#one of his coworkers said to him that he wants to marry me. ive never met this man.

[the-meme-monarch]

allo people are insane how do they not get that some of the things they say are weird and fucking unwarranted

#my dad brings some of rhe food i make to his coworkers right. #one of his coworkers said to him that he wants to marry me. ive never met this man. #its just fucking weird. my dad said this is supposed to be a compliment. #he literally Only knows me through my dad and the food he brings sometimes. #that i did not make with anyone in mind. i never make food For his coworkers. #ifmy coworker said they wanted to marry my kid bc of the food they made id tell them Hey Thats Kinda Fucking Weird Man. Youve Nver Met Them #i dont get it man . i don't fucking get it #words from the monarch #shrek meme format he doesnt even know what gender i am

[14buddy22]

Hey! Could you do A Aaron fic where him and the reader get into an argument where Aaron gets mad and says some stuff He doesnt mean but in the end they Make up and it ends with fluff?

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO GET OUT… IVE BEEN SO BUSY BETWEEN WORK AND COACHING TWO SPORTS 😭😭 I hope you like it!! ❤️

Breakfast with your Hotchner boys were always some of your favorite times that you spent with them. Aaron cooked, Jack helped, your youngest son, Joey, would be strapped to Aaron's chest and laugh with Aaron and Jack, all while you had time to get up and shower and actually be relaxed.

During the week, it was hectic. Especially when Aaron was away on a case, sometimes the only time you got with him was for an hour in passing. He came home to switch out his laundry and you would be just getting ready to leave to start your day.

While he was gone, you had to make sure Jack got off to the bus stop on time, you had to also make sure the diaper bag for Joey was ready to go to your parents' house. On top of the two big things, you had to do the little things, make lunches, dinners, clean, do laundry, put laundry away, bath time with Joey. When Aaron was here, it was nice to have an extra pair of hands.

As you all sat at the table, eating breakfast, you were happy to have him home. It felt nice for your kids to have time with their father, for you to have time with your husband, for everyone to be a family.

When you met Aaron, you knew that his life was being a father to Jack and being an FBI agent. When you started dating, he still told you that. It was why he hadn't committed to a relationship, because all the woman like to leave him. But if he was just a bachelor and did hook ups, there was no emotional attachment.

Until you were that hook up that turned into way more. He asked you out, you dated, he proposed, you married him, you asked him to have a baby, and he performed.

Throughout your relationship, he told you multiple times how stressful his job was, it was one of his biggest insecurities.

As the kids finished breakfast, you started doing dishes, Aaron moving to the couch to go keep an eye on Joey while Jack went to his room to get dressed for the day.

"Hey Aar, I have to run some errands for today, while I'm out, can you put the laundry away and keep an eye on the kids? I'm meeting one of my coworkers for lunch and then going grocery shopping for the week. I'll be gone for a few hours."

"I am on the go, all. the. time. Y/n. What do you not understand? When I'm not at working hunting serial killers or psychopaths, dealing with asshole detectives, or confronting families, I'm being nagged by you to do something. Put the laundry away, keep an eye on Jack and Joey while I go out. When do I get to go out? When can I relax? Huh? Tell me that? I just want a day where I can sit at home and relax. No kids to worry about, no wife."

Usually he never had a problem with this, he always tells you to go out and have fun.

"You want that, to be a bachelor basically?"

"Yeah. I do. Just one day, y/n."

You were more furious at the moment than you were upset. You didn't doubt for a second his job was hard, you knew that. But to say he didn't want his wife and kids around for a day, that's what made you mad.

You walked into the living room, towering over him as he was sitting on the couch. You picked up Joey and said, "You can stay here. I'll take the kids, but, don't expect us to come back tonight."

Aaron just looked at you and you walked away to go back a bag and tell Jack to get his bag ready to spend the night at his grandparent's house.

You were hoping Aaron would come and stop you, tell you that he just had a stressful week, but maybe this is what he wanted. Maybe he wanted the bachelor life again, not the responsibility of two kids, maybe he just wanted to be responsible for one kid.

As you packed your bag along with Joey's things, you walked into Jack's room, asking if he was ready to spend the day with you and visit his grandparents.

Every night, the kids were in a routine of Aaron reading them a bedtime story. Aaron, even if away on a case, always found time to call your sons and read them a story.

It had been an hour of you trying to get Joey to bed and he just wouldn’t budge. Picking up Joey, you went into the bedroom that Jack was going to be sleeping in and saw your dad reading to Jack. Your dad loved to read to you as a kid, so to see him read as a grandfather to your kids made your heart so full and happy.

You went to make your way downstairs to sit on the couch until you heard someone knock on the door.

Swinging the door opened, you were a little shocked to see Aaron standing there but then again, you weren’t. You weren’t one to leave after a comment he may have made before, but when he said that he just wants to be left alone, going through life how we went through before he met you.

But maybe he realized how quick you could be gone, if you really wanted, and if he really wanted that lifestyle. You’d rather have him be happy on his own than him be forced to stay in a loveless marriage.

Joey said, “Dada!”

He reached his arm out towards Aaron and let Aaron take him. You weren’t going to deny him if anytime with his kids. Unless he didn’t want that.

“Let’s get Joey to bed, say goodnight to Jack and we’ll talk? I’m not bringing the kids home now. We can just spend the night here or, I can.”

Aaron cut you off with a kiss and you whispered, “You know what. We’ll talk when we get Joey to sleep.”

Aaron nodded and you and him brought Joey up to the room

Shortly after Aaron checked in with Jack and kissed him goodnight, he began to read Joey a bedtime story. Within 15 minutes, Joey was lights out.

You and Aaron went to sit in the backyard on the swing your dad had just hung up out there.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you today. You didn’t deserve that. You do so much for our family. I know you wanted a break. I should have never wished for the bachelor life again. I don’t want that life anymore. I don’t know what I was thinking. I hated trying to find girls to take home before I met you. They find out you’re a single father to a younger kid and they don’t want that. But you were different.”

“I didn’t want to sleep around. I wanted to settle down. That’s why I thought we worked so well. When you snapped all because I asked you to do something, I was really upset with you. We worked hard to get to where we are in our life. I know your job is hard, I don’t doubt that. But, Aaron, my job is hard too. I had to play mom AND dad when you’re gone, sometimes I just need a break too. I know you do as well, but I just thought you would have wanted to spend time with the kids today.”

“I did. I wanted too, but I just. I had a bad day at work yesterday. I woke up from an email from someone I don’t like working with and I’m just. You know what, it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I love you. When you walked out with the kids today, I immediately regretted what I said and for not stepping up to be a better father, a better husband.”

When you leaned into him, you felt all the tension leave his body. You couldn’t be mad at him. He was your best friend, your husband, the father to your children. You loved him through the good and the bad.

It would always be you and him and your little family. No words could ruin that.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x female reader

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - IV

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

That sentiment never left in the weeks of planning that followed.  

Every time someone asked about your ring, you told them it was being resized and that neither of you were pleased with the clarity of the gems.  Besides, you would say, you didn’t want to show it off before the wedding.

The wedding date was settled by a Segment (Omega, you were certain, for he was the closest to the actual Doctor in personality) unceremoniously dropping a calendar on your desk.  You closed your eyes, placed your finger somewhere and landed on a weekend towards the later half of the month.

Omega then had the gall to take a paperclip from your tiny dish that held them and twist one into a ring before he left without another word.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

The timeline was short.  Six weeks.  Even your coworkers who dabbled in event planning for the annual ball and other celebrations balked at the small window of time.  A wedding of this magnitude required at least a year, someone said, and you wished their gaze hadn’t dropped to your lower half so blatantly.

When you weren’t working and trying to keep your eyes and ears about you to pass along information, you were trying to meet and correspond with vendors and come up with a vision of an event that, quite frankly, would suit neither of you if the matter of rank didn’t come into play.  It kept you so busy that you toyed with the idea of a kamera to save you time but even those in Snezhnaya were not slim nor inconspicuous. But they were expensive to maintain.  You couldn’t afford to add another item to your paper-thin personal budget.

You ran through your itinerary in your head again as you made your way down from the Palace and into town, thankful the weather was at least holding out a bit.  Post office, bank, and an appointment with a seamstress that wasn’t on Regrator’s list of preferred vendors.

All of the dresses you saw and tried were simply…too much.  Tried too hard.  Beautiful in their work but felt like another layer of paint rather than an organic addition to the whole affair.

As far as you knew, the Harbinger had a personal tailor in the Palace anyway and going off of the suggested list was bound to produce some results.  You were determined to find vendors who could use the support and might be overlooked otherwise.

Bad enough you had to go to Northland; you didn’t need wedding vendors working against you either.

The post office was packed, as usual, and you eagerly handed over the last remnants of your copied ledgers and notes.  They might as well have been burning holes in your cloak pocket all morning.  Your room and your office was now free of damning evidence.  Privacy was almost non-existent now and it would vanish entirely soon enough.  If you wrote to your parents more frequently, you could still keep up the habit established and not raise suspicion.

A break in a usual routine would be seen as unusual, you reminded yourself.

Amid the other envelopes was a thicker one, your reluctant communication to your parents about the change of circumstance.  They deserved to know and understand that it changed nothing (if they were different people, you would not have told them at all).  Traveling to the city was out of the question for them between the cost and your father’s health, let alone the added layer of your boss being thrown into that mix.

Lord Dottore’s proposal and your agreement already put you in a spotlight you never wanted to be in.  You didn’t need Pantalone knowing exactly how bad of a position your parents’ bankruptcy had put them, and you, in.  

Funny how you feared the Second Harbinger far less despite his gruesome acts, you mused after you thanked the clerk and made your way to Northland’s prominent facade.  At least he wouldn’t care one way or the other so long as nothing interfered with his work.  He never made it personal.

Until now, in a way.

Your cheek strung for a brief moment as your skin remembered the cold metal of your letter opener.  The closest thing to a kiss you two shared.

Northland’s home branch was a source of tourism as much as it was an actual bank.  Vaulted ceilings soared high overhead and marble pillars provided support that, for the briefest moments, made the building feel as much of a chapel as it was a bank.  The guided tours helped.

Compared to the latest branch in Liyue Harbor, it was surprisingly austere in its plainness.  Pantalone’s office suite and several of the other rooms outside of the lobby of tellers were far more opulent; much like its owner, the bank presented one image to the public and another to its closest confidants.  The coffered ceilings casted shadows as intricate as the dealings on the floor below.

You waited in line, as everyone did.  Most of the staff knew you, at least by loose association, and you were under no impression that anything was ever truly hidden.

Your family situation wasn’t the secret you needed to keep, after all.  As far away as you tried to keep it, part of you knew that your boss was likely aware you sent most of your pay home.  That you worked at the Palace as a sacrifice for the poor choices of others.  And that he was likely at fault, although you doubted he would ever claim as such.

The source of the money was a different story, of course.

A bridge to cross another day.

As you filled out the respective slips for deposit and withdrawal, the clerk’s head snapped up out of your peripheral vision with an audible gasp.

“My lady, why didn’t you say you would be accompanied by your fiancé, the Lord Harbinger?” She whispered, a tinge of fear tainting her words.  “We would have prepared a private office for you both to take care of your business.”

“I—”

Out of the corner of your eye to your left, you caught a tall figure with hair the color of a spring morning sky and a shining earring that gave off its own glow.  The white cloak with its black fur collar filled in the gaps.  Around you, it felt as if the very air around you had been sucked out.  Chattering had all but ceased and you heard the shuffle of people changing their posture, dedicating their attention to the notion that a Harbinger was among them.

Would you ever get used to that?  Likely not.  When it was just the two of you, things were different; it was you and him meeting blow for verbal blow.  You did your best to keep your composure and just as you were about to politely smile and tell the clerk that you handled affairs separately, a voice to your left interjected.

“Such accommodations won’t be necessary.  We are not staying long enough to require them,” Lord Dottore remarked, not even turning his head in your direction.

Your face felt hot as you thanked the clerk for their assistance and handed over the account slips.  A presence lingered at your side and you didn’t have to look to see that it was Dottore; he had already finished whatever his errand was but for him to leave would look bizarre, you rationalized.  You tried to ignore the biting thought that he was sticking around to ensure you didn’t bumble your way through the transaction now that the cat was out of the bag.

“Just a deposit then, My Lady?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, as usual.  Will the funds be accessible later today?”

“Immediately, ma’am.  The account holder should have no issue.”

If you timed it right, the morning post would arrive in time for your mother to reach the bank and take care of other affairs before the end of the day.  Bills were already paid.  But groceries and medicine were constant necessities and your parents couldn’t stockpile like they used to.

Next to you, Lord Dottore seemed to prickle with a question that he knew wasn’t appropriate.  Hearing his fiancé was giving money away when she was, supposedly, so good at it herself, was a variable never discussed.

A lot of things weren’t discussed though.  This might as well have been an elopement save for the actual, well, act of running away.

Once everything was finished, Dottore escorted you out of the bank, extending his elbow in silent regard.  Right.  Anything else would be too informal.  You tried your best not to look uncomfortable with his proximity or at the looks and whispers from staff and client alike as you looped your hand underneath to hold the crook of his arm.

“Not an outcome I anticipated but one I will take advantage of nonetheless,” Dottore muttered, only loud enough for you to hear.  “I need to borrow your hand.”

You looked up at him, face contorted in confusion.  The proposal was unusual enough on its own.  Did he mean your actual hand, and if so, attached or detached?  Was your life now going to be filled with bizarre requests?  

“What?” you hissed, baffled.

Several heads turned as you walked through the snowy street.  The tilt of his head told you he was glaring at you for drawing such attention.

“You need a ring, do you not, my dear?  I might be the best scholar in several centuries but even I am aware that ring sizes are best left to proper measurement devices.”

Oh.  Of course.  Your ring.

“I thought you were busy for the next several weeks, sir,” you emphasized your correction more for those who might overhear than the man you were speaking with.  “Unless you are, in fact, not the Doctor?”

“As if I would leave such a personal matter to a segment.”

He spat the words, insulted.  Whether by the insinuation he’d doled out the task or your seeming inability to tell him apart from his counterparts, you couldn’t quite tell.

You could tell them apart.  Lord Dottore knew that.  

But he also knew how important it would be to make this appear right.

Lord Dottore didn’t wait for you to reply and continued.  “It will not take long and then you can be on your way.  Where else are you off to, anyway?”

“I have an appointment with a seamstress.  Plenty of well-known vendors extended their offerings but they were…” you gestured with your free hand, finding yourself at a loss for words other than, “rather unremarkable.”

The chuckle that wrenched from his lips made your blood run cold and your heart jump.

“You’re certainly playing your part, Accountant,” he teased.

Of course you were.  What did he expect, to marry you in your uniform?  You bit your tongue for a second to think on your words.

“As I said when last we spoke, I don’t wish to misrepresent you.  That goes for your rank as well as who you are, or at least the image you project.  But everything I was presented with was just not right.”

You walked in silence for three steps before Lord Dottore said, “Elaborate.”

That was like asking you to explain why you balanced numbers the way you did or why you preferred to sleep on your right rather than your left side.  You just did.  

“They’re beautiful but they feel almost…like I’m competing with the Tsaritsa.  Like I’m just a doll to wear the dress rather than the dress being a reflection of…well, me.”

You cast a glance up at Lord Dottore as he gave a hum and found his head angled towards you in such a way that prevented you from seeing beneath his mask.  A part of you was curious, of course, about what he looked like.  You weren’t alone in that regard but it was never acted upon except by the young, giddy acolytes who had yet to find their place as a Fatuus, enamored with the prospect rather than the work.

Even as a spouse, you doubted you would be privy to his face.  Why would you be?  You were to be an equal on paper, nothing more.

“I trust your judgment, Accountant.  The ceremony is long and the reception is longer; it would be better to have something that you feel comfortable in.  I don’t rightly care, as you well know, but expectations must be met for this to be believable.”

Before you could speak again, you were led into a shop with glass counters and carefully placed lights.  The encased jewelry and the glass itself didn’t so much sparkle as glow and you were careful to tap out your boots so as to not soak the plush carpet.

Lord Dottore didn’t so much as shake out his cloak’s hem as he addressed the shopkeeper.  You tried to keep your expression neutral as you looked around, each case organized by the type of stone.  Everything in here had to be worth at least ten times your salary in total and it churned your stomach to even try to calculate that amount.  You tore your gaze away and returned to Dottore’s side.

Sizing was, in fact, just as quick as he said it would be.  The process was just a matter of using the jeweler's equivalent to a set of keys, each sizing ring marked with the appropriate measurement.  You tried on a few before settling on a number that was snug enough not to slip over your knuckle easily and came off with a bit of a struggle.

“There, matter settled,” Dottore murmured as the jeweler jotted down notes.

And you didn’t even lose a hand, you thought.  Yet.

If you were alone, you might have made the joke aloud.  

He was closer than you expected, his eyes seemingly glued to the case the entire time you went back and forth with the jeweler on the sizing.  He’d only chimed in once in the whole process, to take your hand and try the sizer himself, as if gauging the difficulty of getting the ring over your knuckle.  You tensed instantly before reminding yourself to relax.

You would need to get used to being in his presence and he would have to put your band on your finger publicly, after all.

Something in his face shifted and you got the distinct feeling you’d failed whatever he was trying to benchmark.  You’d been slipping.  First the bank, now this.  His finger traced the faint line across your cheek as he brushed his lips over your forehead.

“You should get going if you don’t want to be late, my dear.”

“Of course,” you replied, tilting your head and daring to lean ever so slightly into the gesture.

Two could play that game.

You thanked the jeweler for their time and left the shop, hoping the cold would stave off the burning sensation on your cheek.

The seamstress appointment was better, but only just.  At the mere mention of the timeline and the passing look between the shopkeeper and the assistant, you knew they connected the dots as to which upcoming wedding this was for.

“We would have come to you, my lady,” the seamstress said.

You could feel any sense of control over the situation slipping away to propriety again.

“Please, I’m not—”

“A Harbinger’s fiancé, and the Second’s at that, shouldn’t have to come down into town.  We would have gladly made the trip up to the Palace.”

Was it a faux part on your part or was it fear?  Her face was so hard to read.  Running any kind of business was difficult enough.  Harder still to contend with public courtesy and unwritten rules.  Fontaine had it worst of all, you recalled, but even here in Snezhnaya, rank and social standing ruled with a golden hand.

It only went so far, though, and that Pantalone didn’t work directly with the shop spoke volumes to you.  You overheard so many conversations when you were in the backroom, balancing the books and triple-checking the tax levies.  Those who respected your father’s time were the ones he was always willing to work with, no matter the situation.

“I want whoever I work with to be in the best environment for them.  You have everything here, after all; it makes far more sense for me to come to you,” you replied evenly.

Hopefully, in the event someone decided to speak and spread whatever they saw, you passed as humble and self-aware.

After all, that was the point.

You eventually found yourself swaddled in lace and tulle, watching as the two craftspeople worked together to find the perfect color and the perfect patterns.  A very soft silvery-blue, rather than a strict white, laid a shimmering foundation upon which the lace and tulle were overlaid; the bodice and sleeves would be lace and the pattern would fade until the hem and the train.  It was difficult to visualize at first until you looked at another dress, already made, and they described the changes in volume and cut with a sketch that made you wish you did have a kamera after all.  

What beauty, wasted on the likes of Il Dottore, you thought as you looked in the mirror and watched as the material reflected light as though it were water.  Such a moment would make any ordinary bride happy but you had never felt more alone in the entire endeavor thus far.

Neither truly balked at the six week time frame when you began discussing deadlines and cost.  Instead, you were reassured that you would have a dress that would keep the rest of the nation talking for years to come.  A grandiose exaggeration, spoken with all the levity one might read a law, but you appreciated it nonetheless.

