#i know this cause when we still had the old computer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xjustakay · 20 days

Text

✺ (4/4) ✺ @jegulus-microfic prompt: forbid — 1,274 words (dad james meets harry's favorite librarian and suddenly has a favorite of his own; pt.2)

“Mate, the slot is right here.” James points at the metal drop slot for library book returns as Harry hurries past him through the automatic entry door.

The six year old whips around, books cradled to his chest, a look that says ‘what are you talking about?’ written all over his face. He looks so like Lily when he makes that face that it makes James snort to himself.

“No, I have to turn them in to a librarian ‘cause I have to tell Regulus which one was my favorite,” Harry argues.

Before James can ask what is so special about this Regulus that he’s been mentioning, Harry’s turned away from him again, heading inside. With a faint grin and a shake of his head, James follows, quickening his step to catch up to the little boy.

He follows him up to the front desk where a woman with brown curls falling out of a claw clip sits clicking away at a computer. Harry carefully shifts his books into the curl of one arm, waving his other hand above the edge of the counter where he only peeks a few inches above.

“Oh! Hello there, Harry.” The woman leans forward to smile down at him. “Brought your returns today, have you?”

“Yes, miss Andromeda,” Harry replies.

Andromeda glances up at James’ approach, a curious look crossing her face. “You’re dad then, I presume.”

“Dad is me,” James chuckles. “James works just fine, too, though.”

It’s typically Lily that brings Harry to the library. It’s closer to James’ place in reality, but he’s usually let it be something special Harry does with his mum. Lily had told James he was being silly; ‘Harry and I have plenty of things, James, just like you two do. The library is not owned by me and he loves going. Take him every now and again.’

So when Harry had brought his books with him for his stay at his dad’s and mentioned they were due before the week was up, James had decided to finally show face there. Evidently his son is a well-loved regular amongst the librarians.

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, James,” Andromeda says before turning back to Harry. “Want me to take those, sweetheart?”

Harry shakes his head. “I’ve got to find Regulus.”

“Ah, I see.” There’s a knowing smile on Andromeda’s face as she nods, her gaze flickering to James.

“Yes, god forbid we not drop them in the slot like everyone else,” He jokes.

“Well, Harry does have a little bit of a book club of sorts with Regulus, so this isn’t entirely unusual,” She notes.

“He mentioned something like that, yeah.” James grins fondly down at his son as he ruffles a hand through the mess of his hair. “So, where might we find this mysterious and oh so wonderful Regulus today?”

“He’s reshelving a cart of returns. Last I saw in the adult romance section,” Andromeda answers.

“Okay, thank you, miss Andromeda!” Harry rushes out, at least managing to still be polite before bolting away from the desk.

James laughs and mutters a quick thanks of his own before hurrying after him. Harry zips into one of the rows of shelves before James has fully caught up to him, hazel eyes darting upward to check the sign and make sure it’s the right place. When he rounds into the aisle, he stops only a couple steps in, freezing on the spot. A short distance up the row, Harry talks animatedly to a librarian who’s stopped with a metal cart full of books to be returned where they belong.

Now, here’s the thing, James has heard the name Regulus a few different times when Harry’s talked about his visits to the library. Heard about how Regulus’ story time readings are Harry’s favorite, and how Regulus always recommends the best books.

Even just today, James has heard the name several times. He hadn’t really known what to expect, but whatever minimal expectations he might have had have been shot to hell in three seconds flat.

Regulus is lovely. Black curls, sharp jaw, pale skin contrasted by a dark jumper and jeans. Grey eyes are intently focused on Harry as he speaks, a soft smile curled at a pretty mouth. The afternoon sunlight mocks James, slanting through gaps in the shelves to make the man glow —ethereal without effort.

“I read the dinosaur bedtime book all by myself so many times. Mum didn’t even have to help me,” Harry tells Regulus proudly.

“Was that one your favorite then?” Regulus asks. And god, even his voice is beautiful. James is fucked. So absolutely fucked.

“Yeah, but I think I wanna try those chapter books you told us about next. With the treehouse?” Harry bounces on his feet.

“The Magic Treehouse series, uh huh.” Regulus nods. “Where’s your mum? We’ll find one you two can choose together.”

“Oh, my dad brought me today! He’s right there.” Harry points past him, right at where James still stands frozen.

A furrow in his brow, Regulus turns, eyes landing on James. And James would love to say that it snaps him back to reality. Would love to tell you that he manages an easy smile, says something charming, doesn’t just stay standing there in silent awe.

Instead, what happens is he lifts one hand, wiggling his fingers in a goofy little wave, an uncharacteristically quiet ‘hi’ slipping out of his mouth.

Regulus’ brows shoot upward, stormcloud eyes shifting up and down to take James in. It’s in Regulus’ pause to assess him that James seems to come back to himself. He blinks quickly and takes a few steps forward, closing the gap between them. A hand is extended toward Regulus, a smile a little less off stretching across James’ face.

“James,” He introduces himself, lips twitching a little in amusement when Regulus’ eyes go a bit wide as he has to tilt his head back slightly to look up at him.

Schooling his expression, Regulus glances down at the hand outstretched to him, hesitating a beat before gently taking it. It’s smaller than James’, cooler, too, but not in a bad way. He thinks fleetingly about brushing his thumb over fine-boned knuckles then thinks better of it.

“Regulus.” He shakes his hand slowly, a barely there smile at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s nice to finally meet Harry’s favorite librarian. I’ve heard great things,” James says, giving his hand a squeeze.

An exhaled laugh. A gentle dusting of pink high in his cheeks. “Ah, I’m sure I’m not his favorite.”

“No, you are!” Harry confirms with a grin. His green eyes dart back and forth between his father and Regulus then back again, a suspicious look slowly scrunching his face. “Why are you guys still holding hands?”

James and Regulus jerk back from one another, hands dropping as if zapped by an electric shock. A mumbled apology on James’ part, Regulus clearing his throat as he white-knuckles the bar on his book cart with the hand that’s just released his. James thinks he sees the flush in his cheeks deepen, but he’s not sure he isn’t making it up given how Regulus now refuses to look at him.

“Why don’t we go find those books you’d like, hm?” Regulus hurriedly suggests to Harry.

It’s a sufficient enough distraction; Harry perks up and nods excitedly, following when Regulus leads the way. James lingers for a moment too long, watching after them with a funny feeling in his chest, a smile twitching at his lips.

Maybe he really will have to start coming to the library more often.

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #this came to me in a pre-sleep haze #so here they are #there may or may not be a part 2 bc idk what chill is #i just... love them #kay’s writing #kay’s microfics

274 notes · View notes

eco-lite · 9 months

Text

I’m once again returning to do god’s work by bringing you delightful moments from Spock’s World by Diane Duane.

[Text ID: “Spock was bent over [the Science Station], making some adjustment. ‘Readout now,’ he said, straightening and looking over his shoulder at the large, shaggy-fringed rock that was sitting in the center seat. Some of those glittering fringes stroked the open circuitry of the communicator controls in the seat’s arm. ‘Point nine nine three,’ said a scratchy voice from the voder box mounted on the rock’s back. ‘A nice triple sine.’ ‘Nice?’ said Spock. Jim raised an eyebrow: you could have used Spock’s tone of voice to dry out a martini.” End ID]

There’s a Horta crewman on the Enterprise now and they’re great!

[Text ID: “Still working on her doctoral thesis, Jim thought. Uhura was busy working on improving universal translator theory, mostly by taking the old theory to pieces and putting it back together in shapes that were causing a terrible furor in academic circles on various planets. Jim vividly remembered one night quite a long time ago when he had asked Uhura exactly how she was going about this. She had told him, for almost an hour without stopping, and in delighted and exuberant detail, until his head was spinning with phoneme approximations and six-sigma evaluations and the syntactic fade and genderbend and recontextualization and linguistic structural design and the physics of the human dextrocerebral bridge. The session had left Jim shaking his head, thoroughly disabused of the idea (and ashamed of how long he had held it) that Uhura was simply a sort of highly trained switchboard operator.” End ID]

Uhura continues to be a total badass and is amazing at what she does.

[Text ID: Chatroom title in all caps: “COMMON ROOM OPINION, INFORMED AND NON- RANTING AND RAVING PERMITTED NAMES NOT NECESSARY” Regular text: “It was one of the places he came to find out what his crew was thinking. Messages did not have to be attributed to a name or terminal, but they could not be private. The office of the common room system operator rotated through the crew, offered to various members on the strength of their psych profiles in areas like calm reaction to stress and anger. The common room syops tended to be closemouthed and dependable, the kind of person that others refer to as ‘a rock.’ (Once it had actually been Naraht, to the amusement of just about everyone.) Here tempers could flare, awful jokes be told safely, suspicions be aired, rumors be shot down. The common room was sometimes a peaceful place, sometimes a powderkeg. Jim never ignored it.” End ID]

The Enterprise has a dumpster fire chat room that has just as much shitposting and vitriol as twitter.

[Text ID: “Jim bowed over her free hand. ‘It’s been too long,’ he said. ‘It’s good to be back,’ Amanda said. ‘And in the middle of a party as well.’ She looked a little wry. ‘A little entertainment will be pleasant before the deluge.’ Sarek’s eyes flicked to Kirk, a considering look. ‘My wife speaks figuratively,’ he said, ‘in the tradition of her people. Deluges are not common on Vulcan.’ ‘My husband speaks circumspectly,’ Amanda said, just as dryly, ‘in the tradition of his.’” End ID]

Amanda and Sarek are as charming as ever.

[Text ID: “Jim was mildly surprised to see that to his other rank tags and decorations, McCoy had added a small, understated IDIC. ‘If I didn’t know you better,’ he said, ‘I’d think you were going native. When did you get that?’ ‘Today in the gift shop, when you were looking at the snowball paperweights with Mount Seleya in them. Tackiest things I ever saw.’ ‘Yes,’ Spock said; ‘they were imported from Earth.’ ‘You be quiet. We can’t let these people leave the Federation, Jim. At least not until they teach us how to make tasteful souvenirs.’” End ID]

Just this.

[Text ID: “There was Sreil, the burly, brown-haired biologist from the Academy, and T’Madh, a little bright-eyed woman of great age and curiosity, a computer programmer; and her son Savesh, who when asked what he did, said, ‘I am a farmer,’ with a sort of secret satisfaction that hinted he thought his job better than any of the more technical ones that the people around him held. Jim had to smile; the thought of a Vulcan farmer was slightly funny, even though there naturally had to be some. But the image of a Vulcan in coveralls, chewing on a stalk of hay, kept coming up and having to be repressed.” End ID]

I love Savesh the Vulcan farmer!

[Text ID: “’Jim,’ he said, ‘the best translation of nehau would be an old word: “vibes.” The feeling-in-your-bones that something gives you. It’s highly subjective.’ ‘Right. Go on, Savesh.’ ‘Well, Captain, I have heard numerous Vulcans say that losing the Federation and the Earth people would be no particular loss, because they had bad nehau, and that could not fail to affect us sooner or later.. But I must tell you that I find your nehau not objectionable at all; pleasant, even.’ End ID]

Vulcan wanting to leave the Federation because the ~vibes~ are off.

[Text ID: “His grasp of dialect and idiom as amazing for anybody, off-planet or on. He once reduced the President of the United States—then a ceremonial post, but one much loved by the people who lived within the old borders—to tears of laughter at a state dinner, by delivering a learned dissertation on computer data storage technology in a flawless Texan accent. The lady was later heard to propose an amendment to the Constitution to allow off-worlders to hold high public office, so that she could have him for her running mate in the next election.” End ID]

I would give anything to hear Sarek do a perfect Texas accent.

[Text ID: “—but when Amanda became annoyed over what she perceived as his smugness about being right, her eyes would flash and she would become splendidly insulting, usually in bizarre Anglish idiom that Sarek found as refreshing as it was annoying. She caused him to laugh out loud for the first time in many years when she told him, after a disagreement over the translation of the word for war, that he should only grow headfirst in the ground like a turnip. Later that month, when he was right about something again and made the mistake of not immediately down-playing it, she issued him with a formal malediction, wishing that the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind orphan children might pursue him so far over the hills and the seas that God Almighty couldn’t find him with a radio telescope. Sarek laughed so hard at that that he entirely lost his breath, and Amanda panicked and started to give him cardiopulmonary resuscitation, which was useless, because his heart was somewhere other than the spot on which she was pounding. It took him nearly an hour to recover: he kept laughing. He had never been cursed like that before, not even by union leaders, and it was very refreshing.” End ID]

This dynamic is perfect, no notes.

[Text ID: “The next night they sat in the Rec Deck again, in the middle of a large impromptu party that was going on around them by way of celebration. The sense of relief in the ship was palpable. A group of about a hundred crewfolk, mostly human, had surrounded Spock earlier in the evening and sung ‘For He’s A Jolly Good Fellow,’ accompanied by twenty crewmen on kazoos. Sarek had been given champagne.” End ID]

I really hope the TOS Enterprise has crew performances like on Next Gen. This kazoo band needs to be heard! Also, I can perfectly picture Spock’s annoyed-but-tolerant expression as he resigns himself to the kazoo serenade.

Thank you @dianeduane for making me laugh!

#star trek #star trek tos #spock’s world #diane duane #star trek books #star trek novels #spock #jim kirk #leonard mccoy #sarek #amanda grayson

916 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 9 months

Text

must be a kind of blind love

(older!modern!eddie - interlude blurbie) orange colored sky setlist

a/n: wrote this little older!eddie blurbie in honor of me needing glasses. my birthday is tomorrow so consider this an early present from me. this doesn't have to fit in order of any time line, it's just cute and fluffy. however, there are some exciting revelations in here.

tw: references to smut, foul language, otherwise pretty tame. idiots in love.

"Yyyyell-o." "You gotta stop answering the phone like that, Ed."

"It's how I always answer the phone, baby -- it's like a muscle memory."

"Ooh, muscle memory, big word for you," you chuckle, you can hear him click clacking against his keyboard on the other end, "You busy?"

"Not too busy, you okay?" he asks, the click clacking slows down to a stop, you hear the roll of his desk chair and some shuffling, the sound of an iPhone being unplugged from his computer.

"So um, I just left the doctors..."

"Okay before you finish what you're saying, I need you to never start a phone call with 'I just left the doctors...' fours days after we had sex," he interrupts, "We clear on that?"

You laugh, it's hearty and bubbly, enough to calm him from the heart racing 'what ifs' running through his head, "Yes, we're clear -- but you knew I had this doctor's appointment!"

"I know, but still -- how'd it go? Everything good?"

"Well..." you start, "It was an eye doctor appointment, like, an optometrist."

"I know what an optomestrist is, baby girl," he says sweetly, "But thank you for clarifying."

"Anyway I went and got my eyes check and uh..." you trail off, not wanting to say it. You can hear the low giggle coming from his throat, practically see the smile in his next sentence.

