#the fact that he got sick and she stayed up every single night praying over him and crying softly and tending to him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mistressofthecubicle · 1 year

Text

The Sick Day

The day started badly, and Carissa was angry the moment her feet hit the floor, or rather the moment she could drag her feet out from under the covers to shuffle morosely across the floor.

She'd had a fight with her boyfriend the night before and he was still asleep in the bed next to her, oblivious to how terrible she felt at the moment. She wasn't upset with him anymore, she just wished that she could stay curled up in bed next to him.

The fight was always about the same thing, how little he did around the house and how much she did. In truth, it was her place, but they'd lived together for a while and she kind of expected him to pull his own weight sometimes. Every time she hinted about it though he threatened to move out, and she asked him why he hadn't yet.

It was an endless source of contention between them. She truly adored and loved him, but he got on her nerves so easily. This time however, it had next to nothing to do with how she felt about the chores and more about how her body was giving out on her.

The weekend hadn't been nearly long enough for her tastes and she was unclear if she'd eaten something that had disagreed with her or if someone at work had given her the flu. She simply was aware that she was furious, and sick, and absolutely livid that she felt so terrible.

"So much for being nice to people today." She murmured. It was a rough start to her week. What was that fact that she had read somewhere about how people got sick more often on the weekends? Well, damnit! She wasn't sure then why it would linger this way.

She sighed as she shrugged off her pj's and crawled into her clothes. She'd pushed snooze one too many times to be able to squeeze a shower into this morning's routine.

"Next time." She lamented and finished her preparations. Maybe coffee would help. She brewed some, praying that it would lighten her mood, and fix her roiling stomach. Why did she always stress about everything; "Maybe I have finally gotten an ulcer?"

The coffee didn't help. Her mood was still terrible. She exited the house after locking the door, and turned up the stereo as loud as she could tolerate in an attempt to distract herself from her lead-lined stomach.

The drive to work was uneventful, though Carissa had to stop herself from taking every single exit that would lead her off the highway and back to her house, and her bed. If she sped she could even apologize to her boyfriend for being shitty to him the night before.

Somehow her commute ended and she found herself at her office. "Might as well go in and see how long I can last." Carissa moaned and grabbed her stuff. Everyone in her office was cheerful and it only served to sour her mood even further.

"Why!" She muttered, unhappy to be in a work environment where she had to pretend to be nice to people. Her patience would certainly not last the day, maybe not even more than a few hours.

She would keep her head down, and avoid everyone and everything. It was the only way. "I had some sick days I could use." Why hadn't she? What made her want to come to work on such a morning when she wasn't herself. Carissa sat in her miniscule cube and opened her emails. There was a monsoon of emails and she felt her anger rising.

Why was she stuck in the rat race? Wasn't there a way out? And how could she get out? Her thoughts continued to spiral into darkness and she glowered at her screen. Carissa's focus was so intent that she didn't notice the dark cloud of anger, venom and disgust slowly coalescing over her head.

Again a stupid email from that manager. What was his problem anyway? Why did he insist on being dense about the simplest things. Carissa plunged away forcefully at her keyboard, the strokes emphasizing the anger and grim disdain that she had.

The cloud built and spread like an ink spill on wet paper. Smearing across the upper portion of the office, a growing sickness. She took no notice of the effect that her sickness had as it infected the people in the cubicles closest to her.

One by one they succumbed to the venom and their visages changed to darkness and their eyes turned black and soulless. Slowly the sickness sank beneath their skin and permeated the room. It bled out into the hall and sought new victims.

Carissa continued uninterrupted in her mindless endeavor, unaware that her sickness was destroying so many. The workers in the outer offices fell sick and died of the inky black cloud of nasty temper and lost dreams, next it sought a way into the elevator shaft. It rose up floor by floor, seeping and creeping around the many offices, locating and slowly choking the life out of all the cubicle dwellers.

It was silent and deadly, and was so quick that none could escape. Carissa finished up her emails around 4:30 pm and sighed in satisfaction. "At last, I can go home." She smiled. "I most certainly will call in sick tomorrow because I can't take another day of this!" She commented. Her statement fell on deaf ears and she stood up to survey the damage.

Horrified she saw the glassy sunken coal black eyes and the ashen gray faces of everyone in the office. She started to scream, but the cloud that had hovered over her all day and had spread its' darkness had returned to take down one final victim. She shuddered and stared wide-eyed as the black ink rained down on her and encased her in hatred, scorn and the wasted days of useless sick anger.

0 notes

luemiere · 3 years

Text

[ thinks intensely about jeans relationship with the concept of love ] [ thinks intensely about jeans relationship with the concept of love ] [ thinks intensely about jeans relationship with the concept of lo-

#im gonna cry fuck. FUCK.#maybe i should do one of those big collage type edits or write a meta or something and just sob into my hands #she's so full of love.... she was created from roses... she was meant to love and be in love...#its so intrinsic to her character... to be the hopeless romantic... to be so loving to everyone she meets...#its so easy to imagine that she falls in love with people so quickly.... she's like love incarnate...#and yet despite that (canonically) she's only been in an actual relationship once. in 1500 plus years. one time #she was so hopelessly in love with that man. and she had to watch him die slowly in her arms #the amount of love and dedication she had... that she STILL HAS for him... is literally unfathomable #like it cannot physically be described in words how much he meant to her #she was in mourning for so long after he died. she had to live with her sister for a long time because it was devestating #it was like losing part of herself #the fact that he got sick and she stayed up every single night praying over him and crying softly and tending to him #she was so tired. but she loved him so much. every moment was dedicated to him #like dont get me wrong. it was an entirely healthy relationship. its just hard to explain the depths of her love #what am i saying anymore... idk... fhhFJSHFJ IM SAD ? IM CRYING. THERE R TEARS IN MY EYES FUCK #–––– ◝ . ♡ 𝟎𝟎 ❛ cortex that makes me rude ╱ out

3 notes · View notes

shoutaaizawas · 4 years

Text

↳ pro!hero bakugou katsuki x reader → heal

summary: you’re bakugou’s best friend and work partner and you’ve been in love with him for years. after his girlfriend cheats on him you’re left to pick up the pieces. tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst with a happy ending, very minor injury (blood), cheating (not by bakugou or reader), unrequited love (spoiler but not really) word count: 3,804 a/n: this was my first time writing any x reader. hope you guys enjoy it!

You loved Bakugou Katsuki. That was a fact that you had accepted a long time ago and you were now at peace with that. You had gone to school with him and once you both graduated you worked at the same agency. Your quirks were a good match so you had been working together ever since. When he started his own agency he took you with him.

The thing is, you never told Bakugou that you loved him. He was always so focused you assumed that he wouldn’t want a relationship and frankly despite all the things you had accomplished you were self-conscious and it was hard to think Bakugou would ever settle for someone like you.

A few years ago Bakugou started dating. You could still remember the hurt that burned in your chest as you tried to play it off and tease him like everything was normal. You spent most nights crying yourself to sleep a few weeks after that day.

She was a civilian, who in your opinion was very unlikable. You knew it was petty and you should be more mature but there was something about her that felt off. You figured it was your jealousy. You recalled the time she had ended up in some trouble, you had been able to pull her to safety only. Not only did she not thank you but she gave you an attitude. You figured she didn’t like you because you spent so much time with Bakugou in and out of work. You could understand that to some degree but it didn’t hurt to pretend to be nice.

It was so much easier loving Bakugou from a distance when he was single, you could tell yourself that he would never date anyone or marry them and that being his best friend was the most anyone would ever have. If you could talk to him, joke with him, look after him from his side as a friend you were content.

With him dating the dull ache of unrequited love turned into a dagger in her chest, burning pain only intensified by any movement. You wondered if you should try dating around. Maybe you could find someone who liked you that you could fall in love with and forget about Bakugou. You never got around to it, every time you seriously considered it you thought it’d be unfair to whoever you dated. They deserved someone who truly loved them, not someone trying to put a bandage on a broken heart.

Last week you had caught Bakugou red-handed, a small velvet box in his pocket. Your heart dropped, you thought you had hit rock bottom but it turns out you could always go deeper.

“Is that what I think it is?” You asked, trying to play it off as teasing. You prayed he couldn’t hear the crack in your voice.

“Shut up, it’s none of your business.” He growled back but you knew it was just because he was embarrassed.

“I’m surprised I never saw you as the marriage type.” You tried to say in a nonchalant tone.

“We’re getting old. We have to settle down eventually.” He said. The words stung, you knew he meant them aimed towards himself but you couldn’t help the bile that rose in your throat. I would have settled down with you but now I can’t look at another man without comparing everything about them to you. Who could ever come close to the Bakugou Katsuki.

