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midnightsconspiracy · 3 years

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Faith Restored

Faith Restored - @midnightsconspiracy

Summary: When an argument with your husband causes you to walk out, a vendetta against him leads to you being kidnapped. But will Hank find you in time to be reunited with him and your child?

Warnings: Swearing, Violence

Word Count: 2670

Requested: Yes! I got these two requests so decided to combine them into one fic as they were pretty similar, so I hope the people that requested don't mind. :)

"hi!! I’m so happy I found someone that loves hank too. I’ll literally take any fic with him: age gap romance, marriage, having a baby, his enemies taking you and him tearing the city apart to get you back, some combination of all that, I’ll take it all. thank you for your writing!!"

"Hii! I love your fics 💖 could you please write something with hank, like he arguments with his girlfriend about their work, then she’s kidnapped and he gets all worried and asks for forgiveness, if you don’t feel comfortable with that it’s aaaaall goood :) xoxo"

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this fic and I have a few more requests to write so stayed tunes for them. But thank you for your support and keep sending requests in. Also if you've got some free time drop me a message, I'd love to hear from some of you guys!!!

Masterlist

Love. It was a feeling you had refused to believe in. Everyone around you telling you that the one was out there, and it was only a matter of time, but you were convinced that wasn’t true. At one point previously you had believed in it but that only led to a broken heart and weeks of uncontrollable crying, the man you thought was the one, cheating on you only days before your wedding. So how could it be true if the universe had let you suffer that badly? But as cliché as it sounds, that point of view changed completely as soon as you started your new job as a detective in the intelligence unit. From day one you had fallen head over heels for your boss, that hope of love finally returning. It had taken a long time for you to trust him and enter a fully committed relationship as that fear of heartbreak and the large age gap between you loomed over you both initially. Hank had been the best though, taking his time going step by step to make sure you were comfortable with everything, as well as keeping away the judgement from others the best that he could. He understood that feeling himself, still suffering the loss of Camille’s death, scared that you would leave him, but instead of being non-committal, it drove him to love you more, living each day like it was his last.

Now five years later, your relationship was pure bliss. Long gone were the days of doubts and distrust, instead replaced with only contentment and loyalty. Onlookers still judged the unconventional age difference but you had learned to live with it, coming to the conclusion that you loved Hank regardless and that was all that mattered. Only eight months into the relationship he decided that you really were the one for him, and a world in which he didn’t spend the rest of his life with you was one he couldn’t imagine, and so proposed inside his office, the place that started it all. You married shortly after at the courthouse, with only a small guest list, just wanting to be surrounded by your closest friends and family. The unit all in attendance, some crying, others wishing it were them getting married but collectively all ecstatic at the fact their favourite office romance was finally tying the knot. The next couple of months felt like absolute paradise, like you were in some sort of dream never to wake up again. Never a day went by where you didn’t feel the utmost joy and love in your heart, each day was a new adventure with the man that you could finally call your husband. You were on cloud nine thinking your life couldn’t get any better, until one day two pink lines stared back at you.

When you married Hank you didn’t expect to have any children, with him already having Justin and a grandson. This left you a little disheartened, but you would have married him under any conditions, even if that meant your dream of having kids would never come true. Whilst talking about your future together in the first few months of dating, the topic of kids had come up once or twice, with him stating he would love to have kids with you, but believing he couldn’t have any due to his age. But once you had told him you were pregnant, he was absolutely elated, even crying whilst confessing how much he loved and appreciated you. After a relatively difficult pregnancy with Hank being the most supportive, protective partner there could be, you gave birth to a gorgeous baby boy weighing in at 8 pounds, having his eye colour and your nose, a perfect combination of the both of you. For the first few years of your babies life, you spent your time staying at home looking after him, watching him grow up to look more and more like your husband each day. But finally, after his third birthday, you decided the unit was your calling and you wanted to rejoin your old team.

Things started off relatively normal, reuniting with the unit properly, finally becoming a team again. Adrenaline filled your veins once more, loving the thrill of arresting criminals and going on busts. The words ‘let's roll out’ sent sparks of serotonin throughout your body, loving being back after years of ‘calmness’ from child care. This new feeling caused you to get a little over-excited sometimes but nothing, in your opinion, that could be considered careless. However, if you asked Hank he would completely disagree. The man just wanted you to be safe at all times, not just for him but for your son as well. Things started heating up after a couple of weeks of you working there, him not wanting to address it initially as he knew you were so happy doing what you loved, but he was scared for your safety. He didn’t want a repeat of his last marriage, he adored you so much he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if you were to get an injury or die. That was until one night, a bad day at the office caused him to snap, needing you to know how he felt about what you were doing.

Leaning against the counter in the kitchen at your shared home, you heard the door slam, knowing it was Hank, who had stayed behind in his office after a particularly nasty case.

“Hi Babe, did you get everything done that you wanted to?” You chirped, just happy that your husband was finally home.

“Y/N we need to talk,” you turned around to face him, your smile falling at his serious tone.

“Ok?”

“I understand you love being back in the unit but Y/N, we have a son now”

“What are you trying to say?” You replied, your tone turning sour, part of you knew what he was trying to say, but never in your mind did you think he would confront you about it. Why couldn’t he just be happy for you?

“I just think you’re being too reckless in the field,” he remained calm, just trying to get you to understand where he was coming from.

“Reckless? Are you fucking kidding me! I’ve spent three years looking after our kid and you can’t even allow me to have this?” You were furious by this point, you loved your job and had been away from it for a long time. Ok, maybe you were a little under cautious sometimes but not what he was suggesting!

“I'm just looking out for you, I can’t have you dying on me Y/N! You’re my wife for god’s sake I want you to be alive and safe!” He raised his voice, angry you couldn’t see what he was seeing.

“You know what fuck you, Hank!” You pushed past him, grabbing your keys and wallet on the way out, getting into your car to go anywhere but that house.

Driving around the city you were thinking of places to go, your parents, a hotel, another member of the units house? Finally deciding on Jay’s apartment you pulled into his buildings car park, checking your phone before going inside. Staring back at you were five missed calls and thirteen unread messages, all from the same person, the reason why you were outside someone else’s apartment and not your own home. Getting out of your car you walked towards the entrance of the apartment building, mulling over whether you should message Hank back. Deciding against it, you lowered your phone, not even wanting to think about it for the time being. Suddenly someone grabbed you by the waist, yanking you towards them, placing a foreign material over your mouth. You screamed, praying someone would hear your cries as you kicked your legs out and at the perpetrator as they dragged you backwards. More hands reached out to pull you into a car, sobbing you regretted what happened earlier, wishing you would have just stayed home. Finally, as your vision blurred, you hoped the unit would find you before it was too late.

Waking up in a cold room, you tried to pull your arm towards your chest, meeting resistance in the form of metal chains attached above your head. You groggily looked around, using your detective skills to assess the situation you were in, noting nothing in the cold, concrete room except yourself and a metal frame chair placed in front of you. Confused at the situation, you thought about what you had done, was it a person you had arrested? Or someone who had a vendetta against you? That you didn’t know, you couldn’t comprehend anything at the moment, your head pounding not allowing you to think clearly. You remembered being in the apartment complex’s car park after an argument but other than that everything was hazy. Thinking as hard as you could, your thoughts were interrupted as one of the offenders entered the room. He sat at the chair, sharpening his knife, a sadistic smirk played on his face.

“You know why you’re here?” Raking your brain you couldn’t think of anyone you had pissed off enough for them to go to these extremes.

“No,” you replied not wanting to antagonise him in any way.

“Your killer of a husband murdered my boy in broad daylight and no one, NO ONE, ever did anything about it!”

“That wasn’t me, please just let me go, you can talk it out with my husband in the proper ways!” You pleaded, knowing that him showing you his face didn’t bode well for your chances of survival.

“YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS THE DAY YOU MARRIED THAT MURDERER!” He shouted out, punching you in the stomach, taking his anger out on you anyways possible.

“He’ll find us, and when he does he’ll kill you too,” you spat knowing that you couldn’t make anything worse. In response he threw a series of punches at your face, grabbing his knife holding it to your throat. Smirking he replied,

“You think he really cares about you?”

“WELL, WHERE IS SHE?” Hank was absolutely seething. Shouting at anyone who came to talk to him, both members of his unit and uniformed officers alike. He couldn’t lose her, besides his son, she was his whole life, not even wanting to picture a world where she wasn’t with him. He had to prepare for the worst, he knew that, but he couldn’t do it without a tear coming to his eye. Why her? Why couldn’t they just have taken him instead? He was who they wanted, not her, so why couldn't they just have fucking take him?! The team all sat watching, waiting, knowing it was only a matter of time before he would come out and demand answers, ones they didn’t have at the moment. They owed their boss, cashing in multiple favours with him throughout their time in intelligence, and they knew this was the only thing Voight would ever ask for in return. And Y/N, you had worked with them for years, not just being colleagues but developing a strong friendship that would last years to come, that’s if they could find you in time. Exiting his office, the unit turned to their boss as he spoke.

“I want everyone giving their all to this case, this is my wife we’re talking about, not just some faceless victim, Y/N, your friend, your colleague, and we are going to find her. No matter what it takes, am I clear?” Each detective replied with a ‘yes sarge' and getting to work, investigating every lead that they could. A couple of hours later the team had found the suspects, located pod footage from the time you were kidnapped and worked out a motive, everything seemed like was going well, except for the fact they still didn’t have a location. Another hour passed and still no location, Hank getting more and more agitated by the second, with his anger about to boil over, all with the push of a button, or a certain detective. Being the bearer of bad news, the team pushed Ruzek to play the devils advocate to tell the Sergeant they had come up empty.

“Hey Sarge, we’ve got nothing else, every lead we’ve got is coming up dry”

“NOTHING! YOU’VE GOT NOTHING? SHE COULD BE DEAD FOR ALL WE KNOW AND YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU’VE GOT NOTHING?” Hank boomed scared that his precious wife, who had done nothing to deserve this, could be being tortured or even worse dead.

“Hank, Hank” Olinsky stepped in, pushing his distraught friend back in his office, knowing Adam had done nothing wrong, instead just an outlet for his long term friends anger.

“It's ok, she’s gonna be fine” Alvin reassured him, knowing him exploding with emotions would do nothing to help his missing wife. Finally, an hour later, the team got a breakthrough courtesy of a CI of Dawson's, gearing up and rolling out as quickly as possible much to Hank’s delight.

Raising your head, you spat at the man in front of you, teasing him even more, threatening him to do his worst. He had beat you, cut you, degraded you, trying to get your spirit to break. Although you knew Hank would come to find you, you were starting to crack, the pain overwhelming to the point where you couldn’t cope anymore, a pain you wouldn’t wish on anyone. You were losing faith rapidly, expecting your unit to have already come by now, but where were they? Maybe they didn’t actually care about you? Lowering your head after a series of more beatings, you’d had enough.

“Please stop, please, I’ll do whatever you want, just please stop!” You cried finally giving into the man.

“I want you to pay for what your husband has done to my family, pay with your life,” he pulled a gun from the waistband of his trousers, pointing straight at the middle of your forehead. You had lived your life as much as you could, finding the love of your life, having a son and restoring your faith in the universe, well up until now. Closing your eyes you prepared yourself for the bullet, but when the loud shot came, it wasn’t from a gun but instead the door flying off its hinges.

“DROP THE WEAPON!” Someone shouted, someone that sounded weirdly familiar to your husband.

“DROP IT,” they repeated before you heard a clatter on the ground and a flurry of movement. Suddenly someone grabbed your face, nervously speaking your name. Opening your eyes, you looked up, staring straight into the eyes of your husband, smiling briefly before a cloud of darkness washed over you.

Waking up, the first thing you noticed with the constant beeping of a machine, then the warm feeling of a hand in yours. You slowly opened your eyes, blinking sluggishly adjusting to the harsh light, before focusing on the figure beside you.

“Hank?” You croaked, sounding like death itself but glad you were alive and facing your husband once more.

“Baby! Thank god you’re alive, you got me so worried there,” you smiled, thanking whatever god was out there for a second chance so you could spend the rest of your life with your husband and child.

“I-i missed you, Hank”

“I know Baby, I know I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry for walking out on you, why couldn’t I have just stayed there and listened to you? Talked it out properly”

“No don’t apologise, this was all my fault, you loved what you were doing and I was trying to take that away from you because of my own selfish wants.” You loved the man beside you unconditionally and although you were mad in the moment, this whole situation made you realise that nothing he could do could make you love him any less.

#hank voight x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagines #chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #chicago pd x reader #one chicago

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

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A New Inconvenience

Wrote some more for the Marriage of Convenience AU. Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

Ford walked through the front door. He smiled at the already familiar sight of Stan playing with Orion and Iris in the living room.

“Hello, my dears,” he cooed, kneeling by his children. Orion and Iris promptly latched onto him, embracing him as tightly as their tiny arms could manage. “Did you have a good day with Uncle Stan?”

“Miss Dada,” Orion mumbled. Ford kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I missed you as well.”

“Uncy Stan took good care of ‘em, don’t worry,” Stan said breezily. Ford scowled at him. “What?”

“How many times must I tell you to stop using improper language?”

“I didn’t swear!”

“No, you just completely butchered a word.”

“You act like me calling myself Uncy Stan is gonna permanently screw up the way they talk or something,” Stan scoffed. Iris tugged on Ford’s shirt. Glad for the distraction, Ford smiled at his daughter.

“Yes, Iris?”

“Mama sad.”

“…Pardon?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stan said, nodding. “Angie came in a bit ago, looking pretty upset.” Ford’s blood ran cold.

“She had a doctor appointment today,” he said quietly. Stan’s eyes widened.

“Shi- shoot. Maybe she just hates the doc?”

“No. She’s very upbeat after doctor’s appointments.” Ford rose to his feet. “I’m going to speak with your mother, continue playing with Uncle Stan.” Orion and Iris looked disappointed, but toddled back to Stan.

Ford strode quickly down the hall, past the twins’ nursery and the guest room Stan had officially moved into, until he arrived at the room he shared with Angie. The door was ajar. Ford slowly opened it. Angie sat on their bed. To his relief, she didn’t seem particularly distressed, the way he’d imagine she would if she got bad news from the doctor. She looked more conflicted, as though she hadn’t decided her feelings.

“Angie?” he said tentatively. Angie looked up. She managed a weak smile.

“Stanford.”

“Stan told me you seemed upset after your doctor’s appointment.” Ford crossed over to the bed and sat next to his wife. “Is everything all right?”

“Depends on how you define it.”

“Angie, please don’t beat around the bush.”

“Remember what we were doin’ ‘fore Stan showed up?” Angie asked, ignoring Ford’s request. “How we were plannin’ to add more to our fam’ly?”

“Yes. But we stopped after Stan arrived.”

“Well. It didn’t make much of a dif’rence.”

“Oh. Oh, no.” Ford’s heart sunk. “No. You’re-”

“I’m pregnant.”

“We were only trying for a week!”

“That’s all it takes, sometimes.” Angie was maddeningly calm, but then again, she wanted a big family. Ford pushed back the reminder that, before Stan showed up, he had also wanted a third child, hoping that having another baby would improve his marriage like the twins had. “All I can say is I hope it ain’t twins again. I love Orion ‘n Iris, but carryin’ two babies at once is rough.”

“How could this have happened?” Ford moaned, putting his head in his hands.

“You know. You were there.”

“Why are you taking this so well?” Ford snapped. Angie crossed her legs, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“Well, I figure, can’t do much ‘bout it now. Stressin’ will only make things more difficult on me and the baby.”

Yes. Stress was the source of some of her complications with the twins. Ford closed his eyes, terror suddenly surging through him. Angie’s first pregnancy had been difficult for them both. It might make me a coward, but I don’t know if I can do that again.

“Stanford?” A hand was gently placed on Ford’s back. “Talk to me.”

“I…” Ford stood up. “I think I need to go for a walk and clear my head.”

“All right.” Angie continued to be infuriatingly level-headed. “But durin’ this walk, please don’t grab one of yer cigarettes that ya think ya keep hidden so well from me. I can barely tolerate that smoke smell when I’m not pregnant.”

“I recall.” Ford frowned at her. “You knew I picked up smoking again?”

“Oh, darlin’, yer not nearly as sneaky as ya think ya are,” Angie said with a smile. Ford managed a small smile of his own. He leaned over to kiss Angie on the cheek.

“I’ll be back shortly. And I won’t smell of cigarette smoke.”

“Thank you, dear.” Ford left the bedroom and headed for the front door. Before he could leave the house, however, Stan, still supervising the children in the living room, spoke up.

“What’s going on, Sixer?”

“Oh. Well…” Ford looked over at his twin. Stan was uncharacteristically nervous.

But then again, he’s quite fond of Angie. Who wouldn’t be?

“Angie’s fine. She just got some unexpected news. I’m going to go on a walk. I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

“Oh. Okay. Uh, have a good walk, I guess.”

“I’ll do my best.” Ford walked outside, down the front steps, and began to make his way down the street. He hadn’t even gotten a block away, however, when there was a shout behind him.

“Hey, Ford, wait up!” Ford looked over his shoulder. Stan had left the house as well and was jogging to catch up with him. “Figured you could use a walking buddy,” Stan said once he was by Ford’s side.

“The children-”

“Angie said she was gonna watch ‘em.” Stan cocked his head curiously. “You seem pretty high-strung right now. What’s going on?”

“I…” Ford sighed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to walk again. Stan began to walk as well. “Angie’s pregnant.”

“Oh.” Stan blinked. “Okay. Not what I was expecting. But why are you in the same boat as me? I thought you said that the only reason you and Angie knock boots is to have kids.”

“You showed up, resulting in us ceasing our…conception attempts after only a week.”

“Ford, it only takes one time.”

“I know!” Ford burst out.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Stan said soothingly. He put his arm around Ford’s shoulders. “Do you not want another kid?”