"Aw, you need glasses, don't you, peach?" he smirks into his question, heading down the metal staircase into the kitchen to refill his coffee cup.

"Yeah," you say poutily, "And now my eyes hurt cause they did dialysis on my eyes I mean -- dialated my eyes, whoops."

"I would hope they didn't perform dialysis on your eyes, jesus," he still can't hold back his gruff giggle, "Is it bad? What's your perscription?"

"I think it's honestly just an astigmatism? But better safe than sorry," you explain, "Don't make fun of me."

"Oh baby, I'm gonna make fun of you," Eddie pops the mug into the microwave, "Now you know how I feel every time you tell me to put my glasses on. Not fun gettin' old, is it?"

"You make it look pretty fun," you shrug, walking over to the train. The printed out paper with your perscription on it is blinding outside, the white glaring into your dilated pupils, "Fuck that's bright."

"I'm almost done with work for today, you wanna just come to mine?" he asks, "We can go look for frames for you."

"You're gonna be mean," you complain, "I don't like when you're mean."

"I won't be mean, I promise."

"Do you want me to come over?" you ask.

He bites his tongue, wanting to reply with a snappy 'Would I have invited you if I didn't?' but he can tell you just need the reassurance.

"I'd love to see you," his voice warm honey while it drips into the receiver, "Of course I want you to come over. You getting on the train?"

"Yeah I'm like, maybe twenty minutes way," you smile.

"Well then I'll see you in twenty, okay?" "Okay."

He spends the first couple minutes teasing you when you get in to get it out of his system, peppering you with kisses when your fake pout gets too cute for him. Eddie gives you his glasses to try on but you squint.

"These are too blurry," you shake your head, scrunching your nose in a way that has him melting.

"Well that's cause my visions a little worse than yours," he shrugs, plucking them off your face by the bridge and popping them onto his own.

"I think your glasses are nice," you shrug, "They make you look handsome."

"Handsome, huh?" he quirks a brow, "I think they make me look like my uncle. He's like, 74."

"You don't look 74," you roll your eyes.

"No?"

"No, babe," you say sweetly, tilting your head when you look at him, "You look at least 72."

He clicks his tongue and puffs out a breath, "How did I know?"

"You love it," you smirk, kissing his cheek and then the tip of his nose.

"Yeah, yeah, I love it," he nods along, tilting his head up to kiss your lips. He pulls you in close to him, taking a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island where you stand between his thighs.

Yeah, yeah, I love it. I love you. I think I love you.

"When your eyes feel a little less blurry you wanna look for some frames?" he asks, noses touching. You nod, feeling safe in his hold, eyes fluttering closed when he kisses your cheek. Eddie's full lips kiss from your cheek to your jaw, to the top of your neck -- implying all the ideas he has in mind to pass the time.

"We can fool around if you want," he asks against your skin, "That sound good to you, four eyes?"

You groan into a laugh, shoving him lightly off you, "Fuck you."

Laughing in the kitchen together is his new favorite past time.

Cat-eye, round, square, wire-rimmed, low brow -- there's too many options. You chew on your lower lip looking at the walls of frames, trying to not get in the way of other people while they grab pairs to try on in the brightly lit mirrors.

"Where do I even start?" you ask yourself, feeling Eddie close behind you. His hand presses against your mid back, leading you over to a wall that doesn't have people crowded around it. It gives you a moment to breathe, he rubs your shoulder as it relaxes.

"What types of sunglasses to you normally wear?" he asks, "That's a good place to start."

You had a few fake pairs of Raybans, a couple cat-eye frames from when you were in your early twenties. One pair of rimless glasses from a 90s party that you don't totally hate. You reach for the Wayferer shaped ones, wire rim bottom and flat top -- you find it accentuates your brows in a way that isn't quite right. They sit uneven on your face.

"These are awful," you mumble, taking them off.

"No they're not," he assures. He grabs a few pairs that are sort of ridiculous just to get you laughing -- big wild pairs with bright colors, a pair of transition lens aviators that look straight out of a serial killer movie, exaggerated cat eye lenses that he said his great aunt would've worn in the 80s. He heals every tease with a gentle kiss to your temple or forehead just over the bridge of your nose.

Eventually he starts looking at sunglasses for himself while you gain the confidence to go for it on your own. It's not lost on him when some of the ladies who work there come over to see if he needs help that they're flirting, and to be fair, he's never one to not indulge. You catch his eye in an opposite mirror where he gives you a wink -- he blushes when you roll your eyes in return.

You finally think you've settled on a pair you like, one that surprises you. Thin wire rimmed, brushed gold, they sit slightly round over your face, dipping a bit onto the tops of your cheeks. They don't accentuate whatever is happening with your brow line, they almost feel like they're supposed to be there. Your next thought sounds like your mom in your ear -- They go with everything!

You push your hair back, seeing if you'll still like them with your hair out of the way and down again. You snap a picture -- well, you snap a few. You don't hate it.

"Hey," you call out, tapping on his shoulder when you get behind him, "What do you think?"

Eddie turns, smoothly taking off the new sunglasses he was considering, "Lemme see."

"Oh honey," he coos, "Oh my god you look like a sweet little secretary."

"Stop," you laugh, heat hitting your cheeks at his praise. "Gotta get you a type writer so you can come work for me," he eggs on playfully, "You can screen all my calls. Maybe earn some over time..."

"Don't be annoying," you chide, slapping at his arm when he snakes it around you.

"No, peach you look so sweet," he gushes, "Really."

"I don't look like a nerd?" you ask, looking into the mirror again.

"Of course you do," he confirms, "But that's what I like about them. Plus, they go with everything."

"We'll be like twins," you say with a nudge, "Yours are sort of like this but silver."

"You're right," he nods, "Look at that, nerds in love."

He gives you a quick kiss -- but both of your hearts sink when the weight of what he says hits both your ears. Nerds in love.

In love.

You hear him swallow and you do the same. There's a jitter to both of you after, like both of you are pretending to not have heard that sentence. Like it didn't happen.

"So you like these ones?" he asks, voice cracking like a teenager. He clears his throat before flagging over one of the women who offered to help him before, "Can we uh, can we get these set up with her prescription?"

The woman's smile is dazzling, perfect for retail -- you'd buy anything she told you to buy. She takes the pair in your hand and goes to work, calling you both over to the iPads by the check out desk to get the order in. Your heart hammers while you make your way over.

"Ed, I don't even know how much those cost," you say under your breath.

"It doesn't matter," he mumbles back, "You're not paying for 'em."

"Ed," you protest, "No." You shake your head, the serious look on your face makes his chest hot with embarrassment.

But he's quick, he's a loverboy for a reason, "Just think of it as insurance for all the jokes I get to make at your expense. I'm earning my right to bully you by buying them."

"You're so dumb," you huff, taking his hand while he reaches out to you to place your order.

"You love it."

"Yeah, yeah, I love it."

I love it, you think, I think I love you.

prev | next

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #older!eddie #older!eddiemunson

589 notes · View notes

eternalwritess · 2 months

Text

I may know someone - Platonic!Alastor & tech demon!reader + Vox x tech demon!reader

Summary: Vox decides to confront whoever decided to fuck up with system. Alastor has a proposition for you that he wants you to take...

He couldn't reverse the damage. He knew that by now. He's tried a multitude of things only to get shocked many times. He's even tried screaming at the monitor. Which caused Velvette to scream back at him even louder.

But he had footage he had footage of a demon flicking something causing his computers to work to her liking. It was impressive he would've even offered her a deal. Would've being the key word, they still fucked up his system.

But now he had their face, he could find them. Oh and find them he would.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙

You're not an idiot.

At least you like to consider the fact that you're not. You're powerful, but maybe you should've thought this last one through. After the whole almost getting caught thing Alastor has been visiting you a lot more frequently. A lot more cheerful too.

He's been all up in your space more than usual, and thats saying something. Touching your stuff even though he doesn't even like tech all that much. He only tolerates yours because it just makes old tech better, but not too modern.

He tapped on one of your phones and looked over to you. "Y/n dear, I've been thinking," He hummed his fingers tapping along the glass. "And really you should consider it," He smiled and walked over to you placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Have you ever considered becoming an overlord?"

You scoffed and looked over to him. "Didn't we talk about this last time? Y'know," you flicked of bit of light over to a breaker causing it to crackle before the room lit up. "Before you almost got me killed?"

Alastor laughed and patted your head. "Oh past is past dear. You need to think of the now!"

You couldn't help but scoff. "That's an awfully ironic line coming from you," You looked at his staff and then back to him.

"Well I am thinking of the now, and radio is always better! But enough about that. You should really consider it. Y'know you technically are one already. Don't you own a few souls?" He titled his head with his eyes becoming dials. Slowly. Ticking. Away.

He sat his head to its regular position and smiled.\

"A few I have like one of two, that doesn't count,"

"One or two wouldn't be the word I'd use to describe such my dear," he leaned on your shoulder and grinned. "Besides you got this whole side of the pentagram under your claws," he tapped the desk with an ever growing grin.

"I don't have enough power-"

"Pardon my interruption darling but I do believe that is what you would call... baloney," He grabbed your shoulders and now spun you around to face him. "You should really think about this offer y/n after all I'm just trying to help you get your name up there-"

You stepped back and looked at him. "I don't want my name up there-"

"Once again-, pardon, but I do believe that it would be good. I've even spoken to Rosie about such,"

You paused for a moment before shaking your head. You couldn't do this, why would he want you to become an overlord? "Why?" you asked. "Why do you want this? Is it to show someone up?"

Alastor laughed before giving you a pat. "Oh you know me too well, but no,"

You scoffed. This was a petty rivalry, you could feel it. "Rosie doesn't like it when you lie," You said titling your head towards him. "Is this about that Vox guy?" You asked. You hoped not but knowing him... you didn't want to get invovled.

Alastor sighed keeping the smile. "You know me too well," he said, this time slightly strained.

"Al I can't just show up-"

"Sure you can! Don't worry my dear, Rosie and I will help you every step of the way," He turned around and dusted off his shoulders. "I ought to get going though darling, consider it!" He added as he walked out the door.

You paused sitting down on your chair. You were utterly fucked.

Vox groaned looking around. Usually he didn't parade around like such but this was a special case. He just didn't know why it had to be in this part of the pentagram. It was were practically all of the insane people resided in Hell. He watched as demons shouted and as one ate its own hand giggling and laughing.

It was disgusting. He walked around further till he came to a small building that was surprisingly in good shape. He grinned, this was it.

He walked right up to the door watching as the electricity around him responded to his presence, zipping around and disappearing. It was odd to see something reacting to his presence the way the electricity was. He stepped back for a moment as it flickered across his feet and under the door. He sighed looking at the building.

Just. One. Knock.

You tapped your feet on the ground before stopping. Consider it, what was there to consider? Truly. You weren't an overlord although in some cases Alastor would be more than happy to call you one. You owned souls, sure, but you didn't even have half the numbers of some of the people on there.

Yet here you were wondering what it all meant. You knew Alastor and you know what he's like. He adores the spotlight almost as much as he adores radio, having a friend like you up there just because he suggested it would paint the spotlight on you both. You have to admit, he's clever but he's rash in such a thought. The blacklash, it would show that he's powerful yes, but at what cost?

But he's thought this through, he doesn't make rash decisions, he wants to show Vox up, and he needs a statement. The fight with the angels show'd him losing, if anyone saw that he would need to show that he was still in power. Since he needs to do that who better to bring up on his own accord than you?

You were already powerful, you were a tech demon for crying out loud, and you were his friend. You already messed with Vox and his tech. You already showed that you're a force. You'd be the perfect subject to bring up. To show that he wasn't just old news.

You grit your teeth and ran your hand through your hair. If you said no? It wouldn't go well, Alastor already offered you power last time, he could also take away some of your power if he wanted. He could make the place you lived worse, although you doubted he would it. It didn't mean it wasn't exactly off the table.

Rosie wanted you up there too, she's been there for a while, she's been in hell for a while. You taking up this offer could be good, but it could be bad. You just showing up, that would piss people off, put a target on your back. Alastor and Rosie would help you but you doubted that they would care too much if you got into a scuffle with another overlord. Alastor did just prove that and-

Knock.

You paused for a moment looking at the door. Everyone on this side knew that you were closed by now, it was dark out. You were practically out. You stood up. It's probably just a new sinner. Is what you told yourself before sitting back down. Your hand pressing against your forehead in annoyance.

"We're closed," We're was a strong word, there's no one here but you after all. The words came out a little stronger than you would've liked but fuck it, this is hell.

Another knock. You set your hand down and sighed looking at the electricity around you crinkle. "We're closed you deaf or something fucker?" You turned around back to the door and sighed. Whoever this was better leave or else you're gonna take out some anger on them.

The door opened. You grit your teeth and stood up turning around. "Are you deaf-" Your words fell short of your mouth as you stared at the person in front of you. Fuck. You were utterly fucked.

Vox. Vox, the CEO of Voxtech was at your door. The man who you just fucked over with Alastor. This couldn't be a coincidence, or a friendly stop by for that matter.

You stood there for probably half a second before regaining composer. You straightened your back and sighed mentally this time. Alastor taught you three things after all.

Always keep a smile.

You smiled at him and although it was strained you could tell it pissed him off, maybe not the best for you but it did assure that you were in control that being whatever meager control you had over a real overlord.

"Hello, Vox from Voxtech I'm sure you've heard of me!" Vox smiled sticking out his hand for you to shake but you continued to smile and dipped your head instead.

"Y/n," You said in reply.

"Ah, well thats great to know. After all I finally get to put a name to the face I've been seeing all around my building lately," You tried to ignore the hollow tv like sound that came out of his mouth with each word. You. Were. Fucked.

You nodded picking at your nails your eyes glancing down at them. You are not looking him in the eyes. "Yes well I was doing a favor for an old friend of mine-"

"Alastor, correct?" He asked he grabbed your hand and forced you closer causing you to look up at him.

You stepped back and rubbed your hand with a glare painted onto his screen. "Yes, Alastor, we've known each other for a while now. Why? Jealous?" You chuckled and tilted your head feeling everything around you respond to where you were.

Vox rolled his eyes and grabbed your again this time, harsher. "Listen here, I don't know who you think you are but let me remind you something," You felt his hands pierce through your skin when you tried to move back. "You aren't anything," You watched as the blue electricity circled around you.

You looked around the room in half panic careful not to drop your smile although you doubt you were smiling much now, it hurt. Your hand hurt like he was fucking dissecting it.

2. Remind them where they are.

You paused for a moment and looked up laughing. With your other hand you flicked your wrist and smiled at him. The room responded to your without a second of hesitation. The lights flickered and the cables and chords lifted up in response wrapping around Vox's legs and pulling him down.