“Bakugou we’re twenty-six, we just barely became adults if we’re being honest.” You joked.

“Well, I don’t want to be an old parent.” He said, eyes scanning the streets for any trouble. Your heart dropped a little more.

You wondered if you were strong enough to stand by and watch the love of your life get married and have children with another woman. You wondered how long it would be until you had to find an excuse to move away.

“I’m gonna head home since patrol is over.” You said trying to keep your voice steady.

“You aren’t going back to the agency?” He asked giving you an odd look, sensing something off. You knew each other too well.

“No, I have plans later I need to get home fast. I’ll get my paperwork done tomorrow, boss.” You lied about the plans, you needed to get away fast.

It doesn’t get rid of the suspicious look on his face but he doesn’t question you further and you quickly make your exit, barely able to keep it together until you get out of sight. You duck into an alley as tears stream down your face.

You haven’t seen Bakugou today. That concerns you, he never misses work for anything. You can’t count how many times you’ve had to drag him home and force him into bed after he comes into work with a high fever. You make sure things are covered at the agency before heading over to his apartment. Your heart beats quick, he hasn’t replied to your texts. It’s hard to keep the worst-case scenario out of your head.

Knocking on the door to his apartment you get no reply. Pressing your ear to the door you can hear a commotion, fear grips you, and you almost kick the door down before your rational sense tells you to use the key he gave you.

Bakugou’s apartment is a war zone. Furniture is turned over, glass smashed across the ground. You can smell the familiar lingering scent of his quirk. You would have thought he had been robbed if it weren’t from the sound coming from the bedroom.

Opening the door to his bedroom it’s even worse in here somehow. Bakugou is currently smashing picture frames against the wall. It’s distressing to see him so upset and not have a clue what’s going on.

“Bakugou!” You shout hoping to get his attention but he’s blinded by his anger. You let out a huff of frustration before moving closer to him, grabbing his arm as he goes to slam the already mangled frame again.

You’re startled but not shocked as he turns around in the blink of an eye and grabs onto your bicep, fingers digging in you can feel your skin under his hand start to burn.

“Bakugou! Snap out of it!” You shout again. Recognition crosses his face and he looks a little more coherent. You’re waiting for him to say something but he drops to the ground like dead weight, his hands pressing into his palms. You kneel, careful of the glass on the ground.

“Bakugou? What happened?” You ask in a softer voice. He takes so long to reply that you wonder if he will answer.

“She cheated.” You can barely make out the words through his covered face.

“What?” You ask.

“She was cheating on me!” He yelled pulling his hands away, the anger returning. “She was cheating on me for months like it was some game. When I confronted her about it she didn’t even try to defend herself. She wasn’t even upset.”

“Bakugou, I’m so sorry.” Your heart is breaking but not for yourself, this time it’s for the man in front of you that looks broken. You realize that he has cuts all over his body from the damage done to the apartment. “C’mon.” You say holding your hand out to him.

He looks at you confused but takes it. You lead him to his bathroom, sitting him down on the edge of the tub. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink, you had patched him up here before.

Returning to him you kneel on the ground in front of him. You begin cleaning the cuts that litter his arms, wiping up the blood covering his arms. You look up at him and his eyes look so empty as he stares at the ground past you. Your overwhelmed by the urge to take him in your arms but decide against it. No, you should patch him up first.

You put band-aids on the ones that need them and leave the smaller ones uncovered. You lean up so your eye level with him, he has a cut across his cheek. You’re careful as you dab at it with a cloth, he doesn’t react if it does hurt. You put a band-aid on it before looking him in the eyes, his gaze still on the floor.

It hurts you so much to see him like this, it breaks you. What you would give to have him insulting you about something dumb you did or yelling about how you left your coffee mug on his desk again. Anything other than the painful silence. You lift your hand and softly cup his unharmed cheek, his gaze slowly raises to meet yours. Your thumb gently strokes the skin there hoping that it will soothe him in any way he can be at the moment.

You finally lean forward and embrace him, pressing your face into his shoulder avoiding any of the cuts on him. Your arms circle around his torso and you squeeze him tightly. You wish you could hug him tight enough to put him back together. It takes a moment but he eventually rests his head against your shoulder and he returns the hug. His grip is tight on the back of your shirt and you know he’s trying to pull the broken pieces back together himself. I would do anything for you to make this pain stop, you think.

You don’t know how long you stay there, holding each other tight but eventually you decide you should leave. The last thing he needs is to be stuck in the apartment that he shared with his girlfriend, the one that was currently trashed.

“Let’s go to my place.” You offer. “You can stay as long as you want, you shouldn’t stay here.”

He nods and your stomach drops, normally he would protest even if he agreed with what you wanted to do. It made you feel sick that he gave in so easily. You nod back before standing up and going into his room. You grab a duffel bag and grab his clothes and other things he’ll need while away from his home. By the time you’re done, he’s standing there watching you wordlessly.

“Let’s go.” You say you take his hand in yours. You had known Bakugou for years and worked by his side for most of them, this wasn’t the first time you had held his hand but the conditions were usually different. Normally you were dangling off the edge of a building as he pulled you up or you were dragging him out of harm’s way.

Holding his hand now was different, you could actually take note of what it felt like. His hand was much larger than yours, the callouses on his hand rougher than your own. It was easy to pretend that the circumstances were different, that you were dragging him out of his apartment to your favorite place to grab dinner together instead of taking him home with you to help console him from what had happened.

The car ride is silent, he’s still processing everything that’s happened and you have no words to say. You know that he needs time to think about everything, you refuse to push him to talk. Growing up you had to if you ever wanted him to process his emotions but Bakugou had matured a lot as he grew up and you knew that when he was ready he would talk.

“Here, you can take a shower if you want or you can change into something less torn up.” You say as you press the bag of clothes into his arms. “I’m going to make us lunch.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says. His retort gives you hope that he’s beginning to return to himself and not the empty shell of person who sat on the edge of his tub.

“I doubt you ate breakfast, I know you probably don’t want to eat but I’m making food and you’re going to eat at least a little bit.” You say. He doesn’t argue again, he heads towards your bathroom needing no directions.

You’re glad that you went grocery shopping yesterday. Even more glad that you always make sure to keep the ingredients to make Bakugou’s favorite dish in your fridge in case of emergencies. Or him demanding that you make it for him, as he does at times.

He’s in the shower for a long time. You’re finishing up lunch and you’re about to go check on him when you hear the water stop. You’re plating up the food when he walks into the kitchen wearing a fresh pair of sweat pants and a black shirt. His eyes are red but you don’t comment on it. You shove the bowl of food in his hands.

“Extra spicy, just how you like it.” You tell him as you grab your food. “Let’s sit down.”

You sit down on the couch in your living room eating in silence. Despite his denial of being hungry his food is gone in minutes. You grab his empty bowl from him to take it to the kitchen but before you can get up his hand is grasping your wrist. You look at him and his gaze is on the mark he left on your bicep when you pulled him out of his rage.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw and the guilt is clearer than day on his face. He slowly reaches towards your arm, his thumb softly glides at the edge of the minor burn.

“It was an accident.” You tell him in the most genuine tone you can manage, he’s been through enough the last thing he needs is to feel guilty for this. “Besides, I can handle you.” You tease trying to lighten the mood. Your hand covers his own on your arm and you squeeze it to emphasize your point. His hand drops back to his lap after a moment and you leave for the kitchen.

When you return to the living room you see him sitting there, he looks less empty but more annoyed. You figure he’s had enough time to process most of his feelings.

“How did you find out?” You ask, testing the water. If he didn’t reply you’d know he wasn’t ready.

“She left her phone when she left for work, I grabbed it to give it to her before she got out of the building but I saw her notifications.” He said. Pain stings in your chest for him, you can’t imagine how upsetting that would be. “She came back for her phone and I confronted her.”

“What did she have to say?” You ask.

“She acted like she got caught sneaking a cookie before dinner, she barely even cared.” He said, anger returning to his tone. “She’s been with him for six months, she said that she was only ever with me for my money and status. She wanted someone she could brag about.”

“Bakugou,” You said putting a hand on his arm.

“I guess it’s only fair.” He scoffed. “I never loved her either. But I’m still pissed off she made a fool of me.”

“You didn’t love her?” You tried to keep your tone even but it comes out like an exclamation. “Bakugou, you were going to marry her!” You nearly shout. Had you really spend the last year suffering while Bakugou dated someone he didn’t even care about?

“No, it was just convenient.” He answered. “The person I loved, they would never want me. I figured I should just get over it and move on.” His gaze is on the floor.

Your sick again, he didn’t love his girlfriend but he loved someone else. You really couldn’t win, could you?