“I honestly don’t know, Stanley.”

“You clearly wanted one at some point.”

“I…” Ford’s head drooped. “I didn’t. Not really.”

“Then why the hell were you trying to have one?”

“…I don’t want to tell you.”

“C’mon. I’m not gonna judge you. You have the authority to kick me outta your guest room.”

“I thought it would benefit my marriage,” Ford mumbled. Stan came to a sudden stop, staring at Ford. Ford stopped as well. “What?”

“You- you wanted to have another kid because your marriage was on the rocks?” Stan whispered.

“Well, to be fair, the conclusion was rooted in evidence. Angie and I struggled a lot our first year of marriage, but when Orion and Iris were born, our relationship became much better.” Ford shrugged. “Recently, we started arguing over minor matters, becoming frustrated, even sleeping in separate beds. I merely decided to revisit a potential solution that I knew worked.”

“Stanford, you decided to have a baby just to save your relationship. That’s- that’s fucked up.”

“What happened to not judging me?”

“I said that ‘cause I didn’t think you’d do something so damn stupid! You wanted to make another human being. Because you were fighting with your wife.”

“What’s done is done, Stanley,” Ford snapped. “I can’t reverse it.” He could feel hot shame pulsing through his body. Until Stan had pointed it out, he hadn’t considered how careless the decision to have another child was.

He’s right.

“I mean…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. He looked away awkwardly. “It’s early enough that if you want, you could reverse the baby.”

“You- you mean Angie terminating the pregnancy.”

“…Yeah.”

“Even if I wanted to do that, which I don’t, Angie never would. She’s not against others doing that, but she personally won’t.” The issue had come up when Angie was pregnant with Orion and Iris. The doctor voiced some concern over Angie’s low weight and nutrient levels, and suggested they reduce the twins to a singleton. Ford had to stop Angie from slapping the doctor.

“Fine. What about adoption?” Stan suggested. “I bet there are a lot of people out there who would love to have a smart, cute kid. I know I would.”

“Give up my child?” Ford thought back to the day that Orion and Iris were born. The surge of love and happiness at seeing their extra fingers and toes. How thrilled he’d been to see the distinctive birthmark on Orion’s back that resulted in his name. Running his fingers through Iris’s bright red hair for the first time.

If I gave up my child, I’d give that up, too. Like a prophetic vision, images came to Ford’s mind. A newborn girl with Angie’s nose and his eyes, wispy brown hair, and a laugh that could melt the stoniest of hearts. Tears sprang to Ford’s eyes. I can’t even stand the idea of missing out on my third child’s life. When the day comes, I’d never be able to place her or him for adoption.

“No,” Ford said finally. He shook his head. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Sounds like you made up your mind, then,” Stan said.

“Heh.” Ford managed a small smile. “I suppose I did.” He looked at Stan. “Thank you, Stanley.”

“Hey, I’m here to help you and Angie out,” Stan said with a shrug. “This is just part of that.” He grinned. “And if I get a new niece or nephew outta this, I’m not gonna complain.”

“Even though, as the live-in nanny, you’ll be responsible for her or his care once Angie and I run out of parental leave.”

“Eh, I can handle it,” Stan said confidently. Ford raised an eyebrow.

“Newborns are very different from toddlers, you know.”

“Angie can show me the ropes before I ever get left alone with the kid.” Ford bristled instinctively.

“Angie and I split responsibilities evenly. Just because she’s a woman, I won’t be saddling her with the majority of childcare.”

“Whoa, I didn’t mean it like that!” Stan said, holding his hands up in defeat. “I just- Angie’s- Angie’s pretty great. And- and maternity leave is longer than paternity leave anyways, right? She’ll probably be spending more time at home than you.”

“Yes, she will have more time off than I,” Ford confirmed. Stan nodded.

“Yeah, that’s what I was getting at.” Stan cleared his throat. “Anyways, uh, we should probably get back. Orion and Iris get fussy around this time.” Ford nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea.” He and Stan turned around and began to walk back home. “Angie and I will have to come up with some names.”

“Easy. Stanley.”

“What if it’s a girl?” Ford asked, genuinely concerned about what Stan would say. The answer was immediate.

“Staniella.”

“And you claim Orion is bad.”

#jafnskldfna the title I went with for this ficlet. I'm a big fan lmao.#Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Marriage of Convenience AU #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

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Title: Observation.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Mini!Yandere!OC/Mini!Reader.

Synopsis: It’s like being the pet of a pet. Shrunken down, trapped, and isolated… There are worse things you could do than keep your head down and try to play happy-family.

TW: Shrinking, Violence, Imprisonment, Gaslighting and Mentions of Kidnapping.

“It gets better, after a few days.”

His voice was calm, laced with an unidentifiable accent and heavy with a calm, complacent undertone, the kind you’d expect from someone talking to an old friend rather than another hostage. You’d only been awake for an hour or two, but if he was going to panic, he didn’t seem to have any intention of doing so in front of you. Rather, he’d just greeted you and offered an insincere apology before helping you to your feet, spurring you on with promises of tea and explanations, both of which he seemed in no particular rush to provide.

The strangeness of your current state seemed obvious, by now, even if it didn’t really make sense. Your host was normal, a man of few words and tan skin with the barest hints of a spiraling tattoo peeking out from just beneath his sleeves, but he was the only normal thing you’d seen so far. The kitchen table was too low, pushing against the tops of your knees, but your chair was too high, the soles of your feet barely able to touch the ground. The empty vase on the nearest counter was ornate, but plastic, the cheap, overly-decorated sort of thing you’d decorate a playroom with. Most of the cabinets were false, but the few that weren’t contained plates too thick and too wide, cups that were just too small to be held comfortably, silverware that didn’t feel right in your hands. They were tools for toys, faux-commodities for dolls that didn’t need to really use them.

Things for people like you, now.

You crossed your arms on the smooth tabletop, staring down at your hands. Trying to see if anything about you was different, as you spoke. “I don’t know how you can say that.”

“It does,” He assured, making no exceptional attempt to sound any more convincing than he cared to be. “The headache will start to fade with a little sleep, and you get used to making do. We have a lot, but there’s always something missing.” He paused, chucking under his breath, as if the minor inconvenience was his own, personal joke. “I think he does it on purpose. To ‘simulate the difficulties of real-life’, or whatever excuse he wants to use to explain why I’ve been doing laundry by-hand for the past year and a half.”

You stiffened at the mention of your kidnapper, the person who forced you into their little fucked-up experiment. The details of your abduction were blurry, a nonlinear series of pricks to your arm and nonsensical threats you couldn’t quite remember, but you didn’t push yourself to recall much else. You had a feeling you wouldn’t like anything you managed to dredge up. If someone had the capability to make you into something so small, something so helpless, and the apathy to put you on display like a prized pet… You weren’t sure they’d be nice enough to make the transformation as painless as you’d hope.

“I don’t live here,” You mumbled, more to yourself than to him, although the stranger saw fit to hum in response to the admission. “In this town, I mean. I just moved here for a job - I didn’t even really want to, but I needed the money. They set me up with an apartment and everything.” A kettle whistled, and he nodded sympathetically. He didn’t turn to face you. “I didn’t even get to see it, not before I got… shrunk, or whatever.”

“New faces make the most convenient targets. If no one knows you, no one can look for you. Everyone you used to know is too far to do any good.” You sink into your seat. Somehow, his words of comfort did little to inspire much hope. “I think I was a tourist. I was passing through, stopping at a bar, and then--” He clicked his tongue, waving in some vague, dismissive gesture. “--this.”

You frowned, biting the side of your cheek. “Were you scared?”

At that, he glanced over his shoulder, sending you a loose, careless smile. You attempted to return it as he pulled a mug from the nearest drawer, preparing a still-boiling drink with the idle concentration of someone who’d done this a thousand times before. “At first, but as I said, it gets easier. You never get used to it, but the homesickness fades, and you find ways to keep yourself occupied. The only thing that’s changed is your size.” Your shoulders slumped, your attention quickly drifting back to your own self-pity, but a sturdy hand came to rest on your shoulder before you could start to spiral. “You’re not alone, either. You have me, and we will get you through this. In the meantime, drink.” A mug was delicately placed in front of you, the handle just a little too thick to hold comfortably. “It’ll help with the nausea. You’ll feel better once you clear your head.”

You only leaned back, letting him rub slow, soothing circles into your back as you lifted the mug to your lips and took a sip, if only to see the way his smile seemed to grow.

By the sixth day, you’d come to terms with the fact that you were, undoubtedly, in a dollhouse.

The layout was massive, but easy to navigate. The building was split down the middle by a spiraling staircase, the dizzying structure decorated with halls in either direction, all leading to bedrooms or bathrooms or spaces so sickeningly domestic, you’d come to think of the kitchen as a neutral zone. Most were unused. Leon’s (he’d introduced himself properly later on that night, once you were stable enough to ask) bedroom was tucked into a corner of the ground-floor, but there were signs of life everywhere. An empty cup left in an otherwise unoccupied parlor, a book abandoned halfway through, little things, but things Leon didn’t seem like the type to overlook.

The only aspects of the house that hadn’t been tampered with were the industrial-style security cameras, each protected by a metal box and a colorful array of warnings, and one of the spare rooms on the top floor, this one covered floor to ceiling with pastel colors and stuffed animals, things for someone much, much younger than you or the home’s only other occupant. You didn’t try to investigate further. There’d been a camera in that room, too, and if your captor saw you looking around, they might’ve assumed you were curious about...

You’d moved on quickly. That’s all that mattered.

None of the doors had locks, either. You’d only found two so far, a row of deadbolts on the symbolic front-door and a padlock on the basement, both of which seemed to be later additions. Currently, you were lingering near the latter, unsure if you should persist and risk the wrath of your all-seeing voyeur or leave it alone, live to dwell in paranoid anxiety for another day. A part of you was scared, honestly. Nothing else had to be locked away, hidden behind a bolted door, and if there was something you weren’t supposed to see, you weren’t sure you wanted to. If it was Leon’s secret, you couldn’t--

You never got to reach a conclusion. Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against a broad chest and pretending not to notice how quickly you went rigid. There was a laugh, a playful squeeze to your hip, and just as quickly as you were restrained, you were let go, forced to turn around and meet the dark eyes of your only companion. Leon was like he always was, cheerful and much too enthusiastic, despite neither emotion having an obvious motivation. Still, you fell into it quickly, attempting to mirror his joy. It was the least you could do, considering how kind he’d been, over the past few days. “I didn’t realize you were up,” He explained. “It’s still strange to have another person here. I wasn’t--”

Suddenly, he stopped, pursing his lips and scanning over you. His eyes never managed to rise above your neckline, though. “What do you think you’re wearing?”

It took you a moment to process the question. There was a closet full of clothes in the room you’d picked out, but you’d managed to avoid them, so far. Every piece was stiff, unyielding to shame or preferences, and the color scheme was akin to something you’d see in an ancient sitcom. It was a futile progression to dread, and yet, you planned on putting it off for as long as possible.

Judging by Leon’s expression, ‘as long as possible’ wasn’t for much longer.

“I didn’t want to change,” You admitted, a hand absentmindedly drifting to your wrinkled shirt, smoothing over the thin fabric. “It just feels… I didn’t want to, alright? Is something wrong with that?”

That earned a scowl. It took more self-restraint than it should’ve not to step back. “I left something out for you.”

You’d woken up to a pale-pink monstrosity laid out on the foot of your bed, still on a hanger. It’d been disregarded without a second thought. “I didn’t realize,” You mumbled, bowing your head just enough to seem apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be a big deal… Does it matter?”

His scowl deepened, grew, but just as quickly as it’d come, Leon found a way so cover it up. It was there, but a second later, it wasn’t, an expression of disappointed sympathy sewing itself seamlessly into his features. With a gentle, patronizing sigh, he pulled you into another hug, choosing once again to ignore the gesture’s one-sided nature. “It does, angel, but we’ll make an exception this time, alright? When I do something thoughtful, you’re supposed to show me you appreciate it. That’s how this is supposed to work.”

You opened your mouth, thinking for a moment before closing it again. Suddenly, you were glad he couldn’t see your face. The concern slowly infecting it would’ve been… worrying, and you weren’t sure if you could think of an unimportant agitation to explain it away. “The basement,” You said, instead. “Do you have the key?”

“Don’t ask silly questions.” Leon pulled back, tapping the tip of your nose with his index finger. “Hopefully, that door will stay locked. I don’t see a reason either of us should have to go someplace so unpleasant.”

You nodded, and Leon took you by the hand, wordlessly guiding you back towards the center of the house, towards the spiraling staircase and towards your bedroom, where his selected outfit was still waiting, sprawled out over your comforter.

This time, you didn’t argue when he told you to put it on.

He waited three weeks to start sleeping in your bed.

It might’ve been an impulsive decision, on his part. It felt impulsive to you. One moment, you were huddled underneath thin sheets, just beginning to close your eyes and welcome the darkness, and the next you were wide awake, terrified and paralyzed as your mattress dipped, creaking as Leon moved onto it. If he cared that you were awake, he didn’t make an effort to show it, only sliding under your sheets and throwing an arm over your waist, holding you with a practiced intimacy, an undeserved intimacy. The kind of closeness you didn’t want any part in.

“Leon,” You mumbled, much too quietly to be taken seriously. As if there was anyone else you should be afraid of waking up. “Are you alright? Why--”

“Hush, now.” His voice was low, but not tired. Perfectly awake. Perfectly aware. More of a half-hearted threat and a command made out of fatigued necessity. “Sleep, sweetheart. Don’t ask questions.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead coming to rest against the nape of your neck. You didn’t.

“I see you're fond of your new companion”

Elias didn’t make an effort to pose the sentiment gently. He seemed bored, if anything, his chin resting on his fist as he stared down at you and Leon, seemingly numb to the oddity of talking to two people that barely measured up to his thumb. He’d been generous enough to let out of the dollhouse for - as Leon affectionately put it - the ‘monthly check-in’, or… onto the table it rested on, at least.

It was disorienting, seeing the space that surrounded your world, all bare walls and scientific instruments you couldn’t identify, sterile but cluttered, like an unused room in a very lived-in home. Elias was nothing special, either, not the ominous, foreboding figure you’d imagined. He seemed average, if anything, a pair of black glasses and a head of unruly hair making for a rather unimposing figure. A captor, but not an intimidating one. A man with a hobby that just so happened to need a few unwilling volunteers.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from shrinking into Leon’s side when his gaze shifted towards you.

“They’re good company,” Leon answered, his composure never wavering. Why would it? He’d done this a thousand times before, and as far as you knew, he and Elias got along. As well as a captor and their captive could, anyway. “To tell the truth, I’m starting to think I’ve been here too long. I was almost glad this one wasn’t so stubborn, after last time.”

You felt your throat go dry. “Last time?”

“I don’t want to have to deal with another incident,” Elias warned, brushing off your question as if it’d never been asked. “You got along with your other roommates too, at first. Everything’s wonderful and terrific and perfect, until I come to check on you and find one less participant than I should.” He pursed his lips, shaking his head as he let out a noise of frustration. “I can move (Y/n) to another enclosure if this isn’t going to work. I don’t want to lose resources because you don’t get along with them.”

Leon gasped, pressing a palm to his heart in a show of betrayal. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to make a joke or distract you from the topic at hand. “I’ve never done anything that wasn’t necessary. You told me to take care of my home, and I am. I shouldn’t have to suffer because you have poor taste.” Elias rolled his eyes, and Leon laughed, slumping against you, intertwining his fingers with yours mindlessly. “You picked a timid one, and they’re coming along nicely. I don’t plan to waste such a rare opportunity.”

“Are you sure?” Elias asked, leaning back in his chair and fishing for something on the floor at his feet. A notepad, but you couldn’t make out what was written on it. “I’d hate to disagree, but your track-record says otherwise. I’m patient, but I do have my limits, Leon.”

He glanced towards you for the first time since the start of their conversation, keeping you in the corner of his eye. “(Y/n)’s going to behave.”

You didn’t know whether or not you should correct him.

You should’ve corrected him.

“No,” You spat, not bothering to hide your disgust. It was a terrible feeling, a vile sense of wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be surprised. Everything about Leon was telling, from the grimace pressed into his lips to the anger in his eyes, bright and fiery and terrible. Unconsciously, you pressed yourself against the tiled wall, gripping your towel a little tighter. It was the only barrier between him and you, and by god, you weren’t going to give it up. “Get away from me. Don’t touch me.”

“You’re being irrational,” He said, crossing his arms and taking a step closer. You considered making a run for the bathroom door, but you doubted you’d be able to reach it before he reacted, catching you and doing something worse than staring you down. “Couples bathe together. It’s normal, you’re just--”

“We’re not a couple!” It was the first time you’d yelled at him, the first time you raised your voice, and Leon didn’t try to hide his offense. He edged closer, but you were quick to press yourself against the wall, to bare your teeth and try to make it clear he couldn’t intimidate you just by existing. Not again. “We’re captives. We were kidnapped, I was kidnapped, you were kidnapped. You can’t keep acting like this is normal, and you can’t expect me to. I’m not just going to sit back and play nice while you--”

“I don’t think I like your tone,” He warned, his eyes narrowing. The shower was still running, hot steam beginning to fill the room, but Leon didn’t seem to feel the need to turn it off. You’d barely had time to cover yourself before he came in, your hair and your skin still dripping, but you were glad you had. If only to protect the few traces of dignity you had left. “Stop,” He ordered, grimly. “You’re going to say something you regret.”

That was your sign to back down. That you should give him what he wanted, or at the very least, do your damnedest to make sure you weren’t the reason he didn’t get it. When he stopped trying to patronize you, it meant he was mad. And when he was mad…

You tried not to think about what happened when Leon got mad.

You should’ve backed down, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to let him have his way. “You don’t even want to get out of here, do you?”