His hand scratched yours tearing it up badly, but it could be fixed. You needed to deal with this now. Vox hissed attempting to get up and free himself of the thick cables that wrapped around his hands. You rubbed your hand unconsciously and looked at him.

"Listen here," You mocked titling your head. You snapped your fingers and felt the lights burn hotter than before and onto Vox watching him panic over the sudden overload. "You aren't in your fancy studio anymore sweetheart," You felt the energy around your creeping into your skin making yourself bigger and more of a shadow than before.

"You're in my house," You grabbed his collar and bent down pressing him close to you. "Now get out," You demanded.

3. Always make them leave on your accord.

You shoved him back and watched as the cables tossed him out of the door and slammed it shut in his face. It might've hit him actually, well that wasn't your problem anymore now was it.

You groaned sitting down in your chair. Your head head like hell, worse than it actually, funny. You rubbed your head and sighed feeling the dull thump slowly trace itself around your body before fading. The energy around you was gone now. You wondered if Alastor ever felt like this after going 'full demon' or whatever the hell this was called. Then you remembered, of course he wouldn't. He wouldn't need to use all of his power, you on the other hand did.

You muttered a curse under your lips. You were a target now. You had no other choice but to accept Alastor's offer, he might help you. He would. He would help you before but now that you'd be more official partners with him he'd be more than glad to do so.

You slowly felt the world fade around you as you leaned on your desk and groaned.

Everything hurt.

Vox scrambled back up to his feet in shock. He felt weak. You took energy from him, how the fuck did you do that? He bared his teeth for a moment before stopping and dusting off his suit. If anyone saw that, he'd never hear the end of it.

You defeated him, you took control. It took a while for him to notice that he was weaker, but he was. He stood outside of your door for a few moments glad that he couldn't speak, he couldn't even think right.

That type of power was breathtaking in a way. He shook his head and walked off not wanting to risk another confrontation, he didn't know if he'd survive another.

Previous <---... part 3 coming soon

Taglist: @animedancer14 @roboticsuccubus83 @fandom-queen37 @belletifeshyl @randomuser-89 @belos-simp69 @callmechito @maliciousmace @montis-posts @yukimy @creampuff-bunny @blue-shark-named-blahaj @twismare @sirenetheblogger @hotvillianapologist @saturnhas82moons

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #ITS PLATONIC #alastor and reader #thats not a tag :(#vox x reader #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #vox hazbin hotel #x reader #hazbin #part 3 coming soon #this might be about 5 parts honestly idk

225 notes · View notes

ailithnight · 1 year

Text

*Whoops. Forgot to title and link previous chapters. Fight me, I just woke up.

A King in Arkham

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

"Tim. Tim you have to get me copies of this footage." Tim is not surprised by the request. In fact, the 'Sure' is already on his tongue when he pauses, a thought creeping into his head, seeded by the notification Tim really hopes Jason isn't paying attention to in the bottom corner of the computer.

"One condition."

"Fuck you, I knew you'd want something. What? You want my cookies? Coffee? For Red Hood to go on camera singing praises for Red Robin? I'll fuckin do it. Just send me the god damn clips."

"Nope, nope, and tempting, but no."

"Name your price, Replacement. I'll pay it."

"Swear you aren't going to go rush in and extract the kid until we're done investigating him."

"What!? Fuck that! I told you was pulling him out next chance I get!" Tim lets himself groan in annoyance.

"Look, anyone that could do that-" Tim gestures to the part of the screen where they'd pulled up The Joker's medical reports following the incidents, showing pictures and descriptions of just how thoroughly Daniel had beat his ass 3 weeks in a row, "without getting so much as a scratch or fucking bruise in return, has got something going on. There may well be a reason they sent him to Arkham!"

Jason's eyes narrow at Tim as he all but growls, "No reason is good enough to put-"

"A fifteen year old in Arkham. I fucking know that, Hood. But we still need to know exactly who we're dealing with when we get him out. What his deal is. If his dangerous. What the hell was so wrong with him that someone thought it was a good idea to stick him in there to begin with."

"He could get hurt while we're sitting on our asses trying to satisfy fuckin Bat paranoia!"

"He took down the Joker! Clearly he can take care of himself."

"Then who has been hurting him!?"

"Maybe him fucking self!" Tim knew he was pushing it. The green growing stronger in Jason's eyes was proof. But he needed to buy them some time before Jason made thing exponentially harder by storming the castle. Still, now he needed to calm Jason down before he went into a full rage. So Tim held up his hands placatingly.

"A few days, Jay. Just give us a few more days. I'm already almost through the Arkham reports, and there are only a handful from Chicago and Oracle is probably going to announce any minute now that she got through the communications blackout around his home town. We just need a bit more time to sort out intel so that we actually know how to help him once we get him out."

Finally, after a tense 34 seconds, green fades back into blue and Jason let's out a heavy sigh.

"Fine. But I get to tell the Bat about Daniel's discipline slips. Wanna see his fuckin face when I do."

"Deal." Tim hurriedly puts a comm in as Jason watches with narrowed eyes.

Batman.

Red Robin. Ready to fill me in?

Not yet, you're about to be busy. I isolated a pattern earlier. Exactly 15 minutes before the locks malfunction, there's been a strange power surge. Always written off. But the surge doesn't seem to be coming from the grid. And like I said, exactly 15 minutes later is when the locks malfunction.

Jason huffs as he catches on. Apparently he hadn't thought to question why Tim was so desperate to buy time before.

Robin responds, since he's on stakeout with Bruce. Mostly because Bruce won't let him watch the asylum alone. Much as the kid hates it, the rest of the family agrees. It's only a matter of time before someone in max security manages to take advantage of theses malfunctions. So far Croc is the only one who had, though thankfully he's not one to start shit on his own. But with Joker, Scarecrow, and TwoFace all inside; any one of them, or god forbid all three, could make for a real bad situation.

Tt. So you can tell before a malfunction happens.

Think so. Last power surge was 8 minutes ago.

And you are only telling us now, why Drake?

Codenames.

Cause he spent those 8 convincing me not to go get our kid out yet.

6 minutes. See if you can stop things before they start.

I'm not far out. Want me to join you?

Tt. I doubt we'll need your assistance, Signal. We shall be done before you get here.

No wait. Signal, head in. See if you can get a read on 26B.

You think he might be meta?

Hood?

Jason glares at Tim betrayed.

"I wanted to see his fuckin face."

Tim just waves him off.

"They need to know. You tell them or I do."

Boys

Jason scowls, but relents.

He put the Joker in the infirmary on his 1st, 7th, and 15th days there. All 3 times took no damage himself. Feral child had to be pulled off and still didn't stop struggling till the clown was out of sight.

All 3 assaults followed by panic attacks, though whether about the Joker himself or what Daniel had done to him, we don't know yet.

The comms were silent for a moment.

A 15 year old...

Did what you've never had the balls to old man.

...I've fought the Joker.

Daniel hits first.

Hnn

I will admit, it is impressive that he can take the Joker down alone. Perhaps he will make for a worthy brother after all.

4 minutes.

We're moving in. Thank you Red Robin, Hood.

The fuck are you thanking me for?

For helping. And giving us time to work this out.

ETA 7 minutes out. Be with you shortly.

The advanced warning proved invaluable for Batman and Robin. After alerting the chief of security of their supposed pattern, he had guards already in motion when the doors swung open. Batman took a perch to watch for max security escapees while Robin assisted the guards in keeping inmates corralled. Many didn't even bother to leave their designated areas, having already seen the Bats in the building.

No sign of any max security inmates. Normally, Batman would find this concerning. And while he did file it away to ponder later why no one from max security ever seemed to make it out of that wing, for today he counted the blessing that he would not have to try to keep Robin safe while dealing with someone like the Joker.

Batman tracked motion through the crowds, watching as a black mop of hair moved, seemingly otherwise unnoticed, through the sea of people. He thought to move in to direct the person back towards where people were being herded to, but the small figure merely walked towards the B wing and entered one of the far cells. That gave Bruce a sneaking suspicion of which patient that was. He moved to get a closer look as Signal swooped in.

"Where is he?"

"I believe he just went into his cell. This way." Batman led Signal to the cell he'd seen that tiny person enter. It was indeed 26B and there was indeed a small, too small, frail looking boy lying on the bed there. A red blotch had appeared under his left eye even though Bruce was certain there had been no injury there as the boy had crossed the hall.

Signal froze beside him, breath stuttering. The boy briefly glanced at them through the corner of his eye, mouth twitching into a brief frown. Then his eyes turned back to the ceiling and his face smoothed out. Bruce couldn't help but reach out.

"Hello." The boy said nothing. Signal opened and closed his mouth, seeming to try to say something, but unable to get words out. Batman wondered what he must be seeing. "You seem hurt. Do you need help?" Eyes flickered back to him and away just as quickly.

"Nothing you can help with Mr. Batman." And oh, how Bruce hated the kid's voice. So quiet and so so hollow. Bruce's mind flashed to his children, imagining any them speaking with such emptiness. His heart clenched, wondering what could have happened to this boy to have snuffed the life out of him so young.

Duke found his voice again, just as the doors buzzed and swung shut again.

"What are you?" Bruce frowned, looking at his latest. Who was looking, as Bruce tracked his gaze, not at Daniel but at the space just above him. Daniel himself seemed to take interest all of a sudden, breaking away his upward gaze to roll his head and look at them. Confusion plain on his face, the first hint of life shining dimly in his eyes.

"Signal? Signal, what do you see?" Batman asked. Robin materialized beside them. The daytime hero stepped forward, then back, light sparking and fizzling around his fingertips.

"There's something in there with him."

Daniel looked back up, where Signal still had his gazed trained on something Batman couldn't see. Even Robin seemed confused, though he no doubt trusted Signal's meta sight.

"Don't worry," Daniel murmured, "S'just a ghost. She can't hurt you."

This 'ghost' seemed unhappy either with the teen's words or this turn of events. Daniel's head snapped back to the side again, causing Batman and Signal to wince while Robin watched stoically. 4 red scratches appeared on Daniel's right cheek, as though he had been backhanded by someone with clawlike nails. A light chill brushed through him and Signal tensed, then relaxed, his gaze finally turning from the emptiness above Daniel to the boy himself. Batman took that as a sign that the... entity, was gone.

Daniel did not react to the obvious abuse from an invisible assailant. He mechanically turned his head back, once more dead and glazed eyes returning to the cracks in the ceiling of his cell. "You should go now. The guards will come around soon to make sure I'm still here."

Bruce wanted so badly to say 'Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.' But Batman was more restrained than that. He would get the child out. But he would have a plan first. For now, Bruce placed a hand each on the shoulders of Duke and Damien, guiding them away. Only when they were back outside did Bruce let them go. Only when they were perched on a rooftop half a block away did Batman pause.

"Robin, report."

"No escaped inmates and no sign of any from maximum security."

"Good. Signal, any information on what you saw in there." Duke rubbed at his eyes.

"A ghost, I guess? I don't know. It was weird. She didn't really have an aura. It was more like, an absence of aura. Like she was a black hole, drawing all the light in."

Even behind the domino, Bruce could tell Damien rolled his eyes.

"And what of the patient, Thomas? Was he not the one you were sent to look at?" Batman bit back the reprimand for codenames, more interested in Signal's response. Signal seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head.

"He definitely had a pretty distinct aura. It... felt powerful. But it looked weak. Dim. When the ghost... struck him, it flared up a bit, but died back down almost instantly. I... I get the feeling he was holding it back. Almost like he was afraid of it. Of himself."

"Hnn. Good job Signal. Robin. You two are welcome to head back to the cave. I'll take the rest of this Arkham shift."

At that moment, the comms crackled to life.

Actually B, you may want to come in, also. Arkham should be fine. And I found why they sent the kid there.

#A King in Arkham #DP x DC #my writing #In case ya can't tell #I have no idea what the layout of Arkham is supposed to be #So I'm just kind of imagining a tv stereotypical prison layout #Two story room with double layers cells #Congregating area in the middle #Max security off in its own section #Probably not at all what Arkham is supposed to look like #But I reckon the details can be a bit nebulous for the sake of fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

e-hv · 2 months

Text

Why

This is a repost cause i deleted all my fics

part 2

Major warning if you have mommy issues or daddy issues or parental neglect issues pls do not read this

and if you do read this pls don't blame me for anything, including but not limited to excessive crying/sobbing, a depression slump/ wanting to kill someone or anything else

Or if you're name Sarah

Alexia Putellas X Child!Reader

Tw: Negelct, Angst

Summary: Why does she not keep her promises

"Why do I keep reaching out to you, hoping for some semblance of acknowledgment, only to be met with silence and indifference?

“Mami, I made it into the school’s football team.” Ten year old you was very excited to tell Alexia that you made the football team. She was on her computer watching replays of her matched yesterday, she promised you she would fetch you from school toady but instead of her your helper was there. But you told yourself it was okay because Mami was busy and you could just tell her the good news when you got home. When you told her the news, she looked at you and asked you not to bother her while she was working, and that she’ll talk to you during dinner. So you went to your room to do your schoolwork. When you finally finish all your school work and extra revision, you went out of your room to find your Mami,but she wasn’t there so you asked your helper. She said Alexia, went out to meet up with friends. After dinner, you decide to wait up for her and read a book in the mean time, by the time she got backed you were almost done with the book and was really sleepy. But you still ran up to her and greet her, she pushed you away telling you that she was too tired and went to her room to sleep. You went back to your room, sitting on your bed, holding your book tightly, you couldn't help but wonder why Mami didn't seem to care about you. Why did she always ignore you when you just wanted her to notice you and be proud of you? Why did you keep trying to talk to her, hoping she would finally pay attention to you, even though she never did?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you whispered to yourself, "Why couldn’t she be proud of me like the moms in the stories are of their children?”

Why do I continue to bend over backwards to fulfill your every request, knowing deep down that you're just putting on a facade for others?

“Mami, can I go to the arcade with my friends it’s the last day of school, and we want to do something fun together.” You were now eleven, older then ten but still young enough to think Alexia could change. Alexia had just came home from training,but she was on the phone with someone so she told you to quiet down. You sighed and walked to your room to put down your bag and change into something comfortable. You decide to do your work as you thought if you finished it your Mami would let you go out with your friends. When you heard Alexia said her goodbyes to whoever was on the phone. You opened your room door and called for her, and reapeated the question adding in the fact that you finished your school work. She said you weren’t allowed to go out today and you could go out with them tomorrow instead, you tried to explain to her that most of your friends would be out of the country but she said you shouldn’t argue with her as she was your mother, and that she had a reason for saying no. You asked her what the reason was and she said her teammates were coming over for teambuilding and she wanted you to help bring them drinks and buy food and snacks for them. You just nodded your head and said yes knowing there was no use arguing. By the time you got back her teammates were already there, you heard her teammate, Ingrid, compliment how good you are. But your Mami just dismissed it and said that it was just how you were. Her other teammate Lucia asked her if you played football, Alexia laughed and said she didn’t think so. Feeling a lump form in your throat, you dropped the bag of snacks to the floor, causing concern from the adults. You assured them you were fine and quietly announced to your mom that you were going to bed, your heart heavy with disappointment and a growing understanding of the reality of your relationship.