“Bakugou, why wouldn’t someone want you?” You ask. How could he believe that.

“I’m loud, angry, and rude.” He says. “I’m not good at relationships, I just screw everything up. She deserves someone who will make her happy not burden them with their crappy personality.”

“Don’t say that about yourself!” You scold him. “You’re an amazing man, you’re strong and determined. Even if you don’t show it like other people you care more than most people do about your friends. You would go to the ends of the earth to help them even if you don’t admit it. You’re the best hero I’ve ever seen. You’ve matured so much since we were in high school, you worked on yourself and became a better person. I’ve been by your side for years, don’t you dare say that you aren’t good enough. If anything, anyone you date will never be good enough for you. You’re the best man I’ve ever met, you deserve everything you want in the world.” You take a deep breath after your rant, it takes a moment to realize how much you spilled out.

His eyes are off the floor and he’s staring at you in shock. There’s something in his eyes you don’t recognize but he doesn’t say anything.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” You ask, trying to steel yourself for his answer. Whoever it was you would help him as much as you could to get their affections. It would kill you to watch him fall in love with someone else but more than anything you wanted to see him happy even if it cost you your own happiness.

“It’s you.” He says and the silence is deafening after his words. At first you think you misheard him. You feel dizzy at his admission. This had to be a dream, there was no way. “It’s always been you.”

“I-” You try to speak but there are no words. Your head is spinning, the world falling apart around you in the best of ways.

Bakugou moves slowly, one hand holding your face like it’s delicate glass, the other reaches behind you and pulls you softly to close the distance. He leans in, a breath in between you, you know he’s waiting for you to close the distance. To answer his confession without a word. Once your brain processes it all you lean in a little too excitedly almost knocking your forehead against his.

You move your arms around his shoulders as your lips meet.

With one action the dagger in your chest is suddenly gone and the pain there melts away. You feel like you’re submerged in warmth, laying in a grassy field in gentle sunlight. You kiss him until your lungs can’t take it anymore. As you part you stare into his eyes, they’re filled with so much warmth and love it makes you tear up. You lean back in for another kiss.

“Bakugou-” You say as you pull back.

“Katsuki.” He says. You had used his given name on occasion but it always felt too personal, your heart couldn’t take it.

“Katsuki-” You repeat, it feels right now. A small smile lights up his face, it’s like staring into the sun. “I love you, I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

“Me too.” He replies. You let out a laugh.

“We really wasted a lot of years.” You said, nose brushing against his, arms still around him. It was almost sad the time you could have spent happily together but you’re too excited by the years you’ll get to spend with him going forward.

“We did, I’m not going to waste any more time.” He said before moving in for another kiss.

Bakugou stays at your apartment for two weeks before he mentions moving into a new apartment. With your heart in your throat you offer for him to move in with you, he doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

You help him go through his stuff, tossing anything that was hers but she hadn’t taken or things that remind him of her. You stand at his side as he tosses the ring he bought for her off a bridge even though you told him he should just sell it. He refused, not caring about the money and definitely wanting to avoid the shame of selling an engagement ring.

He didn’t love her, he never did but he still bares the scars of her infidelity. His self-esteem in a relationship was already low but some days it feels even lower when he things about what happened. He knows you would never do the same but regardless you still hold him tighter on those days and you don’t hold back any of your love or admiration for him.

Sometimes he feels embarrassed that it went on so long without him knowing but you reassure him that the only person who should be embarrassed is her. You don’t call him a victim, no he would hate that, but you tell him that he deserves better. You can’t hold back your smile when he says he already has better now that you’re together.

You spend your workdays out on patrol together, your usual banter filling the day as you fight off any villains who dare make a mess in you territory. On your days off you spend time in each other’s arms, basking in the happiness you finally found together or out on dates. Sometimes he drags you hiking even though you hate the bugs and other times you make him go to theme parks and force a pair of mouse ears on him.

It doesn’t take long for Bakugou to propose. Your relationship had been so close for so many years that it becoming romantic didn’t change much. You already knew everything about each other, you knew how to work with each other at your best and your worst. Making it official was a natural step.

Watching him tear up as you walk down the aisle is something burned into your heart and mind and you refuse to let it go as long as you live. Spending the night dancing, eating, and drinking with your closest friends who all were relived you finally got together was an unforgettable time.

You lay beside Bakugou, arms wrapped around each other, legs tangled together. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat. You hold onto each other as if you would lose each other if you let go. You can’t get rid of the big smile on your face as his hands move lazily through your hair nearly lulling yourself back to sleep.

You love Bakugou Katsuki. That was a fact and you were more than happy to spend the rest of your life at his side not just as a friend or partner but as the love of his life and that made you happier than anything ever could.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #x reader #bnha writing

3K notes · View notes

aubreyprc · 3 years

Text

safe in these arms of mine

prompt - you’re safe . i’m here

summary - emily gets taken by their recent unsub, someone they named the three day killer. they know they have three days to find her, aaron refuses to let them get to four.

word count - 3.3k

TW / mentions of torture (not graphic), alluded / implied hint of SA (not graphic or mentioned)

He thinks he’s probably watched the CCTV footage more times than he’s ever watched anything, rewinding certain moments in hopes of something that will give them a clue, something that will tell them where she is. who he is. anything.

Watching her drop to the ground, even after seeing it hundreds of times, still makes his heart fall into his stomach, the sight of the man picking her up over his shoulders, carrying her like she was dead weight. like she was nothing still making him feel sick, still making him feel guilty. not that he could ever tell anyone why. Not that he can really act on how terrified he is.

To everyone else’s knowledge, they’re colleagues, friends, just like he is with the rest of the team. He can be worried, they’re all worried, all scared of what could happen, all nauseous at the idea of what she could be going through, but he can’t be anything more. Because to everyone else’s knowledge, they're just friends but in reality, behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, FBI policy’s and fraternization rules, they’re something. They’re more than something.

What started off as casual, turned into coffee and coffee soon turned into dinner, dinner soon turned into staying the night and four months later in the darkness of her bedroom, his fingers tracing patterns on her spine as she lay in his arms, the three words slipped out of his mouth… and ten seconds later she repeated them, a soft smile on her face. a smile he has never forgotten.

A smile he would kill to see again.

They’re eight months in now, getting to the point where keeping them a secret was becoming impossible, Jack far too young and unpredictable to not blurt out something that would cause the penny to drop.

As he watches the footage for the millionth time, the guilt is almost overwhelming, his palms cut to pieces from how harsh he is clenching a fist. He knows if they don’t find her, that if day three comes and they still don’t have a location, that he’d never forgive himself, he wouldn’t know how to. He wouldn’t want to.

He was supposed to be with her.

Jack was with a friend, and they’d had plans to stay at her apartment, order take out and just be without a four year old demanding their attention for most of the night. But they’d argued. A stupid argument. So stupid that he can’t even remember what started it, or what it was even about. All he remembers is her bitter laugh before she walked out of his office, all but slamming the door behind her as she walked back into the bullpen and grabbed her stuff, he remembers watching her go, remembers telling himself that he’d call her when he got home, or maybe he would go over, make it up to her.

He prays he still gets the chance to. Prays that the last memory he has of her… of them… won’t be her walking away from him in anger. That their last conversation won’t be something he can’t even remember.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane if you keep watching that.” Dave tells him as he walks into the office, “it won’t bring her back. It won’t give you any more information.”

Aaron remains silent, his eyes peeled on the screen, her facing in the direction of the unsub, her face in full view of the camera.

“Reid has something on the unsub…” he says, but Aaron can’t bring himself to hear it. “I know this is hard but—”

“You don’t know.” he says, turning to face his friend, “you don’t know.” he repeats and the older man nods.

“You’re right. I don’t.” he accepts, before staring at him, “but I know you love her.” he says and Aaron’s eyes widen, “and I know she loves you. And I know she’s counting on us.. on you to focus, to put our feelings and our fear on hold and find her.”

“I can’t even think about what she could be going—”

“Then don’t.” he tells him, “don’t think. Help her. Help her by doing what you can. Here. Now.”

Aaron nods, standing and following the man out of the office and into the briefing room.

They all refuse to go home, refuse to waste time when she has so little of it, refuse to do anything but find her, the thought of what she could be going through knocking every single one of them sick.

The entire building feels eerie, everyone on egg shells around the team, scared to say the wrong thing, scared to say anything. Everyone loved Emily, and her absence noticeable at any time, and so the entire situation has the bullpen in silence, the only sound being the muttering of the agents on the case as they work alongside the team to find their missing member. Their missing friend.