When you stepped out into the cold again, you were greeted by a familiar mask and cloak; Lord Dottore was standing outside like a large menacing hound, waiting for you.

He said nothing and began to walk away as you pulled your cloak tighter around you to seal away your warmth.  It took you a moment to realize he was walking in the direction of the Palace.

“If you’re finished, my lord, it would be more expedient to take a carriage back,” you advised.  “The snow makes for poor footfalls and the sky might open any minute again.”

Dottore turned his head to gaze over his shoulder at you, his mouth thin.  In turn, you raised your eyebrows, expectant.  It was the same look you gave him when you needed an explanation during an audit.

“I walked down from the Palace,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and the biggest inconvenience to admit.

“So did I.  But the people have seen us together and it would not be fitting for us to be seen trekking back up to the Palace.  We don’t have to be a wholly united front but even you know that the optics of that, in addition to my empty finger, don’t bode well.  Don’t want to be accused of not caring, do you?”

Dottore clicked his tongue as a puff of hot breath streamed from his nose and for a moment, he looked every bit like an angry dragon as he turned and flagged down a nearby coach.  You didn’t miss the smug smirk and sardonic bite when he said, “After you,” and helped you into the closed carriage.  

Silence dominated the ride out of town and back up the hill the Palace sat on.  Your feet ached and now that you were sitting down, you realized how much the day had taken out of you for errands that, normally, wouldn’t have bothered you.  Granted, you hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it was well into the afternoon, which didn’t exactly help.  You went through your mental checklist of things to be done as you gazed out the coach window; your thoughts were interrupted by a tap of your shoe from the man across from you.  He withdrew his leg, as much as he could within the confines of the space and extended his hand, which held a tiny box.

Your eyes flicked from the box to his hidden face just once, finding his expression unreadable as always, before you took it from him.

Perched within were two rings of gold so brilliant it looked almost pink, woven into a vine pattern.  The first ring held a sizeable light blue stone so clear it looked as if it could have been carved from ice, flanked by a smaller stone on either side that appeared more purple than blue, iridescent in the way it refracted light.  The setting was dotted with tiny blue stones of the same color and clarity as the centerpiece, resulting in a diamond-shaped cluster.  Beneath it, the accompanying wedding band mimicked the setting, woven vines housing tiny ice droplets, the shape lining up with the other ring exactly so the two nested together.

The sensation from earlier in the dress shop came flooding back.  Such craftsmanship and time went into making such a beautiful piece.  On their own, the rings were stunning, but there was thought in this choice; it matched many of the motifs the man himself used and was known for and it would act as a reminder whenever she wore it.

Something tugged at your stomach before you reminded yourself that this was all for a show, that it didn’t matter.  You blinked away tears faster than they could form.  No.  He didn’t deserve such a thing from you.

But you couldn’t help but wonder how long he’d been in that shop looking for something capable of such impact.

“It should keep Pantalone quiet.  Not that anything will ever silence that man’s prattling, especially if he knew how many arms I had to twist to find something suitable.”

Briefly, you recalled the rings on Lord Pantalone’s fingers and how often they were swapped out, save the globus cruciger.  It was not uncommon to hear him remark about the clarity of a stone or the difficulty in obtaining it; the bragging point was often the price and you always refrained from retching every time you heard a figure higher than the last.

You removed your gloves and slipped on the first ring.  It fit perfectly; not that you expected anything less.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, handing him back the box with the wedding band.  “I wasn’t expecting anything quite so…”

“As we’ve agreed, Accountant, this needs to be well beyond believable,” Dottore replied, tucking the box away in his cloak.  “It would have been easy to give you any ring and have this be passable on the surface.  No one questions a diamond ring in high social circles, only how big the diamond is, after all.  However, we have the added thread of plausibility and both of us are aware Regrator scrutinizes everything.  Aquamarine and tanzanite, with reinforced rose gold, in the event one should ask.”

When you’d managed to bring yourself to make the trip down to his workshops, you didn’t expect much from that conversation other than at least a piece of jewelry that would stop all of the lingering stares and whispers.  He’d thrown your expectations out the window.

That was quintessentially him, though, wasn’t it?  To take something and run with it, to push an idea well beyond the expectations and thoughts of others.

Lord Dottore knew it, too, for he adjusted his posture ever so slightly.  Just like he did when he knew you had no other recourse but to give in to his budget requests.

“I’ve held up my end as requested, Accountant.  But I find myself curious: what were you doing at Northland?”

A question you knew he’d been dying to ask ever since he overheard the transaction at the bank.  And you were no longer in a position to deny him the answer, not when he’d not only fulfilled your request but did so well beyond the expectations you held.

Bastard.

He didn’t need to know much, you reasoned.  And you were in no position to not answer.  Defensiveness here would raise too many alarm bells.  

“I…send money to my parents back home.  Most of my pay goes to them to cover bills and expenses.  My father no longer works; my mother spreads herself too thin caring for him and trying to earn a pittance when she can,” you replied.

The words almost choked you to admit them outloud.  No one else, not even your coworkers, knew; Lord Pantalone probably did, at least to some extent.  But it seemed like an unspoken responsibility shouldered by those within the administration spheres and on the field.  The way food was shared during lunch after an admission of missing a meal or the crowd-funding of a night out to raise spirits seemed so contrary to what you expected.  You had chipped in all for the sake of appearances only to be given the same respect in kind.  It wasn’t foreign to you, per se, but after the bankruptcy, it was difficult to find those willing to help your family when all they saw was negligence and bad decisions.

It was nothing to be ashamed about.

To clear the air, you continued.

“They’ve asked for nothing more and I fully intend to only use my wages for such things.”

Lord Dottore tilted his head before he looked away, his gaze seemingly set on the landscaping passing by.  The answer bored him, clearly, as you expected it to.

“I care little for what you do beyond your role but be sure not to neglect yourself for the sake of others.”

Icy rain fell in sheets, pelting the ground in soft plinks as you arrived back at the Palace.  You parted ways without another word and you wished the metal on your finger was as cold as the rain and the man who gave it to you.

Her visit to Haeresys was quite unexpected, to say the least.  Not many people ventured down into the bowels of the Palace unless they absolutely had to.  But for her to not would otherwise lend itself poorly, wouldn’t it?

After all, she was never afraid to speak her mind before.  More than once she has left my ego bruised and my pride singed when she laid out points I’d pushed aside in previous considerations.  Said points were not neglected but rather only issues if they were encountered; when she provided context, more often than not, there was little option but to compromise.  When all is said and done, she too considers the bigger picture, just from a different angle.  No two artists paint the same image even when given the same set of references.  It is one of the few areas of the human experience that is, perhaps, at least intriguing.

Sohreh, for all her fawning, was similar.  At least the Accountant did not blush every time she laid eyes on me.

Such things were what drove my desire to create the prostheses, after all.

The pageantry of all of this…utterly ridiculous.  All of this for the sake of a bet, a gamble; a ladder for Pantalone to get off of my back at the cost of time I will never regain.

How do others pursue this for the sake of emotion?  This is truly joyous for some?  Or is it social convention that dictates one must go this route, to celebrate so widely when so few truly know those exchanging nuptials?

Does one even need emotion, that worthless thing of love, to make these arrangements work?

The historical argument would hold that no, emotion doesn’t matter.  Without that, perhaps something stronger still is erected to replace fleeting desire and heart palpitations and whimsical dreams.  This farce can be plausible without such trivial things.

And Regrator will be proved wrong, as all others before him have been.

Even if it means playing by the convention he expects us to follow.

Us.

Strange to use that in reference to…an existence outside of my own.

Other than her late night gallivanting to demand a ring, I have seen little of her.  Omega has dutifully managed what needed my input and that has allowed me to prioritize.  

The Tsaritsa has already insisted on sending me away and offered up a choice of properties to boot.  A lack of a honeymoon would be forgivable given my position and I would rather stay here and focus on what must be done.  Too much progress has already been made.  But I am in no position to deny Her Majesty’s will and I must also consider the Accountant’s position.  She was already questioned about a ring; I would never hear the end of it from Regrator and it would put her in an even worse position, surely, if we didn’t at least leave the Palace.

Annoying.  Worrying about another’s quality of life.  Their actions.  The impact they’ll have.

I had not expected running into her at the bank, of all places, although I cannot place why.  After all, she’s an accountant and financial assistant.  At the very least, she would be running an errand for work, if not for herself.  That was a normal occurrence for most people.

She’d avoided eye contact with me.  Even looked annoyed when the clerk mentioned transaction details, perhaps under the assumption I would be aware of them.

Not helped by her surprise when I provided my reasoning for needing her company.  What did she think, that I would be severing her body?  I am aware of the fear about me that spreads rumors like a plague but she should give me a little more credit than that.  After all, short of the reports given to the Tsaritsa, the Accountant is one of the few who at least can put a value to the work I do.  

Worse still, she looked stiff and uncomfortable during the ring sizing.  The jeweler is one of Regrator’s contacts but to work with anyone else would result in another earful I didn’t want to hear.  Anything detrimental would make its way back to the banker in no time.  But what better way to prove solidarity than throw it right in Regrator’s face?  Acting distant would do us no credit.

I had specifically chosen her for the bite she could give back and in public settings, she was proving to be less reliable than I hypothesized.  

How would she react to public affection, gestures that few would think twice about?  Her skin was still cold from outside when I leaned in.  She hid the dark circles beneath her eyes well enough and by now, the cut on her cheek had healed, leaving behind only a thin line noticeable in the right light.  The scent of parchment and ink clung to her, mingled with whatever floral scent her soap was infused with.

Disgusting.  How could anyone ever find the smell of flowers pleasant?

And then she had the gall to tilt her head and look up at me through her lashes.  A lesser individual might have bought such behavior.

Not me.

She left for her dress appointment and the nagging thought of my own attire came to mind.  Omega was seeing to that.  White with tails, blue and gold accents, all the while bearing the feathery mantle I’ve grown quite fond of.  Why not have a bit of a dramatic flair, after all, if I must go through with all of this?

I should have left the ring to Omega, in hindsight.  He would have come to the same conclusion I did.  All the colors before me were nothing more than structural compounds of specific minerals and a mix of circumstances.  No stone was special when it was broken down into its most basic components.

The deep reds and brilliant rubies were, to the jeweler’s credit, remarkable enough for what they were.  If this were different, perhaps these would have been suitable…

But she has never seen my eyes.  And she likely never will.

Diamonds would be appropriate, if nothing else.  

Rare, resilient.  

Cliche.  

Aquamarine, however…would be a reflection of her homeland, among other things.  Symbolically, it was impossible to go wrong or be misinterpreted.

But the stones nearby, iridescent purple ranging in various shades, were far more unique.  I’d encountered such stones before, in the depths of the desert when taking apart Deshret’s Primal Constructs to reinforce my boots and weaponry during my exile.  Deshret had failed in his attempt to save the people; his legacy meant little to me.

Two colors, then.

The jeweler was quick to accommodate, finding a matching band in no time, but it paled in comparison to the main ring when the stones were properly set.  I had little doubt he would hesitate to inform Pantalone the moment I left.  Paying extra would do little but delay the information anyway.

I found the notion of a band for myself wasteful.  I’d never wear the thing.  It would only get in the way.

But the Accountant was dedicated to portraying the image needed…

Platinum would, at least, survive.

The Accountant finished her appointment not long after I’d tucked both boxes in my pocket and found the shop she’d mentioned.  It was impossible to see the back of the shop from the windows in front, even if I had been curious about her plans and wanted to know.

Which I didn’t.

I just wanted to be done with this entire affair so I could focus on other things.  Usually, I enjoy the process of the experiment; ever since the words left my mouth weeks ago, however…

Perhaps she was feeling something similar.  The look on her face when she stepped out of the shop was not unlike the one from when she first began working in the Palace, when she’d had no choice but to summon me in place of the Segments.  Her smile was strained, her eyes looking at him but clearly elsewhere.

And yet she still managed to dig her heels in about a carriage, of all things.

She’d walked down herself–she wasn’t the type to take an easy route or method anywhere.  The cold was, despite my Delusion, still bitter and dry for me and yet I didn’t think twice about taking the trip on-foot.  Few bothered me and I could go at my own pace.

I should have left her behind.  Why had I gone to the shop to wait for her, anyway?

Other than her protest for a carriage, she was quiet.  Not that I minded.  But her earlier behavior continued to nag, like an irritating fabric in cloying heat.  Was she like the rest after all?

When she took the box and opened it, her pragmatism won out.  It unsettled me that she did not, as most might, gush over the rings, but it sickened me all the more to wish she did.

What use was her praise?

None of this mattered.

The thanks from her lips were genuine enough but something in her face was harder to pin down.  Her eyes were a little watery though and the flush of her cheeks was not just from the brisk wind outside.  I’ll take what reactions I can get out of her…I need to document something, after all.

She kept her main ring and returned the box with the other band inside.  The red leather was still warm when I tucked it away again.

I couldn’t help myself, however, as the moment from the bank came to mind again.  Perhaps she would be pliable, now that I’d played along?  What was the worst that could happen?

Right.  Most still have a family.  Living for centuries desensitizes you to all of those notions.  

Sending money back home is not uncommon, especially among the lower ranks and the administrative branches.  She cared for others.  Not a sentiment I can understand.  

But I do know what it means to rise to every occasion, to come from nothing and fight for every scrap along the way.  As unconventional as it had been, the Akademiya saw to it that I would, in one way or another, find what I wanted out of life.

Her earnestness is unsettling.  Hard work pays off but only when you have something to prove.  At least she knows her boundaries, I suppose.  That should make it all the quicker to find them myself, see how they might break…

That this is nothing more than transactional should make that all the easier.

I left the carriage as soon as the horses pulled to a stop.  She’d managed to shake the doubts instilled in me with nothing more than a few words and a conviction that ran deeper than the icecaps not far from the Palace.  

She was the right choice for this little experiment after all.

#fic: blasphemous rumors #il dottore #dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore/reader #dottore/female reader #il dottore/female reader #dottore x female reader #female reader #marriage of convenience

[thebridgetonarnia]

ive had some thoughts about a Try Guys AU for the fruity four, but mostly Steddie. so here we go:

In a fruity four try guys au Robin is Zack, Eddie is Keith, Nancy is Eugene, and Steve is Ned.

Except obviously Steve is genuinely a good “I love my partner” guy and the reason he never says their name is because they are very private person who does not want to be on camera.

Eddie is always joking with Steve that this partner of his sounds fake and Steve will always roll his eyes and say, “You’ve met them! Stop making the internet think I'm making up my SO.”

A large part of the fanbase actually ships Steve and Eddie because they’re dynamic in videos is always fun and lightly flirty. People also love the bromance and think their friendship is so pure and a genuine show of nontoxic masculinity.

Then everything changed when the pictures were leaked. Steve and Eddie were photographed at a concert dancing and hanging out, they also were photographed at a bar after where they were making out in the corner, probably thinking no one could see them.

The drama lasted a couple of days, people were blowing up their social media. A lot of people were saying things like, “We all as an internet need to find Steve's girlfriend and make sure she knows he's been CHEATING ON HER WITH HIS COWORKER!”

After letting everything simmer down they post a video to the chanel that's just steve and eddie. The two of them are sitting on a couch holding hands. They cut to the chase pretty quickly. 

“We all know why you're here, you would like an explanation,” Eddie starts. “I’m sure by now you’ve all seen the photos and the videos, and well, we are here to apologize… sort of.” There’s a shit eating grin on his face, that makes it clear that he’s not really sorry about anything.

“I have been in a relationship for many years with my partner, but what you all didn’t know is that my partner is eddie.”

“Yeah, a lot of you thought he had a girlfriend, which was very heteronormative of you.”

“Don’t mock the fans, I’m bi, I could have had a girlfriend.”

“Well you’re stuck with me now.”

“Yeah I am.”

Robin gags at them from behind the camera, “God, now that the cat’s out of the bag, you two are gonna be so much worse.”

Turns out they were keeping their relationship a secret because they wanted their channel to be about the work they were doing, not the fact that they were in a relationship, they also didn't want their relationship to become part of their job.

And, honestly after this reveal, the content doesn't change, they keep lightly flirting on screen, Steve just names Eddie now when he’s talking about his partner, they get married, and continue working together with their best friends.

And when they finally get married, they only release a 10 minute or so video of the day, because their relationship is still just theirs. They even have a child a few years down the road, and while they do post about the new addition to their family, they never reveal their kids name or gender, or even how their child came to be.

They attempted 1 singular video with their new kid and the numbers on the video freaked Steve out so much they scrubbed it from their channel and said, “Never again.”

Steve does make a lot of dad content though, he loves talking about being a dad and how much he loves his child and how much he loves Eddie and being on this journey with him.

It surprises literally no one when soon after they had their second child, the Try Babes create a nonprofit advocating for children in family channel vlogs.

#sab speaks #modern au #steddie

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 2: Survivor’s Guilt

Part of the “Illicit Limerence” series.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is confronted with the stakes of losing an important coworker and friend as the reader gets injured during a chase. But grief and hospitals aren’t really his scene. The reader finds out the extent of her injuries and condition, leaving her shocked to the core.

Warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of injury, angst and some fluff

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Next chapter

DEA agents were hurt and killed almost daily, that was just the way things were with the cartel. Pablo didn’t care about who they were or what their legacy was, married or not, children or not, to Escobar they were just the enemy’s pawns. Javier Peña was well-aware of this and therefore rarely turned his head when another death within the office was called. He didn’t do funerals, he did women and drinking instead. In a time of war there was no time for grieving, he believed it to be a weakness of the flesh much worse than indulging in the warmth of a prostitute or colleague every now and then. This had become a routine for him and while it ate away at his conscience he never once considered giving up his bachelor-lifestyle. Never until today.

The narco screamed as Javier tackled him to the asphalt, brutally bending his arms behind his back, slapping the cuffs around his wrists. He opened his mouth to yell something out to Carillo when he heard the echo of two gunshots, followed by a cry. As his ears registered the pitch and tone, he made it out to be you. His head shot up immediately, already in desperate search of the source of your whereabouts.

Carillo took the detained from his clammy hands, leaving Javier to find you. Everything went quiet and all he could hear in that moment of utter panic was his obscene breathing and rapid heartbeat. When he rounded the corner, seeing Steve’s back turned to him, a pool of broken glass and legs he could only assume were yours he felt his heart drop. Murphy was frantically babbling into his radio as Javier stepped closer, the blood on the floor sickening.

He stood still next to Steve, watching the way your relaxed body laid in his arms, unmoving. “Is she-“

“No”, Steve replied quickly, beckoning for Javier to take his spot. “Stay with her, I’m getting the med kit from the car.”

He hesitantly sat down on his knees, the glass scraping against the fabric of his jeans as he gently pulled you onto his upper thighs. He spotted the burnt fabric on your vest and thanked his stupid teasing for having secured it earlier. It was as if you were just asleep, eyes closed, a peaceful look settling on your features. That’s what he told himself, she’s just resting, it’s been a long day, she’s fine, just tired.

Usually when you were sprawled out in his arms it was after another heated round of mind-numbing sex, naked and glistening with sweat. He thought of the way you looked then, skin glowing with pleasure, lips curled up in the most mesmerizing smile, eyelids fluttering closed as he trailed his long fingers over your chest. Rather than being covered in each other’s sweat, he found his hands stained with your vibrant-red blood and rather than trailing his fingertips across the curve of your breasts his left hand rested on the back of your head, hair sticking to itself from the mixture of sweat and blood.