When you stepped into your room, the weight of disappointment and frustration became too much to bear. You collapsed onto your bed, letting the tears flow freely as you allowed yourself to finally break down. The floodgates of emotion opened, releasing the pent-up feelings of rejection, loneliness, and hurt that you had been holding back. With each sob, you felt a little bit of the burden lift from your shoulders, yet the ache in your heart remained, a constant reminder of the unmet longing for your mother's love and approval.

Why do I lie to those around me, insisting that your absence isn't your fault, when I know it is?

“Miss Sánchez, my mom can’t make it to my graduation, because she has some work issues.”

You were now 12 and graduating from Primary school, you knew you weren’t telling the truth but it was technically not a lie either. Your teacher asked if you wanted her to speak to your mom to ask her to come but you said it was okay and you knew your mom was busy that day. Your best friend, Zoe, did not believe you and asked you to tell her why your mom couldn’t come. You told her that she was just busy and that it wasn’t her fault because she was the captain and she had to help her teammates. Zoe said it was bullshit, and you agreed but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say it after all she was still your mom. Zoe asked you again why she actually couldn’t come and you finally told her the truth, that your Mom was training another girl the same age as you, and that the girls graduation was the same day as yours but her parents couldn’t make it so your mom promised the girl she would go instead. When the day of the graduation came, you didn’t even see Alexia in the morning as she said she was going to get breakfast with the girl, you looked in the mirror and thought to yourself,” Why didn’t she remember or keep or the promises she made for me but keeps the promises she makes for this girl. She didn’t even remember the fact she promise you she would be at your graduation, two weeks ago.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the day you'd confront her, letting the anger and hurt fuel your determination to rise above her absence. You knew you deserved better, and you vowed to become stronger, despite her shortcomings. Why do I constantly make excuses for your shortcomings, even though you never bother to show up for me?

And you... why do you harbor such animosity towards me that you refuse to even acknowledge my existence anymore?

“Hey, have you talk to your mom about the road trip yet?” Zoe asked. You said you haven’t had the time to, but the truth was your Mom was spending more time with Elena the girl whose graduation she went to and missed yours as a consequence, and hadn’t been talking to you for about a week , if you were still twelve you would have been sobbing your eyes out but you were now thirteen and realize what your mom was truly like to you. The only interaction you had was when she gave you money or you gave her something to sign, not that you didn’t try on your part you send her messages asking her if she wanted to go out for breakfast, lunch, dinner or even to just kick the ball around but she didn’t see it much less respond to it or said yes. You even resorted to leaving notes on the table but when you came back home instead of seeing a reply the note was in the trash. You were very sure she wouldn’t even notice your gone as the road trip was only for a week, and you wanted to test out your theory. So you asked her to give you a weeks worth of allowance when you finally saw her and agreed, probably because it meant she wouldn’t have to interact more with you.

When you came back from the road trip, you found that your theory was sadly accurate. Your mom hadn't even noticed you were gone. There were no inquiries about your trip, no excitement to hear about your adventures, no concern for your well-being. It was as if you had never left.

At first, the realization stung. You couldn't understand why your own mother seemed to harbor such animosity towards you, why she couldn't spare a moment to acknowledge your existence. But as the days passed, you began to accept the truth: your relationship with your mom was not what you had hoped it would be. She was more invested in Elena, more interested in her life and her accomplishments, than she was in yours.

It hurt, of course it did. But you were thirteen now, no longer the naive twelve-year-old who believed that her mom's love and attention were guaranteed. You knew better. And so, with a heavy heart but a steely resolve, you made a silent vow to yourself: you wouldn't waste any more time trying to win your mom's affection.

What did I do to deserve such disdain from my own flesh and blood?

“I didn’t do anything wrong Mom, she tried to take my necklace!” You tried explaining to your , mom. But she didn’t listen to you instead taking away your necklace and giving it to Elena, and telling her to go to the living room. Elena acted like an angel in front of her saying it was okay but when she walked out and your mom’s back was facing towards her she gave you a smirk as if saying now you know who she loves more. You tried explaining the situation again, but your mom said she didn’t want to listen to you and that she was so disappointed that she raised such a selfish and jealous daughter. You wanted to protest and state your case but you gave up knowing there was no point, you were now fourteen you told yourself it would just be four years until your out of this emotional hell hole and you would be with the person who treated you like her actual daughter. The person who gave you the necklace Elena took.

What flaw in me is so repulsive that you would rather speak to her than to me, your own daughter?

“Mom, can I talk to you about football tatics,?” you asked. You asked Alexia about football tactics, hoping to bond over something you both enjoyed, but she brushed you off, claiming she was too busy. You said it was okay and continued to read, when you heard the phone ring, Alexia had answered with a “Hola,Pequeña” and you knew she was talking to Elena, as Elena was the only one she called Pequeña, she defiteniley didn’t call you that or anyother nickname in the first place. Hell she doesn’t even acknowlege your her daughter unless she’s scolding you and telling you how she couldn’t believe she raised you.

Feeling rejected once again, you retreated to your room, wondering what flaw in you was so repulsive that your own mother would rather speak to someone else.

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of her indifference pressing down on you like a heavy blanket.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to make sense of the situation, to understand what was so wrong with you that she would rather speak with her instead. But you went to your bathroom wipe your tears, and reminded your self you were now fifteen and that when you were twelve you vowed to yourself that you would no longer allow Alexia's indifference to define you.

And despite all the hurt and disappointment you've caused, why do I still cling to the hope that one day, you'll finally be there for me, even though you've never shown any inclination to do so in the past?

“Mom, I have an important football match today, can you come to support me?” You asked, your voice tinged with a flicker of hope despite the years of disappointment weighing heavy on your heart.

Alexia glanced up from her phone, her expression distant as she muttered something about being busy and needing to focus on her and Elena’s own training. The familiar sting of rejection pierced through you once again, but you quickly masked your disappointment with a forced smile.

Deep down, you knew better than to expect her to show up. You knew the pattern all too well — your mother's absence, her lack of interest in your life, her constant prioritization of others over you. But still, despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, a small part of you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

As you made your way to the football field, your heart heavy with the weight of unmet expectations, you tried to push aside the nagging doubts and convince yourself that today would be the day she finally showed up for you. But deep down, you knew the truth — that no matter how much you wished for her presence, she would never be there to cheer you on, to celebrate your victories, or to comfort you in your defeats.

And yet, despite all the hurt and disappointment she had caused, despite the countless times she had let you down, you couldn't help but cling to the hope that one day, she would finally be there for you. It was a hope born from a deep-seated longing for a mother's love and approval, a hope that refused to die despite the harsh reality of your relationship. Even though you promise yousrelf that you would stop, but this was her last chance, you were now seventeen but was turning eighteen soon and she didn’t take it, so you knew your decision.

After the game, that you won, you looked into the stands even though you knew no one would be there to your surprise, the women you met at a match your mom played, who then became the person who treated you like her actual daughter was there.

Her warm smile and enthusiastic applause filled you with a sense of validation and belonging that you had longed for but never received from your own mother.

As you made your way over to her, she enveloped you in a tight hug, congratulating you on your victory and praising your performance on the field and telling you that she couldn’t wait until you joined her to play in arsenal. The person who treated you like her actual daughter and the person you call Ma when you talked to, was Leah Williamson. In that moment, surrounded by her genuine affection and support, you felt a sense of relief wash over you — a sense of relief that you no longer needed to rely on your mother's approval to feel valued and loved.

I just wish one day I'll have enough courage to let go of the futile longing for your love and acceptance, and to find the strength to accept that you may never change, no matter how much I yearn for your presence in my life.

“You ready to go yet?” Your Ma asked you. You told her to give you a few minutes, you look around your now barren room, all the memories flooding back.

The first time you made it into a football team,

"Mom, I made it into the school’s football team."

"That's nice, honey," Alexia replied absentmindedly, her eyes glued to the screen.

"But you promised you'd pick me up today," you reminded her, your excitement dampened by her lack of attention.

"I know, sweetie, but something came up. The helper will take care of you," she said, barely sparing you a glance.

Disappointed but hopeful, you waited until dinner to share your news, hoping for a moment of connection.

"Not now, I'm busy," Alexia brushed you off, immersed in her work.

Crestfallen, you retreated to your room, the weight of her indifference pressing down on you.

"Why doesn’t she care?" you whispered to yourself, tears welling in your eyes. "Why can't she just be proud of me?"

The last day of school when you were eleven,

"Mami, can I go to the arcade with my friends? It’s the last day of school," you asked, longing for a moment of fun.

"Not today, darling," Alexia replied, her attention divided between you and her phone call.

"But I finished all my work," you protested, desperate for her approval.

"I said no. End of discussion," she declared, her tone final.

Defeated, you resigned yourself to another night at home, your heart heavy with disappointment.

Your graduation when you were twelve,

"Mom, why can't you come to my graduation?" you asked, masking the hurt in your voice.

"I have a work commitment, sweetie," Alexia replied, her words ringing hollow.

"But you promised," you whispered, the weight of her broken promises crushing you.

As the day of your graduation arrived, you watched as Alexia left to attend another girl's ceremony, leaving you behind.

"Why does she always choose someone else over me?" you wondered, the sting of rejection burning deep.

When Elena took your necklace, and she took her side,

"I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I don't want to hear it," Alexia cut you off, her disappointment palpable.

"Why won't you listen to me?" you pleaded, tears streaming down your cheeks.

As you stood in your room, the silence echoed around you, a painful reminder of your mother's absence.

"Mom, please," you begged, your voice breaking with emotion.

But there was no answer, only the emptiness of your own heartache.

With all this memories flooding back to you, you decided to write her a letter,

Dear Alexia,

As you can see i’m no longer calling you mom. Since I was ten i’ve been making excuses as to why you didn’t care for me, I remember the times when I reached out to you, hoping for even a semblance of acknowledgment, only to be met with silence and indifference. Like when I excitedly told you I made it into the school's football team, only to have you brush me off, too busy with your own affairs to spare a moment for me. Or when I asked if I could go to the arcade with my friends, hoping for a moment of fun together, only to be shut down without a second thought.

I've bent over backwards to fulfill your every request, hoping against hope that maybe this time, you would see me, truly see me, and be proud of me. But time and time again, I've been met with disappointment and heartache.

I've lied to those around me, insisting that your absence isn't your fault, when deep down, I know it is. I've made excuses for your shortcomings, trying to shield you from judgment, even though you've never bothered to show up for me.

And I've wondered, time and time again, what flaw in me is so repulsive that you would rather speak to someone else than to me, your own daughter. I've cried myself to sleep, wondering why you harbor such animosity towards me, why you refuse to even acknowledge my existence anymore.

But despite all the hurt and disappointment you've caused, I still cling to the hope that one day, you'll finally be there for me. That one day, you'll see me for who I am and love me unconditionally, just like in the stories.

But I've come to realize that hope can be a dangerous thing, especially when it's placed in someone who may never change. So I'm writing this letter to let you know that I no longer need to cling to that hope. I no longer need to yearn for your love and acceptance, because I've found it elsewhere.

I've found it in the woman who treated me like her own daughter, who was there for me when you weren't. I've found it in the friends who have stood by me through thick and thin. And most importantly, I've found it within myself.

I hope that I have fulfil your wished that I no longer disappoint you as I’m no longer your problem or yours’s anymore as I finally have enough courage to let go of the futile longing for your love and acceptance, and to find the strength to accept that you may never change, no matter how much I yearn for your presence in my life

So ,

this is goodbye

Sincerely,

Y/N

#angst #liquidation writes #woso soccer #woso fanfics #woso #woso community #fc barca femeni #womens football #woso imagine #alexia putellas angst #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia x reader #alexia putellas

175 notes · View notes

fanfic-obsessed · 7 months

Text

Derailed

This is another funny one. I certainly giggled while writing it.

When Palpatine goes to imply that Padme is cheating on Anakin, Anakin does not freak out. Instead he brightens and says something to the effect of ‘Oh! it must have been time to drug Obi Wan again’ and/or several other things that leave Palpatine with the impression that Anakin and Padme are having regular threesomes with Obi Wan…or are regularly drugging and having their way with Obi Wan.

Note 1:This is not what is happening. There really isn’t even any drugging going on. It turns out that the twins, still gestating, radiate such a strong aura of light and love that it allows war weary, exhausted Jedi to sleep and sleep well. So Padme always has a few Jedi napping, and hidden if they are in public, wherever she is. Including her apartment. There was some discussion of having her move into the temple, with Padme present as the Jedi are very into consent, but it was decided that it would endanger her and/or cause a scandal and likely expose her and Anakin’s marriage to the general public.

Note :2 Anakin was legally considered underage in both cultures at the time of their wedding-Jedi considered adulthood as far as signing legal contracts is concerned at knighthood. Naboo is a bit different, there are some things in which Naboo is very formalized, including their record keeping. They also do not really have a mechanism for errors in those records. So when little Anakin Skywalker’s identification records were created he was asked his birthdate-the question itself was in formal legalese, thus not very clear. Not knowing his actual birthdate, and not quite understanding the question, he gave the date of the Boonta Eve Classic, where he won his freedom. There was so much confusion that it was never checked before it was entered into the Naboo system, which then fed into the galactic system. Legally, as far as the galactic computer systems are concerned Padme married a 10 year old.

Note 3: Padme has teamed up with various clone commanders to have their Jedi dragged to where they can get some sleep if it seems like they try running off Force for too long. The first of which was Cody, who is the founding member of the 'I love my my Jedi but What the Fuck' support group.

Anakin then asks a dumbfounded Palpatine if it was a specific date, to which Palpatine(who had been making the entire rumor out of whole cloth) just nodded. Anakin nodded to himself and said that he was surprised that they noticed Obi Wan but not all the other members of the Jedi Council. Or all the other Jedi that pass through Padme’s apartment.

Anakin has now accidentally convinced Palpatine that there is some Jedi Orgy happening in the senatorial apartments (maybe? Possibly Including other members of the delegation of 2000????). Everything Anakin says after that point sounds like it supports this idea (In defense of Palpatine, it all sounded suspicious) but does have innocent explanations. Including at one point saying something to the effect of “The Twins (because the healers did come over and let them know they were having twins) belonged to all of the Jedi’” and, just before leaving (still cheerfully oblivious), says that his nightmares have gone away since finding out that that Master Windu is a cuddler.

And Palpatine. Just. Bluescreens. Like full on we passed the woman with Math gif and onto the Blue Screen of Death at the idea that Mace Windu was a cuddler.

