in Jon’s ears. “That’s always been your problem, Jon.” He closes the gap between them and places a hand slick with blood beneath Jon’s chin, tilting his head so their eyes meet. Or, at least, where Tim’s eyes used to be. What used to be eyes. “Knowing.”

He presses a harsh, bitter kiss to Jon’s lips, and it swallows him whole.

Jon’s lying on the dirt and broken sod outside the shifting place that had once been Hilltop Road, and he isn’t breathing. But his eyes are wide—so, so wide, staring up at nothing, glazed over with a dull silver that reminds Martin, unsettlingly, of a blind man, trying desperately to remember what it felt like to see.

“Jon, please wake up,” Martin begs, holding Jon’s face between his hands and trying to cut through whatever fog has overtaken Jon’s sight, continuing to consume him from the inside out. “We’re out—you’re here now, you’re safe. Please, just- just wake up. The Eye can see you here, it- it should be able to help. Why isn’t it helping?”

“Because what he’s seen cannot be unseen,” a mild voice says, and the face that Martin sees when he turns abruptly to face the speaker is all too familiar. “I’m afraid,” Annabelle Cane continues, “that this is a bell that cannot be unrung. No matter how much you may wish it so.”

Harshly, Martin says, “This is your fault.”

Annabelle looks amused. “Hardly. That place belongs to no one now. Not to the Mother, and certainly not to the Eye. It is… perhaps the only truly free thing that still exists in this world.”

“How,” Martin says, his voice tight, “do I bring him back?”

“You can’t.” Annabelle stares at them with something that might be pity, if it weren’t masked by the barest hint of a smile. “Not without sacrificing something in return.”

Martin doesn’t hesitate. “Show me.”

Annabelle’s teeth flash white as her smile emerges in full. “As you wish.”

“I just think it’s a bit… unrealistic, that’s all.”

Georgie snorts, nudging Jon’s side with a bony elbow. “Oh, sure, because when I decided to make a podcast about supernatural phenomena, realistic was my first priority.”

“I just- ghosts?” Jon lets out a small laugh of disbelief. “I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.”

“Ghosts? Eh. Maybe, maybe not. The supernatural? Definitely.”

Jon hums, idly scratching underneath the Admiral’s chin where he sits curled on Jon’s lap. He earns a soft noise of content for his efforts. “I don’t suppose you have any evidence of—”

“Yes, yes, because god forbid we believe in anything without evidence.” Georgie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling when she continues, “You could still help, you know. Could be interesting to have the whole skeptic angle going on. People would eat that shit up.”

“Plus, someone has to be there to reign in your frankly excessive use of sound effects.”

Georgie’s elbow meets Jon’s side again, more firmly this time. “Okay, rude.”

Jon opens his mouth, perhaps to make another remark about Georgie’s tendency to ‘overuse slang to the point of incomprehensibility,’ when a motion just behind Georgie’s shoulder stops him cold.

Georgie frowns at him. “Jon, what—?”

The figure moves again, materializing out of the shadows—or perhaps out of the wall entirely, it’s hard to be sure—and Jon hisses, “Georgie, behind you.”

Georgie turns, and freezes. For a moment, Jon thinks that she’s just scared—paralyzed with fright, that someone’s broken into their flat, and she’s trying very hard not to make herself a target.

Then, he sees the pale white hands, wrapped around her wrists and arms and throat, and he’s sure they hadn’t been there before, but now they’re squeezing, and Georgie is slowly choking, her face draining of color to match the hands in pallor, and the Admiral’s vanished, and—

And the figure is standing next to him now, looking at him with something he can only describe as desperation. “Jon, wake up. This isn’t real. This isn’t you.”

Jon can’t stop staring at Georgie as she finally, horrifyingly, goes limp, and the hands slide away in slick satisfaction. He reaches out, like he’s going to touch her, like he’s going to do something to fix this, but his hand stalls halfway there, and he just lets out a strangled sob.

“Jon. Jon, look at me.” There’s a hand, turning his face toward the figure, toward icy blue eyes and soft cheekbones and ginger curls that Jon somehow knows are soft to the touch. “Look at me, and tell me what you see.”

Jon stares into eyes that are entirely unfamiliar, and at a face that he is sure he does not know, and feels a hand that has never touched his squeeze it tightly. “I… I don’t…”

The hand cupping his face strokes a thumb over his cheekbone, so gently. “Jon. Look at me.”