It was a horror, the otherwise so lively and feisty woman appearing dead. The more he thought of it, the more he started shaking, panicking, checking for a heartbeat despite hearing your soft breaths. He couldn’t stand the idea of never getting to apologize to you, never having you curled up against his chest again, laughing about something stupid. The mere possibility of never seeing you at that desk again, stuffing your mouth with whatever the kitchen had to offer, completely dropping the “ladylike” act in front of your two partners, it tugged right at his heartstrings.

When Steve returned, putting some balled up spare clothes underneath you to keep them from cutting you up even more, Javier was dead silent and pale with terror. He gave his fellow agent a death glare when he gently shifted her body back to the floor, his arms tightening around you. “We need to get her vest off and check her chest”, Steve commanded, Javier finally loosening his grip, allowing you to lay on the makeshift “bed”.

“Ambulance?”, he breathed.

“Still on the way”, Steve huffed as he carefully undid the several buckles and straps on your vest.

As the two frantic men were bickering back and forth accusing the other one of not being careful enough or being a blatant idiot you slowly came to. A soft whine left your lips as you blinked a couple of times, the bright daylight inducing the absolute worst headache you ever felt. Soon the two of them were hovering over you, asking a myriad of questions while you were just trying to put two and two together. You couldn’t even bring yourself to move an inch, your entire body just aching and seemingly on fire. As you registered the severity of your fall, your breathing started to speed up, the two fussing men not helping you with your oncoming panic attack. Javier rested a bloodied hand on your cheek in an attempt to calm you down, he was whispering something to you, in Spanish, fingers stroking back and forth in a gentle motion. You tried to speak but found yourself unable to, a tear of frustration falling out of the corner of your eye.

“Cariño, quédate conmigo, por favor”, he muttered, “Está bien, la ambulancia llegará pronto.” (Stay with me, it’s okay, the ambulance will be here soon).

He hadn’t been this soft with you in weeks and the longer you stared up at him through your heavy eyes, the guiltier he felt about it. With every blink your eyes struggled more and more to open again, your body urging, begging you to just rest. You were defenceless against yourself, the sustained injuries asking just too much of you, and soon you were out again, breathing steadying once again. Javier bit his tongue trying to ground himself and keep calm as he heard the wailing sirens in the distance. Steve had been taken your vest of by now, lifting your shirt to reveal nasty bruises on your chest, the vest had saved your life. Javier said a prayer right there and then, thanking whatever entity up above responsible for saving you, for letting you stay with him.

When the paramedics took over and removed the two of them from the scene they were in a trance-like state. Steve had been through this before, back in the states he’d lost his partner, which had proven to him just how powerful drugs were. Death was just a part of the job, but losing a partner, that shit was personal.

 How they managed to get to the hospital unscathed was beyond anyone’s understanding, but as Steve sat in the waiting room with sweet Connie holding his hand, Javier was angry. It should’ve been him, he had told you not to go, but you just wouldn’t fucking listen. They didn’t even catch the guy, which maybe wasn’t the worst outcome, seeing how Javier would have absolutely murdered him with his bare hands.

“Javier just sit down, this isn’t helping anyone”, Connie spoke up, clearly having had enough of the man’s continuous pacing. “Why don’t you get yourself a coffee or something, you could be here another couple hours.”

She did have a point, you’d been in surgery for little over an hour and with every passing minute his need to just run off was getting more and more prominent. But he knew that the doctor could walk through those doors any minute as well, so he wanted to stay put, for you.

Upon seeing his partner’s lack of movement, Steve stood up. “How about I go get us those coffees then”, he offered.

Being alone with just Connie, a close friend of yours, made him feel even more nervous. Luckily for him the doors swung open before any kind of conversation could be started. Revealing the doctor that had rushed you away earlier. Your two friends went to stand, politely nodding at the doctor.

“The patient is stable, she suffered a broken collarbone which we managed to fix into place during surgery. She also sustained a concussion and a laceration to the back of the head which has been closed up. And uh she has some contusions among minor cuts over the body, nothing to be too worried about.” Javier and Connie sighed in relief. “But I need to speak to Steve Murphy, he was listed as Miss y/l/n’s emergency contact.”

“That’s my husband, he’s gone to get some coffee, should be back any second”, Connie replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “Can we go see her?”

“The patient’s waking up just now, so she’ll be out of it for a little bit.” With that he led them to your room, carefully opening the dim room, quickly adding that it had to do with the smack to the head you’d suffered.

Javier and Connie sat on either side of the bed, the doctor quickly leaving the room almost bumping into Steve on the way out. When he introduced himself the doctor whisked him away, presumably to have that confidential chat.

A quiet sob drew Javier’s attention back to the scene in front of him, nothing that Connie had started to cry, carefully holding your hand in hers. “Careful with that, we still need that back at the office, evidence”, he joked, eliciting a sad smile from his friend.

“Just look at her Javi, she must’ve been so scared.”

He looked at the IV’s in your left hand and the several bandages covering your body. “She’ll be alright Con, I promise.”

Steve re-entered the room with heavy steps, head hanging low and he looked at his wife. “Connie, a word, out in the hall”, he sighed.

She quickly wiped at her eyes and left the room, following her husband outside. He was alone with you now and felt incredibly out of place. You were the one to make situations less awkward and insufferable, you were the one to lighten the mood with some stupid joke or story about something back in the States. You, you, you – anything and everything was you, it was like his fucking world revolved around it- her. The poor man wasn’t able to deal with the near loss of you and his feelings, so he did what seemed best to him, pressing a quick kiss to your head and booking it, leaving you alone.

The simple touch had its desired effect, eyes fluttering open just as he walked over the threshold of your room, disappearing into the Columbian night. As you blinked a couple of times, vision somewhat blurry, all you could feel was pain, intense pain from your shoulder. Just as you tried to sit up a bit more the Murphys walked in, Connie quickly rushing over to your side and forcing you to lay back.

“Hey, y/n, hey, you’re in the hospital”, she explained slowly, gesturing at the several wires and monitors.

“Ja-Javier?”, you croaked out, throat completely dry and scratchy.

Steve poured you a glass of water while speaking: “He must’ve left. Listen, I know you’re probably exhausted and all but we need to have a chat.”

Nothing could have prepared you for the absolute bomb Steve was about to drop on you, those three little words changed everything. You – are – pregnant. Normally people would be nothing short of euphoric hearing such a confession, but to you – a woman with no partner and a job in one of the most dangerous places to be – it was a death penalty.

You had stayed in the hospital five more days, fellow agents coming to pay their respects, but you were just in a state of utter shock and frankly denial. You had argued with doctors and nurses, demanding they’d take your blood again and do it right. But no matter how much you protested and wanted it to not be true, you were in fact pregnant.

Five whole days of friends and colleagues supporting and loving you, even a call from your fucking parents at some point, but no Javier. Connie and Steve hadn’t pried for information, prioritizing your recovery for now, but you knew fully well your old friend had his suspicions. They hadn’t told anyone else, and as of yet it was just you, them two and the medical staff that was aware, already way too many people for your liking.

On the fifth day nobody visited, as per your request, you’d be moving in with Connie and Steve for the next couple of weeks, your concussion-induced vertigo and left arm requiring almost constant assistance, or as you saw it: babysitting. So, you’d told everyone to fuck off until it was time to go to hopefully get some time to yourself, time that you could spend in your own head. As you sat up on the hospital bed, half dressed, incapable of putting a shirt over your head, you broke down. It wasn’t necessarily the shirt that made you this upset it was just everything; the accident, the fact that you were pregnant and most of all him. He hadn’t even made an effort to visit you, to check up on you.

Or so you thought. You see, while you were out in that bed, life at the office just continued where it left off, Peña and Murphy still sitting at their desks and going out in the field. Only now they only ever talked about three things; new leads, that new bar downtown and you. Well to be completely honest, Steve didn’t really ever mention you but Javi.. he couldn’t shut up about you, bugging his poor co-worker on the daily, trying to get at least some information out of him. Steve had gotten so fed up one late night that he’d tossed the case files at the other man’s head, telling him to go to that damned hospital instead. After that he stopped asking and was left to brood and mull in his bed, kitchen, shower, basically anytime he was alone. Surely you wouldn’t want him there, considering what terms you were on, but would it be so bad for him to just swing by, talk to you for half an hour or so, see how you were doing with his own eyes? He deemed it best to leave you alone and not give you more of a headache. But by Saturday afternoon, the day you were supposed to be emitted, he couldn’t help himself. He got in his car and just drove there, hastily parking his car as he ran up to your room, stopping at the door as he heard your muffled weeping.

The soft knock interrupted your heartfelt moment, you saw his reflection in the windows, unable to turn your head around. “Can I come in?”, he asked with a small voice.

“Y-yeah”, you answered, trying to cover yourself with your good arm.

He wordlessly walked over to you, quickly gathering the shirt from the floor and stepping closer. “Guide me.” Javier tenderly helped you into your shirt, following your every instruction and checking if he was doing okay every time you winced. When you were dressed he sat next to you on the bed, holding the hairbrush you’d handed him just seconds before. “I-I’ve never done someone else’s hair, are you sure you want to look even more of a mess?”, he joked.

You quietly chuckled, fidgeting with the hair tie in your hand. “Can’t get much worse anyways, just be careful with the ends.”

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as he brushed through your untamed hair, profusely apologizing every time the brush would get tangled, making the both of you laugh a little. It was a small win, just a sweet and innocent moment with the most dangerous man around, at least to you. He struggled to comb it all back, clearly not used to performing even the easiest of hairstyles. Eventually your hair did end up in something akin to a ponytail, at least he tried. After he zipped up your bag for you and checked the room for anything left behind you tried to slip on your shoes, a pair of tennis shoes to be exact, ones you frequented due to the nature of your job. Chasing narco-men wasn’t exactly ideal when wearing heels, so yes, you lived in flats. He soon got on his knees in front of you, helping you in your shoes and tying the laces for you, not able to watch you struggle any longer. The two of you didn’t talk other than the occasional “does this hurt” and “what now”. He offered to drive you home, but you explained Steve would be picking you up in a bit, informing him that you’d be staying over at their place, but a floor away from his own door.

“I should probably go then – unless you need anything else”, he said, hands in his pockets.

You went to stand, losing your balance a bit and steadying yourself by holding on to the frame of your bed. “Actually, if you don’t mind, can you help me to the entrance, I’d rather wait there.”

With his arm wrapped around your waist, by means of support, totally nothing else, he helped you get downstairs, to the entrance. He’d insisted you stayed inside, telling you about the dangers of being alone. You’d rolled your eyes, reminding him you had worked here just as long as he had, making him jut his hip. It’s then that Steve pulled up out front, quickly walking over to the two of you.

“What the hell is he doing here?”, Steve asked you, eyeing his partner up and down.

“He was just visiting and now he is leaving, see you Monday, Murphy”, Javier scoffed as he patter the man on the back, walking off without another word.

As Murphy helped you in his car he quirked an eyebrow at your messy hair; “Peña do that to you?” You nodded. “What’s that all about?”

“Survivor’s guilt”, you chuckled.

Taglist: @peterhollandkait @pedritomando​ 

#javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #imagine #javier peña x reader #illicit limerence

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part II

Word Count: 1,846 Warnings: References to drug use. PTSD. Ben Affleck. As always, if I forgot anything please message me and I'll amend this warning. A/N: Protect Francisco Morales at all goddamn costs, honestly. 

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

“Fish?”

He cringes inward at his military nickname, it rips at his heart hearing it drip from his best friend’s mouth now. This man he would die for, almost has died for. None of the others had called him that in years, he insisted on Frankie with them. But he’d barely heard from Santiago, had no way of telling him.

He hears the words he’s saying, same shit he always says:

“I need a pilot. I can’t do this thing without you."

Years of that shit pulling him into another tour here. A deployment there. Again and again. Long after he served his sentence and was free to go.

“I don’t know, man. I got the new baby now,” he beams. Santi didn't know Luna and all Frankie wanted to do was tell him about her but he holds back, opting instead for, “And my lady isn’t into my doing this kinda shit anymore.”

He looks back at Will, a knowing look exchanged between the two. He is begging for his brother to step in, say something. Save him. He’s throwing Leah under the bus but, fuck it, it’s true. She isn’t into him doing this kinda shit anymore. And she wasn’t the biggest fan of Santi, always coming up with shit to get the rest of the boys into.

“Wha—what does that mean?”

Frankie lets out a breath he feels like he’s been holding all day and stands, knowing he’ll start shaking if he doesn’t. The knee bouncing is getting out of hand but he was hesitant to seek out anti anxiety medication while detoxing. He’d just sweat it all out anyway. Santiago’s droning on behind him, hell bent on staving off rejection.

“Did you read the text? This can change you and that baby’s life forever.”

Leave it to Santi to exclude Leah, he wasn’t necessarily her biggest fan either. But to just gloss right over her? Didn’t even fucking ask Luna’s name.

He crosses his arms, “What happened to that bullshit about going back to your mother’s homeland and empowering the people to police themselves?”

Santiago stares him down, a power grab of a laugh escaping him.

“Anyway, I lost my license. I can’t even fly right now.” Please just drop it, please just drop it, please just drop it.

Benny’s wrapping his knuckles. William’s looking between the two. And Santiago? Santiago is closing the space between them.

“I don’t need a pilot with a license, I’m in with the army down there,” he says as if that makes things better. It doesn’t. He knows it, Frankie knows it, the Millers know it. But if there’s one thing Santiago Garcia gets, it’s his fucking way.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Frankie’s firm, he’s not fucking doing it this time. He’s worked too goddamn hard on everything. Built a life out of rubble and was this close to pissing it away, he’s not gonna seal the deal on Leah’s promise to go.

Santi paces, frustrated, “Lorea is destroying that country. So we get to take out a very bad man, and, oh, by the way, there’s a winning lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of your cowboy boot.” He says that last bit with a mock tone and he’s smiling, believing he’s got Frankie now. A bit of a tease to rile his best friend up, get him laughing, get him in it. “Every guy in that gym would jump at this.”

“Come on, focus, guys! It’s fight night.” —————

“Hey!” He catches up with Santi in the hall, “I didn’t mean to call your shit bullshit.”

He didn’t, really. He knows where Santiago’s coming from but he can’t be the one in the thick of it anymore.

Another of those cool, indignant laughs, “It's all right.”

“I got busted,” Frankie says coolly, like he’s letting you know he left the light on, “it’s not a big deal.”

Santi’s head snaps to the right.

“Actually,” the taller of the two continues, “It's a big deal.”

“Coke?” Santiago’s trying not to let Frank’s addiction shock him, scoffing, “Jesus, Frankie.”

“Technically, it’s a suspension, I’m still under review but… it fucked everything up with Leah. I’ve been detoxing in Will’s spare room for weeks.”

“You’re telling me she didn’t know before the suspension? I don’t buy that.” Frankie tried to ignore the venom in his words.

“No, she knew. We’ve been in couple’s counseling while I’ve been getting clean, she said she didn’t know it was as often as it was. Just thought it was a hit here and there.”

“So things are good still?”

Frankie takes a deep breath, “We seem to have gotten back to good but that’s not where I wanna be, Pope. I wanna be great.” He looks to Santi and then Will, “What about you? What are you gonna do?”

There was no doubt in the world where Benny stood. He’d follow Santiago into hell. He pretty much had on more than one occasion but Benny always was a wildcard. Will was too calculated for that bullshit, he needed a plan. He needed foundation under his feet, not just charisma and Frankie would follow him. Frankie owed him his life. Will was the one to convince Frankie to hang it up. The one putting a half dead Frankie in cold showers and pumping his fucking stomach on no sleep. Will was the one Leah called when Frankie got too close to the edge. His brother, Luna’s godfather.

“I said if Redfly’s in, I’m in.”

Fuck! Fucking Tom. Frankie takes his hat off, adjusts his hair. I fucking hate Tom. —————

“Tom is not in our wedding,” Leah glared down the kitchen island at Frankie, arguing again about the goddamn wedding party. She didn’t even want it anymore. Had thrown her hands up, on more than one occasion, and begged to just run down to the courthouse.

And it all circled back to Tom fucking Davis.

“We served together for ten years, Leah! It’s a bit fucked up to have the rest of the boys up there in tuxes, Tess as our flower girl and Tom is,” he flails his hands out, “Three rows back with that one coworker who brings you coffee every Friday.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d let Tom sit that close to the altar, Francisco Morales. And next to Alexa? She is my angel and Tom Davis will be nowhere near her, do you understand me?”

“Then marry Alexa, babe!”

Leah put her hands on her hips, “Bitch, I might.”

He breaks and laughs, lifting his hat to rub at his forehead, “What do you want me to tell him then? You have plenty of friends who could be a fourth bridesmaid.”

“How about you drop Benny too?” She shrugs, “Just keep Will and Santi and I’ll keep my sisters. Two and two.”

He throws the hat on the counter, “YOU LOVE BENNY!”

“You're right, baby,” she laughs, eyes bright. A challenge on the tip of her tongue. "Drop Santi.”

He charges after her, ready for her words, and chases her through the house. Their house. Still nowhere near unpacked after a month and he’s cursing the unintended obstacle course he’s laid out for himself. She’s making quick work of it but, fuck, he’s out of shape.

He runs up the stairs, back screaming with every step as he gains on her. It helps his legs are much longer than hers.

She makes it to the bedroom, spinning to close the door but he grabs her before she can, pinning her down with all his weight. She insisted on the nicest sheets they could find and almost never made the bed, preferring to fall right into the softness without much work.

He ran his hand down her body, drumming his fingers in a soft rhythm until he reached her thigh, hitching it over his hip.

Her heart was still racing from the chase but Frankie felt it tick upwards as he placed his lips on her neck.

“Francisco,” she whined, “we can’t do this right now. We have to do grown up things.”

He smiles into the soft skin, “this is grown up things.”

“You know what I mean.”

He looks up at her, “hmm…” He’s got her right where he wants her, none the wiser as he reaches down to her knee and—

“Frankie, what are you doing?” Her voice comes out an octave higher, panic in her eyes pleading with him not to when the corner of his mouth crooks upwards and—

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh at the bend of her knee, smile blown wide as she screams out like a hyena.

“Stop! Stop!” She laughs through labored breaths, “baby, it was just a joke.”

“You're not funny,” he lulls with a kiss.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” her eyes filled with hurt and conviction, “I'm hilarious so… ya know, jot that down.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“But Tom fucking Davis is not in our wedding or I swear to god, Francisco Morales, I will call the whole goddamn thing off. It is my day and I’m not having his big Irish head in my wedding photos for the rest of my life.”

He laughs again, “Fine. But what should I tell him?”

“Tell him I fucking hate him.”

“You don’t hate anybody, baby, I don’t think you’ve got that in your heart. Be serious with me, please. What do I tell him?”

“Tell him,” she thinks for a second, because she absolutely does have the capacity for hate in her heart, “that I can’t choose amongst my friends for a fourth bridesmaid and so I just want to keep the party small with only my sisters.”

He seems satisfied by that, nodding his head. “But I am keeping Santi.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“But…”

Her stare is like daggers, “I’m not talking about Tom anymore.”

“No. No, it’s not that,” he’s laughing, his life is all laughter now. “I just still think we should set Pope up with Kristyn.”

She’s pushing out from under him, sitting up for the higher ground. Her finger is in his face, her words are measured, “If Santiago Garcia even so much as looks at my little sister, I will do what so many have tried and failed to do before.”

“And what's that, sweetheart?”

“I will kill him.”

The whole bed is shaking with his laughter now, “You're right, baby, you’re hilarious.” —————

Will’s in front of them now, hands on his knees, “What's the verdict?”

Tom looks at Frankie, then to Will, “I'm in for the recce if you guys are.”

The world goes quiet, replaced by a high pitched ringing in Frankie’s ear as he downs the world’s shittiest beer.

Fuck.