He can’t even remember what he was trying to do at the start of the conversation. For several hours Palpatine can’t even remember what he was trying to do with the Sith Plan.

He just has to sit with the knowledge that Master Mace Windu, head of the Jedi Council, is a cuddler. Palpatine does not know what to do with this knowledge. Palpatine is not sure he wants to know what to do with this knowledge.

As a fix it, I would say that this possible Jedi/Senatorial Orgy continues to make Palpatine crazier and crazier, dragging him into paranoia until he is gently retired from office (because everyone believes that the war cracked him, wasn’t it so sad) and sent off to a quiet lake house on Naboo. I picture him as Mr.Crocker from Fairly Odd Parents, where he twitches into all kinds of weird configurations and screams JEDI CUDDLES at the top of his lungs and tries to ‘prove’ that these orgies between Jedi and senators exist, but fails because they do not.

#star wars the clone wars #star wars #fanfiction prompt #anakin skywalker #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #sheev palpatine #anidala #bamf obi wan #codywan

298 notes · View notes

maybeitsalivescribbles · 4 months

Text

TTD - Dastardly Hug

Being a hero had its inconveniences. You could be called for help at any hour, you could be harassed by any angry civilian because you didn’t do a good enough job, or of course you could be hit and killed by some villain on the loose.

However, what worried Hero at the moment was the paperwork. It was the dreaded time of the month when they had to log in the agency website and describe every one of their good deeds to be paid. It had taken a bunch of tries to finally access their account, and now they were wondering if bringing a dog back to its family counted as “security” (the dog was certainly safer inside the house) or as “improving the well-being of citizens” (a category that could embrace all kinds of actions, to helping an old lady to cross the street from stopping the apocalypse – who designed these things ?).

Behind their back, the door creaked in an ominous way (they really needed to lubricate the hinges). For a brief instant they fervently hoped that it was only a gust of wind, but the light of the room suddenly went off. They sighed and saved their progress while their roommate solemnly declared:

“I am darkness. I am the creeping blackness that cannot be killed by any light.”

“Sure, but I’m certain you still will be in fifteen minutes. Can you come back then ? I’m doing paperwork.”

“You wish to surrender to the horrors of bureaucracy rather than mine?”

“I don’t wish it, but we kinda need the money, you know. What did you want ?”

“Why, tis but a common reminder to surrender in my presence that should strike fear and reverence in your heart. Every activity of yours should pale into insignificance.”

“Can you be more precise ?”

“I’ve come for intimidation and invasion of your personal space.”

Hero looked at the screen of their computer. It had been already two hours since they began. Oh, fuck it.

“Yeah, okay.”

They patted their knee and extended one arm. For a moment, they couldn’t see anything, then they felt the weight of a person on their lap and a head on their shoulder. It was impossible to see the shape of the silhouette huddled up them, only a vague black cloud, but it wasn’t a problem. They were getting used to it by now. They closed their arms gently until their fingers met a back, that they rubbed.

“You have so many knots.”

“It’s because I’m very twisted.”

“Maybe you should straighten your back more.”

Former Villain shrugged and didn’t answer. They both stayed like that for a while, silent and quiet.

“Hero ?”

“Yes ?”

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you ?”

Hero’s hand froze on their roommate’s back.

“Why would I do that ?”

“Just checking.”

“Of course I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Still no answer. Fingers clutched at their shirt, almost desperately. Hero knew by now that asking if their roommate was okay was a lost cause. They never answered in a straight manner. So, after clearing their throat, they awkwardly said:

“Uh, if you let me suffer into the hands of the bureaucracy for a little while, you could beat me to video games if you want to. Or we can watch a movie together. But, uh, in a really evil way ?”

“In a really evil way ?”

“I don’t know, I try to make it sound appealing to you.”

“You’re terrible at it. Nevertheless, I will graciously accept your request.”

“How kind.”

After a moment, Former Villain slid from their lap and went out. Hero didn’t turn back to their paperwork immediately. The truth was that despite Villain being their roommate, they didn’t know much about them. Who needed to pretend that wanting a hug was very evil, and what kind of past did they have ?

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.

#villain and hero #hero villain community #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #my writing #writing snippet #writing drabble #fluff #writing dialogue #creative writing #these two dorks #heroes and villains #hero and villain #hero x villain #platonic relationships #aroace oc #In which Villain asks and receives a dastardly hug #Hero already had cats before so they don’t mind

183 notes · View notes

spidernerdsblog · 2 years

Text

baby spider

Summary : your son seems to have inherited his dad's powers.

Pairing : dad! Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings : fluff

You swayed in the middle of the nursery humming a soft tune to your almost two year old boy in your arms. Ben had his head nestled on your shoulder as he suckled on his thumb in his sleep. Making sure not to wake him up you gently laid him down on his crib and pulled the blanket over him.

You stood there taking your time fawning over your baby boy who was growing way too fast to your liking. It feels like yesterday after twenty two hours of labor the nurse had handed him to you wrapped in a soft blanket. Peter who was there beside you the whole time had tears in his eyes when he held him for the first time. He had kissed you as he told you how much he loves you both and thanked you for giving him the most precious gift of his life. And now you chase your little man around the apartment as he runs wild on his little legs.

“My sweet boy.” you cooed leaving a soft kiss on his forehead.

You have taken up a work from home job so that you can take care of Ben as you sit down on your computer to reply to your mails and get some work done.

Peter returned from his job after some time as you walked out to the living room.

“Hey,” he pressed a soft kiss on your lips.

“How was your day?” you asked, grabbing his coat and hanging it on the rack.

“Good for once Mr. Jameson was in a good mood today.”

“Shocking!” you gasped in mock surprise.

“I know.” Peter chuckled. “Leave all that, how was your day? And where’s my boy?”

“Just the usual stuff.” you shrugged. “Ben is taking a nap but I should go and check on him. It's almost his dinner time.”

“Yeah you go I’ll freshen up and start with preparing the dinner.”

Since day one of your marriage Peter has been quite adamant to make dinner every night and you let him ‘cause apart from the delicious food he looked like a wet dream when he worked around the kitchen especially shirtless. And why would you deny yourself from such a view?

“Ben?” you twisted the door knob and walked inside the nursery to find the crib empty. “Oh my god! Peter!”

Peter had just finished changing into his t-shirt and sweats when your panicked shriek made him rush to you. “Y/N what happened?! Are you alright?!”

“Ben is missing Peter!!” you said with panic stricken eyes.

“What?!”

“I-I had put him in his crib, he was sleeping but now he is nowhere.” your chin trembled, a sob breaking out of you.

“Y/N, calm down.” Peter touched your shoulders.

“Peter, where did he go? He’s so small he can’t get out of the crib on his own.” you blubbered as fear gripped on to you. “What if someone took him knowing that you’re spiderman?”

“That’s impossible honey. We will find him, don't worry.” he kissed the top of your head reassuringly as he thought of what he should do. And just then the familiar sound of giggles of your baby boy reached your ears. Both you and Peter quickly jerked your heads up and your eyes went wide. Your toddler on his fours sticking on to the ceiling.

“Holyshit!” Peter cursed under his breath as you cried out “Ben!”

“Mama.” he said with a gummy smile on his face.

“Baby how did you get up there? Come down to mommy, it's not safe.” you raised your arms in the air towards him.

“Y/N, he doesn't know how the powers work.” Peter whispered in your ears.

“This is all your fault!” you turned to him accusingly.

“My fault?? There was a fifty percent chance of him inheriting the spider genes and you knew that.” he argued.

“I don’t know anything” you shook your head petulantly. “Just bring down our son from up there right now!”

“Ok, ok relax I’ll get him.”

“Stay right there sweetie daddy will come to you.” you cooed to your son who was looking down at you with his big brown eyes and then turned to Peter who was still standing by your side. “Peter! What are you waiting for? Get on the ceiling!”

“God you’re so bossy.” Peter hopped up on his feet, his fingers sticking to the ceiling as he got on to his hands and knees and slowly crawled towards Ben.

Ben, too small to understand, thought his father was playing with him and crawled away giggling. “Daddy, no catch me.”

Your heart was in your throat as you watched Peter reach for your baby boy as he crawled away further.

“Ben, wait.” Peter said.

“Ben, my sweet boy please don’t move. You’ll get hurt.” you tried, standing in the middle of the room helplessly. But he didn’t listen and moved to the edge of the ceiling and started to crawl down the wall. You quickly crossed the room and stood near the wall. As soon as Ben came in your arms length you scooped him in your arms.

“Oh god.” you smothered his face with kisses. “Don’t you ever do that again.” a single tear sliding down your cheek.

“Mama, no cry” Ben wiped your tears with his small hand as Peter dropped down on his feet by your side.

“You really scared us buddy.” Peter patted his head gently.

“I is hungwee.” Ben said, pouting out his bottom lip.

“I know my baby spider, let's go I made your favorite dino nuggies.” you smiled.

“Nuggies! Yum, yum.” he squealed in excitement, making both you and Peter laugh.

“Yes and no more crawling on the ceiling.” you said.

..................................................................................

(A/N : the crappy edit is mine lol that pic is so cute but I had to change the background. Let me know your thoughts.)

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #dad!peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #tasm!peter parker #andrew garfield #andrew!peter parker #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield smut #peter parker smut #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter smut #spiderman fanfiction #tasm! peter parker fluff #peter parker fanfiction

4K notes · View notes

riaarivic · 5 months

Text

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 2 Clean

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

💗 Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗 Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort.

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 4,8k

💗 Series index: 1 2

“The drought was the very worst, ah-ah. When the flowers that we'd grown together died of thirst It was months and months of back and forth, ah-ah, ah-ah. You're still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore” -Taylor Swift

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

Your daughter, Hana.

Amid the rapid-fire questions echoing in Namjoon's head, his pulse raced as you introduced the unexpected star of the show—

Who had just barged into the already tense conference room.

Like a small– But charming tornado.

"Everyone, this is my daughter, Hana. Baby, say hi; they will work with mommy." You said sitting her on your lap.

"Hello, I’m Hana. I’m Three years old.” Hana greeted, her innocence oozing charm.

She spoke korean.

That made Namjoon smile.

Cute.

"Baby Hana, do you know who we are?" Jimin asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She nodded. Did she?

"You are Jimin, Jk, V, Jin, J-Hope, Suga, and… Rap Monster?” Hana’s innocent attempt earned laughter from everyone.

Everyone but Namjoon.

He halted what he was doing, a sudden realization hitting him like a ton of bricks.

She was three years old.

And she looked like him.

Too much like him.

“She’s so polite!” Jimin exclaimed.

“That’s so cute!” chimed in V.

“Are you an army, baby Hana?” Jin inquired, curious.

“No,” Hana replied. “I like Seventeen more.” Jin's shocked expression made everyone burst with laughter.

“Oh! But we’re cooler than them!” Jin tried to protest.

“I’m sorry; she has her interests, and right now, she’s obsessed with Wonwoo from Seventeen.” you tried to explain. But Seokjin was already about to get into a fight with a three year old to prove that, In fact, BTS were much cooler.

Not that Namjoon had a problem with Seventeen.

But he considered himself objectively cooler than them.

He stopped mid thought. Why the hell is he caring so much of what a toddler thought?

"Hana! Here you are!" A tall man with glasses emerged, breaking the charm of the moment. "We apologize for the interruption. Our Hana tends to run too fast. I am Eric Lee, Stardom’s chief financial operator and Y/N’s husband," he added, the unnecessary detail sending a ripple through the room.

The oblivious members resumed their excitement, but Namjoon felt like a computer crashing and about to explode. The mathematical calculations in his head were on the brink of causing a stroke.

If Namjoon's eyes could kill, Eric would be a bloody stain on the floor. Jealousy surged within him, a feeling he knew he didn't deserve.

But your daughter, she was three.

That meant you met this person around the same time you broke up.

You surely moved fast.

The Eric guy apologized again and took Hana from your arms to take her outside. She smiled at everyone and waved goodbye.

Her dimpled smile made Namjoon’s heart do a somersault.

The meeting continued as if background noise, but Namjoon's focus shifted to you, studying your face. That girl, she looked too much like him and nothing like this whoever-I-don’t-care guy.

It couldn't be possible.

He admitted he hurt you. But you would never do that to him.

Right?

If that girl was his.

You would have told him.

But he looked too much like him.

And he needed to talk to you.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2017💗💗💗

The conference room hummed with tension.

As the team gathered for a crucial meeting on the North American leg of their Wings Tour. Namjoon, the usually composed leader, wore a furrowed brow and an air of defiance. The discussion centered around their press schedules.

Namjoon's frustration boiled over as he voiced his stance, "I won't be a clown for them. We're artists. I won't subject the group to this circus. Where the only thing they ask us if we had ever eaten a hamburger"

You, seated across the table, shot him an incredulous look.

"Namjoon, we can't afford to cut the press schedules. If we want BTS to break into the mainstream music market, we need exposure. Press appearances are non-negotiable."

He scoffed, "Exposure won't matter if they don't take us seriously. I won't compromise our art for popularity."

The heated exchange drew the attention of the other members and the managers.

This was the third time this week.

And the main managers were starting to think if you were worht all this tenssion.

But you did get them an appearance on the three main late night shows in the US for their tour promotion.

So you two had to learn to get along.

The room crackled as you shot back, "This is not about compromising your art, Namjoon. It's about strategic promotion. We need the media to understand and appreciate you, all of you."

Namjoon's eyes flashed with anger, and just as the confrontation seemed to reach its peak, J-Hope intervened.

"I think it's enough. This is about the success of the group. We'll do what it takes to keep BTS in the public eye, and that includes press appearances."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of the decision sinking in.

Yoongi, who had remained quiet, finally spoke up. "I get where Namjoon is coming from, but we have to adapt to the market. If this is what it takes, then we'll do it. And Namjoon, you have Y/N's support. She won't let us down."

You nodded, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. The resolution hung in the air as the team grudgingly agreed to move forward with the press schedules.

The future of BTS in the North American market now rests on the delicate balance between you and him.

And none of you would give the other the satisfaction of a win.

After the intense meeting, you needed a moment to decompress. So you headed to the lounge to join the stylist crew for lunch.

The atmosphere was more relaxed here, a welcome change from the tension in the conference room. The aroma of delicious foods filled the air as you settled at the table with your colleagues.

As you unwrapped your lunch, the stylist crew delved into a gossip session.

“Y/N-ssi, Do You know Ha-young? She’s from the makeup team” You nodded. “She just confessed to PD-nim that she caught one-sided feelings with one of the members” the younger stylist said leaning closer to you “Bad girl. She should have known better”

“My money is on Jimin” one of them said and the others giggled. You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for the girl who had just lost her job.

Their director was unforgiving.

Just like they have told you on your first day here. Having any type of personal relationship with any of the members was the cardinal sin.