Jon Looks. And everything else falls away.

Jon doesn’t need to know, Martin thinks, as they flee from the when that had never been Hilltop Road. About Annabelle, and about what had happened in that place that’s already slipping like water on wax from Jon’s memory, and about what Martin had to do to get him back.

About what Martin had to leave behind.

And as they walk further from that place that the Eye is blind to, and Martin feels the first of his memories begin to fade away, he remembers the way that Jon had blinked up at him, as if awaking from a trance, and said, “Martin,” and he knows that it was worth it.

#whumptober2020 #no.16 #hallucinations #the magnus archives #fic #body horror tw #unreality tw

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star-birthmark · 4 years

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H-hello! I really enjoy your writing ^_^ I was wondering if I could get something with Prosciutto? I haven't been feeling well and just been pretty down lately. Something like Prosciutto taking care of his sick partner ;w ; ignorethisifitstoomuchthankyoubye!

*gets a notification* Oh nice what’s this?….. *sees one of my favorite blogs has requested something from me* ……*says they enjoy my writing*….. *puts all other requests neatly aside and then screams*

Alright well besides the point, writing this truly warmed by heart. I’m not feeling that hot either so this helped me feel better. Anyway, enjoy some extremely adorable domestic Prosciutto!

Without further ado: Nurse Duty: Prosciutto x Reader (1.7k words)

It had been -and one cannot stress this enough- a very long time since Prosciutto rolled up his sleeves and actually did something on his own. Well, other than killing someone. The man lived with a sense of heightened standards. He felt like if he didn’t know how to do something, why would he attempt it when he could just pay someone else to do it? Not only that, but the man was a famed workaholic. If he did know how to do something, why would he waste his time having someone else do it incorrectly for him? Everyone on the team knew that was the case, which is why when Risotto Nero called his teammate’s house phone that fine Monday morning to ask why he wasn’t at work, the capo was shocked by his senior assassin’s answer.

“So you’re not coming to the hideout today?”

“Afraid not. Is there anything you need of me? I checked and I don’t have any missions.”

Risotto remained shocked. “I don’t know I mean, there’s some paperwork- wait you’re really not coming to work today?”

Prosciutto rolled his eyes. “No Ris I’m not- wait shit did I put too much broth in there?”

Risotto raised an eyebrow as he heard various clicks and clangs over the phone.

“What are you even doing over there? It’s not like you to just skip a day.”

“Look I mean if nothing’s, urgent, would you mind if I took the day off? You gave Ghiaccio a whole week to go see the Olympic figure skating qualifier- Okay, so that’s 4 cloves of garlic…”

“Well, I mean that might be but you never miss work- again, what are you even doing?”

The constant knocking of a knife against a wooden cutting board filled the capo’s ears, followed by a loud sizzle of a pan against flame, and then more clanging. Risotto chuckled, leaning back in his office chair.

“Since when do you cook?” Proscuitto gulped, not wanting his image to be tarnished.

“I don’t, not usually anyway, it’s just that (y/n) hasn’t been feeling well since last night, so I’ve been on nurse duty. I asked her if she wanted anything specific, and she said she wanted me to remake the Italian wedding soup I made for our one year anniversary.”

Risotto couldn’t help but chuckle teasingly at his friend, not expecting such a hardened criminal to be cooking up a storm like some Sicilian grandma.

“Well well, I could never have expected the great world-renowned assassin Prosciutto to have such a sensitive side, or for him to be such an attentive husband.”

Prosciutto groaned in annoyance into the phone. “Thanks, you really know how to make a guy feel appreciated sir.”

Risotto smiled. “I do remember you served it at a party for Melone’s birthday, it was very good.”

“Well can you leave me alone to make it? I’ll come into work tomorrow, I got a mission with Pesci anyway.”

With that, Risotto hung up, leaving Prosciutto to keep working. Of course, though, he didn’t get too far until he heard the familiar raspy voice calling to him from down the hall. Soon leaving the food to cook, Prosciutto entered your shared room together and sat at the edge of the bed while you laid in it on your back. You were dressed in your comfiest pajamas, consisting of small shorts and one of your husband’s undershirt. Prosciutto couldn’t help but feel his breath hitch in his throat seeing you.

“What do you need dear?” He asked.

“My whole body feels warm, could you get me the thermometer?”

Your doting husband gets it and places it under your tongue, glancing at the beeping result.

“103 still.” You sighed heavily at his answer.