“Fish?” Santiago’s voice cuts clear through, always had.

Frankie lowers the plastic cup, “When is it?”

“We leave Thursday.”

Fuck.

Again, he lets go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, staring off into the ring. Staring off at nothing and everything.

“Okay.”

This could change his family’s life forever.

Fuck.

TAGLIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @notcookiebelle | @princess76179​ | @bbuckysbeardd​

#i believe in francisco morales supremacy #francisco 'catfish' morales #okay but frankie was actually baby #frankie morales #triple frontier #god i'm really posting another fanfic before bed and dipping i love y'all #fanfiction #pedro pascal #santiago 'pope' garcia #william 'ironhead' miller #benny miller #tom 'redfly' davis #charlie hunnam #oscar isaac #oc #ofc #original character #original female character #fanfic

[souichieatr]

—wave, nishinoya y.

in which he meets them in the library.

they/them used , 1,558 words

a/n: kinda rushed the end bc ive been writing this for awhile so pls dont be too disappointed im honestly just trying to get comfortable writing but i hope you enjoy, lower case intended

“why are we even here ryu its summer we should be going to the pool” the smaller boy whined, entering the library with his best friend. “noya i just need to drop off this book for my sister calm down” tanaka sighed “im gonna head to the jump section meet me there” nishinoya said waving off his friend after the comment was acknowledged. looking for the section he caught a glimpse of and intriguing character, he couldnt see them because of all the book they were carrying. walking to them whispering “hey you look like you need help, mind if i?” startled the person jumps a little. “yes please, my coworker just stacked them on top of me” letting a small laugh out, laughing a little with them he took some books off of the pile so they could see. looking at them his breathing hitched, beautiful is all he could think. after a second of him starting the person asked if he was okay, nodding his head smiling “where we headed with these?” lifting his arm. “to the front, these are donations” they said took a step looking back for the male to follow them. he started to make conversation with questions like ‘whyd your coworker leave?’ ‘do you work here?’ ‘what's your name?’ the walk wasnt that long so he couldn't get to know them that much. “i cant believe you work here? its summer you should be out in the sun!” he said whisper-yelling, with a small laugh they replied “well its easy money and i get to stay with the air conditioning i think its a win win.” putting his hand on his chin and closing his eyes, nodding his head with a hum “who am i to criticize someone whos getting that bag, consider me jealous.” getting a buzz from his pocket he took his phone out seeing tanaka asking where he is. “my friend is looking for me, will you give me the pleasure in obtaining your number?” he said looking up at them, they do the same pose he was doing a minute ago. “well you dont seem like a stalker plus i can repay you for helping me, here” they say grabbing the phone from his hand typing their number and naming the contact ‘y/l/n.’ “well mr nishinoya i will expect a response from you soon” they back up leaning on the books. “oh wait i need a contact picture everyone has one in my phone” he says with a little pride, hearing a laugh from them his smile widens “im not taking a picture i look bad right now” they say turning to the books. “fine next time i see you im getting that picture” he says, giving them a wave “bye y/l/n” waving back to him they nod.

looking back on this memory a smile appeared on their face. getting up from the vanity straightening their clothes. “you ready?” their mom asks with a small smile, looking at her baby memories coming back of their first steps, first words, first fall, first lost tooth. breaking from her thoughts to see her child nod. “okay it's almost time you look good honey” she said, walking up to them fixing any mistakes she finds. “wow i cant believe youre leaving me” looking at their mom with an eyebrow raised “hey now dont get upset with me, its yuu’s fault hes the one who proposed” they say with a smile. “well i cant really be mad, he did ask for permission hes such a gentleman” as she finishes a knock at the door alerts both of them. y/n’s friend at the door pops in. “time to shine and make the male cry y/n'' laughing at their own joke, y/n lets go of their moms hand taking a deep breath. “oh gosh dont joke about him crying i know he will'' they say laughing walking to the door. seeing all the decorations theyve picked out, seeing their family and family run around as they walk, everything feeling in slow motion. in their place their dad comes tears in his eyes. “oh dad cmon” they say nudging him. “oh hush your moms already been bugging me let me be” seeing the people in front of them move they start walking in the doors. seeing all the colors and familiar faces of friends of both parties, forward they see him. when they lock eyes his eyes go wide and he straightens up with a smile. getting to the end of the walkway, letting go of their dad and taking his hands. “wow” he says under his breath. the marriage officiant clears his throat, “i dont wish to keep these two waiting any longer lets start”

it didnt take too long keeping it short and getting to the vows. facing him with a smile, seeing him grab a piece of paper. “i actually came prepared im just that cool” showing everyone the paper getting a couple chuckles from the audience, turning back seeing your eyes watch him his smile gets even bigger. “when i first met y/n i didnt really see them, just a pile of books their coworker dumped on them, to this day i will thank that coworker and ryu for dragging me there. while im thanking people i want to thank y/n for being them, they might not see how perfect they are but in my eyes they are, no one could be or even get remotely close to how perfect i see them. i wanna thank their parents too” he says turning to them “i know its not easy to let go but thank you for trusting me to them, i promise to be the best” he says looking at both of them, determination burning in his eyes when he turns back to look at his partner. “i love you y/n now please dont make me cry with all your big words in your vows'' he says closing his eyes and bringing their joined hands to his face kissing their knuckles. chuckling at his words breaking their hands apart they grab a paper. “i make no promises yuu” seeing him deflate a little “ive had people ask me ‘what is love?’ and i never really knew how to answer besides saying ‘you just kinda know’ even looking up on google how to describe love i never really understood what they were trying to say, but now being with yuu i think i can finally grasp what ive been trying to say. being in love with someone is like surfing, your partner being the water and you being the one riding the wave. you approach the water calmy or you can rush into it, and when the wave comes depending on the size it can range from small and gentle or strong and destructive, even if you are a pro surfer you still get waves that you just cant conquer. now why i bring this up? for once in my life i can say im in love, im so helplessly in love with you yuu. youre the gentle warm wave everyone wants even if i do fall i know youll catch me and bring me to the shore, not to sound cringe and cliche but with you i do feel like i can do anything maybe even surf” laughing at your own little joke you take a breath looking up from your paper to see him. the man you didnt think youd, the man youd soon with for the rest of your life. in tears he lets out a chuckle “we can learn together” he says sniffing, taking his hands once again “im in love with you, yuu” seeing his bottom lip tremble “sir can we hurry this up i really need to kiss the love of my life right now” he says in a hushed voice, the pastor laughs and nods, “i dont think we have any objections? alright beautiful, may we have the rings?” turning to your god daughter as she walks with the rings to the front, giving both of your legs a hug she walks back. handing the rings to each of you, “nishinoya yuu do you take y/l/n y/n as your partner in life?” “yes a hundred times” he says in one breath, putting the ring on your left ring finger gently. “y/l/n y/n do you take nishinoya yuu as your life partner?” “yes, i do” coping his motions, interlocking your hands with the biggest smiles on your faces. “i have the honor of announcing you both married yuu you may kiss your partner.” not wasting time he pulls them towards him locking lips. in slow mention it felt like pulling away, the noise from friends and family, him with his eyes swelled up and red from crying, and to the ring on both of your fingers. “wow we're married” is all he says, “wow we're married” they repeat, he turns to the crowd throwing their joined hands “IM MARRIED!!!” receiving a smile and laugh from everyone, his best friend getting up “BRO YOURE MARRIED '' cheers erupt from everyone again, the sound of the waves crashing wasnt far from them and both of them are determined to catch at least one wave.

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #nishinoya scenarios #hq nishinoya #nishinoya oneshot #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x you #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya fanfiction

[whiterbone-a]

i wanna know what your take on the nanami / gojo relationship is ?? cause a big part of me is like nanami isn't someone who really talks , like you won't get inside of him and he'll make jokes here and there with the whole work is shit thing . but i think he lost his heart and happiness alongside yuu and i think he even said this wasn't a mission first years should be on and the fact that yuu looked up to getou and gojo so much and still got killed was like a fucking blade to the stomach.

i mean do you think there is a romantic possability , i do play around with it but at the same time do you think it would be comforting ?? like i know the big ship is gojo and getou because of how close they were but what is nanami to gojo , a tool and a function or a friend and possible lover ??? and how will his death effect him ???

also were gojo actively smiles , nanami only smiles when death is around the corner and i am like red flags here and there . but sorry this got so long and please feel free to ignore it .

hello and welcome.  take a seat and thank you for joining me.  if this doesnt make sense just pretend u know what im talking about, its the adhd for making my thoughts so scattered everywhere

so in concept the nanami and gojou ship in a romantic concept is rly cute in concept like u have an ex - salary man whos serious doesnt allow himself the luxury of acting his age but on the other end u have someone who still acts like hes a child and never takes anything serious even when hes fighting.  they both endured the trauma being a jujutsu sorcerer entails yet they have nothing in common -- gojou dresses like hes a reflection with the moon and nanami, the sun.  also the fact that gojou thinks that he, himself, is ascended above all he works with while nanami is just a human living his day to day, and lot of ppl use this as nanami to bring down gojou to his morality just like a nudge or a friendly reminder.  he even tolerates and puts up with him a lot more than he should.  hes very patient but very honest.  a lot of the fanart of them is SO CUTE esp when theyre married and living happily with one another.  i even ship them, its actually one of my top ships next to satosugu but like in reality its not so great unfortunately

honestly?  theres a small slim of a possibility but due to the nature of the clash of personalities and what their job its like ... not rly possible

nanami, even out of being a salary man, fully treats being a jujutsu sorcerer as a 9 - 5 job and refuses to work overtime. he has small luxuries like he enjoys reading and eating left overs after a day of working hard like who wouldnt and not to mention hes the type to keep his relationships strictly professional. gojou has probably asked him several times to take him out for drinks after work (altho work never ends with gojou which is ironic) and has said no.  it’s funny now that i think about it,  shouko probably asks him for an occasional drink after hours and he accepts because at least he likes shouko and he knows theres no ulterior motive from her just a couple of coworkers doing some heavy drinking but nothing ever more than that -- hes even said that he wants to get married but when hes no longer a sorcerer

sucks tho, because like everyone else, nanami sees gojou as someone who is extremely powerful and only sees him for his techniques except more like hes a nuisance and extremely annoying, even to the point of having absolutely no respect for him.  he realizes, yeah hes strong but as for the full package that is satoru gojou?  there’s absolutely nothing to respect about that man

and while we’re talking about gojou, i’ll say it, he’s mentally unstable.  i mean, we all knew that -- hes got a couple of “screws loose” as he puts it inside that rattling brain of his.  on the opposite side of the spectrum, hes not capable of handling a romantic relationship.  hes always always busy, its rare that that he gets a breather for himself.  hes always being sent out on missions out of country and ive always portrayed gojou as the type of partner thats not even gentle on his partners in terms of being playful, childish, and being a nuisance.  his mental health is absolutely terrible (i’m not saying nanamis is any better but) hes always acted much younger than what he is altho i do blame his upbringing for that.

and gojou treats everyone as good friends but does like to particularly pick on ppl who take themselves too seriously (nanami and utahime), mei mei and yuki are exempt from this.  he also doesnt rly care for ichiji but like, that doesnt matter LOL.

i do see nanami eventually giving in for one (1) after dinner ‘date’ after work but when gojou is actually less himself, hes tolerable to be around which isnt saying much tbh.  you should def listen to the nanami and gojou drama audio if u can!  they’re so fucking funny as a pair, which solidifies them as being cute but were not talking about that rn.

in terms of being ‘what are they’ to each other, its hard to tell.  i talked about it briefly as nanami reminding him of his morality and being his humility tho gojou doesnt act like it, he fully believes hes above all and everyone, lovers and close friends are included in this.  i read a lot of nana/go fanfics and they portray nanami as someone to push down his ego;  to remind him hes actually Not all that great, a child in an adults body, etc.  he’s a brutality honest man and gojou can take critic and criticisms to his person but that doesnt mean hes going to listen (and he doesnt, hes even self aware that his personality sucks ass but does he bother to change?  absolutely not and he wont start now nor for anyone else).

yuu did definitely help nanami change and shift his ideas about the world, esp hating the jujutsu society afterwards.  like, i dont blame u king, it sucks ass.  tho, i dont think nanami looked up or cared for gojou and getou that much.  getou he looked up to more so because at least hes as a respectable guy, strong, good looking, and stimulates intellectual conversations.  gojou?  not so much.  nanami probably thought that it doesnt matter if u have techniques that is extremely rare to acquire and even more so to master but u suck ass and u dont stimulate joy to be around.

nanami is a good friend and high school buddy to gojou and nanami would definitely call him ‘coworker’ or something along those lines when hes annoyed him too much or doesnt want gojou to benefit too much from simple acknowledgement.  gojou thinks hes an ascended being but he definitely respects and finds nanami to be a strong sorcerer and was rather surprised when he took the 9 - 5 job but it was definitely safer.

death ... ah, i think about this all the time.  it’s like losing suguru all again except he didnt go rogue and kill a whole village.  hes absolutely confident in nanamis abilities to fend off curses and hes too stubborn to let himself die as well, so the idea of him dying doesnt ever cross his mind.  thats a true stab to the gut to hear that nanami has died, maybe a moment of truly being unhinged and a darker nature but we wont rly know until it happens in the manga, which i cant wait.  i mean, at least mei mei, utahime, and shouko are around but this is nanami were talking about.  if this was in terms of a romantic relationship rather than a simple seemingly one - sided friendship of enjoying of being around that person but that person just tolerating him and hoping he goes away eventually.  i can’t say, i can’t say!  just take these thoughts with like a grain of salt.

also that last statement in the ask, gojous smiles are fake and a mask while the rare times nanami does smile, its genuine.

regardless of what i said, i think it can be a comfy ship!  this ship isnt toxic but any means (unless u make it toxic then well, thats a you thing) so just enjoy it!  i know i do i think as long as u recognize that maybe neither of them being a relationship would benefit the other then go stupid go crazy, i know i will.

#jupitersnake #tldr its cute in concept but reality they just dont suit each other but #im a sucker for opposites attract so catch me all over the nana/go tag baybe!!!!!!

[yourlatitude]

indemnify. (i)

Gaius got his second chance from his savior, yet he finds it hard to find justification on her behalf. While Gaius searching for his meaning, someone else is looking for him for another reason.

(18+ Trigger Warning. Explicit. Smut. Heavy one.)

The story is set long after the last war with Rheya and Gaius is confused with his purpose. This is based on my weirdest dream ever. Bloodbound is the perfect story for my dream. In this story, My MC (Adora Ramsey, now Raines) married Adrian and I spare Gaius to have his second chance. This is a two part story. Enjoy!

(Bloodbound: Gaius Augustine x Lily-Rose Raines (OC)) 

PART I. PART II.

i.

London is wet and gloomy. Perfect place for him. 100 years living in England, he feels like finally, he found his perfect lair. After being spared to live, Gaius roamed around the world. Trying to find his reason to live, trying to find justifications why the Goddess decided to spare his life. 

His Goddess.

His steps stopped in front of the Museum building he's been working for. For the last 50 years, he's been telling the story behind all paintings regarding vampires. It's been almost 300 years since his Goddess saved the world from his previous Goddess, fuck that's probably confusing right? But Gaius can't help it. Rheya was his Goddess once. Adora is the Goddess now and Gaius needs someone, fuck, even something to worship. If he isn't a worshipper, he is nothing. When Adora spared his life, she took half of his soul with her.

He decided to go to work earlier today. It's been raining so fucking hard in London since morning and the sun is nowhere to be found. That allows him to go out and blending out with humans. He finds it amusing that after 100 years, humans found vampires no longer interesting. After his Goddess decided to breach the wall between humans and vampires, they live together side-by-side just fine. Silly of him back then, thinking that vampires could rule humans like a little toy when the reality is, humans always evolving. And creatures like him always stuck in one reality, between life and death. But Gaius stopped complaining, if his Goddess decided that this is the kind of life that she thought the best for her kind, then it is the best.

"You are early,"

"No sun outside and I'm bored," he said as he smiles. His coworker just nods and usher him to get inside. Gaius proceeding to walk to his office before he stops in front of a painting he knows too well. 

50 years. 

50 years he's been looking at her face and his heart yearns for a glimpse of her more and more each day. Dark brown hair, almost black in some of its layer, brown eyes too deep, piercing to his soul every single time he stares at them. This painting serves no justice of her beauty, but this is the closest he could be with her.

"You know, her hair is actually not that wavy in real life,"

A soft voice startled him a little bit. Very unusual of him. But again, he got here too early and the museum still packed with humans. Too many voices to concentrate while his eyes are too focused on the painting.

"Yes, it's not. It's actually darker too in real life," he nods and turns around.

His heart stops.

She stands across the room, yet he can hear him perfectly well. Vampire? In the middle of the day? Maybe she finds rain as freedom too like him.

Long golden brown hair framing her face down until it reaches just below her chest. Gaius couldn't see her face clearly as his vision to her got blocked by people walking around repeatedly.

Yet those eyes. She is a vampire.

Pair of deep reddish eyes, staring into his soul. Much more to his dislikes. 

Why her eyes are red? Did she just have her feast? Is she planned to feast here? That would be foolish of her.

He stares and just stares. Can’t bring himself to get a closer look or run to her like how his heart yearns for her, somehow. Why? The voices inside this museum suddenly gone, nothing to his ears as all he can hear is her breathing and the sound of his own heart.

Since when his heart beating this fast? He is a goddamn vampire. Ancient one. His heart isn’t supposed to pumping his blood this loudly.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

Who are you?

That girl walks closer to him. The closer she gets, the stronger her scent filling his nose. The louder her heart sounds. The redder her eyes became. Vampire? Definitely. But she radiates warmth like a human. She smells like a human.

Red eyes. Blood red eyes.

Not until she stops two feet away from him then he realized.

"Adora."

His lips accidentally slipped that name.

“Adora? You know my mom?”

She looks so much like Adora. Unconsciously, he stretches out his hand at her, “Let me feel you.”

That girl looking at him in confusion, yet Gaius still takes his chance. She’s too much like Adora. He needs to make sure.

“Please,” He whispers, chocking his own breath.

Last time he checked, 100 years ago, Adora is still in New York with Adrian, settled down. Happy. Healthy. Why she’s here now in London? Alone? Is God, whichever that is, finally hearing his yearns? Is it his chance already, finally, to have her?

“Who are you?”

That girl takes a step closer him before placing her hand on his.

A rush of warmth and shock almost make Gaius dropped to his knees.

How? How is it possible?

The girl looking at him in more confusion.

How can he not recognize it? Two faces blended into one. Two faces that destroyed and building his soul, again and again, every time Gaius thinks of them. His sins.  

“What’s your name, child?” his words came as a yearning whisper.

She stares at the painting once before he stares at him, “Lily-Rose. Lily-Rose Raines. And you are?”

“Gaius. Gaius Augustine.”

ii.

The second time they meet is in the museum again. But now, he caught her staring at Adora's painting instead of him staring at Adora's painting. 

"You killed her once," she said.

Gaius stops right behind her, framing her smaller figure between his reality and his fantasy, "I did."

“Why?"

"I just did."

She turns around. 

Red blood eyes. Why her eyes are always red? Is she always angry? What makes her always angry?

"Why?" She asked him again.

Gaius sighs and tears his eyes away from hers, "She stood in front of my purpose back then."

"How about now?"

"She is my purpose."

Lily-Rose just nods and they decided to just stay in the silent.

iii.

The third time is in Gaius' office. It was late in the rainy night. 2 weeks after their second meeting. Lily-Rose just sits on one of his office sofas and stares at him for three straight hours.

"Ask if you have something to ask," he said.