Poor Ha-young, was going to be blacklisted from the industry, a harsh punishment for what was deemed reckless and unprofessional behavior.

Listening to the gossip, you couldn't help but shake your head.

The idea of jeopardizing your career for a simple crush seemed both reckless and foolish.

As the chatter continued, you found yourself silently reaffirming your commitment to keeping personal and professional boundaries intact.

That will never be you.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

“I am really sorry, doll,”

Yoongi murmured, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

“I don’t understand anything that’s happening,” you admitted, the weight of the situation heavy on your shoulders. You patted Hana’s back as she slept peacefully unaware of the deep wound on her mother’s heart.

One that you would have to mend.

To have the strength to raise a child…

By yourself.

“You know it takes time for him to wrap his head around things. He’ll know better, give him time,” Yoongi offered, his voice reflecting a hint of confusion and frustration with Namjoon's actions.

“I wish I had that luxury, Yoongi. But she’s here. She’s alive, she needs things. I can’t just go and say that I need time. She needs a parent… Both of us.” Yoongi sighed, understanding the gravity of the situation.

“I considered it, you know? Not Having her” your heart sank confessing this for the first time outloud “But, I guess I was selfish, and I resent myself for it. The selfish side of me wanted to at least have this. But she’s so much more than just us. She’s so special.”

“I can see that,” he replied, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You hate babies, Min,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“This one’s alright. She’s a part of you too. And that makes her special.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed, vulnerability seeping into your words.

“I know, doll,” Yoongi reassured, his tone softening.

“I don’t know if I can be a good mom to her. I can’t do this alone.”

“First of all, you are not alone. Second of all, you are the most capable, hardworking, and kind person I’ve met. It’s going to be fucking hard? Yes, I’ll not sugarcoat it. But you got this.”

“I want to punch him in the face so much.” You felt the first tears start to fall from your eyes.

“I know, doll. Me too,” Yoongi admitted, the unspoken understanding between you two creating a bond of shared frustration and support.

Yoongi placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with both empathy and frustration. "Look, Y/N, I know Namjoon, and this is so unlike him. We've been through everything together for more than ten years, and he's not the type to turn away from responsibilities. There has to be something else going on."

Your eyes filled up with tears again, a mixture of sadness and anger. "I just don't understand why he sent his mother, with an envelope full of money instead of facing us himself. It feels like he's treating us like a burden."

Yoongi's expression hardened, a rare sight for someone known for his calm demeanor. "He messed up big time, and he needs to face the consequences. You and Hana deserve better."

"I thought he loved me. I thought we meant something to each other," you confessed, your voice cracking.

"He does, Y/N. I can't explain his actions, but I've never seen him act this way. Whatever it is, he needs to sort it out. Meanwhile, you focus on being the amazing mother I know you can be."

Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Yoongi pulled you into a tight embrace. "I'm here for you, Y/N. We all are. BTS isn't just about the stage; we're a family and both of you are a part of it. Families stick together, no matter what."

As you let out a shaky breath, a mixture of gratitude and sadness, you whispered, "Thank you, Yoongi."

"Anytime, doll. You’ve got this," he reassured, his words carrying a promise of solidarity and support. The hotel room, once filled with the weight of uncertainty, now held a glimmer of hope amid the storm of emotions.

You’ve got this.

You had to.

💗💗💗MARCH 2017💗💗💗

They just got nominated to an international award.

Everyone else was celebrating their milestone.

But Namjoon just couldn't enjoy it as much as he wanted to.

He was happy.

For the first time in his life he felt like they were finally receiving the praise they deserved for their art and their hard work.

But the weight of their public persona and the fine lines they could never cross as idols in Korea, was growing heavier by day. And the endless possibilities of major exposure scared the fuck out of him.

They were on their six date of the tour when he felt like he was going to die.

The air backstage in Newark was thick with the aftermath of Namjoon's exhaustion-fueled breakdown.

You found him leaning against a wall, a cigarette between his fingers. He couldn’t hide the trembling of his hands.

"That's an awful habit you have right there," you commented, eyeing the smoke.

"I can say the same to you," he retorted, nodding at the Coca-Cola can in your hand. "What can I say, everyone picks their own poison." you smiled at him honestly. For the first time.

Surprisingly, it led to the first civil conversation between you two.

You leaned against the wall beside him, sipping your cola, the fizz providing a rhythmic contrast to the quiet.

He broke the silence, "You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just a puppet, dancing to whatever tune the media plays."

"It’s okay to feel tired sometimes, you know?" you offered.

"I do, but being their leader and their spokesperson. I can’t afford to be nervous or too tired," Namjoon admitted. "I speak for myself in these interviews. It is a huge weight on my shoulders to speak for everyone. Sometimes they might not agree with what I’m saying."

"Yeah, I reckon Panda Express being your favorite restaurant in America is a pretty controversial opinion," you teased, earning a hearty laugh from him.

"Do you think they are going to ever take us seriously?" he asked with a laugh and a touch of desperation.

"They better do. You guys will own this industry one day."

He shot you a grateful smile, and for a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to ease.

"That is a pretty controversial opinion. I am a 'what’s your favorite American food' away from literally losing it," he confessed.

"You know," you began, changing the topic with a playful grin, "I think your controversial opinions are what make you more human to your fans. They love you for being real."

Namjoon chuckled, the tension dissipating. "Maybe I should start a blog—'Kim Namjoon's Unfiltered Thoughts.'"

"You might break the internet with that," you joked, enjoying the rare camaraderie.

As the conversation lightened, you both shared a laugh, finding solace in this unexpected connection. The backstage chaos seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of understanding.

"You'll do fine. You always do," you reassured him.

"Thank you."

As a friendly gesture, you pulled a small disinfectant from your pocket.

"Manager Sejin was looking for you; you better use this before he finds you. You don't want him scolding you for the smell." you said before turning away to head back inside.

Namjoon chuckled, taking the disinfectant. "Thanks, Y/N. For being here."

"Anytime, Joon," you replied, the use of the nickname a testament to the newfound camaraderie

He smiled, and the scent of the disinfectant mixed with your fragrance, like flowers in the air.

As Namjoon walked away, disappearing into the backstage hustle, he took a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Y/N!" A familiar voice called out, it was Sejin, the ever-watchful manager, threading through the maze of crew members and equipment.

You approached him, noting the stern expression on his face. "Mr. Sejin, you were looking for Namjoon?"

He nodded, "Yes, he needs to wrap up the interviews and rest. The schedule is tight, and we can't afford any delays."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of protectiveness toward Namjoon. "He's doing his best, Sejin. But he's human, not a machine."

Namjoon was about to walk to where you were but that coment made him freeze on his feet.

Sejin sighed, his stern expression softening. "I know, Y/N. I just worry about them all. The pressure is immense."

"It is, but moments like these," you gestured to the chaotic backstage, "it is good remind them that they're not alone."

He offered a small smile, appreciating the sentiment. "You're right. Well, let's make sure Namjoon gets some rest."

As you both navigated the backstage maze, you didn’t know he listened to the conversation. And he couldn't shake off the unexpected warmth that had emerged from the brief encounter with you.

The chaotic world of stardom was vast, but in that moment, a connection had formed—one that hinted at the resilience and humanity behind the larger-than-life personas.

Maybe you weren’t that bad.

💗💗💗AUGUST 2020💗💗💗

You had gone to a therapist when Hana was one.

The therapist's office had become a sanctuary for you, you needed guidance on the hard task of being a single mother to Hana.

She was going to ask the inevitable questions about her father one day. And you needed to know what to say. But no amount of therapy could have prepared yourself for this day.

Hana was smart, too smart for her age.

And when you came back from a playdate at her friends house.

She wanted answers to her questions.

"Why don't I have a daddy?"

You two were back in her room getting ready to sleep and you knew that question was coming.

You took a deep breath as you sat next to her, trying to find the right words. "All families are different, baby. Some have a mommy and a daddy. Some have two mommies or two daddies. Some, like ours, have a mommy and all your uncles and aunts. Isn't that fun?"

"It is fun," she replied, but the dissatisfaction lingered in her eyes. She had more questions, and you knew your initial answer wasn't enough.

And now she discovered kpop.

And she was obsessed with it.

You felt like throwing up everytime you saw him on your screen.

The bitter reminder that she deserved to know the truth. However, you weren't ready to shatter the illusion just yet. Telling anyone that her father was the leader of the biggest music group in history seemed unbelievable.

You knew how crazy you will sound.

Even your therapist had a hard time believing your story the first time you went to her.

But, your daughter was the living image of her father.

And you had shown her your old Big Hit contract for her to finally believe you.

"So I don’t have a dad?" Hana's expectant eyes pleaded for an honest answer.

"You do have one. He is living his dream, making millions of people happy," you stammered, your hands trembling as you combed her hair. Even though Hana was still a child, she sensed the discomfort and wisely chose not to press the topic any further—for today.

Later that night, as if the universe mocked you, he appeared on your TV screen. "I want to be a dad," he confessed to the interviewer, his smile was radiant as always. It felt like a punch to your stomach, the wine glass slipping from your hand and staining the new rug.

Fuck him.

He was a dad. He just chose not to be one.

The fandom even had the joke that he had a hidden wife and kids.

You entertained thoughts of shattering his public image, creating rumors that could strip away the disarming smile he flaunted. But the truth was, you could never inflict that pain on your daughter.

As the wine stain marred your rug, you vowed to shield Hana from the harsh realities as long as you could. But beneath your composed exterior, a storm of emotions raged.

Just for a little longer.

She will soon be old enough to understand.

But you didn't look forward breaking her heart with the news that her father didn't want her in his life.

💗💗💗FEBRUARY 2018💗💗💗

Everyone was tense.

The word disbandment floated heavily on the air.

After this morning’s team meeting things were pretty rough.

They were tired.

They felt like nothing was working in their favor.

Some of the members wanted a break.

Some of them wanted to keep going.

He had to remain unbiased.

You knew how unfair it was.

For him and for all of them.

Message from NJ: meet me upstairs. studio.

You knew what that meant.

He wanted to fuck the frustration away.

And you would be lying if you said you didn’t want to.

This was the riskiest thing you've ever done yet. You knew how dangerous it was for you especially. You were breaking your own rule and you were being careless.

You knew perfectly well what were the consecuences of what you were doing.

But you couldn’t get to care enough to stop you from hurriedly hitting the lock combination of his Studio.

His tired eyes greeted you. And a second later you were pinned to the wall behind you, hands everywhere and not enough at the same time.

And you wanted to ignore how much it hurt you that you were just this to him.

A relief.

“I missed this” he whispered against your lips. His tounge tasting your lower lips. Wanting to savour everything before devouring it all at once.

You missed it too.

But you were too stubborn to say it outloud.

And he was too, trying to pretend that he missed this whatever you had going on.

Instead of just you.

As always it started like a fight for dominance. His kisses carrying a hunger that transcended mere physical release. The urgency in his touch revealed a deeper need, one he was too stubborn to acknowledge.

Namjoon steps between your thighs and you can feel how much he needed this. His body is warm against yours as he lowers his lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

"You smell so good" you feel the soft breeze of his breath against your skin. And before you could reciprocate his words you felt the sharp pain of his teeth biting the same spot of your skin he just kissed a second ago.

"Namjoon-" a small whisper leaves your lips and a wave of conflicted feelings wash over his body.

He wanted to drown the world around you.

Where only the two of you existed.

And that scared him.

How much he really needed you.

He lifted you, his grip momentarily loosing his balance, and both of you erupted into laughter as you tumbled onto the sofa. "I'm so sorry," he said, his eyes holding a vulnerability that surpassed the laughter. "I'm just... I'm so tired."

His heart was breaking.

With a gentle smile, you cupped his cheek, your thumb wiping away his tears. "It’s okay, Joonie. Everything is going to be okay."

Your words rendered him defenseless. He was so tired of pretending he didn’t feel safe in your arms. He wrapped his arms around you and you could feel his body trembling with sobs.

He called you to fuck his frustration out of his system.

Just like you’ve been doing for a few months now.

But now on his studio floor he had a realization he wasn’t ready to confess just yet.

Everything else he had been saying to himself about you was a lie.

How he didn’t care; that you were just a passing crush. That he was too tired and too frustrated and that you both enjoyed each other’s company. That you were only good sex to him.

All of that was a lie.

As he kept crying and hugging you on his studio floor.

Both of you came to the same conclusion silently.

This wasn’t just sex; friends-with-benefits secret thing you had going on.

It was something much more complicated.

Something that could potentially destroy you.

The two of you stayed in silence on the floor, still wrapped on each other's arms.

That was the moment Namjoon realized.

He called you for sex.

But he just needed you.

💗💗💗MARCH 2021💗💗💗

A Battleground.

The room felt like it had become a battleground of emotions, the air thick with tension as memories and unspoken words lingered between you and Namjoon.

Right after the briefing ended he had dragged you into a conference room. It had been a week since you had met again and they were preparing to go back to Korea.

He was a sound man now. Not the youg man almost teenager that would have rushed into conclusions. First he needed to make his own research.

Have a few conversations with people.

Because he would never outlive the embarrasment if he was wrong.

But, all Namjoon could find was that Hana was your daughter and not your husband's.

And now you were alone for the first time in Three years, the silence was deafening, the unspoken history between you threatening to consume the room.

In the past, when you were alone with him, confessions of love had been whispered like forbidden promises against your lips in a conference room.

Just like the one you were in.

Today, his gaze was intense, his movements calculated, as if he were dissecting the reality before him. The little girl playing outside in your office seemed like a mirage, a cruel joke that fate had played on both of you.

Namjoon's stare bore into you, and the atmosphere crackled with the spark of four years of unsaid words. Finally, the tension shattered like glass as he spat out,

"Is she mine?"

His voice, sharp and accusatory, slashed through the heavy air.

A small, bitter part of you considered lying, but the futility of it hung in the air.

He knew, yet he chose to ignore it.

"Yes, Namjoon, she's your daughter," your voice strained, attempting to retain a semblance of control. "Her name is Hana Lee."

Two heartbeats passed, revealing a Namjoon you no longer recognized.

The man before you had become a diplomat, his mind working to carefully choose his words, concealing emotions you once knew he wore on his sleeve.

He was deflecting, you knew what he was doing.

You trained him to do that, long ago when you worked with them.

He was controlling his real emotions and speaking like at a press conference.

Another heartbeat passed and a spark of genuine emotion broke through when the reality of his daughter's existence sank in.

"Lee?"

His voice began to fill with an anger simmering beneath the surface, like molten lava fighting its way to the top of a volcano. "My husband’s last name," you retorted, your tone flat, a facade of control slipping away.

"You gave another man's last name to my daughter" his eyes darkened in disbelief and you couldn't help but chuckle at his nonsense.

If he was going to be this cruel.

You could play the game just as well.