“Well, no wonder I still don’t feel well.” Proscuitto patted you lovingly on the head.

“What did I tell you? I warned you.” You looked up at him, annoyed at his words.

“I know what you told me.”

“Nah ah.. Say it with me…”

“Fine… If you go out for date night in a short strapless dress with only a light jacket in the middle of winter, you’re going to get sick.”

Prosciutto laughed, watching you cutely pout in such a perfect fashion as the two of you spoke his wide words at the same time. You sighed, you only dressed that way so everyone else in public would back off from your handsome spouse, it certainly backfired though. Proscuitto looked at you with a grin on his face.

“You did look really sexy though.”

After firmly smacking him on the arm for his crude words, you couldn’t help but yawn and rub your tired eyes. Your headache wasn’t exactly helping you sleep, despite how exhausted you were. Sitting up in bed with a stretch, you watched as a smile came to your husband’s lips as he thought about how cute you were. Prosciutto chuckled as you rolled your eyes at him. You reach over and take a sip of the tea he had made for you. Peppermint, your favorite. Your body was then overcome with a sneeze, your husband ready with a tissue box and a “bless you” for you. You nodded in appreciation.

“Who was on the phone?”

“Risotto. He was wondering why I wasn’t at work. I told him I was taking care of you.”

“Do you need to be there?” You were scared he’d leave.

“No. I’ve got nothing today. He did make fun of me for cooking for you since I never really do that.”

You smiled at the thought of being the only person on Earth to take such a stick in the mud out of his comfort zone. Damn, if you weren’t feeling so terrible, you’d probably kiss him in gratitude, but he made you swear that you wouldn’t spread your germs. A rush of coughs comes up to your throat and you look away from him out of courtesy, sighing a bit as your husband ran his hand up and down your back. You groan from the pain in your chest and laid back down in bed, shyly bringing the blanket up to your chin for warmth. Prosciutto got up from the bed and went into his wardrobe, changing from his soup stained t-shirt into one of his comfy crewnecks. Your eyes gaze upon you handsome love, so willing to take care of you even if it compromises his tough-guy image a bit. Still, you couldn’t help but tease him just a tad.

“And to think, today was gonna be the day I’d finally go on a solo mission with Illuso!”

Prosciutto rolled his eyes as he slipped the sweater for his head. “I’m not playing this game with you (y/n).”

You chuckle at his tone. “Ugh his hair is so amazing and he’s got the greatest personality on the team, and don’t even get me started on his muscles my go-ah!”

You cackle in delight as Prosciutto pounced over you on the bed in order to shut you up with a small but sweet kiss to your lips. Your cheeks flush bright red as he smirks at you.

“Can Illuso do that huh? Kiss you? Not without me killing him anyway.”

“Be jealous all you want Prosci, but you gave in and kissed me so now you got all my germs ha!”

The timer on the oven beeped loudly throughout the whole house. Prosciutto rolled his eyes as you squealed with excitement at the coming soup, his large coming atop your head to playfully ruffle your hair. Soon, he came back with a bowl of the soup, and you eagerly take a spoonful, only to yelp.

“Prosci! It’s too hot!”

“Of course it’s hot! It’s right off the stove!”

“Hmph… it’s really good though.”

Prosciutto grinned wit pride. “You’re damn right it is.”

The two of you have the soup together in silence for a while. Every once in a while, when he would see your tired hand shaking while holding up the spoon, he would grab the bowl and spoon from you and feed you the soup himself, all with a gentle smile on his face. He’d go back and forth between the kitchen and the bedroom to get you more, he’d rush to the living room to grab you more pillow to support your aching back, he’d rush to the medicine cabinet to get to something for your headache. And in the back of your mind the whole time, you couldn’t help but feel extremely pampered. There, right in front of you, was your husband sitting with you in bed, looking out the window towards the city. Someone who cared so much about being stern, professional, and unemotional, was caring so tenderly for you. You stared down at your soup, your lip beginning to tremble. Prosciutto looked over at the sound of small droplets hitting the soup, his eyes widening with worry as he saw tears running down your cheeks. Quickly setting both of your bowls down, he rushed to wrap you in his arms.

“What’s wrong (y/n)? Are you feeling worse?”

You shake your head. “No… I’m just so glad to have you in my life Prosciutto. We always have to be so careful of who we surround ourselves with. We don’t know who’s going to hurt us or help us. I’m just so happy to have a wall in my life to always lean on… you.”