Grit teeth. A locked jaw. Your second warning. “You shouldn’t--”

“I shouldn’t ask questions?” You cut him off without hesitation. “What do you not want me to ask? What are you so scared of my finding out? That you like feeling powerful? That you want to be in control? You can’t lie to me, I’m the one that has to deal with you. All your rules and your comfort and your fucking clothes.” You forced yourself to stop, to take a breath and seek out the same composure Leon was so good at maintaining. He took the chance to make his argument.

“You’ve been here for a month, I’ve been here for nineteen. You don’t know what it’s like when Elias doesn’t get his way. You haven’t had to deal with that because I’m helping you.” Another step. He was practically breathing down your throat, now. “You should be grateful.”

But, you didn’t want to be grateful. You wanted Leon to stop acting like you should be.

You swallowed, letting the silence grow tense before you broke it. “Someone was here before me.” He made no move to interrupt. You persisted. “What happened last time?”

He flinched, and made no attempt to hide it. You didn’t need another warning.

You lunged to the side, aiming blindly for the door, a weapon, anything that could help you escape or fight or act. Leon was faster than you, though, and much more practiced. A fist closed around your shoulder, blunt nails tearing into your skin, and just as swiftly, a heel found its way to the back of your knee, sending you crashing to the ground, something in your ankle cracking as you collapsed. You were slammed into the unforgiving floor, your cheek soon pressed against the cool surface and Leon’s body bent around yours, his weight and his strength keeping you pinned down. Weakly, you tried to push yourself up, but Leon only growled, his resolve strengthened and his grip iron-clad. There was nothing you could do to squirm away, not unless he had a sudden change of heart

“Bitch,” He spat, letting out a string of less specific profanities under his breath. “I took care of you. I kept you safe. All you had to do was let me.”

You didn’t respond. Leon sighed, but his hold on you never loosened.

“You still want to know what happened, don’t you?” He sounded defeated, exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from kissing your shoulder as you struggled to nod, the gesture both fleeting and far too prolonged, at the same time. He pulled back, but didn’t let you go, only scanning over you with the same tight, loving smile he always wore when he was about to do something awful.

You’d never thought that smile would make you feel so sick.

“You’re about to find out, angel.”

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ketsuyuki-hibana-typed · 5 years

Note

Hello!!! May i request Genya x reader (Modern DomesticAU) , please????I need fluff for him after reading the scans (இдஇ; )

I NEED THIS TOO, GENYAAA BBY COME BAAAAACK (༎ຶ ෴ ༎ຶ)

Shinazugawa Genya x Reader (Modern DomesticAU)

Genya and you were in the same university, but he is a third year while you're second year.

He will gently wake you up by shaking your body. If you still not wake up, he pulled your body up slowly and made you sit.

"Wake up." He kissed your droll-covered cheek.

"Mm, morning." You hugged his neck, and put your head on his shoulder, grinned stupidly

"Morning." He smiled and kissed your top head.

Both of you went to bathroom together. Sometimes, you mistook his toothbrush as yours so he usually guided your hand to the right brush and put the toothpaste on top of it too.

"Sleepy..." You use his big arms as your pole, making him as your stand support.

"Me too, but we should hurry today." He wiped the rest of white bubble on your mouth

"Genya, your bedhead." You touched his hair. "Can I comb it?"

"We don't have-"

"Genyaaaa." You pulled and pushed his body.

"Ok, just this once."

"What do you mean just this once. I'm the one who made your hair everyday." You happily tidied up his mohawk hair while he sit down.

Genya helped almost everything with the breakfast.

"2 bacons, and scrambled egg." You murmured while putting them on the plate. "Should I cook for lunch too?"

"We can't make it on time." Genya drank his coffee.

"Oh, how about new ramen booth near uni? We could have lunch together there."

"Sure."

He made sure to look at today's forecast and brings umbrella even though it's sunny day before went out

Always prepared

The train to your uni always cramped at this hour so it's kind of impossible to have a seat.

Genya always drived you to the corner, and made you faced his inner big body, making sure you didn't fall if the train make a sudden movement. Or to prevent any inconvenience that could occurred.

Since you can't reach the ceilling-mounted handles, you hold his hanging arms like a koala

He had to endure this kind of cuteness everyday.

At university, both of you went to the separated class, promised each other to meet at lunch.

Your friends often asked how could you end up together.

"Please don't be mad, but your boyfriend's face is so scary, and those scars too. He looked like Yakuza. Are you sure he didn't-"

"Nope, he's not. He's a baby."

"What-"

You flung and slammed your textbooks onto your table.

"HE'S A BIG BABY." You let out dark aura emitting from your body and smiled to your friends

Your friends shivered and they swore they will never ask this again

Meanwhile, Genya's friends asked him about how he could get such a pretty girlfriend

"Well, I've been with her ever since middle school." Genya sat down. "So, it's not something new."

"But man, really, your girlfriend is such a feast." His friend suddenly popped out.

"... What do you mean."

"I mean bro, you got that delicious body! And the chest too, especially the thighs part. Damn, you're lucky bas-"

Genya suddenly stood up and pulled his collar shirt. His irk mark appeared.

"Once again disrespect her like that, I'll fucking rip your throat."

He shivered from head to toe. "So- Sorry."

This kind of shitty 'judge from the appearance' is always happening

Like, people often misunderstood him as your stalker or raper, because he always walked behind you and looked menacing towards you.

Sometimes, it made you pissed and it's often for you to yell, "LOOK CLOSELY! LOOK AT THIS BABY! DID HE LOOK LIKE HES A BAD GUY?! FUCKING CLEAN YOUR-"

"Okay, okay, stop, calm down." He pulled you out from that place while you continuingly threw profanity. He's the one who apologized to those people.

It drained both of your energy but luckily, supporting each other made you two stronger.

You usually had lunch with him.

Actually, both of you didn't really have time to meet each other on uni because of the tight schedule, so you really maximised and cherished your time with him on lunch.

"I heard these good for women." Genya picked up the bean sprouts from your bowl with his chopsticks.

You shook your head. "The idea of bean sprouts slowly caressing my throat made me want to puke."

"You really hate it huh." He patiently wiped your messy mouth.

On day off, there are no particular place you had to go on date. It's all spontaneously decided

Since it's always spontaneous, he likes to try new place or visiting some old place from your childhood

"Hey, you remember this place?" Genya showed you the map.

"Oh, I remembered. If I recalled, you confess to me here after our study tour. You suddenly doing Kabedon, shoving me flower you randomly picked up from parks and stuttered, saying that you like me."

"Right, I forgot that scene." He banged his head to nearest wall, preventing himself from dying of embarrassment

You probably went to make up section on mall and tried some lipstick, concealer, and perfume on his arms

The reason is simple, because he has long arm. There are so much space on that big arms and he never complained about it

He often used the blue cardigan you gave him on his birthday, especially when dating and eventually sad when he had to say goodbye to the cardigan because it's worn out

"I will buy you one again, so don't make that 'I wanna cry' face." You patted his head.

"But.. it's from you." He looked heartbroken when he put his favourite cardigan out from the wardrobe.

HNNGGGHHHHH STAHP

His brother, Sanemi, usually visited both of you on his day off. Nothing to do, just chillin there.

"You will be a great wife for Genya." He suddenly spouting out facts statement while sipping the juice you gave him

"E-Eh?" You slowly turned your head towards him while blushing, trying to not drop the glass on your hand

"ANIKI, WE RE NOT TALKING ABOUT IT RIGHT NOW." Genya dashed out from his room. Sanemi chuckled from both of your reaction

Since he got flustered easily, it's easy to tease him

You are always careless at home. He often finds you in ... Not so elegant state

You like to take a nap in the kotatsu, sometimes sleep while putting your head on the table, sometimes lying down with kotatsu as your blanket

Apparently, you unconsciously rolled your body out from the kotatsu

The view of you wearing tank top and short pants (which mean showing more skins) while letting your stomach half opened and almost reach your braless breast really tested him

Plus, you carelesely opened your leg wide too, with one hands up and one hand slipped inside your tank top on the breast part

Genya dropped his bag

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Hold on Genya! Hold your inner beast! Consent! Consent !!

But in the end, this good boi always covered you with blanket and put you properly on the bed.

Genya often spooning you, catches you and fully covered you with his body. In conclusion, he is the walking teddy bear.

Genya likes to bite your nape in random occasion, but mostly when you were cooking. When you asked why, he saw big cats on NatGeo did that and he thinks... It's just his instict to mark you

He always looked at good timing to kiss you. On the sofa, after wake up or when he spooning you with his big body while watching TV.

You already knew his 'Hey, can I kiss you?' gesture. He pulled you into his embrace, and rubbed his cheek onto yours. After that, he sticked his forehead onto yours and looked straight to your eyes.

You gave the permission sign with quick peck on his nose. He smiled and started to bring you into deep kiss.

Shopping for dinner isn't really part of your routines. Sometime you bought all of the ingredients or Genya shops alone. He will just took note from what you need on the food

Or takeouts. Definitely typical for busy university student.

But, bathing together is a must. He likes the skinship, or simply admiring your beautiful figure when you slowly showering yourself.

Sometimes, inside the bathtub, you purposely playing with his fingers and guided them to your lower part

"...please don't test me."

When you really tired and lazy to applied your skincare routine after bath, he's the one who took care of it.

"Hey, don't sleep yet. What comes after the toner?"

"Hngh.... Serum."

"Got it."

He divulged his problem and insecurity to you before sleep, with lower voice right on your ears, almost whispering

He often said that he probably lost you someday and he will never ready when it comes

You always soothing him when he became emotional like this. You assured him that he doesn't have to worry about you.

"I can't live without my big teddy bear." You chuckled while caressing his back. "So, it's impossible for me to leave you."

He didn't say anything but you already knew he didn't need further answer because he seems relaxed and didn't tense his muscle anymore.

He finally sleep in peace

You kissed his forehead and moved towards his chest, hugging him.

Yeah, there is no way you could leave this precious man alone

#kimetsu anime #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba headcanons #kny #kny genya #kny imagine #kny x reader #kny headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba genya #genya shinazugawa x reader #shinazugawa genya #shinazugawa genya x reader #genya x reader #genya shinazugawa

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the-hilda-librarians-wife · 4 years

Text

Family Fights - Chapter Two

Summary: Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: This is a repost. When I re read the first chapters of this fic to write the third, I realized that it was packed with grammatical errors and that the pacing was terrible. Unfortunately, I can’t (or at least i don’t know how to) edit posted chapters on ao3, but I can at least re-post a slightly better version of the chapters here.

Read the first chapter here

She was gardening outside. The moonlight illuminated her extensive flowerbed, and for the first time since she was five and dropped an acid potion on them, her roses just wouldn’t bloom. They laid wilted on the ground, the bushes not strong enough to support themselves. It was a truly macabre vision, especially with the putrid smell coming from the rotting plants. But then, the bushes began to move. The twigs began to intertwine and form a figure. Maven watched horrified as her deep red roses began to melt into blood, and the plants formed a four meters tall troll-like creature. As the blood dripped down the leaves, the librarian raised her gaze to see strings attached to her once-a-rose-bush, just the way a puppet would have. At the end of the strings, controlling the troll, was her sister. Her face bigger than the Moon, her body seeming to disappear behind the trees staring down at her with angry, green eyes and a Cheshire like grin

“You failed me.” Myra hissed. “You failed me, and I’ll never forgive you. You failed me and you shall DIE” Maven’s surroundings dropped as if made of paper, like would happen if one cut the corners of a cardboard box, giving way to nothing but darkness all around her, her sister’s legs dipping below the ground horizon, making her feel like an ant on a platform. “Myra, I’m sorry!” Maven cried, tears streaming down her face. “Sister, please come- please c-come back!” She stuttered as she dropped to her knees before the flower monster, her tears mixing with the blood on the ground. “NEVER” The Marra shouted, and with a movement of her hand, made the troll raise it’s hand, ready to strike the librarian. “Madam!” The librarian woke up with a start at the child like voice and the small hand on her shoulder. When she could focus better, the nightmare finally releasing her from its crutches, she saw a young face and long blue hair. The Hilda girl, she recognized. “Where am I?” She asked as she tried to control her beating heart. “Safe.” Came another voice, a more mature one. Johanna offered her a cup of coffee as she sat on the bed at Maven’s feet, and she happily accepted the beverage. “The kids found you this evening passed out near the woods. We didn’t know where you live, and we just couldn’t leave you there, so we brought you here. I hope you don’t mind.” “Um, no, of course I don’t. Thank you. Can you tell me exactly where you found me?” “You were lying at the gates to the Huldrawood when we went out to get a badge. Why were you there?” “You were crying in your sleep.” Hilda pointed at Maven’s puffy eyes and wet cheeks before she could answer the first question. “Are you okay?” The librarian took a deep breath and looked out of the window near the bed. “I’ll be fine.” “What happened?” Asked another kid from the other side of the room, near the girl Maven usually saw him with. So, the whole trio was there. “That’s was none of you business, kid” Maven spatted and regretted it immediately when everyone’s faces fell. They had taken her out of the streets and welcomed her into their home. The least she could do was be grateful. “I think I just lost the person I love the most.” It was obvious in the boy’s face he had come to regret his question. “Who?” Hilda asked, aiming at gentleness and failing, and Johanna glared at her. “Hilda! That’s not polite!” “No, that’s fine.” Maven said as she sipped her coffee. “It was my sister.” “Oh.” Johanna’s face filled with sympathy for the librarian. “I’m sorry for your loss. How did she die?” Maven twisted her nose. “Die? Who said anything about dying?” “W-well, but if she didn’t die maybe you can still get back to her.” The girl she recognized as the biggest bookworm in town after herself spoke for the first time, and Maven sighed. “I doubt that. She made a bad decision. And I didn’t stop her. And when I realized it, I only judged her. I promised I’d always protect her. And I failed” She spit out, choking with unshed tears. “Hey, if you don’t try, you’ll never know!” Came yet another voice. She looked at the bedside table and gaped at what she saw. “An elf?” Maven spat in surprise. “You can see him?” Hilda asked, just as surprised the librarian could see Alfur as the librarian was at seeing him. “You have signed elf paperwork?” “Well, I’ve yet to meet a witch who hasn’t”

Maven realized those were the wrong words the moment they came out of her mouth. She just couldn’t believe her carelessness; that was supposed to be kept a <em>secret</em>.

“You’re a witch?!” David asked wide-eyed, and Maven stood a little straighter. “Yes, I am.” “Oh, that’s wonderful!” Alfur chirped. “Witches are the only kind of humans elves usually get along with. No offense.” He said looking at the other people in the room. “Witch or not, it doesn’t matter. You need help. What can we do?” Johanna asked, and Maven sighed in relief as she realized that this friendship wouldn’t be ruined by ignorance as many others had been before. “I’m afraid there’s nothing to do. Nothing can undo what happened to my Myra.” Maven lifted her head abruptly, an old ritual coming to mind. “Unless...” She turned her head and faced Hilda, a plan forming on her thoughts already. “Unless what?”, the child asked. But before she could get her hopes high, Maven realized she couldn’t be selfish enough to let her wishes get in the way of a kid’s safety. “Forget it, Hildie. It’s nothing.” A heavy atmosphere intruded the room, and silence hung heavily around them. “Frida, David, your parents must be worried. Hilda, can you walk home with them?” Johanna asked softly to her child, who looked like she would oppose. Her mother lifted her eyebrows, making it clear that there would be no discussion.

“Yes, mum. I’ll take the opportunity to take twig out for a walk. Come on, guys.” The door closed behind the children, and Johanna took her gaze from them to her guest. “There is a way to help you. You just don’t want to say it.” It was more a statement then a question, and a right one. “I’ll go get us something to eat, and then we can discuss it, okay?” Maven nodded with her head hanging low, until Johanna put her hand on the librarian’s shoulder, making her look up at the slightly older woman, a blush warming her neck and creeping up to her face at the proximity. “Okay.” She whispered as her host left the room. After a few minutes of uneasy thoughts and shifting movements from Maven’s part, Johanna was back with a bowl full of cookies. Before she could even offer the snack, the librarian began speaking, wishing to end this as soon as she could. And if there was any remote chance that she could get what she needed and have her little sister back, she was taking it. “Who is the father?” She asked rather harshly. “Who is Hilda’s father.” Johanna sat down at Maven’s feet again, blushing prettily, and the librarian had to admit the colour looked rather nice on her. “I- er, I don’t know.” Maven lifted her eyebrows, surprise clearly written on her face. She’d never been one to judge people, and she was a firm believer that one could do whatever they wanted with their body, but the sweet artist hadn’t given her the impression that she was that kind of person. At Maven’s reaction, Johanna was quick to clasp her hands over her mouth, and the pink on her face turned to green. “What, NO! Oh Gods, it’s not what you’re thinking! Hilda- Hilda was adopted is what I mean!” Maven’s jaw snapped shut and she cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. The poor woman looked like she was going to faint before her. “I beg your pardon. I should have worded my doubts. So you mean you didn’t get to meet her biological parents?” “Er, no, I didn’t.” She murmured as she fiddled with a biscuit on her hand. “I found her in the woods, actually. I had gone to my grandfather’s cabin to see if I could find some inspiration. The day I ventured farther into the forest, I heard a baby weeping. Oh, Maven, she was so young and she was alone. I couldn’t leave her there. I took her in and fell in love with her.” She finished with her eyes wet.