They all know what this unsub does, have all read the case files, seen the pictures of the women he’d taken and killed over the last few weeks, have heard in detail what he does to them before hand, and it becomes the elephant in the room, every single person knowing exactly what Emily was going through, knowing far too much about what could happen if they don’t find her, but no one ever says anything, no one comments, no one even brings it up, because they can’t. The knowing itself is enough, they shouldn’t have to talk about it too.

Aaron is the only one who tortures himself by looking at the other cases, reading over what they went through before he killed them, how he killed them, and what he did to them afterwards. It’s the same every time, the same marks and bruises on each woman they found, all killed the same way around the same time and all found in the same place, beaten, bloody and cold, all with signs of a struggle, as if he’d toyed with them, given them to opportunity to fight him off… each woman died in pain, alone and scared, and the idea that Emily might go through that, the fact that he could be doing to her what he did to all the others makes him nauseous, it makes him murderous but mostly it just makes him want to scream, cry, shout, and he can do neither, not yet, not when he still has the chance to get her back. Not when there’s hope that he can save her.

And he will. He has to. Loosing her is not an option.

“Stop.” Morgan says as he enters his office, “reading the files won’t change this. If anything it will just make it worse.”

“There could—”

“Reid has the files memorised…” he says, “there’s nothing in there.”

He closes the file, rubbing a hand over his face as he leans on the chair.

“How is he this hidden?” he asks, “we’ve been trying to find him for three weeks and all we have is that he’s male, in his thirties and…” he stops, shaking his head as he thinks about what he does to the women he takes.

“I know.” he nods, “but we’ll find him.”

“Will we find him in time?” he asks, the silence between them lingering as the other man remains without an answer.

“We can only try.” he tells him, “and trust that she’s strong enough to wait until we do.” he says softly, before leaving the office.

He sighs as he opens his draw, grabbing his wallet before pulling out a picture he hides behind one of Jack, a picture Penelope took just a few weeks ago when she just had to capture the moment as she stated on the email she forwarded the picture on. He smiles every time he looks at it, her grin sending warmth through him as he looks at it, the blissful happiness on their faces as they sit in their own bubble, his own smile on his face as he looks at her. He rubs a thumb over it, his heart aching in his chest as he swallows.

I’ll find you.

And they do. On day three.

They speed through the traffic, each of them tense with anxiety as they sit in the SUV, neither knowing what they’re going to walk into. If they’ll make it on time.

The warehouse is huge, the smell of blood, sweat and death hits them as soon as their in, each going in a different direction as they search for her. For him. For anything.

Aaron hears them before he sees them, leans against the wall as he calculates what his next move should be, signals for the team to head in his direction as he tries to block out the sound of her choking, dreads to think what he’s going to be met with when he turns the corner.

Reid and Morgan head his way first, are on the other side of the building when he spots them, and on his nod, all three man make themselves known, turning the corner with their guns out, but all can see is her. The way the only reason she is still standing being due to her arms being hung above her, her head lulled to the ground, no movement, not even a groan and he doesn’t think he’s ever felt panic like it before.

He has no intention to chase the man when he runs, grateful that the other two take off in a sprint after him, and he heads towards her.

He stands in front of her, heart hammering in his chest as terror fills his body and slowly cups her face, moving her head up to look at him and when he’s met with her tired, but open eyes, the relief that fills him is enough to make him want to cry. But the fear in her eyes, the sheer terror that stares back at him has him pushing it away, his focus on her.

“You’re okay.” he whispers, quickly freeing her hands from the chains above her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he does, catching her as she all but falls into him, a soft cry leaving her throat as her arms drop, the only reason she doesn’t being that he has her, wraps her protectively into him and all she can do is look at him, shock, exhaustion, pain, terror and everything in between meaning it takes her a few moments to register what’s going on, to register that it’s Aaron but it’s obvious the moment she does. The look of terror turning into relief as she relaxes, letting him pull her into his arms and she goes willingly into them, her face in his chest as she breathes, tears threatening to fall down her face as she allows the last few days to process. There’s a bang from the other side of the room that causes her to flinch, to tense in fear and he runs a hand down her back.

“It’s okay..” his voice is soft, soothing and he smiles at her when she lifts her head to look at him. “You’re okay. It’s over.”

“Can we get out of here?” she asks, her voice dry and rough, a hint that she’s been without water for days and he nods.

“Of course.” he says, gently wrapping an arm around her waist as he helps her walk out of the room.

She gets the all clear from the hospital and is free to go that night, her ribs bruised but not broken, her arms strained but no damage to the ligaments, a concussion she might feel for a few days, but no bleed, no damage, is told she’s lucky, and she wants to scream, feeling anything but luck as she sits in the passenger seat, her mind replaying the last three days on a loop, the man’s face, voice, touch lingering with her, can feel his hands on her skin, can hear his voice as he toys with her, can see his face so clearly he might as well he sat next to her but she’s lucky, because he didn’t break her ribs, she’s lucky because he didn’t kill her, how does she explain that she wishes he did?

Aaron walks them up to her apartment, his hand around her waist as she uses him to hold herself up, a lump in the back of her throat as she tries to pretend as though she hasn’t spent the last three days tortured, laughed at, broken.

“I’ll go and run you a bath,” he says softly as he enters her apartment, she simply stands, her hand clinging to her throbbing ribs as she nods. “Can I get you anything?”

“No,” she says with a tired smile, “I’m good. Tired.”

“Would you prefer a shower—”

“No,” she says quickly, before smiling as best she can, “A bath would be great.” she nods and he smiles, slowly walking over to her and waiting for her to lean into him before wrapping an arm around her waist, helping her up the stairs as she winces in pain. He’d do anything to take it from her. For it to have been him instead.

He sits on the floor next to the bath at her request, stroking gentle patterns onto her hand as she stares ahead and he waits, knowing she has to be the one to talk first, knowing he can’t rush this.

“The last woman you found… she couldn’t have been older than twenty.” she says, her eyes still staring ahead of her.

“Yeah..” he whispers, “found her just before we…” he stops, “you saw her?”

“He killed her right in front of me…” she says, turning to look at him, “she was begging me to help her, I could hear her crying but…” she stops, looks away from him.

“There’s nothing you could have done, Em.” he tells her, “you know that. It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t answer, simply continues to stare at the wall ahead. He wants to ask, he needs to, but he doesn’t know how. Isn’t sure he wants to know. He’ll have to read the police report anyway, sign off on her being back on duty in a few weeks and he wonders if that might be easier. To read it rather than hear it, but he also knows he needs to hear it from her, needs to let her be the one to tell him, tell him what, he isn’t sure.

“Do you want me to sleep on the couch?” he asks her gently, smiling softly when she turns to face him, “I’m not leaving,” he tells her, “but if you want some space tonight, if you want some time to work through this, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She smiles slightly, linking their fingers together as they rest on the side of the bath and she slowly shakes her head.

“I don’t want to be alone.” she whispers, and he nods.

“I’m here,” he tells her. “Whenever you’re ready to talk… I’m here.”

“I know.” she says, “I’m exhausted.”

“Come on.” he says, getting to his feet with a groan that makes her laugh slightly, before he helps her up, wrapping her in a towel before walking them towards the bed. He hands her an old jumper, one that nine months ago, used to belong to him, and a pair of joggers, kissing her head slightly.

“I’ll grab some water, I’ll be right back.” he tells her and she nods, watches him go as she takes a deep breath, focuses on getting into the clothes rather than the silence, rather than the memories of the last few days.

By the time he’s back she’s already in bed, her eyes staring at a spot of the wall across the room as she curls into the duvet and his heart breaks when the creek of the floor makes her jump.

He places the water on her bedside table, runs a gentle finger across her cheek as he passes her and gets himself in bed, turns to face her when she rolls over, taking her hand gently when she rests it on his chest, smiling when he links their fingers.

“Derek said you kept reading the other women’s files.” she says softly, he looks at her and nods. “He pretty much stuck to the script.” she tells him, looking from him to their hands. “I wish you didn’t read them.” she whispers, tracing his fingers with her own.

“When your ready to tell me, I’ll listen.” he says, “I’ll wait for you to tell me.”

“You’ll read the report before—”

“I’ll wait for you to tell me.” he whispers; she nods.

“Okay.” she whispers, “thank you.”

“Get some rest,” he tells her, “I’m right here.”

She smiles before she leans up to kiss him, wrapping herself around him as she inhales, the scent of him calming her, the feeling of safely taking ahold of her as she sighs, closing her eyes.

“I love you.” she whispers as he kisses her head and he smiles.

“I love you too.” he tells her, and waits until shes asleep before allowing himself to fall asleep too.

It’s barley been three hours when her scream jolts him awake. He sits up instantly, terror taking over as he registers what woke him and he turns, slowly reaching out to cup her face as she cries in her sleep, completely taken over by a nightmare, by a memory, by fear.