Prosciutto sighed and kissed the top of your head as you nestled into his chest, his face bright red. God how were so damn adorable, even when you didn’t mean to be? Gently letting go of you, Prosciutto leaned down to lay next to you in bed. You put your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Prosciutto reached around to stroke your hair.

“You just get better (y/n). That’s what we told each other at the altar isn’t it? In sickness and in health?”

You rolled your eyes. “Pff… cheesy.” Prosciutto smiled. “I know.”

It wasn’t long until the two of you drifted asleep, dreaming of a long life together as the sky darkened over the city. Prosciutto held you close in his arms, with thoughts of going back to work being the very last thing on his mind. All he could think about was you.

#jjba hc #jjba #jjba writing #prosciutto #golden wind #la squadra #fem reader #jojo writing #part 5 #vento aureo

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 7 years

Text

Rafael Barba / In Sickness...

Imagine having to take care of Barba when he’s sick.

So if this hasn’t been done a million and one times.... So I love the idea of having to take care of Barba when he’s sick, because I feel like he’s really stubborn and would hate that a little cold could take him down like this. He stands up to rapists, murderers, and gangsters, but a little cold and he cannot function. This is me though since I tend to get sick before/after midterms/finals or when I’m super stressed and I am also a workaholic like Barba soooo.

Barba hadn’t shown up to the office today, you noted with some curiousity. You tapped your pen on your desk, recalling the handful of times he’s been out of the office for this long without prior notice. Well more work for you, you sighed, glancing at the pile of briefs and motions in front of you, before getting to work. Either way, it would be nice to get some work done without him watching over your shoulder for once. You had just gotten to work, when your phone started to vibrate. It spasmed, informing you of several messages that had come through. You checked the phone, spotting Barba’s name flashing at the top of your notifications. You unlocked your phone, only for him to call you.

You sighed, the man was the most impatient person you had ever met, and picked up the phone call with a bit of reluctance. “L/N,” You answered.

“I texted you some file names. I need you to bring those files to m-” Barba’s last words were cut off by a hacking cough, you flinched, holding the phone away for a moment, before getting back on the line. “To my apartment.” He croaked out the rest of his sentence.

“Are you okay?” You could almost see him scowl at you, feeling the daggers come through your phone screen.

“Just perfect,” He replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though severely undercut by his now hoarse voice. You said nothing, giving an audible sigh, and waiting for him to explain. “I caught a cold, and didn’t think it was prudent for me to come into the office sick-”

“Even though you probably have done that before?” It was his turn to sigh.

“Maybe I’ll just pick them up myself,” He said bitterly, and you felt a tinge of guilt gnawing at you, before leaping into action. You held your phone between your cheek and shoulder, as you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper.

“Hold it, Barba, I got it. You’ll have your folders in no time. Just stay in bed and rest. Tell me which ones you need.”

You not only picked up the folders he needed, but while you were at it, you picked up some cold medicine, cough drops, and some lunch. You figured he didn’t exactly have the energy to cook, especially since he actually stayed home from work. Something that still surprised you when you considered what a workaholic the man was. You arrived at the address he texted you, the doorman let you in and you arrived to his loft. You knocked on his door hesitantly. You just realized you were arriving at your boss’s apartment, you weren’t sure how to conduct yourself. You fidgeted while waiting for him to answer the door, when you got a text. It’s open.

You threw open the door, shutting it behind you with your foot. “You work sex and murder crimes and you think its safe to leave your door-” You looked around, you didn’t see who you were lecturing. “Barba?”

“In here,” A muffled voice floated from another room. You wandered to another door, knocking on it. “Come in,” You saw him with his laptop on his lap, back pressed against his headboard and some pillows. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice scratchy, and his nose was red and splotchy. He had several files piled next to him, as well as a mountain of tissues in his trash can. “Good, you brought the files.” You saw him texting on his phone. “I have a hearing on Monday. I’m texting Rita Calhoun trying to-” You walked over, snatching the phone from his hands. “What? What are you doing?” You closed the laptop, picking up the files around him and placed it on his dresser. “Y/N, give-”

“Bed rest,” You said calmly. He opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “You want to be well enough on Monday for trial, you need to rest.” You dug through the bag you bought, pulling out some cold medicine and tossing it to him. “Take this. Wait, how long has it been since you took anything?” He glowered at you.

“I’m not a child,” He scowled, but it was less effective with his red nose and watery eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing.