“The two of you are perfect together. I’m glad you found each other. Does she know?” Johanna gave her a dry little laugh. “Yeah, she does. Not like it’s easy to keep something from her, anyway.” “And do you know why she was abandoned?” Maven quirked an eyebrow. “Of course not! All I know is that they were monsters if they couldn’t even care for the safety of their child!” Johanna spat and Maven could feel suppressed rage beneath her skin. The mother might not know, but the witch? Oh, the witch had seen this story a thousand times. “Let me ask you something: have you ever seen anyone other than Hilda with natural blue hair?” Johanna furrowed her brow as she searched her memory for the image of someone with such unusual hair colour. “No, I can’t say I have. But I imagine it’s some kind of genetic mutation or something? The doctors could never put their fingers on it.” Maven pinched the bridge of her nose, stressed to see the culture passed from mother to daughter amongst her kind so lost to most people. “Oh my- no, Johanna, I’m afraid it has nothing to do with genetics. Or science, even. When one is born with an unnatural hair colour, it is believed that this person has magical gifts. That they are, let’s say, prone to engage in witchcraft.” She paused for a moment, letting the other woman try to wrap her head around that information. “It can be passed down to generations... or pop in suddenly on a child coming from a non-magical family. When it happens, the children are usually abandoned, given away, mistreated, and murdered even.” Maven knew she’d gone too far when a sob erupted from the sweet artist, and she tried to give her what she hoped was a reassuring look. “Don’t fret. These things would happen on old times. Now this knowledge has been practically forgotten. Your Hilda just had the fortune of being born into a family of cruel magicphobes who happened to know of this.” Another sob came from her. “How can you say she was lucky?! It was awful what happened to her! She could have been hurt!” “Well, but instead you found her, didn’t you?” Johanna was silent again, and she stuffed her mouth with a vanilla biscuit. “Yes, I suppose I did.” She answered when she finished chewing. “But if it’s such an obvious sign, why don’t most people know about this? How come no one suspects?” Johanna gesticulated as she spoke, throwing crumbs around the room with her movements, and Maven scoffed. “Why, since they created hair dye no one can tell natural from fake hair anymore. Before it existed, witches would usually hide their hair in some way. But nowadays there’s no trouble. Some of us still keep a part of our hair natural to let others know we are one of them.” The librarian lifted her hands to her scalp, separating the hair strands so that the gaping woman in front of her could see the purple sprouting from the roots. A few moments of uncomfortable silence went by, and it was only broken when the mother opened her mouth again. “Why did you tell me all that?” “Because the only way to save my sister is if Hilda helps me” Maven answered after taking a deep breath. Johanna was silent, but she nodded in a sign for her to continue. “The Marra are a society of kinds. They seek teenagers who want more power, more control, more... freedom. They twist their minds to make them believe that spending the rest of your immortal lives giving people nightmares is the best way to live. And when they convince them of such, the adolescents go through a ritual, in which they gift their soul to the goddess Niorun, acquiring, in exchange, immortality and the ability to enter people’s dreams.” “Why would that goddess do that?” “She doesn’t know what they use their abilities for. As the goddess of dreams, Niorun thinks that the Marra’s loyalty to her comes from the desire to give pleasant dreams to others, the way she does, and not nightmares. But the point is, my sister has joined them.” Johanna lifted her head as if she’d been electrocuted, her jewel bright eyes wide awake. “Beg pardon?” She stuttered with effort. “You heard this right. My sister has joined the Marra. And that was two years ago. I- I believe that she has already performed the ritual” Maven felt the stinging of tears behind her eyes, but she refused to let them drop. “She hadn’t aged a day...” she whispered. Johanna squared her shoulders confidently. “And what can we do?” She asked in a strong, unwavering voice. “You said you needed Hilda. I’m sure she’d have no trouble in agreeing to help.” “You don’t understand!” Maven protested. “Not only is the spell we’d need to do dangerous, but the training Hilda would need would unlock her magic forever!” She hugged her legs and looked away from Johanna. “And I can’t let her hurt herself to help Myra! Best case scenario, the ritual goes smoothly but everyone looks at her like she’ll curse them!” Maven cried, unable to contain her tears any longer as she realized the depth of the situation her sister had put herself in. She only heard the gentle padding of Johanna’s feet getting lower and then higher, right before feeling her hand on her shoulder. “Here” Johanna offered a napkin and a smile as the librarian looked up at her. At that moment, Maven was painfully aware that she had broken down in front of Johanna. Wonderful. “Calm down, and talk to me. Why do you need Hilda for that spell?” “Because it requires the energy of two witches to work. That’s also what makes the spell so dangerous. There’s no way to get my sister’s soul back,” <em>unless you want to fight a goddess</em>, she added in her mind. “And so the only way to make Myra human again would be by making a new soul for her.” “Can... can only witches do that?” “Yes, I’m afraid so. Witches have more energy, and more control of it. A normal person would probably die with that spell.” Maven sighed, knowing there was no way Johanna was allowing Hilda to help her now. “And Hilda is the only witch in Trollberg?” The question was met with a nod. “You said she’d require training... can the training make the spell... safer?” Johanna had left the bed, now pacing hypnotic circles on the wooden floor. “Certainly. The better the witch can manipulate the energy and elements, the safer the spell is.” “Could you train her?” The answer took the librarian by surprise. A small spark of hope ignited in her chest. “You’d let me?” Johanna sighed. “Hilda will kill me if I don’t let her try. But if it’s been too long and we still don’t think it’s safe, I’m afraid I’ll have to put my daughter first.” Johanna had barely finished speaking before Maven had gotten up and raised her arms as if to hug her, letting them drop again as she got a hold of herself. “Thank you. So much.” The librarian whispered with true gratefulness, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and biting on her bottom lip. There was something about the woman in front of her that made her incredibly soft, and she’d have to be cautious.

“You’re welcome” Johanna smiled shyly at Maven. At any sign of danger to her family, she would make Hilda back down immediately. But why cut down all the options before even trying? Why not allow Maven a little happiness? _#_#_#_

Hilda closed the door behind her and looked around to find her mother and the librarian sitting at the table, and Twig sniffing Maven’s shoes, where he had ran to as soon as the girl had opened the door.

“Hey mum.” She said as she approached the women. The walk to her friends’ houses had been a tense affair, the three of them too immersed in their own thoughts to speak. The tension in her house, however, seemed to have dissipated.

“Hey Hilda!” Johanna greeted her with a nervous yet encouraging smile. “Are you up for an adventure?”

#fic: family fights #hilda fanfic #hilda fic #hilda the series #hilda librarian #hilda librarian fanfic

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marshmallow-phd · 5 years

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Lies Untold

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Luhan x Reader

Summary: For generations, your family has been the protectors of mankind. You were considered one of the best and due to that reputation, you were sent on what could be the most important mission for the organization. Going under cover in a college to sniff out a particularly large and threatening wolf pack seemed easy enough. But when you meet one of the members, everything you’ve known since birth will be overturned and your loyalty to your family and heritage will be tested.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I Final

You watched the bartender out of the corner of your eye as he shifted over to the end of the counter to take care of another group of young women. There was something about him that giving off a very non-human vibe. Your alarm bells were already going off, but you needed to be careful. Going around and just assuming which members of this society were werewolves would give you tunnel vision and you needed to be alert. All options needed to be open to you if this mission was going to succeed.

But your eyes kept flickering over to him, this Luhan character. His soft face was intriguing to you, capturing your attention to the point that you were only partially taking in what Innie was saying. He’d smile and laugh as he conversed with the patrons. The strange thought of wanting him to come back over here and only laugh with you skirted across your mind before you shoved it away.

Since when did an attractive face distract you like this?

Tearing your eyes away, you began scanning the room, looking out for any possible signs of a wolf or anything else that could point you in the right direction.

“There he is!”

Grabbing your attention again, you followed Innie’s line of sight, where she was waving enthusiastically to a trio of boys that had just walked into the bar. The one in front, a short, brown haired guy with an obnoxiously pointy chin and puppy-like eyes, smiled brightly when he noticed Innie and quickly made his way through the crowd. As soon as he reached the two of you, he grabbed Innie’s waist and gave her a kiss that barely passed the criteria to be considered PG-13. A little more tongue and they’d be inching towards rated “R” material.

But when he pulled away, you nearly gasped.

One of the tale-tell signs of a wolf was when they were around their mate. It took a trained eye and complete focus, but when that chemical reaction of love and adoration was happening inside the wolf, his eyes reflected those emotions, flashing an amber gold for just a second as the beast pushed towards the surface. And you happened to catch this wolf’s involuntary reaction.

However, your small victory came with a price.

Not only had you identified a wolf in your first night here, you discovered the worst possible scenario that hadn’t even crossed your mind: your cousin Hae In was a mate.

As per the law, hunters didn’t touch mates unless absolutely necessary, only if they attacked first. They were still humans who were pulled into this battle against their wills, though their hormones told them otherwise. Even with that floating in the back of your head, that didn’t make the situation any easier. How were you supposed to keep your cousin out of this now?

Innie punched the wolf in the shoulder, pouting deeply. “You’re late.”

He actually whined, like he wasn’t worried that someone might wonder why a grown man was making a noise like that. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s all Chanyeol’s fault. He kept changing his shirt.”

“No idea why,” one of the others snorted. “It’s not like Lanie’s with us.”

“Both of you shut up,” the tall one growled. Okay, so that one was named Chanyeol. From the way the three of them stood, moving in sync to make sure they had a defensive edge at all times, they were definitely a pack. An instinctual habit that happened without them thinking about it.

“(y/n), this is my idiot of a boyfriend, Baekhyun,” Innie introduced playfully. Pointing to other two, she said, “The giant one is Chanyeol and that’s Jongdae. These three are absolute trouble, but don’t worry, they won’t bother you.”

“Thanks for the wonderful introduction,” Jongdae grumbled.

Baekhyun didn’t seem bothered by the slight insult, throwing an arm around Innie’s shoulders and placing a kiss to her temple.

“Guys, this is my cousin, (y/n),” Innie continued on.

The fact that these wolves knew your name and your face made you want to squirm in your seat. It was a fight against your training to always go unseen, to never be noticed. But this might be an in that you could utilise, so you slapped on a smile and waved innocently. “Hi! It’s nice to you meet you guys.”

Baekhyun nodded towards you politely before calling out, “Hey, Luhan!”

Luhan didn’t seem too thrilled to see the newest arrivals, shuffling over while grumbling to himself. His gaze set on you for just a second before turning to the others. “Don’t I see you guys enough at home?”

Home?

Was he a wolf, too?

As he made the drinks his friends requested, you watched his movements. They were quick, graceful and smooth. Yes, you were sure he was one of them as well. It would take a little more observation on your end, but it was the only conclusion. Wolves stuck together, rarely letting outsiders in. Their lives revolved around secrecy, kind of like yours.

“Here,” Luhan sighed, placing the newly made drinks down on the counter. “Now, please, don’t be too crazy. Remember, I still work here and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Baekhyun brushed off.

You frowned at his response. It bothered you, the way he didn’t seem to listen to the request, but you couldn’t explain why. You didn’t know any of these people and four of them were your enemies. How they interacted with or treated Luhan shouldn’t rub you this way.

Downing the rest of the drink, you shoved your thoughts back on the right track. You had a job to do and nothing was going to throw you off track. The family was counting on you.

You probably looked like a delinquent. From what you could sense, the front desk clerk’s eyes never left the back of your head. What could possibly be stolen in here and easily snuck out without breaking glass or setting of some kind of alarm?

It didn’t stop her from her judging, though.

A ball cap was shoved on your head, covered by the hood of your black jacket. It was your go-to cover up, the bill of the hat covering your face from most cameras and the hood covering up your hair and other identifiable parts. It helped you blend in and go unnoticed in most cases. Perhaps not so much in this very empty museum, though.

You glanced down at the screen shot on your cell phone.

Archeology4life: My museum has a pretty good selection based on the history of werewolf folklore. I’m constantly combing through it for ideas on my papers.

The IP addresses, from a phone to a college library computer, that your computer expert, Carter, had tracked all led back to this town. The girl you’d been conversing with until about six months ago had to be from this place. She wouldn’t lie about having access to these artifacts, would she? What would be the point in that?

But you’d combed over this entire museum and there was no section on werewolf folklore. You needed access to whatever this girl was talking about in order to find the one thing you were sent here to find: the book.

It’d been a legend, a myth whispered about through the generations. An entire archive of wolf anatomy, their weaknesses and their strengths, secrets that the hunters hadn’t been able to uncover in centuries not matter how hard they tried. According to lore, all of it was accumulated in a novel for a little light reading, kept hidden by the wolves. From what your internet friend had said, it seemed like it wasn’t so legendary after all. If it truly did exist, you had to get your hands on it, to give the organization the edge it needed to end the threat for good.

But how?

Walking out of the museum, you dialed Carter, hoping he’d keep this little conversation to himself.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be on radio silence,” Carter mocked the second he answered.

You rolled your eyes at the lack of a proper greeting. He was so lucky that you considered him one of your best friends.

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you hurried down the sidewalk. “I need you to track that girl’s phone again. I need to know where she is. There’s no display here at the museum so I need to know where she’s getting her information from.”

Miss Archeology4life had accidentally dropped a few bits of intel that no ordinary human would know. A rare female wolf wouldn’t be so careless, so your conclusion was that she was a mate. A mate who would lead you straight to the pack… and the book.

“I’m guessing that the family isn’t supposed to know about this?”

“I’m sure you can work your magic like no one else and make any record of this call disappear.”

Carter laughed. “I see how it is. Butter me up so I do what you want.”

“It’s not for me,” you countered. “It’s for the mission, which in turn benefits us all.”

A heavy sigh came from the other end of the line. “Fine. Give me a minute.”

You waited patiently, stopping your feet and glancing around you to make sure no one was watching you or trying to listen in. Then a building across the way caught your eye.

Lang Auto Shop.

They wouldn’t be that obvious, would they?

Part of your training was learning how to say “wolf” in different languages. Wolves were very in touch with the ancestors they came from and would often use those words in their businesses in other aspects of their lives like a secret display.

“Are you even listening to me?” Carter snapped.

“What? Sorry!” You’d been staring the shop a little too hard apparently.

“I’ve got the location. She’s at the university, in the library. And because I’m amazing, I even pinpointed the fact that she is on the first floor in the far east corner.”

You could hear the smug, self-satisfied smirk from here. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Just another to add to the long list.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You hung up the phone before Carter could send another sarcastic comment your way.

Sliding your phone into your pocket, you slung around the camera that was hanging from your shoulder and snapped a few pictures of the shop to research later. You ran to the nearest bus stop and caught a bus that would take you to the university.

The campus was bustling with students in a hurry to make it to their next class. To try and blend in more, you took off the ball cap and stuffed it in your bag, replacing the hood to keep some sort of cover.

Finding the library was easy enough. No one stopped you, asking if you were actually a student here or not. Everyone just assumed you were, making you smile to yourself. Yes, you fit in quite nicely.

Bingo.

The girl you were looking for was the only soul around in the corner, sitting at a table and typing away at her laptop. It was kind of curious that she was here, considering the fact that you remembered vaguely of her telling you that she graduated last year. Hm. Maybe she decided to get a masters after all.

When another body joined her at the table, you slipped behind a bookshelf, allowing only the tiniest sliver of your face to peek through the books.

It was a man who joined her; professor by the looks of him, with his glasses and crisp button down. He gave her a quick peck on the lips before sitting down next to her. The two of them were so engrossed in each other, you probably could have just stood there out in the open and go unnoticed.

You gave your surroundings a quick glance before taking out your phone. In a situation like this, you preferred your Canon, but that wouldn’t exactly be discrete. So, the lesser quality pictures would just have to do for now. You clicked one, two, three pictures with perfect discretion.

“(y/n)?”

At the sound of your name, you whirled around to see Innie coming towards you, a very confused look on her face. You simply waved at her, cringing inside for being caught.

“Hey, Innie,” you greeted through gritted teeth.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. Her hand was on her hip and there was a sparkle of suspicion in her eye.

Thankfully, you were able to come up with a lie rather smoothly. “I came to check out the graphic design section.”

“Oh,” Innie blinked. “But you don’t go here.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, but that just means I can’t check them out. Nothing wrong with a little browsing to kickstart some ideas.”

That made Innie light up. “Really? What are you working on?”

“Just some… banners for a small computer company. Surveillance mostly.” Why Carter was always your go-to when you were trying to come up with a story you didn’t know, but it sure could be handy.

“Sounds interesting… and slightly stalkerish,” Innie giggled.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s for property surveillance. Like businesses and buildings, things like that. Not a spy store.”

Innie raised an eyebrow. “You kind of look like a spy right now.”

You snorted. “It’s windy outside.” As smoothly as you could, you removed the hood. You were already exposed by your cousin, might as well just relax and move on. “Why are you judging my only protection from the elements?”

“Okay, so-rry,” she sniffed. Checking her watch, she shrugged, “I’m hungry. Do you want to go grab something to eat?”

“Sure.” You needed to do some organizing and research of the tiny crumbs of information you’d managed to pick up, but you were human, too, and hadn’t eaten since earlier this morning. “Where are you thinking?”

“There’s a little pizzeria a few blocks down the street that the guys are wanting to meet at,” she replied. “You’re welcome to join us.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Alright, let’s go!”

You swallowed as you followed her out of the library, your fight or flight instinct already rearing up to take over. Whenever you were close like this to wolves, you were normally armed and fighting for your life, not about to order pizza and act like an average, oblivious twenty-something while they chatted away in front of you.

The pizzeria was an interesting design with dark wooden tables surrounded by old fashioned iron chairs and painted grapes outlining the ceiling. Already at one of the tables were the same group of boys from the bar as well as two other girls who seemed to the other wolves’ mates.

At the end of the table, sitting apart from the others was Luhan. Your heart leapt in your chest as you sat across from him, but you chalked it up to your trained instincts gearing up for a fight.

He smiled at you gently. “Hi, (y/n).”

“Hi,” you mumbled back.

The waitress stopped by and took everyone’s drink order before the chatter started up again. How could such a small group of people be so loud?

You stayed quiet beyond that, keeping your ears open to the others for anything vital. Soon, the waitress returned with the drinks and dropped a handful of straws in the middle of the table before walking away again. You waited for most of the straws to be picked up before reaching for yours. Big mistake.