“Emily,” he whispers, trying to wake her carefully. “Em, sweetheart. Wake up.” he says a little louder, tapping her face gently as she gasps, her eyes opening instantly and she sits up, hyperventilating as she cries, a hand on her chest as she struggles to breathe and he holds her.

“You’re okay.” he whispers, “just breathe. It’s okay.” he soothes, a gentle hand on her back. Her breathing evens out pretty quickly but her tears do not, her entire body shaking with fear as he holds her close.

“You’re safe now,” he tells her, lifting her face to wipe her tears as she looks at him. “I’m here.” he says, “You’re safe.”

He slowly lays them back down, wrapping his arms around her when she clings onto him, resting herself in his arms.

“I love you.” she mutters as she slowly breathes, allowing herself to succumb to sleep.

“I love you too.” he whispers. “You’re safe. I’m here.” he repeats, hoping it soothes her, hoping she feels safe with him.

It’s obvious she does when she doesn’t wake until late that next afternoon and goes searching for him as soon as she realises he’s not next to her.

She finds him on the couch and heads towards him, smiling as she sits next to him and rests her head on his chest, relaxing the minute his arms wrap around her.

“You weren’t in bed.” she mumbles as she closes her eyes.

“I’m right here.” he whispers, “I’ll always be here.” he promises, and he smiles when she mumbles a small I know, before falling back into a dreamless sleep.

#hotchniss fic #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

81 notes · View notes

jayankles · 3 years

Text

The Culmination: Endgame

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 2362

Summary: Y/N doesn’t feel so good and it’s not like her to not answer the phone to Sebastian. He was right to send over Josie, Y/N’s friend, over to find out what’s wrong.

Warnings: Angst, Implied Smut, Fluff

Written for: @anyfandomangstbingo | @anyfandomfluffbingo | @anyfandomgoesbingo

Squares Filled: Sick fic | first time | “I really don’t like doing this over the phone”

A/N - Blake Lively is not a representation of the reader; it’s just for the dress. And the other beautiful woman is exactly who I pictured for Josie.

Feedback is gold and appreciated

Of course, you were sick today. The day that Sebastian had told you that he was to take a day at the gym then spend it with Don. You knew that when you woke up this morning it wasn’t going to be a good day, the cold sheets a little foreshadowing of how your day would have gone. The little guttural feeling you had punching you in the gut right now, it had you on the floor, bent over the toilet seat with your head in the bowl.

You felt awful. Unable to move, unless it was your throat spasming. Definitely the worst day so far, you couldn’t move and when you finally were able to move at all you felt like a robot. Not a good look.

You decided that it was time to head back to bed, none of your food would stay down so you made yourself a bottle of water and stumbled into bed with a bucket in your hand, ready to put the bucket on the floor beside your bed.

Pulling at the covers, you curled up under them and took a swig of your drink. Tears rolled down your face as you felt the pain grow stronger, you rubbed your stomach in hopes it would make you feel better; it didn’t.

All you could do was pray that you would fall asleep to not feel this pain anymore. Sleep evaded you. The pain is all there is that you feel. You threw up another three times before you finally succumbed to the pleasures of sleep. Rattling of keys had been the object that had drawn you out of your few moments of slumber. You didn’t dare move though, there was no point, you couldn’t move anyway.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?” It took you a minute to realise that it was your friend, Josie, shouting your name in hopes of finding you. “Y/N, Whe- There you are. What are you still doing in bed? Oh...”

She looked as if she sighed out a breath of relief before she retracted, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. Inhaling the stench of the room, she quickly ran out of there, returning with air freshener, spraying it around you to make her feel better.

“You need a bath, babe. Stay here and I’ll run you one. Of course you’re going to stay here, you poor thing.” Josie rambled, you stopped her before she could go on for another hour.

“Jo, pour some lavender in there. Love you.”

Freshly out of the bath after thirty minutes, you were wrapped up in Sebastian’s bathrobe, a reminder that he was home as it still smelt like him. “I hate feeling like this. It sucks. But I feel better already.”

Josie softly smiled at you, pity in her eyes. “Must have been that nap you took but I know it sucks. Could you imagine Seb with this kinda illness, though? It would be 100% worse just because it’s man flu.”

“Thank you for being here.” You said, taking a seat on the couch. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“Seb called, said he tried texting and video chatting you but you wouldn’t pick up. I guess he was right to have me come over and check on you.”

“He’s such a cutie.” You groaned as you walked, the bath only slightly relieving some of the pain.

“I know. It makes me wanna barf… not like you, though. That shit is nasty, no, thank you, ma’am.” She tutted through a pinched nose, reminding of just how gross you felt and smelt not even a mere hour ago.

“You’re a pleasure as always, Jo. Always so kind to me, when I feel like shit. Thank you.”

She shrugged knowingly, a smirk on her face as she reached forward for the remote, finding a music channel and turning it down a little so it faded into the background becoming nothing but white noise. “So do you know what brought this on? Eat some bad food?”

“I don’t think so, otherwise Seb would feel the same way right?”

“Well you aren’t pooping as well as being sick so this isn’t a viral or bacterial thing. You’re not burning up? No severe migraines?” She asked and you only had one answer.

“Nope. And no, my appendix hasn’t burst because I’ve already had it out.” You said, becoming tired again as you let out a yawn.

“Well, I think I might need to slip out for a little bit.”

“Why? Where are you going? I thought you were going to take care of me?”

“I am. I’m just gonna head to the store and grab you some stuff to make tomato soup. I’ll be twenty minutes tops.” Josie was true to her word, never taking more than the twenty minutes she promised. Putting the bag of groceries on the counter, Josie pulls out the contents, revealing the ingredients she offered to get for you but you could tell that there was something else in the bag.

“What’s in there?”

Josie was fidgety, her fingers twiddling together. “I need you to keep an open mind because I think I know why you’re grossly throwing up.”

“Hit me. I wanna know how I can feel better right now.”

“It’s a good thing that you’re sitting down because…” She paused, making a face that she knew you weren’t going to like. “Because I think you’re pregnant.” her face unchanging as she pulled out the pregnancy test.

Then it hit you.

No.No.No. Fuck!

Hands dancing.

Tongues twining.

Passion blooming.

It was everything you could have asked for when he was away but now that Sebastian was back, you couldn’t keep your hands off of him. You covered every area of the apartment possible.

Oh crap.

“Fuck!”

“Yes you did.” Josie laughed at her own joke, the reaction not quite the same on your end.

“Oh god, Sebastian is going to kill me. He’s never going to want to talk to me. Why was I so stupid? Oh, I’m never gonna hear from him again. I’ll be kicked out. I’ll be a single mother. I’m gonna have to live with you and if I have this baby, you’re gonna hate me, then you’re gonna kick me out too. ”

Josie scoffed at you, helping you scurf back your hair away from your face, making you look into her wide eyes. “First of all, chill. I gotchu, you know I gotchu forever. Sebastian isn’t like that, but if he is you will never see him again and that is a promise and maybe a little bit of a threat. He’ll deserve it if he hurts you so. Just be my alibi if anything ever happens. Just go take the test. Negative? You’re just sick. Positive? You call Sebastian and you talk to him like an adult.”

“Why are you always right? Don’t you ever get sick of it?” You huffed before you smiled at her, squeezing at her hand after taking the small handful of the pregnancy test boxes back to the bathroom.

Five minutes passed and you were holding the peed on sticks in your hand, four out of five of them being positive. “I think I need to call Sebastian, and a doctor.”

After making an appointment with the doctor, you took a deep breath and pressed the button to call Sebastian. He picks up the call pretty quickly and you are not surprised.

“Y/N! Finally! Are you okay? What happened?”

“Hey bubba. I’m fine, just a little sickness. But I really don’t like doing this over the phone. When are you coming home. We need to talk.”

Two months later.

It was the night of the premiere of Avengers: Endgame and you couldn’t be more thrilled for the success that the Marvel Franchise had. It was 10 years of absolute lovable craziness. Thank you, Stan Lee.

You had no idea that you would be here on the aptly coloured, purple carpet with Sebastian after all you would have thought that you would still be with him after the whole pregnancy fiasco but the two of you were able to talk things through. Things were thrown, voices were raised, and tears were shed but still after all of that, Sebastian made the executive decision to calm the two of you down. The stress was no good for anyone at this point. You were both going to be parents; it’s what was established.

The two of you walked hand in hand, palms sweating as the cameras flashed, and photographers called out to each and every star that was involved in the production of Endgame. The culmination of the whole franchise was just so surreal, the fact that it was ending with a bang both made you swell with pride but it also made you a tad emotional because this collection of amazing characters wouldn’t continue but the legacy they left would. And that was what mattered.