She moves so slowly to the armchair, letting her leg stretches out from the slit of her satin gown. Gaius knows she can smell him. Gaius knows she can hear his heartbeat. 

And he is not playing this game with her.

"Aren't you curious about me?" She asks, sounding like a purr to his ears.

"You will tell me what you want to tell me." He gives her a glance before continuing to read the parchment on his desk.

"Aren't you curious about my mom?" She continues. Gaius drops the parchment and sigh.

She knows how to bait him. She is too much like Adora.

"Oh, you curious now? Don't worry, mommy is healthy in New York. Healthy and just as beautiful as your painting." She said with a smirk on her face.

"You look like her,"

She raises an eyebrow, "So you think I'm beautiful?"

"You are."

She roses from her seat and walks to his desk, placing both hands on his desk, proudly, alluringly, wickedly, offering the front view of herself to him.

Yet... it's her eyes, he couldn't stop staring at.

"Your eyes."

"I give you my breast to look at and you focus on my eyes. You miss out on the good stuff, Mr. Augustine." She chuckles. He didn’t.

"Is it always like that?"

They stare at each other before, to his surprise, she tears away from his gaze. Looking shy? Scared? Anxious?

"No. It was brown before." She pulls away from his desk. Gaius tilts his head in amusement and curiosity.

"It was as deep as my mom's. 10 years ago, I had a dream and when I wake up, It changed. Never come back to brown until now."

10 years ago?

"How old are you, Lily-Rose?"

"How old do I look?"

"Barely 20." He answers quickly. Lily-Rose smiles at his answer. "I'm legal enough to be in your bed, Mr. Augustine." She teases.

"Not answering my question."

She sighs, "Do I have to spread my legs in front of you and send you an official letter for you to fuck my vagina? You know what I want from you. You can smell me. I can smell you. Are you that old-fashioned?"

No. Gaius is not playing this game with her

"How old are you, Lily-Rose?"

"Turning 50 this July." 50?

"Are you turned by Adora or Adrian?"

"Both."

Both? A vampire could only have one master.

She slumps on his sofa and stares at him. For once there's no tease in her eyes. Just confusion, and a little hint of fear.

"I am not turned, Mr. Augustine. I was conceived. With my face, you could guess already who is my mom and my dad."

That confirmed his fear. Conceived? How come?

iv.

The fourth time they meet, they fucked. In Gaius' little house on the outskirt of London, 1 month after their last meeting. Lily-Rose in front of his door, in rainy midnight. Wet and crying. The next thing? Gaius couldn't remember.

All he remembers is she fucked him and so did he.

Lily-Rose under him. On top of him. Beside him. Crying. Moaning. Mewling. All Gaius could think is this is the first time Lily-Rose ever called him Gaius instead of Mr. Augustine. 

She called him Gaius while his cock thrusting inside and out her young little cunt. She called him Gaius while his mouth latched to her wet pool. She called him Gaius while he took her from behind, claiming her everything.

Yet she surrenders at his mercy. Letting him using her body, biting her, marking her, and he didn't stop to his disgust.

How could he?

To add his sins, he forgot about his Goddess while his cock burying deep inside her so-called-daughter. 

And he never forgets about Adora before. Never.

Lily-Rose lays beside him. Eyes closed as her breathing calmed down. He could stare at her for days and not complaining about it. She looks so much like Adora, with a hint of Adrian here and there.

“Do you love my mom?” She said, finally opening her eyes.

“I do.” He replies rather quickly. She doesn’t answer, just staring at him with an expression he can't understand.

“You turned my dad. You killed my mom. And now you fucked me. Isn’t it too much of a kink even for you?” She whispers.

“You tempted me. You let me.”

“Did my dad permits you to turn him? Or my mom to kill her?” She propped her head with her elbow, placing one hand on his chest.

“No. But you permitted me,”

She chuckles, “I did. I must be sick. I let you cum all over me.”

Gaius choose not to comment on that. His hands unconsciously caressing the younger vampire’s skin. She is so warm, too warm for a vampire.

“How- how did you happen?” He asked.

Lily-Rose gives him a ‘what the fuck’ look at his question, “Seriously? How did I happen? Sex of course. We just did it.”

“No, Lily-Rose. I know about intercourse. But how? Both of them are vampires. Vampires can’t bear children,”

“I am a miracle.”

You are.

“How?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to have more knowledge than I do? I’m only 50 years old.”

A wife. A child. Adrian gets everything. Is this God showing him mercy?  After all, Adrian did lose everything.

A pang of jealousy hit Gaius so hard, he had to flinch it away. Did he not suffering enough too? He loses everything too. When will God, if there's any, show him some mercy?

“I’m the product of your sins, Mr. Augustine.” She whispers. Is she? She looks more like an angel than a sin.

“Gaius. It’s Gaius. You called me Gaius earlier and I like it better.” he said. Lily-Rose shakes her head, “Gaius is only when your cock is deep inside me, Mr. Augustine. My endearment to you.”

Her hands already stroking him again. His heart clenched when her hand tightening around his shaft and her lips already down on the tip. He can feel he is tempted again.

Shame. Guilt.

“What are you doing to me?” He whispers and she licks him.

Lily-Rose managed to look so innocent as she looks up, “Me? I’m simply sucking your cock, Mr. Augustine.”

Both knows that it’s not what he asked and both knows it’s not the answer.

v.

Every time they met, they fuck. In his office, in his house, in the museum, in the park, in front of Adora's painting.

Just let him die.

They fuck like their time is limited. When they fuck, his intention is to break her. To find reasons why she keeps doing this. Why she let him cum all over her? Inside her, on her face, on her back, on her chest, there's no more fucking spot he hasn't let his cum drip on her already. 

She smells like him.

His heart is full of guilt and shame after they fuck. Looking at the much, much, younger one, laying down on the floor, spent, red skin between her legs and his smell all over her. Why?

He feels guilty for fucking her.

He feels ashamed.

But he couldn't stop. Not when she looks at him like he is her savior. Like she worships him. Solemnly, only him.

"Stop, fuck- Stop-" His breath hitched as he holds her hip, Lily-Rose rocking on top of him, bouncing eagerly as her world depends on it.

"No. I can feel your cock twitching inside me. Here, Gaius. Here." Her hand guides his hand to her navel while she sits on his cock. Red blood eyes staring at him, clouded with arousal and yearn. She yearns for him. 

Does he look like that every time he stares at Adora's painting for 50 years?

"What are you doing to me?" he grunts as he can feel his cock on her navel every time she bounces.

"Make me come, please. Please. Hurt me." She cries as her movement turns clumsy. "What are you doing to me, Lily-Rose? What the f- fuck... are you doing to me?" Gaius moves his hips upwards to meet her movement. 

"Tell me, what the fuck are you doing to me?!" He groans as he flips their situation. Frustrated. Having her crying under him, moaning as her life depends on his cock, his thrust, his decision.

"Please- please make me come. Spill your cum inside me like you usually did. Please. Mark me. Please, please, please."

He wraps his hand around her neck, fastening his pace. Break her. You must break her and you will no longer feel your guilt, Gaius.

Lily-Rose wraps his legs around his hips, claws his back like she's afraid he will stop.

"Tell me and I'll cum inside you, whore."

She opens her eyes as he said that, teary red blood eyes and.... solace?

"I let you taste your own sin, Gaius. I make you do what you love the most. Making sins."

And he comes. He comes so hard inside her, he cries.

She wanted to hurt him.

And she did.

#playchoices #bloodbound #gaius augustine #gaius #adrian raines #bb fanfic #pixelberry #gaius x mc #adrian #this #is #steamy #and #long

[hes-writer]

A Cheat IV

How about when y/n is engaged with her boyfriend and how happy she is with her life but harry is still miserable. He misses her so much that he begs her to take him back, like literally begging. He tells her that he’ll do anything bc it hurts him to see her getting married with someone else. But y/n isn’t having any of it so she tells him “you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now i finally found my happiness again, you’re going to take that away from me too?”

Summary: Harry cheats, Y/N is happy

Warnings: angst

Word count: 3.6k

“That’s what I hoped and gee thanks, have fun with yours too if you ever get over me,”  Harry smirk at her menacingly.

She rolls her eyes, burning from the tears she held back. She remains strong.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

Y/N couldn’t believe how well things have been going for her. In the past eight months after her and Harry’s horrid conclusion to their relationship, Y/N had finally graduated from university after four grueling years of late nights and caffeine coursing through her system. She had gotten a puppy—something that she’d always wanted, but never took the initiative to get one. After tossing her cap in the air during the ceremony with Alan beside her, she was offered a job at a well-known law firm only a few weeks after. Everything is going great.

Not a few days ago, Alan had proposed to her and the engagement ring on her pinky finger was proof of a powering relationship, glimmering against the light of her wooden work desk serving as a backdrop. She smiles to herself, thinking how things finally turned around for her. One of her coworkers passes by, noticing the jewelry adorning her finger and stops to eye her suspiciously, a smile stretching over her face before squealing as Y/N nods shyly. She congratulates Y/N before walking away to her own table.

Y/N’s phone ‘dings’.

Alan

“hey babe, im cooking dinner tonight

what do u want? :))))”

She sighs with satisfaction, having someone supporting her through everything made her feel wanted. Alan is the perfect match for her. Regardless of dating for only six months (they've known each other since high school), he’s been a sturdy shoulder to lean on during the past two where she altered between crying over Harry or being a strong, independent woman that has had enough of being treated like shit. When he asked her out, granted a bit timidly since he wasn’t exactly sure if she was ready to move on, she hesitated but she trusts Alan. She also told herself that not all men are like Harry.

-----

Irene and Harry’s relationship didn’t last long after Y/N caught them in the bathroom. Actually, it ended not too long after. Since Harry’s attention was focused solely on her, Irene took advantage of that and asked him to purchase her a bunch of things that she ‘probably didn’t need’, Harry thinks. I mean, did she honestly need four of the same bags in different colours? Or having Harry book five-star restaurants around the city to celebrate Irene's friend's brother-in-laws birthday? Ridiculous. The price didn’t bother him as he had enough money to buy an island, but hearing her talk his ear off about a new Versace handbag or the recent fall line of Jimmy Choo heels that she just had to get her hands on; he’s had enough. Before officially officially splitting from Y/N, Irene had asked him to buy her stuff, sure, but it used to be minute things like a new perfume or some brand-name makeup. But now, it’s as if she thought her name was titled to Harry’s earnings, threatening to break up with him if he didn’t comply.

At first, he gave in to everything, mistaking the fear of Irene leaving him as something he was deathly afraid of. But now, realizing that the feelings he held for were nothing but sexual infatuation, something exciting and thrilling in his life. Now that he had nothing to hide, his life was giving an off vibe–yearning for Y/N’s presence. Yes, Harry missed Y/N.

He first felt a twinge in his heart in that bathroom, slowly but surely, it kept coming back stronger and more frequently. It happened especially before bed, when Y/N would usually speak to him about her day or ask him about his, or even caress him with gentle touches to calm him before sleeping, he misses her gestures that he only thought of as pestering and nagging during the last few months, but really it was nothing more than actions of love and concern. Irene never gave him a second glance, she cuddled into his chest, manicured razor sharp nails scratching his chest as if to be done as a calming notion, but Harry feels it as a burning sensation that urged him to shift uncomfortably from the woman beside him.

Irene was different from Y/N, stating the obvious. Y/N cleaned the house routinely, cooked the most flavourful dishes, and stocked the kitchen and bathroom with supplies efficiently. Harry believes in splitting the workload and chores between people who lived in the house –which was both of them– but Y/N took special charge in the household activities, saying that Harry needs his rest after being busy the whole day. He feels like a jerk sometimes knowing that she was stressed too, yet she continues to work harder than anyone he’d ever met. Besides that, his comparison was that Irene was rather unforgiving with chores. She’d requested many times that Harry hire someone else to do the work for them, she didn’t even live with him! Saying that her nails were too expensive or that her hands were too precious to handle the pressure of cleaning anything in the house. And when Harry did hire someone, she looked down on the helper as if she had the right to do so. Harry powered through her attitude for the good—recently mediocre— sex and the company.

As things got worse, he didn’t know how much more of Irene he can handle. When he received the news that she was cheating on him with her boss, he snapped. He spoke to that guy in person about giving Irene a promotion and this was how they repaid him. Frankly, it didn’t hurt as much as he’d thought; it didn't hurt as much as his break up with Y/N. He was relieved that she wasn’t going to be around anymore. But all things have an equal and opposite reaction because now, Harry felt extra lonely.

The slight twinge in his heart built into something grander when he was left alone with his own thoughts. Replaying his memories with Y/N trying to see where it went wrong. And at that moment, Harry realizes that it was all his fault. He was the reason why they drifted, he was the reason why she packed her things and left their house with nothing but a few stacks of bills in her hands to last for a few months because he’d essentially kicked her out of his life. What was he thinking?

-----

Y/N was on her lunch break for the day, deciding to grab food at the cafe a few blocks from the firm. She was hastily carrying herself through crowds of people with somewhere to go. Once she arrived, she stands behind a lengthy line of customers waiting to state their order to the cashier. Although Y/N rarely strays from getting her regular items, she scans the menu briefly anyway.

Her turn comes, ordering and paying for her food, she was asked to wait on the left side. The main entrance bell chimes, indicating that someone new had either left or entered the café.

Harry walks in with his grandpa hat covering much of his hair and he hopes that it's doing a good job at disguising his face. His hands held tight in his pockets as his lanky legs move him to the line-up. He did not need to look at the menu since he always gets his coffee black. Instead, his eyes scan the area, looking for watchful eyes from people who have recognized him or casually inspecting his surroundings for the sake of it. His eyes land on a familiar head of hair that he has to blink thrice to make sure of what he was really seeing.

There stood Y/N clad in her matching pantsuit, hair in a ponytail and a bag clutched on her elbow. She looks sideways and he was blessed with a side profile of her face. Oh, how he misses her. He decides to take a detour from his usual escapades and makes a beeline towards her.

"Hey"

Y/N turns around, face visibly displaying a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and anger upon seeing Harry.

"Hi," she says curtly, before turning around as her name was called. She grabs her latte and croissant, turning around swiftly before lightly knocking shoulders with Harry's broad ones, make an escape route to the exit. Even though she still had an hour or so left on her break, she doesn't think that she could handle spending any more time with Harry in the vicinity. So she exits and makes it out on the street that has cleared some during her fifteen minutes indoors.

"Y/N! Y/N, wait. Please," Harry shouts from behind her, weaving his way around people blocking his way to Y/N.

"What do you want, Harry?" You.

"I saw you and wanted to say hi," he explains, eyes finding hers trying to find any kind of emotion that meant she was somehow glad to see him. H finds none.

"Well, you said hi. See you around," Y/N briskly tries to walk away once again but is stopped when he grabs her wrist. A chill makes its way up her spine, heart beating untimely. She gulps.

"Please, Y/N. Let's talk,"

She pretends to look at her watch, rolling her eyes before saying, "Fine. You've got ten minutes,"

The pair walk side-by-side towards a nearby park. The silence between them was uncomfortable for both. Sitting on a bench, Harry shifts his body facing her, clearing his throat.

"I want to apologize for-for what I did before," Y/N can tell that he's nervous by the way his body language breaks down in from of her.

"You mean when you cheated on me and I caught you fucking her brains out in the bathroom? Or was it when you knew that your feelings changed for me but you led me on anyway?" Y/N raises her brows accusingly.

He gulps in response.

"Y-yeah for that. Look, I thought about it and it turns out that I still love you, Y/N. I still have feelings for you,"

She takes a bite of her croissant, shifting her gaze somewhere else and further emphasizing how uncomfortable she was feeling right now.

"And if you'd let me, I want to give it another try. I promise I won't ever do it again. You deserve the world and I'm willing to give it to you. I'll do anything that it takes to have you forgive me," he pleads seriously. If he had to jump off of a bridge for another chance at Y/N's love, he would do it. He will do anything to have Y/N forgive him. Anything.

He was blind without her, lost without any guidance and navigating the world alone. He needed Y/N to tell him that it was gonna be okay when times go rough; he needed Y/N to love him like she did before, the way he does for her right at this very moment. He wants to relive the past where he didn't take her for granted--when they were happy. And if he can't, he might as well give it another shot, to experience the happiness she brought him once again by trying the circumstances. He was ready for it if she was.

"I'm engaged, Harry."

His eyes were like laser beams boring through her face; eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing open and closed and his chest felt crushed from the force of her words. She didn't say in a tone to spite him or make him jealous, it was soft and gentle–merely stating a fact that he obviously missed out on because What?

"Engaged? Y/N, what are you talking about," He spits out nervously, not wanting to accept the truth but wanting to learn more about her status. It’d only been eight months, surely she couldn’t have moved on that fast. You’re one to talk, Harry. He snickers to himself.

"Alan and I—we're getting married," She takes a sip of her beverage, ring glinting against Harry's green eyes and he swears that he just saw his life flash before his eyes.

There it is. The ring that bonded Alan and Y/N together, glistening in the sunlight, taunting him. It rested so gently on her pinky as if it was meant to be there. When Harry imagined this moment, she wore a ring that he had given her because he was the one who got down on a knee, declaring his undying love for her, praising her for her beauty and grace, and asking her the question he'd pictured himself repeat about a hundred times under his breath trying to find the best way to ask her to be his wife.

"Y-you're getting married? Tell me you're lying," He sounds angry, demanding, and in disbelief of what's unfolding right in from of his eyes and ears. "Tell me that you're pulling my leg, love," he says his second statement with great vulnerability, voice cracking in the middle of it to which Y/N retracts her neck, appalled.

"No, I'm not kidding. Why would I do that?" Y/N was confused about why Harry was reacting the way he is right now. Shouldn't he be happy for her? After all, he did break it off between the two of them so he had no right to feel hurt or pained. He had Irene.

"Because I wanted it to be me!" He all but yells at her face. Neck vein straining from the blood rushing to his brain, making him dizzy with the knowledge he just received. Palms sweating profusely forcing him to wipe it on his jeans before he takes hold of her empty hand, taking it in his own which she surprisingly lets him.

"I wanted it to be me. I want you to be mine and now I can't because he—he's the one you're going to marry," A lone tear falls down his eyes, nose starting to get runny from the emotions that overwhelm him. She tries to pull her hand back to herself, but he doesn't let her.

"Why are you crying? You wanted this, you wouldn’t have cheated on me if you didn't want me out of your life," She tries to reason and justifies with his previous actions. Everything was making sense until he spits out the bullshit of still loving her. And even so, why did he wait so long to find her and tell her?

"It was a mistake! I was stupid and a huge asshole, I didn't think of the consequences." He grasps tightly to her hand, fearing that this may be the absolute last time he'll be able to touch her like this. "I took advantage of you, of your love and I shouldn't have because you're the most amazing person in this world. You gave me chance after chance and I didn't deserve any of it b-but I just wished you'd give me another one,"

Harry brings her hand up to his lips, kissing it multiple times while looking in her eyes sincerely.

"I'm glad you know that you already took my heart for granted and left me broken. But now, I finally found my happiness again, you want to take that away from me too? Just so you'd feel satisfied with yourself for getting the girl again?" She pulls away.

"Thanks, I'm flattered but even if I was single, I wouldn't dare give you another chance regardless if you are Harry Styles. I don't care if you can give me the world or anything I want because all I needed was for you to love, trust, and be honest with me." She takes hold of her bag strap blindly, holding her coffee cup in hand and standing up. "You didn't give me any of those,"

Harry stands as well, not prepared to lose her once more. "But I can now! I'll love you so much and I will give every ounce of it out of my body. If that's what you want, I'll do it. Just please,"

"Can't you see, H? I'm happy with Alan now. I've moved on, forgotten about you. For god's sake, I'm getting married!"