At the same time that your fingers hit the paper wrapping, Luhan also reached for the straws and your hands brushed against each other, sending a shock of warm electricity through your body. Immediately you pulled back, unsure of how to process what the hell just happened. Never before had you felt something like that. It wasn’t anything like static electricity.

This didn’t feel right. You shouldn’t be here, surrounded by wolves where something could slip and you could be found out. And you definitely couldn’t stick around with the chance of that shock happening again. You needed to get out of here.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered Innie, barely getting her attention. “I don’t feel good. I have to go.”

Before anyone could stop you, you ran out of the pizzeria.

A nagging thought was pulling at your mind, but you refused to acknowledge it. The very idea of what could be behind that electrical current was ridiculous and unheard of. You just needed to get your head on straight.

Once you were back at your apartment and away from the wolves, you could refocus your attention on the task at hand. There was no way the stress and nerves of the mission were going to get the best of you.

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo wolf au #exo wolf!au #exo werewolf au #exo werewolf!au #luhan x reader #luhan #lu han #exo series #exo supernatural au #Lies Untold #untamed wolf universe

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perditaalottachocolate-blog · 6 years

Text

Maybugs Don’t Fly in June (19)

@ladrienjune 2018, Day 29: Stuck & Day 1: Accidental reveal

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | art | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

AO3 / fanfiction.net

Ladybug’s earrings gave the third warning as she ushered him inside her room. She had yet to answer his question, but she decided it would be best to put off any talking until they were both safely out of public eye, just in case.

‘Don’t tell me you don’t know where you are,’ she jested settling him on the loft bed.

‘I know where I am,’ he huffed. ‘But why am I here?’

‘Marinette is a friend,’ she evaded. ‘I’m sure she won’t mind and this is the only place I could take you on such short notice.’

‘Oh,’ he muttered. He didn’t look happy to be here.

‘Hey,’ she put her hand over his. ‘Obviously I couldn’t take you to my house. We don’t want any more reveals today, Chaton.’

‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ he dropped his gaze to the pink comforter.

‘You have nothing to be sorry about,’ this came out sharper than she intended. ‘I hate this stupid mask more than you think. If it wasn’t for Tikki-’

‘If it wasn’t for Tikki, Hawkmoth would already know who you are,’ Adrien squeezed her hand.

‘But maybe if I revealed myself to you earlier, it wouldn’t have come to this,’ she shook her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had been upset because of her, of her identity, of his quest to find her. If he had known all along, he wouldn’t have been at risk, he wouldn’t have been Hawkmoth’s target.

‘Stop that,’ Plagg interjected. ‘I can practically hear you taking the blame.’

‘But maybe-’

‘As Adrien likes to say, maybugs don’t fly in June,’ the black kwami countered. ‘It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t mine, Tikki’s nor Adrien’s. Miraculouses always come with a price, they are in equal parts a reward and a burden. What happened today however, that is all on Hawkmoth.’

‘But-’ she tried to argue and was interrupted by the fourth beep of her earrings.

‘You have to go,’ the boy pointed out. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘You’re sure?’ she hated to leave him now, but she didn’t have any choice.

‘Yes, go,’ he repeated.

Ladybug ran down the steps, thinking how surreal it was that Adrien, no, Chat, was now resting in her bed after becoming a supervillain.

‘You realize, no more reckless stunts from now on, Chat?’ she teased nearing the trap door. ‘Now that I know who you are, I can make your life miserable should you be so careless in risking your life?’

‘Hey, not fair,’ he pouted. ‘Only because I can’t reach your civilian self to reiterate! Like you haven’t done any risky stuff,’ he complained. ‘Even more often than me!’

She stuck her tongue at him and closed the trapdoor before the pillow he threw at her hit its target.

Phew.

A breath of relief escaped her lips as she climbed down the steps. The apartment was empty, so she made a dash for the bathroom before her transformation finally faded.

‘You both did amazingly well today,’ Tikki praised her as soon as she was out of her miraculous. ‘You’ve earned your rest too. Go to him. I think he has things to tell Marinette as well.’

‘He found me,’ she hummed under her breath. ‘What do I do now?’

‘Whatever you want,’ the red kwami offered. ‘We’ve passed the point it was necessary to keep the identities secret. You already know his and I doubt Hawkmoth will try targeting Adrien again.’

‘Hmmm,’ Marinette tapped her lip thoughtfully. Was she ready to show him the girl behind the mask? She had been wanting to reveal herself to Adrien and to Chat for so long, but learning that they were one and the same person had been quite a shock. He went through so much in just a few hours. Maybe this particular revelation could wait a day or two? The boy certainly could use a breather.

Turning this idea in her head she took her time refreshing herself a bit, and then she went to the kitchen to collect some snacks and lemonade. Outside students were leaving school, the classes were probably cancelled. All the better for them, Marinette thought heading upstairs.

Adrien’s voice made her stop just in front of the trap door.

‘Plagg, you need to hide,’ the boy ordered.

‘Why?’ the black kwami didn’t sound eager to do as he was told.

‘Are you kidding me? Marinette is a civilian,’ there was an edge of exasperation in Adrien’s voice. ‘She’d be freaked out by a flying cat. She has no idea I’m Chat Noir and we should keep it this way for her safety.’

‘Oh, right,’ Plagg muttered darkly. Judging by the silence that fell over the room, he disappeared from view.

Once again Marinette hesitated. Her partner had just been akumatized over this, and yet her lucky charms - on both sides of the mask had given him strength to fight Hawkmoth all by himself. Didn’t he deserve to know?

With a heavy sigh Marinette entered the room.

Adrien jumped when he saw her and turned a bright shade of red in an instant.

‘Hi! Um… hi!’ he squeaked. ‘Did Ladybug…?’

She waved her hand dismissively, ‘Oh, yeah, she told me she brought you here. It’s okay.’

‘Thank you,’ he dropped his shoulders in relief.

Before she climbed up the bed, Marinette left a small plate with a few pieces of camembert on her desk, out of Adrien’s sight. She set the tray over the blankets. ‘I have some snacks and lemonade, but if you’d prefer something from the bakery I can go down and get it for you.’

For some reason he looked even more embarrassed. ‘This is more than fine, Marinette. You… you don’t need to do this.’

‘I want to do this,’ she assured him hotly. ‘I was worried about you!’ Well, she’d been mortified, but he didn’t need to know that.

Adrien’s phone chirped in his pocket. He fished it out and blinked at the amount of messages in his inbox.

‘Seems like the school was canceled,’ he commented. As he went through the texts his eyes got bigger and bigger.

‘What is it?’ Marinette stopped herself before she could glimpse the messages on his screen.

‘Basically our whole class wants to know how am I,’ his voice trembled. ‘They said not to worry. They all have been there and if I want to talk about it… and so on and so on.’ He tried to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but he was clearly touched. ‘Oh, and apparently Chloe is taking care of the media,’ he snickered.

‘You mean she’s bullying the media?’ Marinette giggled. ‘Good, they definitely deserve it.’

‘Nathalie’s asking, where am I,’ Adrien whispered. ‘She wants to take me home. I’d better reply to that.’

That was understandable, but something in his voice told her, he didn’t want to leave yet. Marinette put her hand on the screen, interrupting his typing.

‘Stay with me,’ she asked timidly. ‘I know you must be exhausted, but maybe you can rest here? We can even make a sleepover out of it, if you want,’ she mumbled, the cogs in her brain working at high velocity at how to keep him here longer. He looked like he needed it, but if she was honest with herself, she needed it as well. She needed his presence. She needed to make sure, he would be okay. And she needed to make him feel okay.

‘I don’t want to impose…’

‘You’re not. I’m inviting you,’ Marinette shook her head. ‘Please?’

There was a long pause, filled only with their breaths. Adrien looked at her, knitting his brows. She did her best to hold his gaze.

After a while he nodded. ‘Just let me-,’ he waved his phone and started typing. Then he showed her the message.

“At friend’s house. Safe. Need some time. I’ll contact you later”

‘Marinette?’ Adrien asked reluctantly, after he put away his device. ‘Did I… did I hurt you at school today?’ He didn’t meet her eyes, just picked at a stray thread on her comforter.

‘No!’ she exclaimed. Was that the thing bothering him? Poor Kitty. ‘In fact, you let me go,’ she rushed to explain, ‘when you were akumatized. You spared me.’

‘I don’t remember much,’ he admitted, still avoiding her gaze. ‘Only glimpses, mostly sensations, not much really. But I was scared I-’

‘It wasn’t you, Adrien,’ she assured him again. ‘No one is blaming you. Ladybug told me what happened. You’re the first victim who resisted Hawkmoth, who defeated him!’

‘But not before I made god knows how many people disappear,’ the boy mumbled.

‘It wasn’t you,’ she repeated. ‘You just need some time to digest it, but I’m sure you’ll come to the same conclusion.’ Guided by a sudden hunch she climbed to her knees and pulled him into a tight hug. She heard his breathing hitched but he quickly reciprocated. Marinette felt his hands resting clumsily on her back, while he buried his face in her shoulder and shuddered. After a deep sight he pulled away.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered.

‘Now rest,’ Marinette ordered. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I’ll take these,’ she collected the now empty tray.

He sent her a shy smile, leaning on her pillow. Something rustled. Adrien turned, surprised by the sound and felt over the material of the pillowcase. Before Marinette remembered what she’d hidden there the boy put his hand inside and pulled out a sheet of paper.

He gaped in silence at its content.

It was a print. A print she liked to have close to her. A print he was bound to recognize as it featured him and his red ears next to a black clad heroine, posing for a picture inside his room.

The selfie with him and Lady Noir.

Marinette froze, just like her guest. What reasons would she have to acquire such a selfie (well, maybe apart from her former habit of collecting every available photo of Adrien and plastering it to her walls)? She probably could come up with a plausible explanation of why Ladybug had given it to her, but did she really want to?

She had to admit, it would be hard to imagine a more clear signal from reality to make up her mind, to let the maybugs out of the bag.

Adrien finally found his voice and his brains.

‘My Lady?’ he rasped looking between the picture and Marinette.

Maybugs don’t fly in June, she thought. It had felt right when he called her his Lady, because she had always been his.

‘Yes,’ she said, smiling at the choice she made. ‘Yes, I am.’

***

Thank you so much for your comments, likes and reblogs! There’s only the epilogue left in this. Would you like me to post it on Sunday? ;)

#ladrienjune #ladrien #perdita writes #maybugs don't fly in june #day 29: stuck #day 1: accidental reveal #adrien agreste #ladybug #plagg #tikki #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fic

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babe-in-red · 6 years

Note

Fic Prompt/Request: Subtle ways that indicate to the rest of the group that something shifted between Shiro and Keith post-S6. Sitting more closely next to each other on the couch while watching TV, for example. Subtle enough not to scandalize the other paladins, but different enough that they start asking what has changed. (Bonus if Lance actually GETS IT)

Canon Lance is always better than fanon. Trust me.

It was pretty funny, Lance thought. Watching as Keith’s trying to sneak out after Shiro. No, he was no more the ninja or samurai as he used to call Keith. Something very careless possessed the actions of the future Black Paladin. No more of secretive looks, no blinking and smiling behind the palm. Keith looked to be more open than before.

Lance was maybe a bit slow when it came to the relationship, and he needed time to understand what was going on in his heart and mind, but observing other’s bond was his specialty. He always understood, always knew that Keith’s feeling was deeper and smoother when it came to Shiro. Now, Lance couldn’t even call it sneaking. It looked old-fashioned - the look in Keith’s eyes like Shiro’s his everything like he needs to battle his approach through all the noble knights in his way to save his Prince in the cursed tower. But thinking about Keith as an adventurer made Lance roll his eyes. How in the Earth Keith always got the coolest characterization and position. That was beyond him.

Right now the Paladins were staying at Garrison. The talk with commander Iverson was very awkward. Not that he was glaring at Keith all the time, but Keith didn’t say a word. He only stood in the corner of the office, his arms crossed and protectively, he watched Shiro’s back. Of course, any from these gestures were new for Lance. Obvious Keith was like the breakfast - quick to swallow.

Yes, Shiro meant everything to Keith, but what about the other way around? Lance still couldn’t get into Shiro’s head and understand. He spent some time in the Blue lion, thinking and talking with her. You should try to understand people before you start to judge them. Said Krolia once. She was like the space mom everybody needed.

“Lance are you in there?” Pidge knocked on the metal leg of Blue. “It’s dinner time! Shiro wants us all to be there!”

“Give me five minutes!” He called and rubbed his forehead.

This evening the cafeteria was reserved only for the Paladins and the royals. Allura still couldn’t hide her enthusiasm about Earth and Coran did everything wrong. It was actually Hunk who tried to teach him that here, on Earth are mustaches very common and that people even dedicated the whole of November to it.

Iverson looked old and heavy, and when he sat there behind the table, Lance couldn’t push away his worry. They were gone too long to understand what was happening on Earth. He wanted to go home and tell his siblings that even though he’s not the best pilot he’s one of the Paladins and he helped to save the Earth.

“I’m glad we’re here.” Shiro slowly sank on his chair. It was visible that his side was still giving him trouble. But of course, Keith was there, watching and prepared to step in if Shiro needed help.

“So impossible.” Lance shook his head.

“What?” Pidge leaned closer, “you are weird these past days.”

“I am just trying to figure out some things about me. It’s nothing.” He murmured and waved his hand.

“As you know,” Shiro started, “unfortunately, I’m not capable of piloting right now.”

Shiro massaged his temple. He looked tired. It was too soon for him to talk about the future of Voltron. Even if everybody understood the importance of moving forward, Lance couldn’t surpass the feeling that Shiro’s just too tired.

“But, Coran and Kolivan promised to come up with a brand new arm for you.” Hunk said carefully. “I understand you need to rest, Shiro, that’s what we all need, and you need it the most, but don’t cut yourself like this, man. We are here for you. One for all, all for one.”

“I’m not sure if I want a new tech arm, Hunk.”

Silence.

But at least Keith didn’t look surprised. That was the only stage of their relationship that they were not able to hide: best friends. Damn, what was going on between the two? Lance wanted to understand before he would come with a conclusion so wrong that he would hurt somebody again.

“It takes time,” Keith spoke suddenly, “just let it go for now. It just takes time.”

Trauma.

That was the word Keith didn’t want to say aloud, and Lance knew it. He was not blind, slow? Maybe, but not deaf.

The easiest way how to finally find out what is going on between his two friends, was ask and be that guy who’s humble and curious in the right direction. Lance bit his tongue; he tried not to attack Keith because of the bond between him and Shiro. His attempt to be closer to Shiro failed. The man closed his doors, built his walls so high that Lance couldn’t even see where they end.

“Fuck.” Lance kicked off his duvet and jumped from the bed. Not that only these two idiots occupied his mind during the day, but now he couldn’t even sleep.

He stormed right into Keith room, but the door was locked. He tried Shiro’s, but he met the same resistance. Maybe they locked themselves, god knows, but he didn’t want to punch the doors and wake up all the cadets.

“Common room.” Pidge sighed, “they’re in the common room, Lance.”

“What are you doing here?”

Pidge leaned heavily against the wall, “I was watching a movie with them, when I fell asleep. I am on my way to my room.”

“They’re not doing weird things?”

“What weird things?”

“Nothing?” Lance nervously shifted from the door, “I’m just gonna check them. You know? I can’t sleep.”

Grumbling under his nose, Lance reached his destination. The room was at the very end of the corridor of ubication. The room had no doors so he couldn’t hide effectively to spy on the two. Lance pressed his back against the wall and tilted his head only to see that the tv was lightning up the room and the two figures who watched it.

“You’re falling asleep,” Keith said softly.

“I like it.”

“Giving me the dead shoulder is what you like in nowadays?” Keith replied jokingly.

“I generally like your shoulders.”

“It’s firm. You’re gonna end up with neck cramps.”

“We all have to pay the price for our comfort.” Shiro chuckled, “stop worrying about me. I know what I need.”

“I know what you need.”

Lance blinked. An ordinary conversation, indeed. He really was not deaf to not see that they both had a very close relationship. A brotherly one? Well, his siblings often rest on his shoulder. They used to watch movies together and fall asleep.

Yes, but Shiro and Keith weren’t siblings. And he didn’t want to judge before he would understand. That was a new motto in Lance’s life. Observe first.

“Well, then, what do I need?” Shiro asked curiously.

“Massage.”

“Oh?”

“I know you won’t dare to say no to my long fingers.” Keith jiggled happily, “Just take off your shirt and let me do the magic.”

“I’ll take off my shirt if you take off your shirt.”

“You should stop asking me to take off my shirt. People are gonna say you’re gay.”

Shiro laughed. He straightened himself and with such an easy he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the side. “That’s the fun, isn’t it? People who assume things when they’re clearly wrong.”

Are they? Lance was now glaring at them. He almost choked on his saliva when he heard Keith say the word gay. There was absolutely nothing wrong with being a bit different, he just couldn’t put two and two together without starting to see them differently. When Lance was thinking about it, he was jealous of something he could never have.

“Shiro.”

The name from Keith’s mouth floated in the air like a flower scent. All the kindness and softness Keith reserved for the older man. They didn’t have to kiss in front of Lance’s eyes so he could understand.

“Hey.”

Shiro turned his head surprised, “why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Can’t.” Lance entered the common room and sat right next to them, “so what are you two doing exactly?”

“Massaging Shiro’s sore neck.” Keith replied immediately, “he’s like a baby. Never listens to me.”

“Sounds like someone who’s sitting right next to me.” Shiro chuckled.

“I am not.”

“Yeah, sometimes you are.” Shiro agreed in amusement.

“Shiro, I have your neck between my fingers.”

“I feel very triggered.”

“Sarcasm is not gonna save ya.”

Lance found a better position on the couch. He rested his legs on the small table and satisfied he only nodded and turned his attention to the TV.

“You’re not gonna stop me from calling you baby.”