“Sebastian! Y/N! Over here!” You heard from one of the interviewers, looking beautiful in her outfit, Sebastian rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, you were going to be okay. He was right there with you and you had done this a few times before. He was there for you.

“Hi.” “Hello. You and Sebastian answered at the same time, making the interviewer laugh.

“Wait, I remember you. I bought you a soup in a thermos and Tom gave you his jacket. I see we got lucky with good weather today, huh?” You said, smiling at her.

“Yes. You remember me?!” The woman turned to the camera looking right into the lens of it. “Guys, I’m fangirling so hard right now. Ah!”

Once the woman got her fangirling out of the way, she moved onto the interview, trying to get any information that she could before the movie premiered. Sebastian took over that one, telling her that there was no way that they were allowed to say anything about the movie other than he was dust.

“Now we’ve got that movie non gossip out of the way. Are you okay to talk freely about your pregnancy?”

You looked to Sebastian, it was his decision just as much as it was yours, you knew that Sebastian wanted to keep his private life separate from his professional acting career. “It’s okay, honey. Go ahead.”

“I think you’re good to go.”

“Thank you. I must say that you do look stunning in that dress.” She gushed, you thanked her, hiding your face a little. You loved this dress, the nude under layer and the little white and purple flowers that scattered across your dress, your bump barely visible through your dress.

“How far along are you?”

“Well, we’re in the first week of the second trimester. So I’m a little more confident when telling you that.”

“That’s amazing. Was the pregnancy planned at all?”

You made a face, sucking in a little air, looking to Sebastian for a little light to be shed on the situation. “Not at all. It was Y/N’s friend that actually realised that her morning sickness wasn’t her having the flu. She felt absolutely awful that morning, it was enough to know that it was bad when I tried to call her and I didn’t get an answer.

“We had our issues, you know, we didn’t know what to do, we're new at this. But I think that it’s important to know that you don’t abandon your family.” Sebastian softly smiled at you, subconsciously putting a hand on your slowly growing stomach. “I guess that is what this franchise is about though, right? It’s about family and- and looking out for one another. Everybody’s got a somebody here and I love that.”

“And Thanos, fucks it all up and snaps his goddamn fingers.” The three of you and the cameraman began to laugh at your little outburst about the mad, purple titan. “God, I can’t wait for the premiere tonight but I’m scared. For everybody. But especially for me, you know, I’m an emotional person anyway, add a hormonal woman to the mix and a whole lot of angst. Get my ice cream and tissues ready, because I’m coming for you, Thanos.”

“I heard that!”

“Love you, Josh. For the record, Josh is a nice guy, the character he plays is a big old sack of balls and I have no idea how he does it so convincingly.” Lovingly, you made eyes at Seb. “But it’s just like my Sebastian, a dark hydra assassin but in reality he’s a big ball of sunshine and goofiness. And I love him for it.”

“This is- this is what gets me.” The interviewer leaned in a little as Sebastian’s voice dropped to a slight whisper. “I know that she is going to be the best mom for our child because Y/N loves everything and everyone and that is a great quality to have but she’s also caring and matches my goofy side but her sass outweighs mine of course, no one can beat that.”

“Aww, he’s making me cry already. Seb,” you whined. “My makeup.”

“Well that's it folks.” The woman spoke, telling the audience that this was one of the cutest interviews that she had ever taken, that she could die happy and quickly saying congratulations before the two of you were whisked away to walk the carpet again and pose for pictures.

“You’re way too good to me, you know that right?” You said to Seb as you admired the sky blue suit he was wearing over his plain white tee. “I never even got to tell them that this baby will have the hottest dad in the world as well as the sweetest man. Thank you for being my baby daddy.”

Unbeknownst to you, the cameras had caught every single moment the two of you shared. The kisses you shared together, were now shared with the world, all over social media. At this point you didn’t care, you only cared about the man in front of you and the baby growing in your stomach. And this god damn movie!

Feedback is gold and appreciated

#anyfandomgoesbingo #anyfandomangstbingo #anyfandomfluffbingo #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x pregnant!reader #sebastian x pregnant!reader #mcu fic #rpf fic #sebastian stan fic #sebastian x reader fluff #queue you!#jayankles #jayankles writes #bailey writes

86 notes · View notes

spenciegoob · 3 years

Text

How to Never Stop Being Sad

A/N: Yes, this is another song inspired fic I am OBSESSED with them. If you’ve listened to how to never stop being sad by dandelion hands, are you okay? If you haven’t and you do because of this I would like to formally apologize. Okay so I started writing this and I just want to say that every single one of you is so beautiful because like wait hold on I’m getting flustered... Anyways, everything about you is beautiful that I just got so overly flustered and hot THINKING about it. Okay that’s all carry on.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer shows Reader how to stop being sad in tiny ways.

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Content Warnings: mentions of depression, loneliness, body image issues and self deprecating thoughts

Word Count: 21K

Masterlist

____

Time has proven that fooling yourself into believing the lies is the most effective way to deal with the things you have no control over.

She sat there, for too long if she was being honest, staring at a reflection that couldn’t have been real. The mirror in her bedroom had to have been replaced with one from a carnival, distorting the image as a sick, twisted joke.

Your thighs are huge.

Your hips are too wide.

Your stretch marks are disgusting.

She had enough, finally letting the tears that welled in her eyes escape, falling down like raindrops on a window as she sat back and rested her head between her knees. She couldn’t bare to see anymore, all the early morning jogs, gym memberships and diet remedies were for nothing.

Her body had a mind of its own, and she couldn’t control it.

But then her front door clicked as Spencer all too excitedly used his brand new key, expecting to see his girlfriend sitting on the couch he fell in love with her on. The first day she invited him upstairs, the door was opened and his eyes immediately fell to the obscure, bright purple sofa that oddly enough went well with the rest of her simplistic, white furniture.

“I saw it once at a thrift shop and it was too perfect not to buy it,” she said, noticing the way he was eyeing the couch. He let a smile break across his face, knowing in that moment that he may just be in love.

But she wasn’t there, and when the door clicked shut, she was also made aware of the presence in her home.

Quickly, she pulled herself off the floor, wiped the tears that accumulated under her eyes and down her cheeks, and avoided looking at the reflection in front of her.

“Y/N? Are you here?” Spencer called from the living room. She knew he was slowly taking steps that he attempted to make as quiet as possible, just in case, towards the hallway that led to her.

“Uh, y-yeah I’m here. Just a second!” She called back, rushed and stuttering as she looked for the biggest sweatshirt and sweatpants she could find. Deciding on gray sweats and a Caltech sweatshirt, both belonging to Spencer, she took one last look at her face hoping he won’t catch what her previous activities consisted of.

When she walked out of the bedroom, Spencer saw it. He always did.

But what she noticed was the fact Spencer was dressed up, even after stopping home from the office before coming to her. They had a date, and it wasn’t that she forgot, oh no, she remembered clearly, but in her attempts to find something to wear that would be enough, her spiral had begun.

“Come here,” was all Spencer said, opening his arms for her to waltz into, and she did, slowly dragging her fuzzy sock clad feet over to the man in front of her that held both the warmth and answers that she needed.

“I’m sorry, I just... I can’t-”

“I know, it’s okay.” His reassurance calmed the nerves she had for the past hour over if Spencer would be mad that she flaked on a date. “Usually I’m the one to cancel dates. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

He wasn’t prying for answers, she knew that, and she also knew that if she said no, Spencer wouldn’t push it. That was the thing about Spencer; he didn’t need to know what was wrong, but he always knew how to fix it.

“Not yet,” she mumbled, her words muffled by his chest that she pressed her face into the moment she had the chance.

Spencer cradled the back of her head, forcing it off his chest softly to gaze down at her with a face full of worry, curiosity, but most importantly, adoration.

“Come on, sweetheart. I wanna try something,” Spencer said before grabbing her hand and leading her to the purple velour couch. He sat down first, pointing away from him with his free hand letting her know he wants her facing away.

The second she sat down, Spencer let go of her hand and replaced both on top of her shoulders.

“Spence, what are you doing?” She giggled slightly when his fingers brushed near her neck. Spencer will never quite get used to how ticklish she was.

“I’m giving you a massage, I could feel how tense your muscles were from across the room.” She knew it was a lie. He also knew it was a lie, but neither had the want to say anything about it.

His hands caressed her shoulders before moving down to her back, his fingers resting on the sides of her body as his thumbs did all the work. She let her head lean back as a sigh left her body with the tension.

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer whispered just loud enough for them to hear, and even though they were the only two in the room, the admission felt natural as a whisper like if he said it any louder, it may have broken the bubble they were in.