Each word she darted out of her mouth was like a gunshot to Harry. Wounds getting deeper and his body feeling heavier than usual, the emotional toll it was giving him was too much for him to handle

"Please. Do the same for yourself. I may not love you the way I did before, but I still care about you," Y/N states gently to Harry. If anything she sees him as a friend, still cares for his well-being. From the short distance, she sees a few girls whispering to each other and pointing at him, obviously recognizing his stance and demeanor.

"But I love you, Y/N! Isn't that enough?"

She only smiles at him before shaking her head, "Sometimes love isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to act on it, and sometimes cheating isn’t a great way to prove that.”

“I hope she was worth it.”

And before he could fire back at a chance to defend himself, the group of girls approaches him suddenly, catching him off guard.

He could hear them requesting to sign their phone cases, could hear the shutter of their phone cameras capturing his dumbfounded face, could hear them chattering about his work and he could hear them praise him for all the things he wasn't. Even with the roar of his crowd performances echoing how much they loved him, nothing beats Y/N's soft voice voicing out an, "I love you, Harry" He feels one girl shake his arm, usually he'd politely ask them to not touch him but at the moment he felt numb.

Because a few meters away, he witnesses Alan and Y/N walking towards each other with the brightest smile on their faces. Greeting each other with a hug, everything about them screamed being in love. Like Harry was, except the girl he adored was loving another man. What hurts the most–when they kissed each others' lips tenderly and his mind plays tricks on him, envisioning that he was the guy that Y/N was with except it flicks back to reality much too soon than he’d like it to be.

His imagination is proof of what could've been him and Y/N spending the rest of their lives together but of course, he’d mess that future up. He stands there wishing he could turn back time, praying to whoever it is up there that could help him find love again. Because his heart continuously breaks seeing her be happy with somebody else.

——- If you like it, shoot me a message If you don’t, pretend you do requests are open!

#harry styles angst #harry #harrystyles #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles one shots #harry styles writing #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles cheating #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry writings #my writing #angst #cheating

[soundofseventeen]

Sleeping Beauty (Yoon Jeonghan)

Hello! Surprise 2 day post because I feel bad about being messed up in posting! Enjoy! 

Masterlist

*Fairy Tale*

You twirled around the forest, singing to yourself as you picked berries, animals dancing around with you. You felt so at peace as you walked, the sun on your skin, fresh air filling your lungs. Your aunts had sent you out to collect berries for your birthday cake, which you knew was just a distraction to get you out of the cottage, since you collected berries the day before. 

You still sang to yourself, sitting by a river, enjoying the sun on your skin. You never minded your alone time. It brought you peace in your heart. You had just finished telling the animals around you about yet another dream you had about a certain prince, coming and sweeping you off your feet and stealing your heart. 

As you sang, you began to notice something. There was another voice. Illogically, you looked at each of the animals around you as you sang, trying to see which one was singing with you. Upon seeing none of them singing with you, you slowly stopped singing. The other voice continued, causing you to stand. You weren’t alone in the forest. 

“Hello?” You called, causing the singing to stop. “Who’s there? I’m armed!” You said, picking up a stick. Slowly a boy around your age stepped out from behind a tree, both hands in the air. 

“I mean no harm.” He said with a grin on his face. You still held the stick, ready to swing if he were to attack. 

“Who are you?” You asked, trying to sound brave. He chuckled, letting his arms fall. 

“I could ask you the same question.” He said, but then shrugged. “Of course, we have met before.” 

“We… We have?” You asked, and he nodded.

“Don’t you remember?” He asked, and you shake your head. You had never seen this boy before in your entire life. “Really? Well, I must not be as effective as I thought.” 

“What are you talking about? You must be thinking of someone else.” You said, still holding the stick, but a little looser now. 

“No, I’m positive it was you. I can’t believe you don’t remember.” He said, leaning on the tree. 

“Remember what?” 

“When we danced upon a dream.”

*Today*

“Y/N, your new patient is in room 13.” The receptionist said, handing you a clipboard. You smiled at her as you scanned through the sheet, trying to learn the information about your newest patient. You walked down the hall, nodding at coworkers before getting to room 13 and walking in. 

“Well, well…” You said, looking at the person unconscious in the bed. He didn’t seem to have any scratches on his arms or face, in fact from the outside, he looked perfectly healthy. “What happened to you buddy?” You looked over the sheet again. 

He was apparently brought in by someone that morning, saying he was out for a run by the lake when he found him. He was washed up on the shore, but there wasn’t a boat in sight. Probably someone out fishing during last night’s storm who couldn’t make it back in time. His vitals all looked good, and the emergency doctors couldn’t find any internal damage. There was absolutely no signs that anything even happened to this guy. 

“So…” You muttered, turning back to him, eyes still shut and motionless, but still breathing. “Why are you asleep…?” 

The doctor walked in, asking for a briefing. You gave as much as you could, which admittedly wasn’t really anything, and then they left, leaving you to get some new updates. You sighed, going to take his pulse. You focused your attention on his wrist, counting with the beats, not noticing the eyes opening behind you. 

“Where am I?” You jumped, letting out a yelp. You looked behind you and saw the patient lying in the bed, this time looking at you. 

“You’re awake?” You said, though that was obvious. 

“Who are you?” He asked, looking at you with concern. 

“I’m Y/N. I’m your nurse. Do you know who you are?” He blinked at you a few times, trying to sit up. 

“I… I think… I… Where am I?” 

“You’re in the hospital. You were brought in this morning after being found unconscious. Do you know your name?” 

“Jeonghan. My name is Jeonghan. I don’t recognize any of this…” He looked around the room, starting to panic. It appeared things were slowly coming back to him.

“Okay, you need to relax. You must have some short term memory loss. I’ll get the doctor to come examine you.” 

“Wait a minute.” He grabbed your wrist as you started to walk away, causing you to turn back to him. 

“What? Does something hurt?” You asked, looking at him, but he just stared at you wide eyed. “What’s wrong?”

“I remember you.” 

*Fairy Tale*

“Aunties! The most amazing thing has just happened!” You grinned, skipping into the cottage, stopping at seeing the large cake and new dress in the kitchen. “What’s this?” 

“Surprise!” All three of your aunts yelled, popping up from around the room, wrapping you in a hug. 

“Happy birthday Miss Y/N!” They squealed, releasing you from the hug. 

“Thank you very much.” You smiled, hugging them each individually. You looked over at the dress, thinking it was far too nice for you to wear. “What’s this for? I have no reason to wear a dress that nice.” You chuckled, looking at them all. 

“Y/N, you’re now old enough for us to tell you the truth.” You looked at them, confused. 

“The truth?” You said, sitting in the seat one of your aunts gestured to. 

“Yes… The truth about who you are.” 

You sat stunned as they explained the whole story to you. From the curse placed on you as a child to your parents giving you to three fairies to raise you. That the curse would be lifted after this birthday, you simply had to make it until midnight tonight. Then the curse would be lifted and you would be able to live the rest of your life as the princess you were supposed to be. 

And the part of being engaged to a prince of a neighboring kingdom, who you were supposed to meet tonight. 

Your aunts, or the fairies, looked at you in concern as they told their story. They expected you to be thrilled by this news. You were a princess after all! But for some reason, you looked… sad at this news. You looked over at the door, thinking about the plans you made for the boy in the forest to come tonight for cake and to meet your aunts. 

“Y/N, are you alright? I understand this is a lot of information, but it is your fate…” One of your aunts said, putting a hand on your shoulder. 

“No, I understand, I just… I was supposed to…” You started, your heart deflating. 

“You should go pack up, deary. We need to be on the road to get you back to the castle soon. We will have some cake on the way back, okay?” She smiled, nudging you to your room. You knew they all wanted to discuss your reaction, but of course not in front of you. 

You sat on your bed, sighing. Your entire life had been a lie, and now you had to go marry this prince. You weren’t even sure if you were going to marry the boy you met in the forest, but your heart still felt sad at the fact that it would never happen. 

*Today*

“You… You what?” You said, looking at Jeonghan in confusion. 

“I remember you!” He said, excitedly trying to get up but being stopped by wires. He looked at them in confusion, then back at you. “Y/N, what are all these?” He tugged at one, wincing in pain. 

“Those are IV’s! Don’t pull them!” You said, adjusting the tubes again. 

“IV’s?” He asked, and you nodded your head. “Weird…” 

“What do you mean you remember me?” You asked, looking at him. This time when he looked up at you, he had mild panic on his face. 

“Wait… You don’t… You don’t remember me?” 

You looked at him for a couple seconds, shaking your head. 

“What? No, that’s impossible…” He leaned back, eyes going left and right as he thought. “No, there can’t be another curse...” 

“Please stay calm. Freaking out won’t do anything to help you. I’m going to go get your doctor and he’s going to-”

“But you have to remember me! I’m your husband!” He said, and you raised an eyebrow. 

“My husband?” You said skeptically. 

“Yes!” He nodded, holding his left hand up to you. “See?” You stared at the naked hand, giving him a look. He looked at his hand, realizing his ring wasn’t on his finger anymore. “My ring… Where’s my ring?” He started to panic again, so you started towards the door. 

“Doctor!” You called down the hall, taking one last glance before running down the hallway. “Doctor! He woke up! Come quickly!” You saw him come out of his office. 

“He’s awake?” You nodded as he started walking towards you. 

“Yes, I think he has some kind of head trauma. He thinks… He thinks he knows me.” You purposefully left out the married part, slightly embarrassed. He walked ahead of you, walking into the room, stopping by the bed. You followed after, stopping in your tracks as you saw Jeonghan. 

He was unconscious again. 

“Sir, I swear he was awake.” You said, hoping you didn’t sound crazy. 

“I believe you. It might have been a temporary thing. Keep an eye on him, alright? His vitals all still look good…” He said, looking at a couple things and checking him out. Soon he left, leaving you alone with the patient again. 

“Who are you…” 

*Fairy Tale*

“Call the gods, I’m in love!” Jeonghan yelled as he walked into the hall, a grin covering his face. He saw Chan and Seungcheol sitting in chairs off to the side, heads turning towards Jeonghan as he strolled in. 

“Oh boy.” Seungcheol said, shaking his head and getting up to greet his friend. “I thought we were supposed to go to visit Soonyoung today? He had a new idea for a policy he wanted us to go over?” He called, Chan following his lead. 

“Sorry guys. But when love calls, love calls!” Jeonghan smiled, meeting his friends half way. 

“Woah, woah, woah. What’s this about love?” Chan asked, raising an eyebrow. Jeonghan put an arm around Chan’s shoulders, letting out a sigh. 

“I’m talking about me. I have had my heart stolen by a girl in the forest.” Both his friends raised eyebrows now. 

“A forest girl?” Seungcheol asked, causing Jeonghan to nod. 

“That sounds lovely Han, but aren’t you kind of… Oh, I don’t know, engaged to the princess of your neighboring kingdom?” Chan looked at him, mildly confused. Jeonghan shrugged. 

“It’s not super official.” 

“Wasn’t it announced when you two were like, born?” Seungcheol chuckled, humored by his friends pure joy right now. 

“Look, no one has seen this princess since then. For all we know, she has no interest in marrying me either!” 

“We all know this doesn’t work by interest.” Chan said, and Jeonghan looked at him, for the first time his smile starting to fall. 

“You think my father will say no?” He asked, and Seungcheol shrugged. 

“It’s possible. He’s wanted to combine your kingdoms since you were born. He’s probably not going to just let this go…” Jeonghan’s smile fully fell now, realizing Seungcheol might be right. 

“Well, I will just have to convince him that I’m a prince who can make his own choices.” 

“You mean like we’ve been trying to do our whole lives?” 

“It worked for Mingyu.”

“Mingyu’s father’s a lot more lenient than yours is. And if I recall Mingyu almost had to have an arranged marriage.” Seungcheol countered, Jeonghan groaning. 

“Oh just go home and see your wife.” Jeonghan said, releasing Chan. Seungcheol looked like he was about to argue, but then a smile came to his face. 

“Gladly. C’mon Chan. We’ll feed you tonight.” He nodded his head towards the door. “Jeonghan has some convincing to do.” He winked, leading the other boy out the front door. 

*Today*

“Officer?” You asked, walking into the lobby. The dark haired boy looked up at you, confused to see you. 

“Y/N?” Seungcheol walked up to you, giving you a small hug. “What are you doing here? I thought you usually didn’t work this day?” You shrugged. 

“They called me this morning. Someone brought in some unconscious guy so-”

“Oh yeah, how is he?” You looked at him, confused. 

“You know something about him?” You asked, hopeful for some answers. To your disappointment, Seungcheol shook his head. 

“Not really. I just brought him in this morning after finding him.” 

“You’re the one that found him?” You asked, to which Seungcheol nodded. “Wow, what a small world.” 

“So how is he?” Seungcheol asked, and you shrugged. 

“Not much change. He did wake up for a little bit, and I think he might have some head damage, because he wasn’t really making sense.” You looked at him. “Did you just come to check on him?” 

“Kind of… I don’t know, but something told me I should? Like… I don’t really know why. I just had this… urge to come here.” 

“If you want, you could come say hello. Maybe he’ll wake up again.” Seungcheol quickly shook his head.

“No, no. That’s alright. He’s not going to know who I am anyway. Hopefully he’s okay soon.” Seungcheol turned to leave, stopping when his eyes caught something down the hall. “Hey… What’s down there?” You looked down the hall, spotting a series of rooms. 

“Oh, those are our coma patients. Most of the people down there have been asleep as long as I can remember.” You said, not thinking much of it. Seungcheol was still looking down the hall. “Look, why don’t you go home. It’s been kind of a weird day for you. I’ll call you if I get any updates, okay?” 

Seungcheol looked back to you and nodded his head, patting your shoulder. You turned to walk back down the hall, completely missing as Seungcheol walked right down the hall instead of out the door. 

*Fairy Tale*

Jeonghan followed the fairies, trying hard not to think about how much his lungs were breathing or how much his body hurt. He had just slain a dragon. He never thought that day would actually come, but here he was. The three fairies he followed swore that the princess he was engaged to marry was the same girl he met in the forest, and for reasons he couldn’t entirely figure out, he believed them. He stopped at a window, shocked at what he saw. The entire kingdom was asleep. Another charm done by the fairies to protect the kingdom until they could wake up the princess. 

“Your Highness!” One of the fairies squeaked, bringing Jeonghan’s attention back. “We’re almost there.” She said, and he nodded, catching his breath as he continued to follow the fairies up stairs and through the halls. 

Finally he was face to face with a grand door. He breathed heavily staring at it. This was it. This was the moment that could change his life forever. This could lead to his fate. 

“Come on, quickly!” One of the fairies squeaked, slipping through a crack in the door. The other two followed, leaving Jeonghan alone in the hallway. He took a deep breath, put a hand on the handle, and pushed the door open. 

The room was dark as he walked in, he walked slowly as his eyes adjusted. He tried to find the fairies, hoping that would continue to lead him in the right direction. Eventually his eyes found a little blue fluttering light, and as he walked towards it he saw a red one too. Finally he saw the green one, which fluttered over a bed with a lamp next to it. His eyes went to the bed, and there you were.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was actually the girl from the forest. The one who managed to steal his heart in a single afternoon. And now she was here in a fancy dress, lying perfectly still. If he hadn’t known about the curse, he would have assumed she was just sleeping peacefully. 

“How do I wake her?” He asked, almost in a whisper, as if he was scared that his own voice would somehow ruin everything they worked for. 

“True Love’s Kiss.” One of the fairies squeaked, and Jeonghan looked back to you. For the first time in this whole rescue plan, he had doubt. 

“What if… What if I’m not… I might not be…” He stuttered, one of the fairies landing on his shoulder. 

“We won’t know until you try.” She said, and Jeonghan looked at her, slightly nodding his head. The fairy fled his shoulder as he took a step towards you, sitting lightly on the bed next to you. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and leaning forward to place a light kiss on your forehead. As he pulled back, he still remained close to your face, silently watching you. 

If might have only been a couple seconds, but it felt like an eternity to everyone in the room for you to open your eyes. 

Jeonghan felt his heart stop as the eyes he fell in love with looked back up at him. The curse had been broken. 

“It’s you.” You smiled, looking up at the boy from the forest. 

“You can call me Jeonghan if you’d like.” He grinned, helping you sit up. You looked around the room, spotting the fairies flying above, cheering. 

“Hello Jeonghan, I’m Y/N. What happened? Where am I?” You looked around the room again, a little spooked by how dark it was. 

“I’ll explain as we get you out of here. I think you’ve spent enough time separated from your family.” He smiled, standing up and holding out a hand to help you stand up. “Oh, one question.” 

“Yes?” You asked as Jeonghan leaned close to you, almost having your foreheads touched. 

“Did we dance in your dream this time?” 

*Today*

“He hasn’t woken up since?” Another nurse asked, causing you to pick your head up. You shook your head and they let out a sigh. 

“Not once.” You said, and they came to put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you go home? You’ve spent a lot of time in here today, plus your shift is over.” You sighed, looking up at them. 

“I know… I just… I can’t explain it. There’s something inside me that feels like I need to be here…” They looked from you to Jeonghan, letting out a sigh. 

“Why don’t you go get something to eat? I’ll stay with him while you’re gone.” They offered. You were about to deny the offer, but then your stomach growled. 

“Okay… Thank you. I’ll be quick.” You smiled and got up, leaving the room as they took your seat. 

Your mind was reeling as you ate dinner. You knew you were being crazy. There was no way you actually knew they guy. He just managed to get in your head. That’s all. You had never seen him before this morning. 

But it was weird to you because Seungcheol felt the same urge to check on him? Granted, Seungcheol was the one who found him, and you were the one who had been taking care of him all day, so that could be it. Yeah, that had to be it. 

You took your last bite of food, pushing the tray away. You were determined to go back to his room and telling the other nurse that you were going to go home. You owed nothing to this guy. He was just some crazy guy who got knocked unconscious. That’s all. 

You felt a warm breeze brush past you, causing you to look around. You were just thinking it must be some summer air as you slumped forward onto the table, passing out. 

You felt your eyes opening, panicking that this was happening again. You couldn’t have been cursed again. Not again. This kind of thing was only supposed to happen once in a princesses lifetime. As you opened your eyes, your head stung with pain, having landed on your fork. You looked around, seeing other people confused. You were trying to piece together where you were, and why you were wearing these clothes, as you saw pairs of people reuniting and hugging each other. 

“Jeonghan?” You called, looking around. If you were here, he had to be here too. Of course, the last thing you remember was sitting in the gardens of your castle, Jeonghan about to leave to go visit a neighboring kingdom. You got up, starting to walk down the hallway. 

“Jeonghan!” You called again, hoping he could hear you. You jumped as someone jumped out of a room on the other end of the hall, wearing the same outfit you were. You recognized him as one of the guards from your castle. 

“Your Highness! Down here!” He waved, your heart rate picked up and you ran down the hall, concerned by the look on his face. Wherever you were, it didn’t seem like a place you wanted to find your loved ones. You turned the corner of the room, heart stopping. 

“No…” You said, looking at the guard. You looked back at the bed, seeing Jeonghan unconscious. “No… No, this can’t be right. What happened?” You asked, going to sit next to him. 

“I’m not sure. I woke up on that chair and he has yet to wake up.” He said, as you took Jeonghan’s hand in yours. 

“Jeonghan, you need to wake up.” You said, feeling tears in your eyes. “Please. I don’t know where we are or what’s happening but I’m scared. I need you to wake up.” You pressed your forehead to his, taking a deep breath. You shook your head, placing a light kiss on his forehead. As you pulled back to wipe the tears from your eyes, you missed the moment of Jeonghan opening his eyes, hesitantly watching you. 