“I want you to lay down, and rest. I bought lunch, but I’m going to heat it up.” You turned and were heading from the room. “Lay down,” You insisted with a wave of your hand. “Please?” He grumbled, and muttered something about still needing his phone back, but he laid down as per your request.

You warmed everything up, you grabbed some food from a great Egyptian place that you and Rafael often got lunch from. You found a bed tray he had in kitchen, and set it up on his lap. You brought in his wrap, plus a large drink and some fries as a side. Rafael’s eyes cracked open, peering at you and the food. “Should I feed you too?” You joked as he sat himself up. He began to eat, as you left the room to eat yourself, but you heard him call you back. “Yeah?”

“Aren’t you going to join me?” He raised an eyebrow. You blinked.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.” He rolled his eyes as he had done countless times.

“Do I need to be incapable of eating in order to get you to have lunch with me?” You sighed, the man was a piece of work. You grabbed a chair and your food, pulling up a chair next to his sick bed. You both ate in a comfortable silence, until he broke it. “Thank you,”

“What was that?” You grinned at him, and he shook his head.

“And you say I’m a piece of work,” The man was also a mind reader. “I said thank you for doing this. You didn’t have to.”

“Well, you’ve grown on me Barba, what can I say?” You took a bite of your wrap. “Plus I couldn’t ignore a sick man’s desperate pleas to work, but you aren’t working while I’m here. I’ll stay past dinner to make sure you don’t starve.” You checked the time. It was 1 PM. You looked back to see Rafael checking his phone again. You snatched the phone from his hands, he snapped up at you, aghast. “You eat lunch with me, you play by my rules, counselor.”

After some prompting, you got Barba to take his medicine and go to bed for a few hours, forcing him to change into something more comfortable after you left the room, which left you alone in his apartment. You pulled out your laptop and began to work on some of your own cases and work. You took care of your work and some of Barba’s work as well. You sighed, feeling accomplished, but completely mentally drained. You laid on the couch, pulling out your earbuds and phone, listening to some music. Your mind began to drift, and managed to sleep for about an hour, until a knock at the door startled you to your feet. You stumbled to the door, throwing it open. You saw an agape Olivia at the door, her expression went from confused to awkward in a matter of seconds, and you realized what conclusion she had jumped to.

“Y/N,” She looked at a loss for words, while your mind had completely blanked. “I went to see you both, but Carmen told me that Barba had stayed home today, and you had left, so I thought I’d pay him a visit.”

You remembered after an excruciatingly long millisecond that you could speak. “Yes, of course; he’s still asleep actually.” You felt blood rush to your face when you saw her eyebrows raise. Shit. You realized not only the implied connotations of what you said, but what a mess your clothes and hair looked like after falling asleep. “In his own bed. I was on the couch. He asked to bring over some files.” You explained, your words rushed, as you let Liv in. You saw her eyes spot the takeout containers on the counter. “He’s really ill, so I brought lunch for him, and me, since I hadn’t ate.” You were rambling and felt quite stupid to be honest. Liv always managed to make you feel inferior in someway. She just seemed so together all of the time. And her and Barba, well...the two had chemistry. You wouldn’t be surprised if they had or would ever date. The thought had crossed your mind, but you had pushed it aside. Although, you couldn’t deny it always left a strange tinge. “He’s passed out, but maybe I could help.”

Liv explained the case to you, a rape case gone cold had opened back up again. She wanted to see if they had enough to take it to trial. You looked over the files, smoothing over your hair as you did. “I don’t know. It seems like the evidence is-” That’s when Barba’s door opened behind the two of you, and you both turned to see Barba walk out in a plain t-shirt and shorts, rubbing his eyes.

“Do you have anymore of that medicine you gave me in bed because-” He seemed to have realize Liv was there, and you swear you saw a blush appear for a split second as blood rushed to his nose and ears. “Liv, what’s up?”

You had turned about five shades of red at the implication of being in bed with your boss. And you saw Liv’s expression out of the corner of your eye, and you weren’t sure, but she looked almost amused. “Not much, Barba, just some new evidence in that rape case we were working. Now do you want to discuss this now or after you get dressed?” A look of realization and horror crossed his face, before he quickly retreated into the bedroom.

There was several moments of mortifying silence, until you chose to break it. “Liv, you know it’s not what it looks like. I really did only come here to bring the case files and lunch.”

Liv searched your expression, freezing you in place like a prep, but then shook her head. “I know,” A brief smile graced her features. “But I’m still not going to let him live this down.”