Slowly, she looked down to the left of her, watching Spencer out of her peripherals. The second her eyes started to glisten, he abandoned the massage altogether to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her directly against him.

“I’m sorry I don't know why I’m crying,” she said between gasps for air and soft sobs. Spencer simply shushed her, and held her close to his chest, brushing his fingers through her hair.

He tried to turn her body to face him, but in her stubbornness, she stayed with her back to his chest.

“Hey, look at me, sweetheart.” Spencer put a finger under her chin, delicately lifted her head to lock teary eyes with his loving ones. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world, and I promise to remind you that every day for the rest of my life.”

And Spencer Reid kept his promise.

Keep listening to the mixtapes they made you, overanalyze every single word you hear. "Was this a sign that things were going wrong?" No no, you were the one that cared too hard, not them.

The couple had impulsively decided to spend their two free days together in an impromptu vacation to New York City. Spencer never actually cared for the city, but when he watched the way she lit up as she suggested they go “be one with the New Yorkers,” how could he say no?

That’s how he found himself in the passenger seat of her broken down Volkswagen beetle listening to her sing along to the words of a song he’s never heard. Most of the songs she’s played so far he hasn’t known, but after watching her get lost in music she has no shame in showing she loves, he knows every line.

And when the song changes, his ears perk up because he knows this song. Spencer is aware that it doesn’t quite conventionally fit in his usual music library, but nonetheless, it’s adored just the same as Beethoven or Bach.

But then the channel is changed, the force used to push the button on the radio much stronger than needed. It was quiet for a second before Spencer spoke up.

“Are you okay?” It was simply put enough that if something was wrong, which evidently there was, she wouldn’t feel interrogated about it, only comforted.

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s cool,” she said in what could be the most unbelievable faux cheerfulness Spencer had ever heard. “That song just brings up some bad memories.”

“Oh,” Spencer whispered. When it didn’t look like she was going to elaborate, he continued. “Do you want better ones?”

“What?” She took her eyes off the road to look at Spencer like what he just asked was absolutely preposterous. “What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he changed the station on the radio back. Time was on Spencer’s side this morning, because the peak of the song was about to play once he settled back.

She's a, she's a lady, and I am just a Line Without a Hook

BABY, I AM A WRECK WHEN I’M WITHOUT YOU

Spencer loudly sang along to the words, throwing his head back as he yelled and using his hands as he sang. She looked over at him with wide eyes that slowly shrunk as her smile grew.

The ice the song caused to freeze over her mind and heart slowly melted from the warmth Spencer’s love spread. Together, they sang the rest of the song, and when it was over, she still had a smile on her face.

“You’re a terrible singer, you know.”

“Oh, I know.”

Stay up every single night staring at your phone either attempting to gather up the courage to turn these demons, these constant reminders of your loneliness into nothing more than a bad dream, or praying just for one second you could feel the warmth of equally returned love.

There are many reasons one doesn’t answer their phone.

She could be on the phone with another person, but no that’s not possible. Her hatred for speaking over the phone ensued she never answered anyone but him.

Maybe her battery died, but that would mean she didn’t charge it overnight. Spencer watched her plug it in around midnight, even after he’s told her the dangers of doing that.

His mind unfortunately went to a darker place, because what he didn’t know was that hers did too.

She had watched her phone on her dresser vibrate insistently all three times until it fell to the floor with a deafening crash. She hoped that it didn’t crack, but that hope wasn’t strong enough to get her out of bed to check.

Spencer in his panic never expected to walk into her apartment to find everything in its place. Her car keys sat where they always did, in the bowl by the front door. The boots she usually found an excuse to wear with everything were sitting where she struggled every day to get them off by the couch, and there wasn’t a single sign of a struggle.

And then he walked into her bedroom to check one last time before he called Garcia, and while he found signs of a struggle, it wasn’t the one he was dreading.

It was the one she was.

They made eye contact the second the door opened, and upon seeing her safe, Spencer bit back a sigh of relief. There was no relief flooding his veins when the sadness in her eyes traveled to his, creating a sick equilibrium.

Spencer’s mind no longer cared about the missed phone calls, there were more important matters at hand.

“Hi, sweet girl,” was all he said as he shuffled into the room. “I got to go home early today, so I was thinking I could cook dinner for us.” Spencer had started to pick up thrown clothes off the floor, securing them in the dirty hamper. He was about to start putting books back on her bookshelf when she called out.

“Spencer.” It was only a whisper, because anything louder would’ve been too much work.

“I know, I know. My cooking skills aren’t the greatest bu-”

“Spencer,” she said again, much louder this time, even if it was just a hoarse excuse of his name.

He turned to her this time, stopping his cleaning. She had sat up only slightly to catch his eye. Regret filled her veins when they met, but upon gazing into pools of honey that held no pity, but an understanding, it melted.

“What are you doing?”

Instead of truly answering the question, Spencer held up the books that were in his hands. “Do you organize by last name?” When she just gawked at him, he continued, “We’ll do last name.”

She had no energy to fight him, he was right about the last name at least. Instead, she just watched him organize the book shelf in record speed, her mind clearing the fog that laid dangerously close to her thoughts.

When Spencer picked up the last book to be put away, she called for him again.

“Can you read that one to me?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Go out for coffee four times a week by yourself, always bring your notebook, never stop writing. Leave little comics and thank you notes with your tip, watch them smile as you get in your car.

She always sat alone. It was the first thing Spencer noticed about her because he too enjoyed his coffee at a table with only one chair. He would watch her every day when he got the chance to go to this cafe, so much so that his brain associated her with the place. The small mismatched couches that gave it a homey feel would always remind him of her, even if she were not sitting on them.

Who she was? Spencer did not know, but he was going to make it his mission to find out.

He always sat alone. A man like that, one with features perfectly sculpted, and an aura of comfortability so strong she didn’t have to follow the jingle of the bells on top of the door to know it was him who entered. She would look up from her notepad filled with doodles of everyone who walked by her, and comments about the day. He would always be reading, it being a new book each time.

One day when she looked up at him, wondering what he could possibly be reading now, their eyes met. She felt herself get lost in his eyes, like running through a forest, charting unknown territory carefree with no reason to turn back. Everything about him was so soft that she feared if he came any closer to her jagged thoughts, he may find himself ripped to shreds.

For the first time in Spencer’s life, his mind seized its constant running, the relief so strong he felt his limbs follow suit. She had paralyzed him with her stare, green meeting honey, mind numb except for the begging to get up and introduce himself.

In all the times he watched her, Spencer had never seen her smile until that moment. If there was any doubt that he shouldn’t talk to her, it was quickly washed away with the realization he would stop at nothing to see it again.

“Uh hi, I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.” When she looked up at him from where she went back to writing, his heart faltered. Her gaze was so cathartic that it leaves his brain fuzzy and his heart giddy.

Spencer never believed in a god, but if there was one, she was sitting in front of him.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Giddy and fuzzy.

When his phone rings, Spencer swore whoever dared interrupt the moment he’s been dreaming of every night for 4 months was going to feel a wrath unparalleled. He reached into his pocket, and upon reading ‘Hotchner’ in bold letters, his face fell.

“It’s okay. We’ll see each other again,” she reassured him before he had the chance to queue her in on his need to leave. She just knew, the same way she knew it wasn’t going to be the last time she saw his face.

“Until then.”

“Until then.” She smiled as she watched him leave, and once the door shut behind him, she returned to her notebook. The smile never left.

Talk down on yourself whenever possible; my life is shit because I deserve it, right? You must have done something real bad, it’s nearly impossible for you to cry now.

It was always the little moments that Spencer let it slide. When he brought her coffee on the off chance he found a free day, and surrounded by her appreciation for his kindness was a mumbled ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he let it go.

The time they walked by a small boutique, and a dress in the window caught her eye. It was short, purple silk loosely hanging off the collarbone of the mannequin, only to tighten at the waist.

“I couldn’t imagine wearing something like that,” she told Spencer before the two continued to walk. He could.

Spencer thought she would look rather beautiful in it.

And now, they sat on her purple couch while Spencer attempted to pay attention to the TV show she was binging. He kept all his comments to himself, she liked to talk about what they watched after, and he vowed that this time, Spencer would actively participate in the conversation.

But when he looked down at the girl laying in his lap, he found she was no longer following the storyline, and instead looked a million lightyears away.

“Hey.” Her attention snapped to him instantly. “Where'd you go just now?”

“I was just thinking about you,” she admitted. Looking away she continued. “About us.”