Lance held his breath. When Keith bowed his head and fought Shiro’s hands so he couldn’t see his blushing face, he burst out laughing. So obvious, so freaking obvious.

The two men gave him puzzled looks. Shiro stopped to fight his way to Keith’s face, while the younger man only stared at Lance prepared to attack if something stupid would fall from his mouth.

But Lance didn’t say a word. He ended up satisfied with his discovery and let the two men only stare at him. It was a lovely evening, and he had a comedy to watch.

Understand first, then judge.

#reply #sheith

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to-future-self · 4 years

Text

This is very long and unplanned

Well, hello

So, I diverge from my parents. Like most adolescents, I do, yes, disagree with my parents. I know, I know, shocker.

I find it to be very scary, really. Suddenly, those who always had the answer don't have it anymore. And, once again, the fact that there is no certainty in life slaps me in the face again and again and again. Sometimes I worry I'll never get used to it, to life. I feel as if no one really does, but I don't think this is the uplifting mantra I want to carry throughout my existence. "No one will ever understand what we are supposed to do, because we aren't supposed to do anything!" Living isn't supposed to be meaningful, not by default. But I do know that the only one who can attribute meaning to life is the individual living it.

The fact that we are all individuals is the reason there will never be true peace. No, we're too different, all of us, in so many ways. This doesn't mean we can't coexist with those differences, but I don't believe there's any plausible scenario (and by that I mean, no thought reforming BS or total human annihilation) where everyone is quiet and happy. This is one beautiful and terrifying thing about humans, we're bound to noise, never to silence.

A community, whether we like it or not, is not homogeneous. It's a bunch of individuals that are scrunched together and not mixing, no matter how hard some try. Every single one of us is just weirdly unique, with our own objectives, likes, dislikes, good and not so good facts and beliefs. We're all just existing, and we all have the right to since we all have value. To exist is, supposedly, very valuable in itself.

I'll get to the value of a human being and MY OWN VALUE as a human being eventually, don't worry. I looove rambling in tiresome texts.

But let's get to the point, at least the initial one: Should all people be allowed to exist? Or, at least, should people be able to experience freedom or is it more secure to tame it in some capacity?

Now, what do I mean about that?

My parents are not anti-racists, they also are quite careless when it comes to cute 2020 surprise, Corona, and my dad is quite unfond of concepts such as feminism. Ok, they do sound like idiots, and that worries me because they're not. And it kills me that I can't love them less for it.

I came to the conclusion that one can't end an idea. Ideas are created and exist, immortal, but not undiscussable. Therefore, racism or sexism or any bad-ism will never end, as long as there's someone out there that truly believes it, or some kind of registration, either being through manuscripts and historical papers of some sort or just through the impact the past makes in the present and future (as a 16-year-old, my conclusions are not mind-blowing, they're mostly stupid and lame and not original).

And those bad-isms exist because of the conflict we, humans, will never get rid of. Bad-isms exist because some believe that others, different from them, shouldn't exist, or are not correct, or are inferior to them for some reason. Basically, you shouldn't exist, because you're not like me. And to disagree with those is plausible, right? Everybody should have the right to exist, even if harmony is unachievable. RIght?

That's when you get movement, revolution, opposition, which is great. Not easy nor pretty, even though some think so (yes, I'm looking at you, miss ˜I-Like-Romanticising-History". Did you enjoy Hamilton?) Those people who were massively mistreated through the course of human existence are screaming, and the world starts to notice their voice. And it's just so fucking amazing, even if things aren't fixed, and most likely never will. Things are slowly getting better. Hurray!

Hurray?

Now, I'm no expert in social sciences. Actually, I'm no expert in anything, I'm sixteen. But it is bizarre to see how people have a hard time looking past their own nose. Me included, obviously, but let's talk about that later. Ok, things got better, but they're not good. It's not very difficult to find some numbers stating how many black people die every day because of cop violence, or how many women are being abused every day in any social sphere they're inserted in, or how many trans people are beaten to death every day because of their identity. And that's me not remembering many, many other examples of how things are not alright. We're not walking on sunshine. However, to those who do not really experience any of it, or care to know about it, this is very foreign. Those are people who look at the past, think "Yikes. Good thing the world is not like that anymore!", and go live their lives carelessly. They don't see anything wrong with the now, now is good, and they don't understand how there are people who are still complaining! Hello-o, you got your rights, shut up already!

That, gentleladies and gentlemen and gentlenon-binary, is my father.

And that same father feels like he has no right to be wrong, or of disagreeing with people. He's terrified of the idea of limitation of freedom, he thinks it will lead to some kind of new dictatorship, and "they" are already working on it - "They" being the masterminds behind a to-be controlled world of some sort. Therefore, according to my dad, we can't get someone arrested for thinking the most absurd or saying the most absurd, because 1. They haven't done anything tangible yet, 2. Even if they're complete and utterly disgusting, they have the right of believing and saying whatever they want.

I feel as if this is the main ideological conflict we have nowadays (I'm not sure, I don't know way too much about the world to have an opinion, but we'll go back to that too). We have people who want to diminish, control, or even exterminate others, but, if they don't effectively do anything, should they be punished? As someone who isn't affected by many of the violence in the world today, I don't know.

Because I know there's nothing I can do to stop it from happening, bad-isms are always going to be there, but we need to keep trying to make them almost nonexistent. But then, you can't convince people, or explain to them, the damages of something through violence. This type of change can't happen through force, because it won't clarify anything to those who don't know or don't care. This doesn't mean passivity, but it means effective dialogue and loads of patience and, honestly, that's really hard too. I don't think there will be many people willing to persist in a (most likely) one-sided conversation with their abusers. And that's to say that all people can be convinced, which is not the case at all! People are stubborn, especially when they're talking about something they feel deeply about, such as their moral compass or their beliefs.

I'm afraid I advocate for different types of resistance or social change because I don't know what it feels like. Because I don't understand suffering. I understand anger, sadness, and guilt, but not suffering. Not truly. And then, I must not forget that I have been raised by my parents, who believe that yes, anyone can be proven wrong, and yes, you should be able to think freely, no matter how disgusting what you think about is. And I thought I agreed with that too until the day I realized I'm terrified of judgment, and again the day of the racist episode in my school happened.

Some guys had a Whatsapp group. I have no idea what they talked about usually, but I, and the entirety of my city (and the internet, obviously), got to see bits of a terrifying conversation. They were talking about what girls they would rape, but then they got to one in particular. Since she was black, she was worth less than a piece of gum, raping her was disgusting, she would smell awful and they would prefer to sell her on the internet. You know, like a slave. LOL.

People can be inhuman sometimes. Later, I would discuss this episode with my parents. It was sort of inevitable since it was all over the news, but it made me feel awful. Because "Hell, they're kids! Stupid kids, but they didn't do anything. Everything could be racism then, you know? Who is to judge what is and isn't? What will they do next, invade our privacy? Check if we are or aren't conforming to what 'they' believe is right? People say stupid shit all the time! What will 'they' do, arrest everyone?" Holy shit, the way they diminished the situation, the way they made it about something else! I know they don't agree with the kids, but what the fuck, no empathy at all? "The girl must hear that every day, she's fine" FUCK, WHAT ABOUT THAT IS FINE??

And then, well, I realized I'm not my parents. And then I realized I still love them. A lot. And that scares me. I hope I'm not a victim of unconditional love, it makes you accept the unacceptable. But I love my parents, and it will take more than them ignoring human suffering for me to stop. Like, my dad voted (and seems to be in love with) for a guy who thinks "people like me" should be beaten as a child to "take the gay out of them", and I still love him. It is fucking terrifying.

Then, I get to one of my greatest self-doubts. Am I critical of violent methods of action because, deep down, I believe there should be no action? People should just exist? What is the best next step to coexisting? Should voices be shut by the voiceless? Are voiceless shutting anyone up? Should people care or not? If we don't care, there's eternal apathy, but if we do, there's just a great war of interest. What is right? Who determines what is right? Can people be wrong if being wrong means suffering? Am I scared of knowing things because then I'll have to acknowledge I'm really, truly horrible and have been doing everything wrong? Am I that scared of disagreeing with what I believe is true? Of what people I respect and want to like me believe is true?

Unanswered. I think. I don't know.

Hi, I'm someone highly dependent on others' opinions about me. Not so long ago, I noticed that I lie. All the time. To the point I don't remember things I said, or can't keep up with them. 'Cause I need to be liked. I need so much to be liked I don't think I have opinions I haven't borrowed from other people. I can't act by myself, I feel the need of having someone tell me what to do, what is right, what is wrong, how to live. Shit, I ruined my friendship with the only people I talked to in 5 years because I projected all my insecurities and a sense of right and wrong on them and then blamed them for it. And now, while I'm trying to stop some of my bad habits, such as lying, I am so lost. So, so lost. And I don't know if that's because I lost my sense of identity once those who told me how to be are not there anymore or because this is me. Actually me. And I hate it. I feel as if anyone I knew before now was just meeting a facade.

I don't like what I used to like anymore. I don't read, don't draw, don't write, only sing when at the verge of tears, almost never listen to music, don't dance alone at 3 A.M., don't make pancakes, can't stand my birds, haven't changed clothes in almost a month, don't seem to find the most hilarious shit funny. I'm giving cooking a try, it's been very fun when I'm alone. That's another thing: being alone sucks, but it's how I want to be 99% of the time.

I always struggled with feeling good about myself. Because the bits that I knew were entirely me never seemed appealing to most people. Sometimes I can't stand myself so much that I make myself stop thinking, fearing that someone might think my thoughts are uninteresting. I never felt so uninteresting in my life. My biggest thrill recently has been planning how to organize the notes in my binder, and I'm not even good at it. If I could, I would shut up forever, because I never know what to say. I'm terrible at it, convos. Recently, I had this breakdown because I was searching "How to talk to people" on Youtube. I never felt so pathetic, so useless… So I cried for about 3 hours.

Actually, I always feel as if I am wrong. Nothing I do is ever right. It's very fun, this constant feeling that everybody hates you and is just keeping up with your bullshit since they're too polite to just say "You suck". It's so weird that I'm constantly telling myself that if people knew the truth about me, I would be completely alone. So I'm constantly telling myself how I should just cut everyone out of my life so they don't have to waste so much on me. And it's all in my head but if I don't talk to anyone, it'll come true, but if I do talk, people will just realize how much of a piece of shit and nothing I am.

My therapist once told me that I'm not obliged to be entertaining all the time and that I can be boring, but the truth is that I don't know anything. I am very much filled with just air and, if I don't make things up, people will be just stuck there with absolutely nothing. And then leave. And it will be all my fault, as it usually is.

I think the most pathetic recent thing I've done is to become possessive of this pillow I have. I use it to feel less lonely at night, sometimes I like to pretend it is my boyfriend and just hold it real tight (not really because then "I would be crushing him"). God, I've cried so much against this pillow and slept with it so much to the point I can't sleep unless I'm hugging something. And, sometimes, when my sister lies in the bed with me, I don't let her lie on top of it. Do you know when children have those clothes they get really attached to? I feel like that. Memory Boy, if you're reading this, I'm sorry if it's creepy. But it is the truth.

By the way, I'm so sorry if I talk too much and don't give you the chance to talk. Or if I'm never talking to you. This seems contradictory, but I miss you so fucking much and I really love you. I'm really sorry I'm not present, I'm just not myself enough or interesting and I really don't want you to see me like this.

My family is not really respecting the quarantine, and they convinced me to go out with them a few times. And I hate it. So much. I become paranoid that I'm part of the problem and I'll kill someone or that people will know that I'm out and scream with me and hate me and judge me and hate me. And my fucking dad thinks everything is fine and dandy and if he goes out without a mask he won't infect anyone and if he gets infected and dies it's fine because life goes on without him and this whole thing will be over in no time he can show you the fucking numbers because only 100 people are dying per day in this state, isn't this great? People are still dying, my dad doesn't seem to care because "you do you. If there are some idiots who don't care, let them die. Why does it concern you?" as if this isn't a situation where your actions affect the people around you and as if I shouldn't care if people die and as if I shouldn't care if my own fucking father dies because "they chose to do so to themselves". Fucking amazing. Thanks, Dad, I'm so less worried now.

And, when I refuse to go out, my family blames me for being no fun at all or "having a phobia of the outside.", since I have absolutely no reason not to go, everything is fine and dandy now, shopping malls are reopening and there's no way a second wave could happen, no sir. And, when I do go out, I try to wear things I would never wear and avoid phones so there's no proof I was outside. And, when I come back, I start searching for pictures of me between those pictures taken of people outside and feeling guilty, so guilty for going because if I didn't want to go, I could have not gone. And then I'll feel terrible and hate myself and cry and want to hurt myself, even though I won't. And just feel bad for it forever because it's my fault that I went outside and I could have just stayed, why didn't I stay, now everyone will hate me so much and I'll have contributed to the death statistics in my country and people will call me out for it and hate and never talk to me again and I'll have killed someone and made their family miserable and it will be all my fucking fault as usual because I could keep my ass home.

And oh my god, I'm so great. I'm so completely fine, I have nothing to worry about and I keep creating problems when I could just shut up. Sometimes I feel as if my feelings are wrong and far too much so I try to pretend they don't exist because, well, they shouldn't. I have no real reason to feel as sad or angry as I do all the time, especially when there are people with real problems out there and I'm just shoving the fucking great life I have against their faces and pretending as if it is the worst. When, actually, I make up all my problems and I should just stop whining and just be fucking happy already because I have no reason to feel sad and angry. I just wrote down some things that are on my mind but they're so fine and not a problem at all. I just really hate being too much.

Honestly, I usually re-read my letters to correct it and make it coherent, but I won't this time. I seriously blacked out while writing this and just am not willing to revisit right now. I've been writing this for three days now and, most of it I did in a row. Spent two days in the beginning and then an entire day just vomiting words nonstop. I'm sorry if it was long.

#granola bird

0 notes

chogisad · 7 years

Text

Run-ins | Part One

Genre: Angst. Smut.

Length: 1.7K

Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader

Summary: Sehun isn’t shit and Chanyeol is a good distraction.

You run into Park Chanyeol at a party.

It's cliché, really; drunk college students dance and grind to shitty music while they toss back cheap liquor. The room is full of people making decisions they'll regret later. They're careless and stupid and as you squeeze through sweaty bodies, you know your monstrous heart yearns to be just like them.

Sehun's words are in your ear; echoing, burning, fueling every step. You hate him. You hate him for being so selfish, for being so honest. You hate yourself for always believing him, for always believing in him.

"Maybe if you stopped baby sitting me for one second, you’d actually do something exciting with your life!"

His words rattle inside your head, a pinball machine of mockery and you grit your teeth.

"He didn’t mean it. You know Sehun says shit like that all the time." Jongdae tried, as usual, to broker peace. You'd shaken your head, bitter, and told him to fuck off too.

The adrenaline is coursing, infuriating, daring you to prove Sehun wrong, to make him hurt. You both have a nasty habit of saying awful things but this time, it was different. This time, every syllable rang with some truth and deep down, you knew he wanted to see the damage first hand. He wanted to see how it flashed across your eyes.

You try to push your way into the kitchen, but the body in front of you holds, firm.

"Woah there," the tall boy with a snapback laughs, reaching out to steady you. You recognize the ears, the infamous height; he's one of Sehun's friends. You recall the run-in a few weeks ago, the drunken laughter from the living room.

"This is Chanyeol," Sehun had introduced the older boy, whose eyes shamelessly drank you in.

"You didn’t tell me you had such a pretty flat mate, Sehun," He'd said, only to have Sehun punch him in the arm.

"Fuck off, Chan. Don't even try."

You'd rolled your eyes and reminded Sehun of the midterm you both had the next morning. You'd retreated back into your own room and tried to ignore their commotion for the rest of the night.

"Heading in there?" He nudges his head toward the kitchen and you nod.

"Beers all out unfortunately." He says. You clench your jaw and your gaze falls to where his fingers are still holding onto your forearm.

"But you can have some of my stuff," His wink is suggestive, and he pulls a silver flask from his back pocket.

"How stupid do you think I am?" Your eyes narrow and you cock your head. He raises both of his hands in surrender under your accusing stare.

"You're Sehun's girl, right? Ha, no worries. It's just vodka by the way."

The mention of Sehun's name reignites your indignation. It's poisonous and it makes you look at this boy through different eyes; his toned muscles, tall frame, the challenging smile. He's still a stranger, but he's not entirely obsolete. He's the means for retribution dressed up in tight jeans and a white t-shirt. It's childish, to want to make someone who isn't yours jealous, but that doesn’t matter.

"I'm not Sehun's anything," you laugh, your voice a lot more playful than before. It might be reckless but that doesn't matter either.

You swipe the flask from his pretty fingers and take a swig. It stings, hot down your throat, and you hold his gaze. You lick your lips and step closer, slowly placing the flask in his front pocket. You let your hand slide down his thigh and his smirk electrifies your blood.

"I'm Chanyeol. Nice to run into you again." He says, and his hand holds your wrist, preventing your touch from wandering.

Everyone here has a reputation; liars and cheaters, good people being snared into doing bad things. No one comes to a party to behave properly. Who are you to judge the boy who hits it and quits it, when that's exactly what you're looking for?

"Hi, Chanyeol. I'm in need of a distraction." You smile, coy, as you hook your thumbs through his belt loops. He looks down and then meets your eyes--impressed, curious-- before he's breaching the space between your bodies.

"Your lucky night. I'm a great distraction." He smirks, and you lean up to meet his lips.

He's a rough kisser; he tastes of alcohol and something a little more impulsive. You like the way he moves against you. The kiss is messy, tongue and teeth, and serves as evidence to the shitty things people do when they're hurting. It's still good though, and with each passing second, each bite at your bottom lip, your body burns brighter, craves more of him.