“Y/N…” Your head turned, stopping when your eyes met Jeonghan’s. The same eyes that captured your heart all that time ago. 

“Jeonghan, you’re okay!” You smiled, putting your hands on either side of his face. “Oh thank god, you’re okay.” 

“...You remember?” He asked, and you gave him a confused look. 

“Remember? Of course I remember, why wouldn’t I?” 

“Then who am I to you?” He asked, sitting up. You continued to look at him confused, not sure where he was going with this. 

“You’re… Jeonghan?” He continued to look at you, waiting for you to continue. “You’re my prince and my husband? We met in the forest and danced upon dreams-” You were cut off as Jeonghan wrapped both his arms around you, pulling you close to him. 

“You remember…” He said, still leaving you confused. He pulled back and examined your face. “What happened to your head?” He asked, lightly touching the marks on your forehead. 

“I think I passed out on a fork…” You said, looking to your side. “Jeonghan, where are we?” 

“I’m not sure… But it seems like we’re not the only ones.” He sighed, leaning close to you. “We might want to get out of here.” You nodded, helping him out of the bed and leaving the room, holding onto his arm. 

“I knew you’d find me. Just like I found you.” He smiled, looking at you. 

“I guess we’re even now.” You laughed as he pulled your hand to place a kiss on it. He stopped walking, suddenly listening. 

“Wait… I think I hear Seungcheol.” He said, pulling you down the hall.

#seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen drabbles #seventeen oneshot #seventeen series #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan au #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan fic #jeonghan drabbles #jeonghan oneshot #jeonghan x reader #fairy tale au

[maypalserrup]

Ever the Worrier (With Good Reason) -- Rafael Aveiro x MC

“Ever the Worrier (With Good Reason)” -- Angst, I think

Rafael Aveiro x f!MC (Rosalie Valentina - I know Raf is Brazilian, but Ro is Mexican and Cuban)

Word count: 2512

Warnings: Mentions of blood, physical trauma, and other medical procedures. Mentions of death but no one dies ________________________________________________________________

Guess who finally wrote a fic again!! I wrote half of this at midnight when my laundry was drying, so it might be kinda clunky. Also I’m a mexican ass mf who loves telenovelas, and this is def a telenovela-y.

In this, Rafael and Rosalie are engaged. Rafael is victim to a freak accident at work and is rushed to the E.R., but Rosalie’s coworkers try and keep her from knowing he’s hurt. Enjoy! ________________________________________________________________ Dr. Rosalie Valentina had just finished up with a patient; a twenty-two-year-old with an epidermoid cyst under her right armpit. An injection of lidocaine, a small incision and some cotton packing later, and she was sent home just fine. It had been a relatively easy day in the hospital--a few broken bones, some lacerations of varying depths, a case of a middle-aged woman coughing up blood. Collecting discharge papers for the twenty-two-year-old from the receptionist desk, Rosalie’s attention was piqued as she heard hustling, yelling, and commotion coming from the ambulance bay. She set the papers down on the desk, hurrying over as she saw multiple doctors and nurses flood the stretcher as it was rolled through the automatic doors.

“How can I help?” Rosalie asked a nurse bustling by. The nurse paused, biting his lip.

“We’re okay. Just tend to your patients, doctor.” He went to move again.

“Wait! Clearly you’re not! You have Dr. Mirani and three residents all crowding around a stretcher. That’s not okay!”

“Just trust me, doctor. It’s okay.” The nurse nodded quickly before hurrying to the stretcher as it was pushed down the linoleum floors. Rosalie tried to see, tried to ask what people needed. She could easily sense Jackie hide the face of the patient on the stretcher, pumping the BVM over their mouth. Rosalie knew she was being pushy, and that she might get reprimanded for not being able to follow instruction, but in the pit of her stomach she felt that something was wrong.

“It was a freak accident. He was helping a car crash victim on the side of the road and a drunk driver side-swiped the two of them. Sent patient flying and killed the original victim on impact. He flew into an old fence on the side of the road and was impaled by an old fence post,” One of the paramedics rambled to Dr. Mirani, who took in all the information with a straight face. The paramedic looked ashy and queasy in shock.

Jackie hunching over the patient’s face wasn’t enough to hide from the thin wooden fence post running through the left side of patient. Despite seeing many things in the E.R., she felt queasy looking at the patient’s blood dried on the post, the coagulation collecting around where wood met torn flesh.

“BP’s 67/46 and dropping!” One of the nurses yelled, and Jackie looked up reflexively. When she looked up, Rosalie saw the face of the unconscious patient on the stretcher. Extreme blood loss couldn’t hide all the warmth of sun-kissed South American skin, and a swollen, beaten and bloody face couldn’t hide the sharpness of cheekbones or gentle curve of his mouth. 

Dr. Mirani shouted something about contacting the blood bank upstairs, but half the sentence warbled in her brain and all she could register was a crackling static and blood rushing in her ears. All the blood in Rosalie’s body pooled in her feet, and she felt all the color drain from her face as she got an extreme headrush, one that knocked her unconscious and sent her tumbling to the floor.

“Get Aveiro to O.R. four! Emergency surgical team is already assembled!” ________________________________________________________________ She was in an emergency department patient room, one of the ones with the blue curtains separating the patient from the rest of the floor. But she wasn’t attending to a patient--she was the patient.

The lights of the room had never seemed so blinding to Rosalie before. Her eyes fluttered rapidly, getting adjusted to the light in the room. She looked around--at the ceiling tiles, at the warmed blanket draped over her body, the blood pressure clip on her finger, the IV in the back of her left hand, covered in clear tape. The plastic covering of the IV and the engagement ring on her finger glittered under the fluorescents.

Rosalie went through the events she remembered before her fainting. She remembered multiple doctors crowded around a stretcher rushing in from the ambulance bay, Jackie hunching over the patient’s face, the wooden post sticking out of the patient’s abdomen. And oh God, the patient.

Her favorite superhero, her fiance. Paramedic Rafael Aveiro, lying unconscious on a stretcher with a wooden post jutting up from his abdomen. Suddenly, she felt extremely queasy, and before she realized what was happening, she leaned over the side of the bed and vomited up the small amount of food she had in her stomach. Toast, shitty cafeteria coffee, a banana. And lots of stomach bile. She made a hissing noise, holding the blanket up to her runny nose, her throat and sinuses burning from throwing up.

Upon hearing her vomiting, Sienna pushed the curtain aside, peeking in the room. “Hey, Ro. You’re awake.” She gave a small smile, then looked at the vomit on the floor. “And queasy, I see.”

Rosalie looked Sienna dead in the eye. “Sienna, you’re my best friend. How’s Raf doing?”

Sienna frowned. “Still in surgery. You were only out for a minute or two, but we gave you a sedative to keep you asleep.”

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Two hours.”

“Two hours! Sienna-” Her heart monitor began to beep faster, and Sienna shushed her.

“It was for your own good and you know it, Ro.” Sienna walked toward her and sat on the side of her bed. “I don’t have any word on Rafael yet. But he’s in some of the best hands in the country. The world, even.”

Sienna reached forward and tucked a strand of Rosalie’s hair behind her ear. “We didn’t want you making yourself sick for hours on end,” she paused, looked at the vomit on the floor, and back at Rosalie, “Well, more than you already did.”

Rosalie couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile before her eyes welled up with tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do without him if he dies, Sienna. I think a part of me would die, too.”

Sienna took Rosalie’s right hand in hers--the one without the IV--and rubbed the pad of her thumb comfortingly along the back. “I know it’s scary. But all we can do right now is think good thoughts. Rafael is one of the luckiest men I know with all sorts of good karma. In my heart I know he has one of the highest chances of being okay. He has the best surgical doctors from every applicable department in that OR right now. He’s in the best hands possible.”

It was moments like these Rosalie was infinitely grateful for someone as wonderful as Sienna Trinh in her life. She was the kindest, most genuine person she had the pleasure of meeting, and she didn’t know how she would be able to get through this moment without her.

Sienna’s pager beeped and she hopped off the bed, checking it. “Mirani paged me. I’ll check in on you later and bring you something to eat, too. And I’ll send someone to clean up the mess.” She gave Rosalie a warm smile before disappearing into the organized chaos of the emergency department. Rosalie let her head fall back into the pillows of the hospital bed, tears in her eyes. She did her best to not think about Rafael, but all her mind was doing was replaying the scene over and over in her head where she looked from the wooden post up to Rafael’s unconscious face. The memory made her physically ill, and she had to suppress a gag once more. Subconsciously, she began to twist the engagement ring around her finger. Raf had bought it for her whilst visiting family in Brazil. It was beautiful--a golden band with a round cut black diamond surrounded by two round cut imperial topaz, which was a gemstone native to only a small mine in Minas Gerais. The topaz was when adorned with two small champagne diamonds, creating a formation looking similar to a flower.

Looking up at the ceiling, Rosalie did her best to take her mind of Rafael. She started finding designs in the plaster above, and she ended up drifting off before she knew it. ________________________________________________________________

A gentle hand on Rosalie’s shoulder shook her awake. She hummed her response, trying to force her eyes open, despite her sleepiness. “Hmm?”

“Ro,” Sienna said, softly. “Rafael’s out of surgery. He’s in the ICU, he’s stable. We think he’s going to make it.”

Even half-asleep, Rosalie registered what Sienna was saying and she felt tears well up in her eyes. This time, though, they were tears of joy, not anguish. She hadn’t ever been this happy, this relieved: not when she found out she got into one of the most prestigious medical schools on the East Coast; not when she found out her idol, Dr. Ethan Ramsey, hand-selected her application for a job at Edenbrook; not when she watched Rafael get down on one knee on a cobblestone bridge over the Charles River under the full moon and asked her to marry him. No, she had never been this happy before.

“Can I see him?” Rosalie whispered, looking up at Sienna.

“Technically no,” Sienna grinned. “But you’re a doctor. Maybe you’re just coming with me to help with his evaluation.”

“Sienna Trinh, I do love you.”

“I know, Ro.” She reached forward and took off the blood pressure clip, and peeled the tape off the back of her hand before grabbing gauze and removing her IV, taping a gauze square over the needle site. “I love you, too. He’s in room 408.”

Rosalie all but jumped off the bed, and Sienna stopped her to hand her a brown paper bag, full of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a bottle of water, and a brownie she baked last night. “Please consider walking. And eat on your way, will you?”

“Yes, Dr. Trinh.” Rosalie leaned forward to kiss her best friend’s cheek. She slipped her shoes on, which had been at the end of her bed, and pulled on the sweatshirt of hers Sienna retrieved from her locker. She gave Sienna a brief wave as she stepped out of the room, opening the paper bag to pull out the sandwich, wrapped in wax paper. Sienna liked to minimize her plastic use.

Trying to slink away from the doctors and nurses that would keep her from getting to her fiance faster, Rosalie got to the elevator and pressed the up button. Inside the elevator, watching the red light display each floor number was torture when it felt like they were minutes instead, minutes counting down to her seeing Rafael safe in the hospital bed.

The doors pulled open and she did her best to not speed out of the elevator, walking briskly as she navigated the quiet corridors, counting each room placard aloud to herself before finally getting to 408. Rosalie knocked briefly reflexively before opening the door slowly, cautiously. She peeked her head in first, then slinked the rest of the way in, her heart hurting as she saw Rafael laying on the hospital bed, peacefully asleep. It was eerily quiet, with nothing but the steady beep of the heart monitor and the hum of the machines echoing around the room.

His eyelashes were always so long, brushing his cheekbones under his eyelids. He had a few  bruises on his cheek, and a cut held together by two butterfly bandages. A nasal cannula ran from his nose to the flowmeter in the wall. The light blue cotton linens were pulled up to his chest, and someone brought up one of the quilts from the on-call room and laid it atop the blanket, across his legs. His arms were by his sides, miscellaneous tubes sticking from different points within his hands and arms, covered in sticky tapes and wrapped in bandages, an oximeter on his fingertip. She hurried to his bedside, taking his hand gently in hers as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Raf,” She said softly, bringing his hand up to her lips gently as she pressed a kiss to the back of it. “You’re so stupidly brave. I always told you you had to take care of yourself on the job, too. You’re too selfless.” She sniffled, lowering her head and looking at his abdomen. It was covered by linens, but under it, she knew it was covered in bandages and stitches and plastic coverings.

“Sienna said the surgery went well. I know we’re just waiting for you to wake up. Once you wake up, we know you’ll be okay. You gotta do it for me, Rafael. Make it through this and wait on being stupid until we get married at least. Please.” She was half crying, half laughing as she pulled a chair from beside the bedside table, sitting down and resting her head on the bed beside him, still holding his hand.

For someone who had just slept for hours from a sedative, she was still exhausted, and before she knew it, the gentle hospital lullaby of monitors and machines were lulling her into sleep. ________________________________________________________________ When Rosalie woke up, she was surprised to hear the TV on. She blearily blinked the sleep from her eyes, looking up to see the screen on, playing a telenovela she had watched time and time again when she was stuck at home sick. She heard a quiet chuckle, and her head whipped around.

“For someone who was panicking over me, you’d think that when you wake up the first thing you’d look at is me.” Rafael had small, sleepy smile on his face. His eyes were droopy, full of exhaustion. But he was awake.

Rosalie had to keep herself from crying in excitement. “Raf! Oh, gracias a dios,” she took his hand in hers again, squeezing it gently to not irritate the tubing. “How are you feeling? I was so worried!”

He laughed before wincing, clutching his abdomen. Rosalie winced, too. “You sound like my avo. Ever the worrier, Rosalie.”

Rosalie’s jaw dropped. “¡Ni en pedo! Do you even know what happened to you? I was worried sick! Literally sick, Raf--I threw up all over the linoleum in the E.R.”

Rafael rolled his eyes affectionately, snorting. “I do, Ro. Dr. Mirani told me when I first woke up. He was a bit unhappy to see you slumped over my bed when I hadn’t been approved for visitors. He told me that you haven’t left the hospital in over a day. Why didn’t you go home?”

“And leave you here? What kind of fiancée would I be if I did that?”

“One that took care of herself.” He smiled softly. Although his exhaustion was evident, his smile still reached his eyes. It was Rosalie’s favorite smile of his. For someone who was constantly smiling, the gentle smiles that showed in the eyes more than the mouth was her absolute favorite. “I love you, princesa. Thank you for staying with me.”

“I love you too, Rafael. And I would stay in here for the rest of my life if it meant I could make sure you were doing okay.” ________________________________________________________________ Spanish translations:   - “Gracias a dios!” -- Thank God  - “¡Ni en pedo!” -- essentially “fat chance!” or “there’s no way!” 

#Rafael aveiro #Rafael a #open heart #choices open heart #choices OH #open heart rafael #open heart Rafael aveiro #Rafael Aveiro x mc #Rafael Aveiro fic #choices #play choices

[divainity-aa]

reggie  +  old  age  /  death trigger warnings:  death,  abuse mention,  alcoholism word  count: 2080

ACT  I.   THE  MANTLE  EMPIRE  CRUMBLES 

richard mantle gets diagnosed with lung cancer at age 65.   reggie  is  age  30.  the mantle men never had a long life expectancy.  riddled with a history of mental illness and addiction, they were doomed behind the delusion of material wealth and success that they were immortal. drowning in more money than they knew what to do with, though lacking in matters of the heart. it’s the start of the family’s estrangement, long overdue. victoria mantle wipes her tears on the drive home from the appointment. features remain motionless when she delivers the news. his heart seems to have no sympathy as she embraces him, searching for some sort of support. his hands remain at their sides. 

he watches as the disease kills his father, having made him into a senile old man with not even half the spunk and livelihood he used to have as a young, up-and-coming entrepreneur. it eats him alive, taking first his body and then his spirit. the chemo, the hair loss, the medication, the appointments. he finds a reason not to be there for any of it. he can’t help but feel a kind of satisfaction, that it’s the universe doing itself due diligence, paying him back for his suffering all these years that he was made afraid in his own home. it was what he had prayed for all these years, every time he bit his tongue saying his father’s name. 

so why wasn’t he happy?

richard mantle dies at age 73.  on his deathbed, he begs to see his only son, now age 38. you’d think the years of treatment would have given them time to reconcile, to move past their past, but the opposite is quite true. pride seems to be the vice on both ends, keeping them apart. his father finds shame in his illness and need for victoria’s constant assistance and reggie has no interest in making amends even in light of a tragedy. the roles have reversed, reggie now the one never home and his parents never leaving. part of it was spite, wanting to leave them alone the way they left him and part of it was in fear that he would be there when it came to an end. 

one night, he’s told that richard called only for him, the heir to his throne, his so-called pride and joy, mumbling something about seeing him before he met with god. he’s told that his father wanted to tell him everything he should have said, beg for forgiveness while he’s bedridden and his mother called for him profusely. he doesn’t pick up the phone.  he picks up the bottle and brings it to his lips instead, for it is  far  more  comforting, in a bar nearly 20 minutes away. waiting. 

there’s a call later in the night, this time from the hospital. 

hi, i’d like to speak to reginald mantle. it’s urgent. ...  yeah.  sir.. we regret to inform you that your father just passed away.  ... sir ? ...  ... sir are you still— is she still there ? your mother? yes she’s still here. do you want me to hand her the pho— no. don’t tell her i answered. .. oh. okay. is there a message you’d like me to pass on? ..... .... sir is there a message— .... tell her to let me know when i get my part of the inheritance.

he was right. his father’s pride would be what killed him.

reggie  doesn’t  attend  the  funeral.  his mother pleads with him on the phone, begging that he’ll do the right thing and put past wrongs aside.  he’s your father, goddamnit!  but he doesn’t show. he burned the invitation, with a match of his own light, watching his father’s glowing portrait disintegrate upon gloss paper. he stares, hoping that some kind memory, some fond recollection that can guilt him into feeling sorry. but like most times, he feels nothing. 

he spits on his grave and pours his father a drink through the soil. he thanks him for nothing and never goes back.

soon, all of riverdale knows and they begin pouring in meaningless condolences. old acquaintances emerge from the woodwork, knowing of the inheritance he has on its way, and honest friends reach out to apologize for something that isn’t their fault. it’s hard to tell which is which, but it doesn’t matter. he ignores them all, paying mind only to the numbness from hard liquor. he packs a bag with his things, enough clothes for a week, before leaving riverdale without intending to return.

ACT  II.   THE  LAST  MANTLE  STANDING

reggie moves back into the mantle mansion at age 40. it’s not until years later that he decides that he’s ready to even make a reappearance at what was never a loving home. his mother is there to greet him, she herself decreasing in health and taking after that of her husband.  they’ve not been in contact all this time, too painful for both of them, but still she embraces him with tears in her eyes. for the first time in forever, a hand raises to reciprocate,  tears streaming quietly down chiseled cheeks. maybe it’s the sight of his mother, aged but still the same,  maybe it’s her compassion.  he  was  never  the  perfect  son,  nor  she the perfect mother, but grief has a way of bringing families together after setting them apart.  he’s not quite ready to forgive her and she knows it.  

but he’s home. they both are. 

reggie’s mother dies at age 80.  reggie is age 47. no diagnosis, no illness: simply the wrath of father time. her bones finally became to brittle and her heartbeat too slow. she passes away in her sleep. reggie finds her in the morning when he’s bringing her breakfast. there’s still a grape juice stain on the carpet from where it is he dropped the tray.

he calls the family he never knew, her estranged sister and two brothers. they come to riverdale for a private service and he meets them for the first time, having never before because his mother didn’t keep in contact after marrying. they look so much like her it hurts. they share a few embraces and exchange information. it’s the last time he ever sees them until 20 years later.  they collect her things that she left them and leave before the weekend is over, leaving him with the lease. 

he remembers when he thought the house was emptier with his parents in it.