#rafael barba #rafael barba x oc #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba fanfic #barba fic #raul esparza #law and order svu #law and order: special victims unit #law and order imagine #fanfiction #law and order #svu imagine #barba #barba x reader

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just-got7-things · 7 years

Text

The Note

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff with a tiny bit of angst

Summary: Yoongi has to leave early in the morning and instead of waking you up to say goodbye, he leaves you a note.

Yoongi hates to leave so early in the morning. Not because of the ungodly hour of 4 am but the fact that he can’t tell you goodbye. Well he could but he knew you had a long day ahead of you and you could use all the sleep you could get. He knew you would be mad for him leaving without telling you but he can’t seem to make himself take you out of your peaceful slumber. He feels like an asshole already having to leave you yet again but if he woke you up, that feeling would just get worse. Instead he leaves a carefully placed note on the nightstand that you will see as soon as you open your eyes. Besides, you can call him when you wake up like you usually do when he’s away.

~~~~~

The screeching calls of the alarm clock rouse you from your little slice of heaven called sleep. You don’t dare open your eyes yet because you could feel the sun’s warmth on your skin and you didn’t feel like being blinded just yet. You flop your arm around the nightstand until you find the annoying machine and hit the off button. You wish you could sleep for another hour but you have two meetings this morning that you could not be late for. You turn over to find the other side of the bed cold. Your eyes pop before the memory of Yoongi telling you about the trip. Why did he not wake you up when he left though? He always did. Even with your grumpy curses he still said goodbye.

You pout and reluctantly get out of bed. Looking at the clock, you notice that you don’t have very much time to slack off and your usual morning call to Yoongi would have to wait until your break. You hop in the shower and start washing your body allowing the warm water to loosen up your muscles while you mentally prepare yourself for the day ahead. Quickly, you dry off and get dressed into the outfit you had chosen for the day. Good thing you usually pick out what you wear the night before because there is not a minute to spare as you rush to put on your makeup and style your hair. You run through the house grabbing your purse and jacket as you make your way out the door. Locking it behind you, a little wave of sadness washes over you because you didn’t get to say goodbye to Yoongi before he left. You shake your head to get rid of the thought and start making your way to work.

The meetings drag on as you listen to your peers mostly complain about the new merger that is about to take place. You usually would add some opinions of your own into the mix but today you just didn’t feel like adding onto the complaints. You were mostly there to listen to the financial reports anyway and see how things might look in the next quarter. With the meetings lasting longer than expected, you don’t have time for a break today. You could just imagine the emails that were piling up in your inbox and the stack of work being left on your desk. Even though you were extremely busy, every now and then the thought of Yoongi would pop into your head leaving you a bitter taste in your mouth. Not only were you sad about this morning, but with the routine that you had grown accustomed to being disturbed you were starting to get agitated as well. He not only affected your morning but he was affecting your work as well. You let a dry chuckle escape from your mouth as you thought about how much Yoongi had significance over your day. You usually laughed at the girls who made their man the center of their lives but now you realized you were starting to become one of them. Nope. This can’t happen. You gave yourself one minute to think but eventually put everything Yoongi related into a box and pushed him as far back into your brain as you could. You had work to do and thinking about him was getting nothing done. You took a deep breath before jumping into your long day. Alright. Time to get to work.