One of his hands comes to rest on your waist, and the other cups your cheek. He draws you toward him, a magnetic force promising temporary pleasure, and you're willingly pulled into his orbit. It's gravitational, and you both become two more people with choices you'll regret in the morning.

"Come upstairs with me," he whispers against your ear, the pads of his thumbs creeping under the hem of your shirt. They press into your bare skin, and you think about calling it quits, about going home, but someone out there in the crowd expects just that.

He leaves the lights off and you both giggle as you stumble through the empty room, trying your best not to knock anything to the ground. The back of your legs hit the mattress and he lowers you onto the bed, never once breaking away from the demand of your lips. You spread your legs and he eases his body between them.

Long discarded, clothes litter the floor but your mind does not have the capacity to care. You're both moving in synch now, to satisfy an instinctual need, to reach that climax, the breath of fresh air, the gulp that alleviates all the pressure.

Chanyeol sucks a bruise onto your neck as he enters you again, his large hands guiding your hips down to meet him. The world is engulfed in heat and pleasure and urgency. Your walls stretch for his dick, and you dig your fingernails into the skin of his biceps. You can feel every tense muscle, can feel the flex of his body with each thrust, with each movement as you both use the other to find that long awaited release.

Chanyeol is not a selfish lover. He kisses your neck, your breasts, as he moves his body against yours. His fingers rub at your clit, determined, and the other hand comes to your throat-- tightening, commanding, and you close your eyes. The pressure only intensifies the experience; he wants someone to dominate, to conquer, to boast about later. It's treacherous and vindictive, the pleasure you get at the thought of Sehun knowing you fucked one of his best friends. It makes the difference, and as Chanyeol leans down to suck at your nipple, you come undone just for him.

Your back arches and he presses his hand against your mouth to muffle every sinful sound that pours from your lips. Your muscles spasm and clench, tensing around him, and he gets there too. Even in your hazy, euphoric state you watch him fall apart.

He's beautiful. Despite the semi-darkness, you know his body was made to be worshipped, to be touched, to be appreciated. Sweaty hair sticks to his forehead and he scrunches his eyes, groaning loudly. He becomes quick thrusts and curse words. His nails dig into you as he tries to ground yourself and you moan, knowing you'll have the bruises to show for this later.

He pulls out and after tossing the condom in the garbage, he plops down next to you. You're both breathing heavily, attempting to return racing hearts to equilibrium. The room is already getting stuffy and the chaos of the party downstairs--the music, the yelling-- seem a little more clearer now.

"Hickies look good on you," He murmurs, and you almost want to laugh at how some people cannot stand silence. You only hum in agreement and start reaching for your clothing in the darkness, already feeling the itch to run, crawling across your skin.

You get dressed and you both make your way down the stairs. Some heads turn but you’re unbothered; let them reach whatever conclusions they want.

Chanyeol offers you his flask again and you take a longer drink. He's amused, and intrigued, and he licks some of the vodka off your lips without hesitation. He's greedy and you don’t care anymore because it feels good to be wanted, even if it's only momentarily. You let him pull you in all over again.

"Hey-- I wanted to apolo--" Sehun chokes on his words as his eyes take in the unfolding scene. Chanyeol with his tongue in your mouth, your fingers lost in his hair, one hand already palming at his second hard-on of the night. You pull away slowly, opening your eyes to meet Chanyeol's teasing gaze. With the pad of your thumb, you wipe lightly at your bottom lip before turning to face Sehun.

"You needed something?" You ask, too sweet with too much smile. Your heart rages in your chest and you should hate how much you revel in this moment, but Sehun's jaw is clenching and his nostrils are flaring and you get a sick sense of satisfaction from all of it.

"No. I didn’t." He snaps. His eyes dart between the two of you, burning, and you can't help it. You wrap your arm around Chanyeol's waist and press into his side. Chanyeol looks down at you, a smirk already toying on his lips.

"That's good. We were heading out anyway." You tell Sehun. You make for the exit but this is the crowning moment, the final nail in this coffin of a friendship that neither of you will be able to salvage.

"You don’t mind sleeping at Jongdae's tonight, right?" Your voice drips with innocence and no one misses the way his mouth drops open. You don’t bother waiting for a reply. You leave him there, gawking, as you head toward the exit with Chanyeol snickering beside you.

PART 2 HERE

Masterlist

#EXO #Chanyeol #exo fanfiction #exo smut #pcy #park chanyeol #sehun #oh sehun #chanyeol fanfiction #exo ff #chanyeol smut #jongdae #mentioned

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seyoou-blog · 6 years

Text

“hello! this is kang seyoon.

in light of recent events, i’d like to take a moment to say a few things. you might have seen my name mentioned in some articles this week. although a statement has already been made, i want to clear things up personally with those of you who i consider my friends. this is why i’m writing this letter.

on sunday, i met up with a noona that i have known for many years. it was the first time we were able to see each other in a very long time so my mood was very good, even though we were very cold by the lake. it was nice to be able to see an old friend again, especially one that was so important to me. that friend is ahn hyunjin, who is a soloist from wonderland that i’ve known for many years because we both trained in the same company together. she was a noona i could look up to, someone who always reminded me to not give up even when it was hard. her words helped me a lot. she always cheered me up when i was a trainee, and even still after i debuted with eclipse. she was someone in the company that i could trust.

because our moods were so good that night, i think i got a bit careless. although i knew it was possible that someone could recognize me, which does happen every so often, i thought we’d taken the proper precautions not to get recognized together. but i was wrong.

we spent so much time apart, but it felt very comfortable being next to her again. i can’t explain what drove us to do these things, but as we were caught doing them, i won’t deny that they happened. what the articles said was true. we kissed. i won’t bother with further details. although we did things together that are typically saved for couples in romantic relationships, we are not dating. as it was the first time we’d seen each other in so long, there is no way a relationship between us would work, nor do i think either of us would want one.

now that the company has released a statement regarding her relationship with me, i hope that most of you will understand. hyunjin noona and i are just humans. humans make mistakes and humans sometimes do things without thinking them through properly. we are good at that. i don’t want to say that what happened that night is something i regret. what happened was something that felt right and, after a lot of thinking, i’ve come to the conclusion that regretting it is not necessary. since that noona is very important to me, i would never regret being with her. i do have regrets though. i regret that what was supposed to be a nice night between long time friends turned into a scandal that has caused so many people a lot of pain. i regret being so careless around her and i regret having her name associated with me, among other things.

although hyunjin noona has assured me that she will be fine, i can’t help but feel responsible for her suffering. as an artist, she lives everyday being judged by other people. many people have said horrible things about her after finding out what she did with me. many people have said things about me too. many have been asking questions which i wish they wouldn’t ask. in truth, i don’t care about what happens to me. my reputation was sullied years ago when i left. she still has her career to worry about. i worry about how this will affect her. i ask that you all try to understand her, even if you don’t understand me. hyunjin noona has a very kind heart and doesn’t deserve to be looked down upon the way she has been. please give her the support that she needs. i don’t think i’ll be able to see her again.

my final regret is that some of you had to find out something important about me through the media. i admit that i wasn’t completely honest with some people that i’ve met in the past couple of years. i don’t regret the time i spent as an idol, but i didn’t want that time to define me. although i have always been a normal person just like the rest of you, as an idol, i was not always treated like one. what happened to me is not something i want to speak about now. i simply hope you can understand that i have been trying to move on from my old life. that’s why i have been quiet about it.

if i have caused you any pain through my actions, if i have made you question your trust in me, if i have made you feel betrayed… i am genuinely and deeply sorry. this was never the way i wanted anyone to find out. this is not what i wanted at all. i don’t think anyone would. i deserve what has come to me though. i won’t deny that i was wrong about a lot of things. i won’t deny that i’ve made my fair share of mistakes. as a human being, i don’t see why i should be expected to not make them. i am just like the rest of you. i really wish to be, anyway.

with that said, i will let everyone decide what to think on their own. you can choose to believe me or you can choose not to. you can choose to forgive me, or you can hate me for the rest of eternity. i won’t bother anyone with my pleading. i understand if some feel too angry. i’ve been silent the past couple days while trying to think about what i could’ve done different. i’ve thought about a lot of things. i’m not sure when things will return to normal, but for now, i will just ask for some privacy. maybe that’s a lot to ask for, but it’s my only request.

i think i should be alone. i think it’s in everyone’s best interest.

for those who are able to understand me and hyunjin noona, thank you. for those who will stand by us even though most will judge, thank you. for those of you who can’t forgive me, i understand. i only ask that you try to understand her. i am not the one who needs the support or forgiveness. it’s not my career or my life that will change because of this. lastly, to those whose friendships with me will end at this point, thank you for everything. i have really enjoyed my time with many of you. i will always look back fondly on those memories. they aren’t memories i’d want to forget.

until now, this has been kang seyoon. thank you and take care.”

#memoirs of a noodle boy.#(( a letter which seyoon wrote for his friends/loved ones #posted to his private social media accounts.))#penned: 180110.

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spideywars · 7 years

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prompt- a highschool AU where people judge harry as a bad boy even though he isn't but he doesn't correct people, he has only 2 bffs (liam and zayn) and cue niall and louis and their pranks they pull and running in the hallway laughing really hard, until one day while running, niall bumps into harry and bang their heads together and please don't make them shy or a stuttering mess. THANK YOU X