ACT  III.   A  LEGACY  REBORN.

the mantle foundation and recreational center is founded in 2050.  his hair begins to gray and he’s painfully aware that there’s little time left for him to salvage what’s left of his life. it could be over tomorrow  &  he has no heir:  no wife or children.  his fear of a legacy, of a child bearing his name and his burden too great for him, leaving him truly and utterly alone. and with nothing to lose, more importantly. 

he sells the riverdale gazette for a sizeable amount and uses the earnings to renovate an old building, a former warehouse, into a clubhouse, one for kids ages 12-19.  the doors are always open and there’s no entrance fee— only the request that you treat others the way you’d like to be treated. a rule he never followed. the inheritance he receives from both his mother and father are poured into its operation, furnishing it with love & comfort, and its foundation creates countless opportunities for riverdale’s youth. students are given access to endless resources, human and material alike. new school supplies, toys, books for the taking. tutors, therapists, coaches and advisors at the ready. free of charge, at the disposal of those who otherwise wouldn’t have access. 

college scholarship funds are opened in the names of influential people in his life, including the archie andrews scholarship,  the betty cooper award,  and  the veronica lodge fund  ( in partnership w/her namesake ), to help riverdale’s follow their dreams to higher education. every application is read by reggie himself and he interviews every candidate to hear their stories. he often ends up giving more awards than promised, quite literally having money to burn, just not at anyone’s expense but his own. 

he’s there for all of it.  from getting his hands dirty when the building was built to being there to greet kids every day and lock the building when it’s closing : he is invested. his face is no longer attached to misery, but delight. hope. the kids know him by name when they bustle in after school and he treats them like the children they never had. in a lot of ways, they are.

the people of riverdale almost can’t believe their eyes, its once infamous villain now having had a change of heart. some are still skeptical, others have accepted the change and donate regularly to the cause. he’ll never fully undo the wrongs he’s done, but this is where he begins. and better to have started now, than never being given a chance to.

all the while, he lives a quiet life, tending to his kids at the center when he’s not at home. visits are seldom, but each one is appreciated and cherished as time continues its march alongside him. 

ACT  IV.   A  SOLEMN  REPRISE.

reggie is diagnosed with liver cancer at age 70.  and it seems with every day that he may not outlive his father. damaged by the consumption of hard liquor from premature age has caught up and it’s eager to collect its dues. he lived comfortably in the delusion that illness had skipped his generation, that he was where it ended, but he is sorely mistaken. he refuses all treatment, remembering how it is his father died, under flourescent lights that burned his eyes, and he grimaces. he’d rather die able-bodied, than drag out his suffering. though fearful, he is accepting and continues business as usual. the world still turns and it will even after he goes. 

reggie dies at 75.  it’s in his sleep, the same as his mother. a night he never woke up from. suspicion grows when he’s not seen around town, nor at his own foundation’s headquarters. a coworker finds him after he doesn’t pick up any calls and alerts authorities.

the town comes together for the funeral, knowing there’s no family of his that would do it himself. archie, betty, jughead and veronica help plan it with the help of the lives he’s touched. the scholars he’s changed the futures of return home without a second though and pay their respects. there’s an exchange of stories, recounting every part of his life. the core four give eulogy together. riverdale high pays tribute to him not just as a public servant but for the stellar athlete and leader that he was. there’s a plaque dedicated to him at the mantle foundation center and a portrait painted of his likeness hung to remind all its guests why it is they have what they do. 

ACT  V.   A  NEVER - ENDING  STORY.

his will. he’s cremated, the way he wanted to be, and his ashes spread in the wind, on the shore of his favorite beach. a free spirit while alive, he wanted to same for his soul. he’s also given a gravestone next to his family, just for looks. 

in his will, he leaves the mansion to the next CEO of the mantle foundation, instructing that it’s used to expand their headquarters whether it be to create a second location or another office for its business staff. he leaves each of his three cars to archie, betty, and veronica, telling them they can give it to their kids for their 16th birthday, keep them for themselves, or sell them at market value. whatever works best. his motorcycle goes to jughead. 

he leaves a video for each person who’s stuck around this long behind, on a thumbdrive that’s mailed upon his death. each video is personal, with things he just wants to make sure are known, even after his passing, and heartfelt in its own way. each of the core four receives one and so does his foundation staff.

his personal funds to be completely depleted after this division of assets. the remaining funds are all left to the foundation to ensure it’s kept running until the next person takes charge. 

the empire ended with him, but its name will last forever now because of it.

#╰ I. ⦊ HEADCANONS / METAS. #long post tw / #THIS SHIT LONG ASF. #haven't decided who he'd want as his successor to run the place but . #it's verse dependent . #eveRYTHING ELSE IS ABT RIGHT THO FJDKA THIS TURNED INTO A STORY HONESTLY . #lowkey proud? i should write a novel #the phone call is so Cinematic jfdlj

[golden-van-fleet]

Your Song

Summary: Gwilym has loved you for a long time and will continue to.

Word Count: ~2.2k

A/N: Hi! I needed to write about Gwilym. I’m not sure about the format? Also on mobile for this one. Enjoy!

It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside

I’m not one of those who can easily hide

Despite Gwilym being an actor, his fatal flaw was his inability to hide what was on his mind. The entire world knew how he felt about you, except for, well, you. It made his stomach turn, to see you with a man that wasn’t him, holding his hand, kissing his cheek, calling him “babe”. He hoped, wished, and prayed desperately to be that man.

I don’t have much money, but boy if I did

I’d buy a big house where we both could live

He knew you wanted a big house in the countryside. It’d been your dream for as long as either of you could remember. In fact, it was the first thing he bought with his paycheck from Bohemian Rhapsody. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream of the two of you living there like Allie and Noah in The Notebook. He didn’t want to buy your love, per se, but if he could afford what you wanted, he wanted to be able to spoil you. For only being your best friend, he treated you a hell of a lot better than that boyfriend of yours ever could. Any of them, really.

And it wasn’t lost on you. You’d lost a couple boyfriends because they felt they couldn’t compete with Gwilym, and they couldn’t. Gwilym was over the top for you and only for you. When he bought the house, you were stunned. He constantly had you over, one of the guest rooms unofficially becoming your room. You’d been by his side before the fame and the fortune, it was only fair in his eyes that you were still there after it.

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it’s not much but it’s the best I can do

My gift is my song and this one’s for you

Every performance he did as Brian May was with you in mind. Gwilym was willing to go to the ends of the earth to prove that he was worthy of your love, to prove to you that he was the one you needed. He knew, rationally, you never needed a man to be happy or to succeed. He also knew, selfishly, that he was the one for you. This was a man willing to bend over backwards for you at any given moment, knowing you would do the same.

And you can tell everybody that this is your song

It may be quite simple but now that it’s done

I hope you don’t mind,

I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is, now you’re in the world

The day you met was a day he’d never forget. Your eyes piercing back into his own, a stare that sent a delicious shiver down his spine. It wasn’t a malicious stare, it was one of amusement. You were working at a local coffee shop while finishing your bachelor’s degree around the same time Gwilym began filming one of many up and coming projects. He’d come in with an agenda, a man on a mission, but when his eyes met yours, he babbled like an infant. You were so kind, you didn’t make fun of him, you smiled a little and let him compose himself.

Ever since that day, he made a point to visit you at work, seated at one of the tables in the corner as long as he could be without disturbing you, your coworkers, or the other patrons. You found it sweet, and your heart ached to get to know him.

So you did. He’d been to your apartment more times than the members of your family had over the course of the next year. It was around that year mark Gwilym realized he couldn’t live without you. It was also around the time you’d started your string of terrible boyfriends.

Gwilym couldn’t thank you enough for changing his quality of life. You breathed a life into everything that he’d never been able to find. Life by your side was beautiful. You never let him dwell on the bad, and as hard as it could be to find the good sometimes, he always tried. If not for his sake, then for yours.

I sat on the roof, and kicked off the moss

Well, a few of the verses, well they’ve got me quite cross

He had to tell you. He couldn’t say it to your face, but he couldn’t not say it to your face. He wrote letter after letter, page after page, hoping that something, anything would encapsulate his feelings about you. Late night after late night, he failed to document exactly what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to plan out what he wanted to say, but he needed it to be everything he’d had on his mind for years.

When you showed up at his door during one of those late nights, he told himself as soon as he opened the door he’d tell you. What he didn’t expect was to see you sobbing, throwing yourself at him. He caught you before you could hit the floor, catching a glimpse of you before you buried your face into his shoulder. Your eyes were puffy and swollen with tears, your face red and stained with tear tracks. It absolutely broke his heart.

“He broke up with me,” you whimpered. “Almost two years, I thought I was going to marry this man, and then suddenly I’m not good enough?”

But if only you knew how good enough you were. Gwilym saw the sun rise and set within you. You were the very center of his universe. He couldn’t tell you now, you’d just had your heart broken. He could try, in vain, to tell you how wonderful he found you and about the total joy you brought to his life, but his dark secret would have to wait a little longer.

You climbed out onto the roof outside the guest room window, the full moon hanging bright above your head. There was a gentle, almost imperceptible breeze floating through the summer night. This was your favorite part of the house. It was your hideaway, wrapped around the back of the house with a full view of the river in the background. It felt as though time stood still when you were there. You found yourself lost in the peacefulness of it all until Gwilym squeezed himself through the window frame to sit with you.

“He thought you and I had something going on on the side. I told him that you were my best friend, that you always would be, that without you there is no me. And he was jealous.” You sniffled, the tears of sadness now transformed to tears of resentment. “But maybe he had a reason to be jealous. You’re all I need in my life.”

Gwilym was nothing short of stunned. That was the first time in his life that he was utterly lost for words.

“I- I can’t be your rebound, Y/N. I’ve loved you for far too long to let myself be who builds you up for someone else to tear back down. You mean too much to me for that.” He felt a tear slip down his cheek. His heart was on the line. As much as he wanted to be with you immediately, to hold you in his arms and never let go, he couldn’t. Not right now.

“I’m not saying I want to jump from him to you. But I did a lot of thinking on the drive over here. You’ve always been there for me. You’ve been this support, this rock, and I can’t help but feel I’ve taken it for granted. And for that, I’m so sorry. I know the way you look at me when I’m not looking because I look at you the same way. I always have. And maybe I was too afraid of ruining what we had built up so beautifully. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but they were laying bricks every hour, and that’s what we did. We’re still doing it. So if you’ll let me, I’d like to keep building it, I want to know that it’s not going to go away after tonight.”

He forced himself to look at you, your eyes burning with unshed tears. It would never go away. It couldn’t.

But the sun’s been quite kind while I wrote this song

It’s for people like you that keep it turned on

Over the course of the following months, your relationship bloomed into the blossom it was destined to be. The dark cloud that hung over Gwilym’s head had finally given way to the warm rays of the sun, and he embraced them fully. Loving you was diving head first into a pool that had no bottom. There was always a new depth to be reached, and when he thought he’d reached his capacity, there was always more.

You noticed the change, welcomed it, and encouraged it. Gwilym was finally back to the man he was when you first met. The man that you thought you were going to fall in love with. However, you’d hung that up when he brought over one of his girlfriends, unannounced, to your flat the night you were going to tell him how you felt. It crushed you, but you couldn’t tell him that. To know that now, it wouldn’t happen again, he was yours? It was heaven in and of itself.

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do

You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Anyway the thing is what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

He had to ask you to marry him. He made up his mind before the two of you had even been together six months. It took half a lifetime, or so he thought, to get with you in the first place. Hell, you’d moved in together after two months together, what difference would it make?

He found himself in the same position he was years and years prior, back in that tiny coffee shop. Your eyes were focused intently on his, your smile kind and your hand relaxed in his. Gwilym was in his element, at home, alone, with you. And there, in the comfort of your shared bed, he was going to ask you to be his wife, and he couldn’t choke the words out. All he could do was present you with the ring first.

“Marry me. Please,” he added, softening what sounded like a demand.

“Easily,” you smiled, pulling his face towards yours and locking your lips into a breathless kiss. “I would marry you a million times over.”

He found himself in the same predicament when it came to your vows.

“I’m not usually one to forget what I’m saying before I say it, but you look so beautiful I can’t help myself,” he began, chuckling as he bashfully wiped away a tear. “I had this whole thing planned about how you were the one for me and I knew from the moment I met you, but even to this day you render me speechless. So forgive me if I cut this a bit short, but I’d really love to call you my wife sooner rather than later.”

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

When your daughter was born with your bright, beautiful eyes, Gwilym cried more than he ever thought he would. He was so gentle with her, so gentle with you… You couldn’t love him more if you tried.

Despite having your eyes, your daughter was Gwilym’s clone. She had her father wrapped around her tiny little finger from the first cry she let out the day she was born. Gwilym immediately switched into protective dad mode, refusing to let her go without a fight. Unless she was going to you, of course. But even that took a little convincing.

One night, about three weeks after she was born, Gwilym got up in the middle of the night to tend to her. He took the wailing newborn out of her bassinet in your bedroom to the rocking chair in what would be her nursery.

“Alright, love, it’s okay.” He’d done everything he could think of to soothe her and nothing was working, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake you. He unbuttoned the front of her onesie, placing the newborn over his heart. He’d been told to try skin to skin bonding whenever he could, and by some miracle, it calmed her down.

Gwilym didn’t realize he was humming until he started to sing lyrics to a song he didn’t realize he knew.

I hope you don't mind,

I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Your song had had its share of wrong notes and tweaked lyrics. It conveyed a full spectrum of emotions, highlighting the ups and the downs that came with life and love. Your song was unique, and Gwilym was blessed to share it with you.

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwil #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee fluff #dad!gwilym

[burningbluesstuff]

If your ex was toxic and abusive to you and they still are even though you’re broken up stop talking to them completely. They dont need to be in your life.

My friend still talks to his ex. She was toxic and abusive to him. She got jealous of every girl he was friends with. She scared off a lot of his friends. Me and his best friend are the only ones he hangs with because his ex scared away all his other friends(or some of them moved away).

Even though they are broken up she still gets mad or pissed about girls he’s around. He sent a snapchat that he was at work and it showed 2 of his coworkers, one of them being a girl. His ex got jealous of that. That one of his coworkers is a girl. Him and i are trying to find an apartment together because rent is cheaper with roommates. He mentioned this to his ex and she asked if his roommate is going to be a girl(thats me) and he said yes and she got pissed at that.

When they were together he wasnt aloud to go anywhere without her because if he was she assumed he was cheating. He wasn’t even aloud to go out to the gym because if was he was cheating. So he gained a lot of weight when they were together.

She said that they argued a lot. She would get mad and agrue, he wouldn’t do anything. She wants them to get back together but he doesn’t. I told him that getting back with an ex is a bad idea, especially if they were toxic or abusive. I’ve also seen with my own parents that exes getting back together is a bad idea. It may work with some people but just what from what ive seen it doesn’t work out. My parents married and divorced each other twice. When my parents got remarried to each other my dad was abusive to my mom and i and they didn’t even make it to their 2nd anniversary when they got divorced again. My dad technically left us twice. So he said he was a changed man but he wasnt. He still made the same mistake that he did when my parents were married the first time.

So what im saying is if you and ex broke up, yall broke up for a reason. If yall left each other on good terms good for you and it might work out again if yall got back together. But if yall left on bad terms and the relationship was rocky the first time and there were trust issues and communication issues as well then dont get back together.

And this is also something personal. I dont want them to get back together and i want him to stop talking to her because ive dealt with a crazy gf before that got jealous of me. My friend, who i was close with and good friends with told me he had to stop hanging out and talking to me to save his relationship with his gf. This gf also harrassed me through notes and left them on my car when i was at work. I called the police because it freaked me out so much. They told me to call them again when they get more threatening. They never did she stopped after 4 notes.

#relationships #toxic relationship #abusive relationships #crazy exes

[mlmdarkfiction]

Any hcs for the guys of Till Death Do Us Part ? There is barely any content for this fandom :(

BOY DO I! IVE REPLIED JACKS ROUTE SO MANY FUCKING TIMES I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. Chris was weird for me because although my nickname is K my name is Chris, and Marcus?? Also good

Jack:• He’s a very caring husband despite what you may think.• I def hc and probably would go as far as saying it might be canon that he’s the kind of person who struggles to show affection via expressions and words • Like he can come off very standoffish with you• But tbh that means he trusts you enough to be himself and not put on the front he does for everyone else.• Despite what MC thinks in the game, Jack would never cheat. • You are honestly his world.• He’s someone who, because of his struggles showing and verbally giving affection does his best to show it otherways. • Usually by buying gifts.• I imagine that even before marrying you Jack knew you were the one. I dont think he believes in live at first sight, but after being around you once or twice he decided you were his soulmate.• He’s the one who makes the first move.• One of his biggest pet peeves is people joking that he’s your sugar daddy, as he doesn’t see that as very loving and almost makes him feel used even though he knows you’re not using him.• Admittedly I see him falling for more emotionally troubled people, he has a big instinct to take care of people• With his canon necrophilia and sex issues with MC I see him being very upset by his inability to regularly get it up for sex.• It’s a form of intimacy he really enjoyed.• That being said I think he’d be interested in adding toys to your relationship if you convince him, but he doesn’t think its as intimate.

Marcus:• Bad boys bad boy whatcha gunna do• Is a pretty good husband tbh.• His biggest issue is his jealousy.• If you don’t give him a reason to be jealous, and therefor get manipulative he’s putty in your hands.• Is another expensive gift giver, but he doesn’t do it to make up for any other affection• That being said he’s very affectionate. • All of the time he wants your attention 9/10 you’re cuddling or sitting in his lap (or vice versa tbh) even if you’re in public.• He loooves to show you off.• Even if you don’t think you’re trophy husband material, Marcus treats you like one. • Another downside to Marcus is he is very busy with his work and so you’ll be alone a lot when he’s busy.• You’ll be alone because he’s very choosey about what friends you can have. If you’re gay only women friends some of who aren’t entirely picked out by him, bi or pan then even fewer friends entirely picked out by him.• If you’re lucky you can be friends with his coworker spouses!• If he ever suspects you’re cheating, or finds out you’re spending time with someone he doesn’t approve of he is ABSOLUTELY going to abuse his position as a police officer to falsey charge them with something. The worst the better as it means they likely won’t see you for a very long time. • Tbh I cannot imagine Marcus as a bottom, but he’s canonly into pet play so…be a good kitten.

Chris:

Before hand unlike the other ones where I kinda didn’t specify if reader was MC or not, I do want to specift that for this reader is NOT MC just because I hate the MC on Chris’ route, however if you really want Chris X MC!Reader just send a request for that specifically.

Also writing these made me like Chris more actually lol

• You are going to have to/had to make the first move.• Chris really liked you before the two of you got married, or even started dating, but is incredibly shy.• He’s a MAJOR stalker, and his quiet demeanor, and somewhat average Joe look makes him perfect for it.• He absolutely believes in love at first sight.• Honestly even after/if you two get married he’s still insecure sometimes about what you see in him, and if you really love him.• Is lowkey clingy. Like he’s not as obvious as Marcus, but he def loves your attention.• Won’t initiate cuddling but loves it.• When he’s nervous he’ll take your hand in his own, even if you’re both in public.• Likes bondage in the bedroom, but he’s the one who likes to be tied up.• Tbh I see him as a reliable switch. A perfect bottom, and a needy rough top.• When he tops it’s entirely about your pleasure. He’s a bit rough, and may leave bruises he’ll later apologize for, but he just wants to show how much he loves you.

#TDDUP #TDDUP Imagines #Till Death Do Us Part imagines #Jack Buchanan #Chris King #marcus de la cruz #male reader #Male Reader Insert #Male X Reader #Male imagines