You both were used to tearing each other into pieces anyway.

"You weren't there to give her yours, so." your voice sounded even more cynical than you expected to.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?" Namjoon's jaw clenched, frustration etched across his features.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. “Did you expect a wedding invite?”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I meant… the fact that I have a daughter.” he growled the last sentence through his teeth.

So much for calm and collected.

"Oh, but I tried," you shot back, frustration bubbling over. "Got on a plane for sixteen hours with a baby on my lap. Only to be warmly welcomed by your mother and Sejin with an envelope full of money and the threat to take her from me. What was I supposed to do?"

Namjoon's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't remember. Let me refresh your memory, shall we?" Bitterness laced your words. "You sent your mother and your manager to tell me that having an unplanned child out of wedlock would have 'destroyed you and Bangtan,' that you were so very sorry and told me to disappear"

He was about to speak but you didn't let him. All the things you have wanted to say for four years started to flow out of you like a dam that had just broken.

And the water would destroy everything on its way.

Starting with the both of you.

"They said you didn't want anything to do with us. And that if I ever came back, they would take Hana away from me. That I was just a minor mistake, an experience you just needed to have'' Anger surged within you. "Riding the horse isn't what you call it, right? And that my daughter was just the consequence of my own carelessness. That I should have known better."

You didn't know when you started to shout and now you couldn't stop. You wanted him to hurt as much as you were. "You told them to tell me all that. Because you didn't have the balls to say it right to my face"

"Or maybe you just didn't give a fuck."

Namjoon's features shifted from confusion to a hint of regret. "“That didn’t… I didn’t... I would never have done that."

“You didn't do what?” You turned away, unable to look at him. "You can't just waltz in here and pretend like you didn’t know," you said, your voice cracking with rage. "You missed everything, Namjoon. She's so smart and kind. Even when she feels like there's a missing part from her"

“Y/n” his voice was barely a whisper as his finger touched your wrist, sending electric shockwaves through your body. “I was waiting for you, but you never came.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t understand what game you’re playing right now Kim Namjoon, but I’ll tell you something. It's over. I will not let you make fun of us anymore.” Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. “You left me a letter, remember? and the text message after that. 'I hope you understand,” you said, mocking his voice.

Your laughter was bitter, filled with the pain of betrayal. "You sent me away, Namjoon. I couldn't just come back after that."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I waited for you at the hotel. I called you so many times that day." he said, desperation lacing his voice. "I waited for hours and you never came. Do you really believe that I wouldn't have taken responsibility for my daughter? That I would send her away?" He was shouting now too.

And he was close, too close to you now. You could bear his presence from a distance.

But not this close.

This close to him you couldn't pretend that your heart wasn't breaking for him.

That you didn't miss his eyes.

"I don't know, Namjoon. When you have a child, a life to protect. You would do anything to keep them safe. From anyone and everything. Not that you would know any of that" The words slipped from you before you realized how low of a blow was that. But you couldn't find yourself regretting it.

"Because we both know what you would choose if it came between the group or us." You stopped and smiled at him bitterly "And I understand, Namjoon. I truly do. You were finally living the dream you sacrificed everything for. I don't blame you anymore for it."

"I understand" your voice cracked filled with sadness.

And you truly did.

You knew how much he sacrificed.

He fought for his success with teeth and nails.

They all did.

And you knew how unfair it would have been to ask for him to drop everything for you and your daughter.

You understood him.

And that was the worst of it.

In a heartbeat anger left his body, and he was filled with the weight of a shared past. Everything was too much, this was too much and again his mask fell just for you.

He lifted his hand to grab your wrist, the small contact of his skin with yours felt like fire runnig trough your veins.

"I loved you, and I always have," he confessed.

The room hung in tumultuous silence, the weight of past wounds and the rawness of the present colliding in a clash of emotions.

You were about to respond when a small knock echoed through the room.

The knock on the door startled both of you, a temporary interruption to the emotional storm that raged in the room. Your eyes never left Namjoon's, the intensity of the unspoken words lingering between you like a heavy fog.

Namjoon stepped back, breaking the physical connection between you. He cleared his throat, the diplomat persona returning, but the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. "We're not done," he said, a mixture of command and plea in his voice.

As the door creaked open, your eyes darted to see a petite figure standing there, a shadow in the doorway. Hana's eyes mirrored yours, wide and uncertain as she looked between the two adults. The air thickened with tension, the past colliding with the present in a collision of conflicting emotions.

"Mommy?" Hana's innocent voice cut through the charged atmosphere. Her gaze shifted from you to Namjoon, her curiosity evident "Mr. Rapmonster. why are you here?". You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

Namjoon's eyes softened as he looked at Hana, and for a moment, the hardened exterior cracked. "I'm... a friend of your mommy's," he said, his words carefully chosen.

"A friend?" Hana repeated in Korean, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. She might be young, but she wasn't oblivious to the undercurrents in the room.

She was smart. Even for her age, and she was quick to understand the things that were in front of her.

Just like him.

You knelt down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Yes, sweetheart, just a friend, and we were talking" you assured her, shooting a pointed glance at Namjoon. The distance between you felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

Namjoon, sensing the tension, attempted a reassuring smile, but it looked strained. "I heard you like drawing. Do you draw a lot?" he asked, trying to engage Hana in a conversation that felt more awkward than casual.

Hana nodded, her gaze never leaving Namjoon. "I like drawing flowers," she replied, the tension in the room momentarily diffusing as she shared a piece of her world.

Namjoon crouched down to her eye level, a genuine smile softening his features. "Flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me your drawings sometime?" he suggested.

Hana's eyes flickered between you and Namjoon, processing the complex dynamics in the room. "Okay, but only if Mommy says it's okay," she declared, a hint of protectiveness in her voice.

Namjoon glanced at you, seeking approval. You nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent agreement. Hana's presence had inadvertently shifted the focus, giving you a momentary reprieve from the emotional confrontation.

As Namjoon and Hana engaged in a tentative conversation about art and colors, you retreated to the periphery, watching the scene unfold.

The wounds of the past were still raw, the emotions tangled, but for Hana's sake, you found a fragile truce with the man who once held your heart.

The journey from enemies to reluctant allies had just begun, and the path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in the complexities of a shared history that demanded resolution.

"Y/N, we need to talk" Hyung-Joon reappeared at the door, his voice filled with urgency and you nodded.

You knew this shouting match with Namjoon would bring consequences.

And you felt for a second that you just stepped into the past.

"When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe"

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello there! First of all I am so, SO grateful for all the love this story is getting. It really means the world to me. Sincerely Thank you. With that beign said I want to leave a few notes for context and clarification. 1. This is a work of fiction, even if it is inspired by real events and real people. I will take creative licenses to make the storyline make sense. So, some things will be different as it happened IRL.

💗💗💗💗💗💗 Well hello!

First of all, THANK YOU. I am so happy to see all the love this story is getting and it means the world to me. Every comment, like and repost I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

And now, some notes for context:

This story is inspired on real events and people. But it is not a real representation or is trying to say that any of this happened IRL. With that beign said I'll take some creative licenses and adapt things that happened to the plot of the story.

2. I fucked up.... math is not my thing guys. Hana is three years old not four. Im sorry.

3. We all want a supportive friend like Yoongi in our lives.

4. The story is written in time skips, but the main storyline is March 2021 'The present'

I'm really exited for you guys to see what's next!!

Love,

Ria. 💗💗💗💗💗💗 TAG LIST: @felicityroth @cuteipat @jjinjo @mochimommy2002 @amarawayne @canarystwin Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines #bts #bts au #bts namjoon #bts fic #namjoon smut #namjoon #rm #bts rm

250 notes · View notes

noacfapologyst · 18 days

Text

birthday wish - matty healy

(the birthday party; day one)

summary: matty, as his very best, has one of the best birthdays of his life and receives one of the warmest surprises he has ever had, with all the people he loves.

warnings: flufly stuff, sickness mentions. nothing more than this, is tender as well.

a/n: thank to @abiiors and @the1975attheirverybest for organize this incredible project! both are such an angels. the dates do not coincide in reality, so do not expect truthfulness in it, 'cause the tour continues in this universe and there are no haircuts, and also the english is not my first language.

wordcounter: 5,1k

Matty wants you to be with him at the exact time when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't matter if you're an ocean away, just wait to hear you sing her happy birthday.

He knows that even if he wants you to, you can't come out the door. This shouldn't make him sad because it's something he's been facing for years.

You work for the UK's most influential finance company, and while the insistence on doing the work outside has been almost unbearable, Matty knows that you love being in your office or doing the work in the house where you both live together. God, that sounds good.

Officially he's a year older, and without wanting to touch sentimentality, he just feels tired when he rests his head on the white pillow in the hotel room. He doesn't look at his phone screen for a long time, just think about how you're going through the flu that kept you from coming with him to New York.

In the meantime, you have other plans that doesn't involve fever, soup, and phlegm.

You look at your phone screen, you know it's past 12 in New York, so Matty is oficially 35 years old.

It's four in the morning in England, and once again you confirm how much you hate such an abysmal difference in schedules. You could call him now and tell him you still have the flu, but he'd end up figuring out the trick.

Maybe when it's six o'clock in the morning you can greet him with more credibility.

For now, you finish arranging the house and the final touches before taking the suitcase as you sigh out of the house.

"Honeeeeeeeeey" Matty literally jumps into bed making them both jump. You rub your forehead and he gives you an innocent smile. It's not an argument at all, but he's gone dumb. "Come on, fly with me to York.

"Matty, I can't." You straighten up on the mattress, giving it room to rest its head on your trunk. "I would love to go, but it's impossible." You wrap your fingers around her hair and massage it into circles. You hear him purr like he's been waiting for him all day. "I have a lot of work, we have like fifty new clients or something like that. I can't apart myself from the company, i really sorry."

"I'm not saying you get apart, you still can work through your computer." He turns to see you with a pretty sad look in his features. "I don't want to be annoying, it's just…it will be my birthday. The first with you as my girlfriend."

"Hey, i can't even say how much i'm sorry, but i really do." You grab his right hand and squeeze his, on your way to kiss his head a desperate fit of coughing interrupts you. "Shit, I'm ill."

It doesn't sound so convincing, but if all goes well, an idea begins to form in your head that might consecrate you as bride of the year.

"But hey, babe, I'm going to reward you when you return. I promise." You see him unravel at your touch, watching him as he indulges in sleep. While he is awake closing his eyes, you whisper into his ear. "You're going to have an incredible birthday, Matty."

- - -

Even though spring has been running through London for over a month, the dawn suddenly turns cold. Not only because you got sick in the course of two days, (even if you did it on purpose and forced yourself to sneeze around the corners), but also because everything feels a little tense in your room. Matty's not mad, obviously he knows he can't get you out of the country in the middle of a flu outbreak let alone by force, but he's pretty sad about getting used to the idea of spending his birthday away from you. It's satirical to him, they've officially been together for nine months, but you've spent more birthdays near him than it looks. By chance or fate, they were always in the same bars or pubs where they celebrated their years of life.

What's ironic, too, is that they met after a financial argument. It was 2017, you were relatively new to the company and Dirty Hit needed a safe backing, betting on the company you still work for. At first there were no complaints, until a money leak was triggered and backing the company you basically went to the studio to talk to Jamie in pretty strong terms.

In the end, there were no dead to bury, everything worked out. What you did bury was your washing soap shirt, thanks to Matty literally spilled his coffee machine on you when you were about to leave. It wasn't a good day for anyone, your folders just fell off and picking them up you bumped into Matty, in a semi-sleeping state with coffee running over your skin and a cheap apology as he opened his eyes surprised enough. Then it just happened for some reason, they both found fun in the same places. It was too many years of seeing each other at nightclubs maybe four times a year, saying hello from afar and going on, until a year and a few months ago they needed an insurance upgrade, which gave you another visit to Dirty Hit, no spilled coffee this time.

Matty asked for your number, then he bought you a drink, and here they are, saying goodbye to each other.

"Hey listen, call my mom if you feel bad or if you need something. At least promise me this." Kiss your head as they both walk towards the front door, you wrapped in a blanket and him between bags and suitcases.

"I'll do." You reassure him with a broad smile. "Stay safe, love you."

"See you soon, love." You and him kiss quickly as he presses his thumb on your cheek. "Love you, too."

"Matty."

"¿Yes"

"You're forgetting something, dude." You unlock your chain with a small white stone hanging, to lock it around her neck later. "Now it's okay." You steal a hug and when they finally part, the taxi comes to the door. "Bye."

"Bye." He greets you with hishand and throws the first accessory he has at hand, his bracelet.

You hate to say goodbye to him when he goes to the airport, and even though you'll see him in two days, you still hate him. You're so used to waking up with him, having its scent all over the house, that when that bubble disappears, you hate what it's created at some point. It hasn't been five minutes and you miss him like you haven't seen him in months.

You squeeze his bracelet. It's their little tradition. Every time one goes on a journey, both exchange accessories in a way to show the other that they are still there even at a distance. You don't remember when it started, but you like the sentimentality of the issue.

Now, of course Matty's right: you'll call Denise. You already have, actually. She's aware of all the deception and she's the one who's most excited about it. He talked to Tom and Louis while you talked to Adam, because he's the least likely to reveal it to your boyfriend. It's not that you don't trust others, it's just that he's wiser for this.

- - -

You touch your head down because actually if you feel sick, maybe you've been too extreme, but you hope it's worth it. Denise calls on your portal with the car horn pulling you out of the trance, you get in the car and when you want to say something else you just fall asleep in the backseat.

Half an hour later, she wakes you up gently rocking you. She's so much like Matty you could cry, you love everything her family is and how you've been treated from the first day you walked through that door. Even if she's your mother-in-law, they get along incredibly well considering how fast they've connected.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, handing over the car keys and lowering the suitcases from the trunk. "I mean, you look really tired."

"I know, I know. I spend the day thinking if i had everything, and thinking about the gift, and trying to organize the things with Adam, meanwhile i tried to not being colapsed by the numbers." The two laugh, she looks at you with a more relaxed expression and just lets her walls fall down.

"Matty is so lucky to have you." She murmurs with bright eyes and genuine happiness. "I don't know if I've ever met someone capable of getting sick just for surpise his boyfriend in his birthday…on the other side of the world." You think she's about to get emocional when her eyes start stinging, and she notices it. "I get a bit emotional but you know, my son is growing up next to someone who truly loves him, and as a mother you don't know how important it is to know that."

Well, now you'll cry.

"Oh god, I love you Denise." You drop your bags and embrace her with the greatest affection you've ever had. "I'll might cry."

She laughs tenderly. "Keep the tears for the show, darling."