~~~~

This is strange. She should have already called by now. She must be having a really busy day. Yoongi sat at the airport waiting for the car to come pick him and the other members up. He wasn’t particularly worried that you haven’t called him because he understands busy days, he just really wants to know whether or not you saw his note. Surely she would have seen it. It was right in front of her face. She is a wild sleeper though…The thought of you sleeping made him smile. You weren’t the tamest when you slept and Yoongi always had to be prepared to get an arm in the face or an elbow in the back. He knew you couldn’t help it which is how he kept himself from completely kicking you out of bed but sometimes he had some rough nights. Yoongi stares at his phone debating whether or not he should text you to see how your day was going. He wanted to talk to you but he didn’t want to distract you during work. Before he could type out a message, the car pulls up in front of the group and the body guards swarm around them creating a barricade for them to hurry into the car before it was swamped with fans. He decides that it’s best to leave you be and let you get as much work done as possible.

~~~

As the day passes, you make pretty good progress through your work even though your mind keeps drifting to the asshole named Min Yoongi. You wanted to think of anything except him but your mind just wouldn’t let you. First, he didn’t say goodbye this morning and now he hasn’t even texted or called you to see how your day was going? They were selfish thoughts but you didn’t care anymore. You were his girlfriend and you wanted him to show a little affection every now and then. Just a simple text from him asking if you had eaten yet would suffice but noooo Mr. Tough Guy Min Yoongi didn’t do those kinds of things. You mentally stick your tongue out at the picture you had of him on your desk. At least the day was almost over and you could go home and finally relax. You began to shut down everything in your office and pack up for the day when one of your coworkers stops by and asks if you want to come get some drinks with them. You decline the offer and start heading home.

You unlock the door and walk into your apartment immediately feeling the stress of the day melt off your shoulders. The irritation is still there but eventually you’ll get over that. Eventually. The first thing you do is change into your pajamas so that you would be comfortable. Next, you head into the kitchen to start dinner. You end up making something simple since Yoongi wasn’t there. There he was again, popping into our mind not letting you fully be at ease. Not only were the events of the day making you irritated but being at home without Yoongi made you lonely as well. Still no text or call from him. You want to at least know how his day was going but you don’t want to distract him so you decide to just leave him be.

You eat dinner and retreat to the bedroom so you could work on some things for the morning. Yoongi never approved of either of you bringing work into the bedroom since you both seemed to be workaholics but he wasn’t there and you knew that you would be falling asleep soon. You sit down on the bed and turn to get your laptop from the shelf beside your bed when you notice a folded piece of paper on the floor. Squinting at the piece of paper in confusion you pick it up and see that it has Yoongi’s handwriting. This couldn’t be something he has been working on because he would never be as careless as to leave it on the floor so you could read it. You turn it over and see your name written in the black ink. You slowly open the note and begin reading.

Y/N,

Another day I have to leave you. Another day I have to go without your beautiful smile. My love may not always be spoken but know that it is there. It is there in the wind that rustles the leaves and it is there in the rays that warm your skin. I hate to leave you again. When I leave, I feel like my whole world is without it’s sun. I did not wake you this time because I did not want to see the sadness that fills your eyes when the goodbye leaves your beautiful mouth. What I would give to see you every minute of every day for the rest of my life. The love I have for you is as endless as the stars in the sky. Please stay well my love and know that I am with you always as you are with me. Thank you for becoming my one and only. My treasure.

Yoongi

Before you realize it, tears begin to fall down your face and your hands cannot reach fast enough for your phone. You have to call him. You have to hear his voice. Even though you can’t see with the amount of tears in your eyes, you successfully dial his number and wait for him to answer. After a few rings, he finally picks up.

“Hey babe, how was your day?”

“Yoongi, you asshole!” You cry into the phone.

“What happened? What did I do?”

“You wrote me this damn note and now I’m crying because you’re the sweetest boyfriend anyone could have!”

“Awww baby, don’t cry. I meant for that note to make you happy.” You could hear him chuckle a little as he soothed you.

“Don’t baby me! How dare you write that note and then just leave! How am I going to kiss you when you’re all the way across the world?” You’ve stopped crying but the emotions are still there.

“I’ll be home in couple days. You can kiss me all you want when I get back.” You could hear the smile in his voice just by the way he talked. He must have been by himself because he never would say that in front of anyone.

“You better be prepared. I’m not in the mood for any games.”

You and Yoongi continue to talk on the phone talking about both of your days, how that annoying intern is always kissing up to the boss and getting in your way and how Jin keeps going at it with his dad jokes just to annoy him. After about an hour and a half, you hear Yoongi yawn which causes you to yawn in return.

“We should both get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a very long day for both of us.” Yoongi’s voice is starting to get groggy and you’re already almost asleep just listening to it.

“I know. Talk tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby girl.”

“Okay. Goodnight. Love you. Sweet dreams.” You don’t want to let him go but you know he is right. You both need sleep for the next day.

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams. I love you too.”

You hang up the phone and put it on the charger as you head into the bathroom to brush your teeth. After washing up, you climb back into bed and set your alarm. Before you’re able to get comfortable, you hear your phone go off on the nightstand. You turn it over and there is a text from Yoongi.

Come meet me in my dreams.

#bts #bts fluff #bangtan boys #bts suga #suga fluff #min suga #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #suga angst #yoongi angst #min yoongi fluff #how come i can write this in like an hour #but yet i cant write a reaction in like 2 days #i just dont understand #i want a min yoongi

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