Don’t know if I like this, and it might be longer than I want but I wanted to give you guys something today.

~~~

Harry didn’t have piercings, they looked painful just staring at them, like when Zayn first got his nose pierced he had cringed and almost squealed when Zayn gave it a careless tug saying it didn’t hurt. But he did have a collection of tattoos, all pretty patterns along his arms, chest, and even some he managed to get on his legs.

That was all though, the tattoos. But apparently everyone thought he was a bad boy. Liam and Zayn both had more tattoos than he did, both going on their skateboards and smoking in front of the school before class. It wasn’t fair really, that girls swooned over them but looked at Harry as if he’d bite their heads off.

“It’s probably your resting bitch face.” Liam had suggested when Harry had asked them if they thought the rumours were true that he was the school ‘bad boy’ and ’rule breaker.’

“Resting bitch what?” He had asked, almost choking on the soda he was drinking as they sat in the skate park. Zayn was puffing out his smoke while slowly rolling along the sidewalks with his board, looking uninterested with their conversation.

“You just look angry all the time, you walk around with no expression most of the time, and you don’t usually talk to anyone else but me and Zi.” Liam sounded like he was trying to be cautious talking with Harry, as if he was walking around egg shells. This wasn’t that sensitive of a topic, and Harry couldn’t help but scoff.

“Zayn doesn’t talk to anyone else but us too! This lad has a girlfriend and still gets girls begging on their knees for him to take them out.” Harry pointed an accusing finger at Zayn, who stopped his lazy rolling on his skateboard to give him a raised brow.

“It’s probably cause I am in the art program, girls dig artsy guys mate.” Zayn was back to pushing at his board, slowly moving past them with the cigarette back in his mouth. Harry gave him a glare, making Zayn abruptly stop to stare at him in annoyance.

“Sorry, and guys…you like girls and guys, forgot.” Harry never wants to be annoying or pushy, but he’s told Liam and Zayn a thousand times since their second year of high school that he was bisexual, they still weren’t so sure about it, tip-toeing around him and worrying they’d insult him every time they talked.

They’re getting better though, asking him who he likes and dislikes, listening carefully to his rants on the homophobes in the school. Zayn was usually the forgetful one, and it wasn’t a horrible thing, they have known each other since grade five and it’s only been recent that Harry has openly talked about his sexuality.

“Doesn’t matter who I like, probably won’t get a boyfriend or girlfriend with the way everyone hates me.” He shoved his head into his hands, staring down at his dirty converse with a pout on his lips.

He felt a slap on his shoulder, Liam’s hand giving him an encouraging squeeze before letting go. “You’ll find someone, it’s our last year of high school so after that you won’t have to see anyone again.”

There is so many more students in this god damn school that are worse than he is. Harry is anti-social and apparently has something called the ‘resting bitch face’ and all of a sudden that means he’s the baddest boy in the building,

There’s guys like Louis Tomlinson and Niall Horan who tear up the school with graffiti at night, then go around shoving toilet paper in the toilets so they overflow, pulling kids pants down as they walk by, stealing the boys gym classes clothes so when they come back to the change rooms they have nothing. They are ruthless with their pranks, Louis being the mastermind of it all and that’s pretty obvious by the way he’d have that snake-like smile come across his face whenever the people who caught them would tell them off.

But they were just seen as silly hooligans who made the school years a little more eventful and fun. It boiled Harry’s blood.

“Lou, fuck Lou slow down!” It was Niall’s voice, speak of the devil. Harry could hear them from where he was standing at his locker, grabbing for his binders and ready to leave since he had a spare for his last period. He felt something whiz past him, the squeak of sneakers hitting the polished flooring was loud and fast, quickly fading till whoever it was turned the corner.

Harry had just closed the locker door, ready to get the hell out before he’d have to witness one of their unfunny pranks again when he felt something collide with him so hard his body spun, back hitting the lockers harshly with his binder flying across the hallway.

That wasn’t as bad as whoever hit him, the person was like a blur in front of Harry as they hit the ground hard, slapping against the floor and a cracking sound echoing down the empty halls.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” It was Niall, now that Harry refocused after the shock of it all. The boy was still sprawled out on the floor but slowly was picking himself up, looking out of breath.

“Watch where you’re going ya?” Harry growled out, but forced his anger deep back down into him when he saw Niall staring down at his broken glasses, the lens was popped out and the arms of them were snapped off and laying a few feet away.

“Shit, can you see without those?” Harry knew Niall needed glasses, the smaller brunet would wear them around more frequently this year, and it soon became a daily thing. Not that Harry paid that much attention to Niall he just…was a good observer.

“Uh…yeah I’ll uh, I’ll be fine.” Once Niall got a good look at Harry, he all of a sudden looked nervous and scared. It made Harry’s heart sink, knowing that he was probably worried he’d punch him out. With rumours going around that Harry was the bad boy of the school, stories came with them on how he was in a gang, beat people up for money, had been to jail for six months…all stupid shit that ruined his reputation more and more.

“Look are you sure you’re okay, you hit the ground pretty hard.” When Niall had straightened himself out, now holding the shrapnel of his glasses, Harry felt like he needed to prove he wasn’t a bad person to at least one guy at this school. Niall would probably make up some story that he pushed him down, people around here would eat that right up.

“I’m sure, thank you though Harry.” Niall gave him a genuine smile, and it made Harry’s stomach do backflips.

Ever since that day, Niall’s face became more familiar to Harry. He didn’t know why, but they’d see each other in the hallway and give each other matching smiles, almost like the encounter they had was a secret between them.

Harry used to hate him, thought Niall was just as obnoxious as Louis was, but look at him now, falling in love.

It was probably because of how Niall acted around Harry, he wasn’t scared as soon as he asked if he was okay, almost like a switch turning on in his head and a little voice telling him 'hey, this Harry guy isn’t as bad as they say he is.’

But was Niall even gay? Did he even want to be friends with him or just a person he smiled at from time to time in the hallways as they passed each other? It was the root to Harry’s thoughts these past couple weeks, and it was starting to show by the way he’d notice Liam and Zayn exchanging glances whenever he’d stare off into space or look at Niall for too long during lunch with a frown across his face.

Today was apparently going to answer all Harry’s questions, because as he sat alone waiting for Liam and Zayn to show up, Niall came walking up the bleachers steps with that same sparkling smile across his face.

He didn’t say anything, and neither did Harry, it was a weird silence as they just stared at each other. Harry had to break the eye contact a few seconds later, occupying himself by squinting down towards the football field as the schools team did their warmups.

“I think I’ve come to a conclusion,” Niall finally spoke, pausing slightly to make sure Harry was paying attention. “It’s that you aren’t the bad boy people say you are.”

He hit the nail right on the head, just like that. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, surprised at Niall’s answer and now an amused smile appeared across his face.

“What makes you think that?” He played it cool, leaning back against the bleachers, not ready to give Niall the satisfaction that he was more than right.

“Cause when I shoved into you, you definitely didn’t show off your bad behaviour that people say you had.” Niall shrugged as if it was nothing, now shuffling a little closer to Harry. “Everyone has told me some crazy stories about you, but I’d rather have the real Harry tell me about himself then some rumours.”

It felt like Harry’s heart had stopped and his mind had just shut down for a second because he’s never felt this much love for a human being before. This boy barely knew him and after one encounter he was now standing here striving to become his friend.

“Well I wasn’t planning on doing anything right now so if you wanna chill for a bit…” Harry trailed off, his confidence not really at it’s full level yet. But Niall looked to be happy with his offer, eagerly plopping himself down onto the seat beside him and shuffling so they were hip to hip.

And after that, they had talked for a good hour, the sound of the football team packing up their stuff and getting ready to go home was the only thing that snapped them out of their conversation. Harry could see Louis on the field rushing off after he pulled his jersey over his head and then disappearing into the change rooms.

“Lou probably wants me to come down and meet him by the car, but the team is having a game tomorrow and you should come. I’d love to have some company.” Niall stood and Harry did too, them both grabbing at their bags and heading down the bleacher steps. It was just them now, the field empty except for a lone ball that someone forgot to pick up.

Harry was ready to say his last goodbyes and plan his day tomorrow even before it would start when he was suddenly tugged into a smothering kiss, making his gasp get muffled by their clashing lips

Niall made them part a second later, but kept himself close and lips near Harry’s ear as he whispered into it. “Liam and Zayn kinda ratted you out and said you liked me so, I hope you didn’t mind that.”

He walked away right after saying that, giving Harry a wink over his shoulder before he turned into the change rooms. That was probably why Liam and Zayn didn’t show up to meet with him, and he felt absolutely no anger towards his friends as he made his way to his car.

He’d probably thank them, actually.

#id like to know if you guys liked this or not #narry #narry fluff #narry fanfiction #narry storan #niall horan #harry styles #fics

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lamborghinibieber-blog · 7 years

Text

I can’t

Justin would normally go back from studio late nights. It kinda depended on how the work was going or what Scooter expected of him. Anyways, it was sort of amazing how much passion and dedication this boy would always show towards music. Lyrics, beats, production. He would try to get involved in every little process, trying to be a part of what he created as much as possible.

Sometimes, Justin would be really frustrated. Mainly, because people were against him producing his favourite R&B, or just 'cuz he felt like he is being able to do more than just mediocre pop songs with cheesy lines, with a boring, annoying chorus. But than, some days he would be so happy, never shutting up about the session he just finished. And, this fact was comforting, considering how hard it was to get the happiness out of him from time to time.

Therefore, after analysing those facts, for JB to come back like this was rather (more than) unusual. As soon as his posture entered the house, there was this very odd tension in the air. His face seemed so empty; there was no sign of any certain feeling upon it. This was concerning, but knowing the fact that he absolutely hated this "are you okay?" questions, I just stopped right there, sending him the nicest smile I owned.

'Hi, my sweet, vanilla muffin!' I said in the most baby-alike voice I had, moving to my left on the couch, to leave him some space.

"Hi." Was his only response, as he gave me a little, clearly fake smile. Once again, this only showed me that there's something wrong on-going and it is being kept as a secret, which was really infuriating. I was cuddled up to him, my chin rested on his shoulder, and although it didn't seem like he minded. he certainly looked like he did.

'Um, how was studio? Did u finish that ballad you told be about the other day? How's Scooter?' I showered himself with questions, hoping that he might appreciate me trying to act as everything is okay.

'The studio was fine.' He shrugged his shoulders, placing his legs on the coffee table in front of us. I tried no to show my short tempered tendencies, trying to be more understandable of him. He carried a lot of pressure just by himself and it was really upsetting knowing that no matter how much you would try, there was really no way to help him out.

'You hungry, babe? I cooked your favourite pasta today, wanna try?' I asked, once again in a a really polite manner. My head bowed to the side, looking at my boyfriend with a gentle smile. It took him some time to actually acknowledge my presence, he licked his lips, swinging his head around as he looked ad me with this bored expression. If the situation was different, I would probably took an offence in the way he kept on staring at my persona.

'Yeah, I can eat.' He did that thing with his shoulders once again, getting up as soon as I reached out to touch his face. Was the problem in me? Was he annoyed by me? Did I do anything to make him this way? It made me sad now. And realising, he had such a big impact on my mood was quite concerning. It was almost like we were some kind of connected, we felt each other's pain. And knowing that we were in a serious relationship, it was suppose to be normal. But still, the idea of him being to destroy myself so easily was frightening.

I followed Justin to the kitchen, fixing my, actually his, shirt on myself as I moved to the counter. Everything was already prepared, all I needed to do was pour the dip on the top, add cheese and leave my boyfriend to mix the food the way he liked it best, he could be really picky with his meals if he wanted.

'Thank you.' He simply said as the plate was now in front of him. Sending him a little smile, I sat right opposite, on a rather big chair, dangling my legs as I got on with my own meal. The silence was almost murderous, however if he wanted to keep it this way, I respected it. There were so many things on my mind, not only Justin related, so I just got on with them, trying to make some sort of brain diary to plan the upcoming events.

'I can't.' A silent mumble reached my ears, which woke me up from my moment. I raised my eyebrows, putting my sight right on a boy in front of me. His hand was shaking, you could see the fork moving up and down in a quick speed. All of sudden he looked pale; his face showed so much pain, and I was unsure whether it was an emotional or a physical one.

I did not hesitate for long, getting up from my sit and walking over to him. 'I'm so sorry, Y/N.' He said, not taking his eyes from the plate still full of food, and it was heart breaking just to see him in this state, he did not need to feel guilty for not eating.

'Shhh, baby don't worry, okay? I will help you out, just stay calm for me.' I whispered right to his ear, helping him to get up and place his left hand around me, so he has some more help with keeping the balance.

Justin was definitely destroyed by fame in so may ways. He tried so hard, so many times and he couldn't please everyone, which fucked him up to the point where he would just stop with all the feelings. The careless behaviour, that would be just a sight of suicidal propensities became even more obvious until something major happened and literally exploded, making everyone finally realise that he is a human being. And now, now that all the people thought "Oh yeah, Justin Bieber improved, didn't he? He ain't that spoiled fuck he once was, right?". But really through, this 'spoiled fuck' never was one. It was, and still is so fucking annoying, how you can just simply judge someone you have never met. You see stuff and you come up to the worst conclusion possible without trying to understand. Shit, most of the time you have the wrong info as well, but who cares, right? You broke a human being and you did that for your own, sick entertainment. And, that is an actual fact.

'I feel so, so, so bad.' Was what he kept on repeating all the way up till we reached our bedroom. I helped him lay down, take his shirt of and undo his belt and button, to give him as much physical comfort as possible.

'I'm here, you're not alone.' I said softly, placing my body next to his. One of my hands landed on his torso, massaging delicately his skin, as the other one rested on brunette, thick hair of his, rubbing his head. He needed so much love at the moment. This was the only way to prevent him from having a panic attack that I could just smell coming.

'It's so hard. I feel like I'm gonna collapse any minute. I love too much and I care too much. I try, and try, and try, and I can't. I want to feel good, I want to end with those moments that are literally killing me, I just cannot.' He sobbed silently, letting the whole volcano of tears stream down those beautiful, precious cheeks. My lips travelled to his face, giving it slow kisses, in the way that always made him feel a lot better.

'You're so brave and strong. So pure, polite. So lovely, caring, helpful, grateful; so worthy. I love you so much. So many people do. We are so proud of you. It's okay, cry for as long as you need. I have my eternity to make sure you will be okay. I'm not going anywhere, let it all out on me, let me love you the way you can't love yourself now.' My words flew straight into his ears, as my mouth left subtle kisses around that area of his face.

'I-I love you too. I love all of you. So much. T-Thank you...so much.' He said after a long break of just crying and whimpering. It could be hours that passed as the position of moon outside the window was now completely different. But I did not mind. I was willing to have him being vulnerable for as long as he needed. Because you know, I don't think he often had a chance to be that, feel that.

#justin bieber #justin bieber imagine #justin bieber imagines #justin bieber one shot #justin bieber one shots #requested

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peaxchyhearts · 3 years

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𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐑𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬,

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮

‧₊°︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ‧₊˚

I never thought that I’d have to do something like this. I’ve never made these types of posts, but I feel like this needs to be addressed. I cannot keep silent on this issue.

Hours ago, @Eliliyah made a comment on discord that had a horrific interpretation. She has since come out and said this was the incorrect interpretation, and that we jumped to conclusions. However, this is still NOT ok. It's so far from ok because she should never have been so careless in the first place.

She had made a server for Klaroline fans, and I immediately agreed to be invited. If I’m being completely honest with all of you, I had a bad feeling about her, but I swallowed it down because I didn’t want to judge.

This is what she said:

Now upon my first reading of this, not just me, but multiple people on the server interpreted I hope they find out as she wished rape upon someone. I know this could have been interpreted as something else, or misunderstood completely. But as a victim, and more importantly as a survivor of rape - and multiple sexual assaults throughout my childhood - you have to see why I reacted like this:

Yes, it was aggressive. Yes it was a comment made in anger. However, the reason why, is because after I saw this disgusting thing, I had a panic attack at work. Her comment, combined with my history, triggered me severely. And it’s all her fault.

Despite me stating in the comment I was a survivor of rape and clearly I was immensely hurt by this, what did she do? She kicked me out of the server, deleted that message so no one could see it and blocked me. Yes you have apologised publicly, Ellie. But you never apologised directly to me.

Why can’t you swallow your pride and muster up whatever dignity you have left and apologise to me? You are 34 years old and you are acting like a child, and it is embarrassing. Did I possibly hurt your feelings? Clearly since you kicked me out. But what about my feelings?

I know that you blocked me on here and discord, Ellie (so I couldn’t see your public apology on tumblr, I had to be told about that from a third party which is an even greater insult) but don’t worry. I’m still calling you out on it because I’m not going to stay silent. What you said, although possibly a misunderstanding, was made despicable due to the way you treated me, and honestly since you treated me so poorly, so callously, it makes me doubt the general ‘apology’ you made on discord all the more. And I say ‘apology’ loosely, as really they’re just a bunch of weak excuses.

First - the fact you were asleep. I personally wasn’t there, but other people told me that your icon was on and off active for the majority of the night, suspiciously turning to online whenever someone new responded. Maybe coincidence, but after three consecutive times in a row that becomes a pattern. Your excuse was you knocked your computer? What the actual fuck. Discord doesn’t work that way. That excuse is not only bad, it’s impossible. You had plenty of time to destroy people’s assumptions and you didn’t.

Also, why the fuck do you start talking about yourself in an apology for the people hurt? WHY? You got a haircut? HOW THE FUCK IS THAT RELEVANT?

You say that you are a survivor yourself, which makes this situation even worse. You should have sympathised and understood my anger at the very least, not kicked me out. You decided to close the server after that, as you should. But you still haven’t apologised to me directly. I know I’m probably acting like a snob, but it's the least you could do.

And apparently this isn’t the first time you’ve kicked someone out because of unfair or completely illogical reasoning. Hell, you even treated some of us like 5-year-olds. You have scorned so many people, that actually many disliked you before this fiasco - it was just the nail in the coffin.

Oh, Ellie, the crimes are piling up aren’t they? Why can’t you just apologise to me? And possibly, give a proper apology to everyone while you’re at, one that we’ll believe. Because that’s also why I reacted aggressively - the apology in the discord I didn’t believe at all. I could smell the stench of lies wafting through my screen.

This is why you keep the comments on AO3 moderated. Because you simply cannot take any criticism whatsoever. I’m so disappointed in you. I really looked up to you because of your work and the maturity of your character. Whenever you replied to my comments underneath your works, I felt so excited. I really took you as an inspiration. But you blew it.

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justanotherdumpingground · 5 years

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Chapter Reviews: March 26-30, 2019

High School Story Class Act Chapter 7:

Man, I'm feeling worried for Ajay. I know that him taking out his anger is unacceptable, but at least he apologized to Skye. Their stories need to have good progress and satisfying conclusions that answer how they overcome their respective turbulent home lives.

Still miffed that the Clint and Graham side romance amounts to nothing of particular substance. As I've said before, it would've been better if Graham's so creepy obsessed that it makes Clint uncomfortable that he tells Natalie that this is how Rory feels like whenever they're around.

The ending of this chapter made me dislike the twin for taking the election too personally. I was like "your campaign for more sports is redundant because it's already the most supported program at school". This isn't even a joke that sports gets a lot of attention at schools. This is evident in the first trilogy. Book 1 focuses on getting ready for the Homecoming game, especially because Brian's rotten behavior and transfer to Hearst left Berry desperate to search a suitable quarterback. Book 2 has Ashley Faris diverting all funding from cheer and band to the basketball team after she appointed her brother as coach. I even saw some people calling Rory out for taking offense at the MC should they support the twin, who is family no matter how annoying they can be. I guess this means the election is dumber than I thought.

Across the Void Chapter 15:

Honestly, this chapter is much better than the previous ones. I get to learn about the lore of the setting for free, especially on The Void, the origin of the Vanguard-Jura conflict, and astradust creating various races in the story. About time the story goes somewhere, though it should've been shown earlier on. Regarding the Void, it seems that they're a bunch of nihilists who want to plunge the galaxy to oblivion while playing the Vanguard and Jura like sniveling fools.

One thing that captures my attention is the possible connection to Endless Summer and maybe even Hero. Barlow mentioned a planet that got destroyed millennia ago that lights blue flames and has pieces entering its wormhole creating various races. What if it reached Earth and played a role in La Huerta's formation? What if some of them entered through the wormhole in Northbridge and created the superhumans in Hero. I hope this will get addressed in Book 2 of Hero.

On another note, why do they make Barlow a love interest? MC already has five, one of them is shared with Eos. Honestly, the story's writers are wasting time, resources, and effort enticing us with more love interests than necessary, excessive amounts of time with Eos and Pax, and catering to insufferable passengers while not focusing on the Vanguard-Jura conflict enough.

Didn't buy the biodroid, though it remains a low priority choice to get for me someday. I also didn't pick the premium option to check the library with Zekei, but after I watched on YouTube that it's about the MC torn away from the people they love almost every time, I actually felt ambivalent because the love interests aren't developed enough, though Kepler comes close.

I'm starting to think Pax's loyalty is put to the test and allow us to determine whether she'll stay loyal to the Jura or sever ties. Either way, I don't care because I find her annoying.

Desire & Decorum Chapter 14:

Duke Richards's journal is just another proof of how deranged he is, which is getting redundant. At least I have proof that he has been manipulating Dominique, which is another step up I need. Might as well replay this book and get the other pieces of evidence to see the full outcome.

Oh, Hamid. I really want to spend time with you, but my diamonds for other books go first. Don't worry. I'll spend diamonds on you so you and my MC can live happily ever after.

*sigh* The sight of the MC's mom's ring thrown into the fire better be the last straw because I've had enough of Duke Richards being continually despicable, as if I don't know that already. A part of me wants him to have some sort of depth that makes him well-developed while still irredeemable. That would've made him memorable and interesting instead of just someone I should hate. Here's hoping the wedding day gets disrupted and the tables turned against him.

America's Most Eligible Chapter 11:

I'm so relieved Eden and Kiana are alive, even though they're injured and had to drop out of the show. Their safety matters first and foremost. To think that something life-threatening like this to occur in a fun show is proof of mismanagement. I still don't know whether it's an accident or someone rigged the go-kart, but either way, it's carelessness on Carson's part.

This chapter is surprisingly calming, and it helps that neither Ivy nor Vince are around to stir trouble. It's just me, Adam, Derek, Mackenzie, and Jen relaxing. My MC had a fine date with Adam and even had a steamy moment with him even though they have maximum relationship points. Anyway, can't wait to see what Iceland has in store for AME.

Passport to Romance Chapter 3:

I'm starting to like Sumire for giving her own spin of the Louvre tour even after the MC missed the one Yvette booked. It was a fun take, and I enjoy watching her incorporate her love and knowledge of art together.

So, I picked the premium option to find the Mona Lisa painting and flirted with the security guard. That was a really dumb move on everyone's part, including the MC's. I think taking a picture of Mona Lisa should've been pushed to a later chapter and have everyone involved to ask when it will be ready for display again. Might as well throw Elliot under the bus for suggesting that we trespass in the first place.

Wow! All the love interests look stunning in their formal outfits! It's making me hard to determine who my MC will pursue, even though his vlog is named Sexcapades (don't judge).

I'm starting to dislike Yvette for talking trash about the love interests, even though she warmed up to me earlier this chapter for approving of a fresh tour of the Louvre. I get that she wants her magazine to improve, but I also think a balance between work and friends is needed. During the dinner, I threw Elliot and Marisa under the bus and defended Ahmed and Sumire from her. I actually think Marisa's okay, however.

Open Heart Chapter 7:

I cringed when that kissass with Percy Mendoza's model tried to smooch Aurora into paying for her lunch. Talking about the downsides of popularity. I think her aunt rigged the list in her favor while handing out the "most interesting" cases. In other words, Harper Emery could be up to no good.

Okay, telling Bryce to flirt with Ines and Zaid is pretty fun to watch. It's like he thinks he has a suave way to get around people, and acts like he succeeds. Anyway, glad that he succeeded in buying the MC time to follow Ethan.

For Remy, I told him the truth about his condition that will deprive him from his ability to move his limbs. I'm willing to risk a patient's short-term anger over withholding important information on his condition. Not to mention the latter is unethical. It was touching to see him accept his condition and resolve to live his life to the fullest.

So Patient X is Naveen Banerji? No wonder he resigned. And Ethan telling the MC to not tell this to anyone else just comes across as suspicious. Were they trying to preserve Edenbrook's reputation while one of their top doctors was dying of an illness?

The Elementalists Chapter 3:

I'm worried for Atlas and their search for the girl Dean Goeffe was watching over. It makes me wonder whether they'll resort to extreme measures to take down Kane or something. I grabbed the letter, and it seems that Dean Goeffe served as the girl's caretaker in secret. I think she knows who she is instead of merely stumbling upon her.

I didn't get the enlargement spell when I first played this chapter, so I saved up diamonds and restarted the book just so I could get it. I hope it will come in handy, even when the MC and Atlas's magick goes on and off, probably because of a disturbance in the force or something.

For once, Beckett's presence is kept to a minimum. A welcoming thing, actually. As for the ward Kane sent to the MC, I'm starting to admire him for being as interesting as Redfield. He might be the kind of person whose sense of right and wrong is different from other people's. I'd love to know more about him. Here's hoping he's a genuinely complex character.

Ride or Die Chapter 11:

Well, Logan manipulating the MC in the first place only to fall for her doesn't change my stance on him. I continue to reject him for the mess he caused. Regarding Mona, who apparently didn't know about Logan's actions before, her comment on suggesting to kidnap the MC put me off. That makes her come across as cold-blooded in some ways that it makes me less secure.

Why am I at Riya's house? She pushed MC into pursuing Logan in the first place, then complained that she's feeling lonely as a result. At least she gave the MC a place to stay for now, and Jason told the MC that her dad misses her.

Anyone thinks Toby could be a Brotherhood agent? I mean, good for him that he didn't participate in Colt's foolish plan, but how did he reach Riya's house? Did he have some sort of tracker? Or did he search the area one by one? Whatever that is, Colt's package could be a super dangerous bomb capable of super destructive damage. It's really rash of him.

Regarding the Brotherhood, I think it being the greater evil is never expanded on. Even though the narrative mentions it as worse the MPC, it just comes across as bland and forgettable. It doesn't help that the only Brotherhood member MC encounters is a baseball hat guy Teppei met.

#choices stories you play #chapter reviews

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