----

The belief that it would be a seven-hour flight (plus the check-in hours, obviously) that would be somewhat exhausting and that it would take time to pass becomes part lie and part truth. You actually have a lot of fun with Denise telling you anecdotes of her life in the span of waiting time to board, you can't lie, but then on the plane you start to get bored after a few hours: you've seen a movie, you've slept, you've saturated your Spotify and you only think about how Matty will be. You feel guilty about the birthday message because you know he'll be worried thinking that something is up, but later you'll ask for forgiveness.

Happy birthdayy Matty. I love you so much, i hope you ́ll always be happy.

This is too short, but i feel totally sick. I'll send you a large text later.

Matty tosses and turns in bed heavily after waking up with that message as his first course. He sighs as he goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror running a hand through his hair. It feels terrible.

Well, you haven't forgotten his birthday, but he feels that you have. Maybe it's not that.

He knows you don't like him smoking too much, but you're not here and it's the only thing keeping him sane so he doesn't yell at you if he's done something wrong. He opens the window and collapses on the balcony floor, a cigarette between his lips. He exhales, he can't believe he's spending the time like that on his birthday.

He feels like he has a dagger stuck somewhere in his body, he feels tense and knows he's not in the bliss mode that someone should have on their birthday. But God, he hates to blame himself and blame you for things.

You've been weird for days, and yes, maybe you're sick, but in the months you´ve been with him you've never been this weird. Overthinking things isn't something he likes or does too much, but now he's debating whether something has happened and you don't want to tell him. He exhales again and relapses into the state of his cuticles, but as a cumpulsive reflex he bites them. Has he done something wrong? Has he crossed any limits? Did you get angry about something he didn't do? Did he forgot your birthday? No, he hasn't forgotten that.

Trata de no permitirse pensar en la pregunta más dolorosa para él: ¿Hay alguien más? ¿Estás cansado de él y de su vida de poca estabilidad? Bueno, en cualquier caso te merecerías algo mejor.

Adam knocks on the door as an answer to problems. He knows he has to take care of him until you make your appearance, but everyone is aware that he may not be in his best mood.

"Hey, birthday boy, how did you wake up?" When Matty opens the door, he hugs him and Adam knows his best friend needs him. "Matty, tell me."

"It's just…No, it's a silly thing." He regrets it fluttering his eyes, but collapses on the bed tiredly. "I'm tired, that's all."

"No, it's not. Something is affecting you, so definitely there is something more than being tired. You dońt have to fake it with me, you know." Adam knows the reason why he is like this, and although he wants to tell him that she's really on her way, he can't.

"It's her, Adam. She ́s been in a distant mode for days, acting strange." He shrugs, Adam sits on the other end of the mattress, sinking it. "Her greeting was a bit cold, or too generic. It's not typycal for her.

Adam feels really bad lying to his friend, he feels like a traitor, and he really struggles to find the right words. "Didn't you tell me she was sick?" He asks, and Matty sighs, nodding. "Should be this."

"yes, but.."

"Listen to me, really." Adam cuts him off and thinks about how much he can take this like this, he can't allow his partner to collapse before the show, much less the surprise. "She loves you, i d on't know the reason for his behavior and I would love to know so I can tell you, but unfortunately I don't know." Guilty, liar. "Despite that, you just turned 35, it's too early for the midlife crisis for a congratulation. The day is not over yet

Matty slurps as he swallows without the strength to continue the conversation, not in this tone at least. He doesn't have any argument to play in his favor and that makes him a little angry.

"You have a birthday show tonight, it will be nice."

- - -

Madison Square Garden will never cease to amaze you and seem practically huge. You do not manage to make the connection between the measures of the venue, it seems much bigger than it is. You have entered more than once, both as a spectator of shows or as you are now, as an accompanist of the band that presents on the day, and still it leaves you breathless how massive it is. Not in your best dreams would you imagine having the chance to tour it.

But, what makes you more sensitive is to hear so many people divided into the branches and sections of the seats and the standing field cheering, shouting and even crying with a euphoric amount of adrenaline in the body by the celestial and pink lights that illuminate the stage, decorated in its scenography representing a house with all the rooms. It's still hard for you to believe that you're dating the lead singer of a band that has mobilized so many people around the world for years. They have come to see the four of them, they have come to hear what is the story they have to tell and to show them their affection and loyalty as they identify themselves in tears in the four chords of their best songs.

In a way you think that's everything a singer expects, and that by the same token, it's the most sincere reason for the fans in front of Matty's birthday. Because even though you don't spend too much time on the floor, you manage to see posters related to her birthday.

The whole Healy family, followed by you, take refuge in George and Adam's dressing rooms, because even if you came out of a cake in Matty's dressing room when the delivery changes, you'd lose the idea you planned. Now, you just hope Matty doesn't find it weird enough that they switched The Birthday Party to Act 3, and Guys is almost after. I wouldn't have to do that, in fact, since it's a pretty emotional and pretty setlist to play on your birthday.

When Matty's nightmare act ends and he descends from the second stage you try to make as little noise as possible next to his dressing room, mainly because you're going to scare him. The one you're scaring is George, but he's covering it up by saying there was a spider in his dressing room. Then with a thumb sign him shows that everything is ready for the next step. When the act of Still at their very best (the last of the show) begins with If you ́re too shy, you get ready, two songs later you have to get the whole audience to see you, but not Matty.

Then, It ́s not living reaches the middle with a consecrated closure between the drums and the guitar. Cheers fill the place. The action then begins when all the screens change focus and signs appear saying that, in front of the people you will see now, keep quiet because it is a surprise for both Matty and the fans. There are confused looks, intertwined, nobody understands anything but they keep singing so as not to show that the screens have changed again.

The crowd wants to go crazy, and some screams escape when it's you who's seen go behind the scenes. For the sake of greater care, you go behind George's drums and ask everyone with your fingers to be silent on the subject. You sit behind the biggest drum and you see it over your head.

There he is, dressed up in his black pants, his white shirt and previously the suit jacket with the pants. His tie's almost untied, and it makes you laugh, you don't think he knows he tied it wrong. The curls fall in front of him out of control due to tiredness and sweat, but you think he's never looked better in years.

"Thanks for coming to see the greatest band in the world, the 1975!" The sticks resonate on the drum, the play of grey lights makes everything a little psychedelic. The crowd bursts into cheers without differentiating the why. "And today it's my birthday, so thank you for coming here. I love you guys."

There's a mixture of exasperated emotions all over the compound. Even you have glassy eyes to see him smile in such a pure way, his place has always been and always will be the stage in front of the fans, when he is freer than ever and where he feels comfortable. This particular show is not just important because of this event, but because in fact, it's the end of the tour. It's emotionally sad, the melancholy is reciprocal in the stadium because nobody knows when there will be a new tour of them.

"Yeah, I know, this is sad. It ́s ironic that my birthday will be the last show of the tour." He grins and laughs showing his teeth to the audience. "But, thanks for being here, is my biggest gift."

So, Matty freaks out when he hears a noise behind him.

"And it's not over yet, friend of mine." Absolutely everyone is surprised to hear George through the microphone resonating in the stadium, Matty doesn't understand what's going on either. "Ladies and gentleman, please everybody look at the screen."

What happens next is the best and the worst that Matty has had in front of him, cataloging it as the worst because when pictures of him appear when he was little with his mother and father, playing guitar or just being a kid, it makes him wiggle and feel like he could really die right there from the excitement. Without looking away, dazzled and uncertain but motivated to keep seeing him, he sits on the edge of the stage.

The atmosphere is automatically warm, but even the noise does not break it. The screen now changes, and begins with a greeting from George, pointing to a picture of when they were 13, how they have grown up so far and how you can't imagine a life without him, then closes Charly telling how much she enjoys talking to him, and how much fun he is in any situation. Then comes Adam, along with Carly, telling how he is the youngest of the group, but how important he is for both of them in their lives. Finally there is Ross, who talks about how fortunate he is to have him as a friend, how proud he is of everything he has accomplished and how much he appreciates his friendship.

Screen in black. Matty takes care of the tears because he suspects it doesn't end there, but his eyes turn to candy, all his factions calm down and he refrains from leaping into the arms of his friends.

You can't tell how many, but suddenly fans appear in the video, talking about how they've saved their lives through the band, the refuge it's for them and how much the band has done in terms of connecting them with their closest friends, and giving them a reason to keep fighting. Everyone laughs when they hear the reactions of the fans appearing in the video, realizing it.

Now yes, everything seems to indicate that it's over. Matty tries to stand up, but something stops him.

Her mother. On the screen.

Satirically, her greeting begins by asking if she thought they had forgotten about her, but without giving any room to react, Louis and Tom appear on the screen, their entire family in one place.

Really, Matty feels like the luckiest person in the world to have so much affection around him, he doesn't know if he deserves it, but he accepts it and feels like the feeling of familiarity and brotherhood envelops his body as his brother and his parents talk about how he's changed everyone's lives, the support he's been in his brother's life, and how the little boy who played the guitar off-tune at four o'clock in the afternoon has become a man made and upright, able to love and defend his people, with a exemplary talent.

Matty blinks, doesn't know how to go on now. He simply knows that he cannot ask for anything else for his life, he is loved by those he loves, and is reciprocated.

The screen lights up for the last time. You and Mayhem.

You look the at George, who cries just like you. He notices your gaze but responds only with a quick smile.

"Hey, honey, this will be short because I hope you know how happy I am to have you in my life." Matty stops controlling the tears, bathes in them, his shirt is full of water right now. So he remembers your message today, and he knows that you were behind all this, no one else would have done it this way otherwise. He sees his dog move his front legs and really misses him: "Happy birthday, I love you more than my words can prove. Thank you for being the most amazing, sweetest human being I've ever met. You're an angel and I love to agree with you." The greeting ends when you send a kiss to the camera, followed by Mayhem's osico in the foreground with a heart, with an M drawn.

The legend of The End stands on top. Everyone has cried, the makeup has gone off but this is the most intimate thing that everyone has experienced today. Everybody's grateful for coming to celebrate Matty.

"Could you please close your eyes?" Adam asks, and Matty is not the one who could say no.

Matty continues sitting, not moving. He can't process everything his head is telling him miles per second. He knows that he can't speak well enough after crying and will only say silly phrases, But it has to. Ross comes to his rescue and has a hand to lift him up. They hug with Matty crying on his shoulder while continuing to repeat that she loves him. Ross pats him on the back and points to Adam on the microphone.

He smells something as smoke, and he's right. Behind the scenes of the three entrances appear his mother, his father and Louis beside him with a rectangular cake with porcelain figures of the little house, and the four figures of the band, with a 35 as a candle.

Ross lets Matty go, and when the distance is unbearable, you're the one who runs to grab his hands when everyone screams to open his eyes. He opens them and finds you embraced to his body more tightly than ever. By inertia, he tightens the grip on your waist without ceasing to hug you. Now neither of us knows who to blame for the water running down the Briton's white shirt.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You whisper incessantly, as he stabilizes in front of you, trying to get out of the surprise and accepting that you're actually in front of him, it's not a dream, he looks at the cake and cries again. He watches the audience feeling their heart pouring out into their hands. "Happy everything, my love."

He pulls you away from the grip when the birthday song rings out and has the cake in front of him without realizing it, but holds your hand in his fist. He coins it, and he protects it inside him. His smile is sadly short, but he has never had a greater look of genuine love on him than now. His wet eyelids, his face full of dry tears and his eyes glowing like never before. All thanks to you. He looks back at the cake and makes a face of utter surprise when he sees his figure made of porcelain sitting on the piano.

"Hey, that's me!" He's chirping like he's a kid who just ate a paddle he's seen in the store. Its essence is discovered there, that immeasurable happiness that creeps through all present.

He couldn't even think about how much he loves you because everything happens too fast, but he knows that after this he could never leave you. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the moment when Matty would close everything else. After this he would decide that you would be the woman of his life, that he would marry you and that they would have a family. You just kind of signed a sentence saying that he would never let anything happen to you and that if he had to lay down his life for you, he would.

George, Adam and Ross approach Matty as well, along with Polly, John and the rest of the band, all standing in a semicircle in front of the stage. The fire lights up Matty's face who has refused to block the touch of you two. You literally have to whisper his name in his face with a silly smile so he'll let you go and be the only one in the middle of the round.

The flashes of the phones illuminate the scene, there is the same chorus symphony composed of dozens of voices that work at the same time without prior coordination. No, it's not a movie and it's not a dream that someone's going to wake up from, it's really happening.

The fire dissipates, again the sound of clashing palms comforts the place. Denise leaves the cake on the piano and hurls herself at her son. She loves him so much, and is so happy that he can be really happy being who he is. The sequence is quite fast, his family hugs him, then the four hug and the difference in height is noticeable between the four males. Then goes Polly, Jhon and everyone else who's there. The show is delayed for the same reason, but nobody really cares about sacrificing a song to be part of this moment.

He opens his arms towards you and makes you fly through the air for a second before giving you his best Chesire Cat smile. Seize the moment to steal a quick kiss leaving behind the expanse of euphoria that surrounds them. For Matty there really is nothing else right now than him and you on the whole ethereal plane he's met at the age of 35. Fans disappear, the band and their parents too, as long as it merges into you in touch can only feel how they function the same way, being really a single soul trapped between two bodies. God, he's lovesick of the love he has for you, and he could throw it up right now, but surely all he could do is throw up his heart.

The contact ends, and finally he approaches the microphone.

"I really have the greatest persons and the greatest fans in the world. I ́m incredibly glad about it." He runs his hand through his hair and laughs, shedding his last tears. "Saying thanks it wouln ́t be enough, and I could never finish thanking you for all this, but i love each and every one of you, honestly."

Matty grabs his acoustic guitar almost the second he says that. The chords of The birthday party are heard. Everything is extremely special about this song and it is something narrow and deep, there is a truth to count on the song at this moment so charged with sentimentality.

Matty has spent years of his lost life without having a reason to keep him going, floating around while surviving, or trying to. He has come and gone as far as anyone could imagine, has suffered perhaps too much to expose his vulnerability. Indeed, he felt lost in hell during the most unbearably difficult years of his life. He's driven so many people away by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows.

He has alienated so many people by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows that although he may be late for some, he has enough with him. All your friends are here, in the same scene, no matter what that means.

The following of Guys in a much calmer tone makes everyone end up crying, their most personal song as a band. Matty feels the same as before, his friends have been the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they've saved his life thousands and thousands of times. He could not get used to the idea of lose them, because he would crumble without them in his life.

Just like he would do without you.

In the end, Matty makes fun of himself for being so bitter all day. He really had the best birthday of his entire life.

in my head this is a tender idea of how much I would give way to see matty happy, so I hope that was achieved. also, happy birthday weekend matty you are the best.

let me know what you think, also let me know if you want to be on my tag list <3

#matty healy #matty the 1975 #the 1975 #1975 band #matty healy fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy fluff #matty35 #matty healy x y/n #matty healy x oc #birthday matty #i might cry

77 notes · View notes