She didn’t continue with that thought, but with the sadness that filled her voice, Spencer knew there was more than what she was letting on. He also knew that if she really wanted to share her demons with him, letting them dance circles around them in the dark until the sun came up, she would release them. So instead, he tried to shoo them away.

“You know I love you, right?” If reassurance was what she needed, he would be more than happy to grant her that.

“Why?” She whispered back, so softly that Spencer could’ve missed the way the room no longer just held the two of them. She could not find a singular thing she loved about herself in that moment, so what was Spencer actually seeing?

Spencer sat with that question for a moment.

“You make me smile, even when you’re not with me. When I’m away, thinking about you is the highlight of my day. You’re beautiful, it kind of knocks me off my feet for a second, and you’re so kind, even when people don’t deserve it. You’re a light in the dark. Plus you make really good cookies, but that’s just an added bonus. Does that answer your question?”

Spencer looked back down at her, finding a smile and tears, and somewhere in his mind, he knew to make a mental note of this image.

“Yes,” she whispered before reaching up and cupping his face. “But now I really want cookies.”

Avoid your friends for weeks even though they're the only sense of consistency you have left in your life, if they really wanted to see you they'd come, but they won't.

She could feel herself slowly closing off, and no matter how much she willed for the isolation to find its way out, it still crept in at night. Without care, she let it consume her, taking more and more time during the day to dissipate to inevitably crawl back at the first sign of dark. It infiltrated her mind like a parasite, latching on to the first vulnerable thought.

Spencer did nothing wrong, he was sure of it. What he wasn’t sure of, however, was the reason for his girlfriend’s abrupt distance. He knew that in relationships, sometimes space apart from one another is important, but that knowledge wasn’t enough to stop the nagging feeling.

Something else was wrong, he was sure of it.

Alone she sat staring out the window at cars that drove by and people enjoying the day in each other’s company. The sounds of the world were not enough to drown out her mind’s racing, the thoughts so loud that she could’ve missed the knock at her front door.

It happened again when she refused to move or make a sound that could inform whoever was on the other side of her door that she was home. By the third round of knocking, she grew irritated and stormed over to give whoever interrupted her self loathing a piece of her mind.

But she opened the door and there stood Spencer, and whatever obscenities she planned on yelling were forgotten. In their place, guilt flooded through her because Spencer didn’t storm in angry, or yell at her for avoiding him for a week. Instead, he just stood there, no anger, just unapologetically Spencer.

“It’s been a week,” he said, no heavy emotions in his voice, just very matter-of-factly. “I hope it’s okay I stopped by.”

No one had ever just “stopped by” before.

“It’s more than okay.”

Allow yourself to lose interest in the things you love, watch as you begin to take a backseat to the world around you, don't fight it. Become a secondary character in your own motion picture.

Spencer wasn’t particularly snooping as he was curious. She was in the shower, and he spotted it. Before he even had the chance to force his eyes anywhere but the leather bound journal, it was too late. His mind was already too curious for any other decision besides to read what was inside.

It was the same journal she was so engrossed in every time he looked at her in the cafe.

The first few pages were simple sketches of people he recognized as regulars from the cafe. On the fifth page, what looked to be an unfinished drawing of a man was found with a little note next to it that read ‘My art doesn’t do him justice.”

Spencer could’ve sworn he had that same haircut 7 months ago.

Moving on, he flipped to a page with a drawing of a sunflower on it, the stem growing up the side of the page with a small flower on the top, leaning over what he suspected was a poem. It read,

with striking precision, my mind is full of thoughts

only i have not a soul to voice these nags

the episodes of Self Growth and Actualization that i long to not be

my reassurance alone.

if only my being was of a sunflower’s,

to sit in a field surrounded by those who are

Just Like Me.

Spencer read it over and over, scouring his brain for the poem’s author. He was trying so hard, his brain going into overdrive that he missed the sound of the shower turning off.

She walked out of the bathroom to find Spencer sitting on her bed, journal in hand.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, although no matter how hard she tried to sound serious and authoritative, it more or so came out joyous with the giggles that followed her question.

“Who wrote this poem?” Spencer asked, finally looking up at her. There she stood in the doorway of the bathroom, bright pink fuzzy pants and a white t-shirt on, drying her hair with a towel and she has never looked more beautiful.

“Which one?” She walked over and peaked at the page Spencer landed on. “Oh, that’s mine.”

It was so nonchalant that Spencer had to repeat it over in his mind to fully grasp what she said.

“You wrote this?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you have more?” She laughed at his eagerness, but when she looked over at his dead serious face, her smile dropped.

“You can’t be serious. Spencer I wrote those so long ago. Eventually I realized it was going nowhere and just gave up. They’re really not that special.”

“They are to me.” The couple held eye contact, a silent standoff between the two. One of them had to back out eventually, and then the thought that no one in her life had ever told her that her art, whether it was huge painting or little doodles, long written out memoirs or tiny poems, was special.

So she threw the competition, and sat down next to him on the bed.

“There’s another one on the next two pages.”

You don't need other people to drive away your loneliness, you just needed to find a way to talk to it.

______

Join a taglist here Tell me your thoughts on this fic here Have a request? Send it in here

Taglist: @the-girl-who-writes-fanfiction @haylaansmi @masumiyetimziyanoldu @cielo1984 @rexorangecouny @username2002 @calm-and-doctor @pieceofried @mermaidshmari @everythingbutnormal @seasonfivereid @no-honey-no

243 notes · View notes

sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years

Text

Mountain Night

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG-13/T (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Just kinda skimming back through ACOTAR and felt like it.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This has a couple extra headcanons of mine sprinkled in here, just to fill in gaps. Thanks. Enjoy!

^^^^^

I stood in front of the fireplace next to Rhysand, watching the flames. Somewhere within the Mountain, a bell tolled eight, agreeing with the clock on Rhys’ mantel. Rhys’ shoulders slumped. “Amarantha’s gonna be summoning me any time now,” he said. Dejected, exhausted. But not defeated.

I reached out and held him. “Not much longer now. The forty-nine years of Tamlin’s curse are almost over. Then… then we’ll see if we can break the spell on you and the other High Lords and get out of here,” I said into his shoulder. I traced my fingertips over his shoulder blades, where his wings met his back when he had them out. Amarantha didn’t even know he had wings—and he wanted to keep it that way.

“We can only pray,” he said, wrapping his own arms around me.

The mating bond thrummed between us. Neither of us had accepted it. Acted on it. If we did, Amarantha would smell it on us. Destroy me for what I meant to Rhys, just to torment him. It drove us both mad—wild, occasionally—but we’d fought it for years. We could fight it until we were free.

I kissed his barely-exposed collarbone, where the hint of his tattoos were poking out.

“Happy Starfall, Rhysand,” I whispered.

He shuddered. “Happy Starfall, darling,” he replied. His voice shook slightly. He blinked away tears and released me from the hug. Still holding one of my hands, he lifted it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles.

His eyes, so dark blue they were violet, seemed to be piercing right into my soul. “I swear to you, when we’re free, we will never have to hide our love from anyone,” he said.

I smiled. “That will be nice.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, “Go. Be safe. Walk through the walls as a shadow so she doesn’t see you leaving.” He pressed his forehead to mine.

“I will.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I let his hands go. Darkness swam over my skin, almost like how they did with Azriel. Az… I missed our family.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. I backed toward the opposite wall from the fireplace, my lower body passing through the unrumpled bed. I wiped the tears away, staring at Rhys for as long as I could before I was swallowed by the wall.

I lingered in the wall for a while, letting my tears fall in the privacy of the stone. Inches from Rhys, yet I may as well have been on the other side of the Wall on the farthest end of the human continent. Forty-nine years. So close, trapped, together Under the Mountain. Mates unable to accept their bond for fear of their lives.

I heard the door open to Rhys’ room. “Well, hello, handsome,” Amarantha’s smooth voice greeted.

The sound sent me running. I knew Rhys hated every single night she forced herself on him. I knew he wouldn’t want me to hear. Knew he was ashamed of it, but willing to keep doing it to keep our family and our home safe.

I loved him all the more for it.

Even if the dormant mating bond chafed against me at the thought of another female in bed with my mate.

Stupid territorial instincts.

I burst out of the stone in my own bedchamber. Small, not particularly grand. Sometimes I imagined it was the guest room I usually occupied in the Velaris townhouse. When I was desperately in need of comfort. Neither Rhys nor I had seen the sun much in the last forty-nine years. Sometimes, in midsummer, Rhys, Helion, me, and a few closely trusted people would gather in one of our bedchambers and let Helion glow, imitating the sun.

Then Rhys would cast a blanket of darkness through the room. Darkness and those glittering stars. A night sky we never got to see either.

Neither High Lord had enough power to hold the light or dark for too long, but the brief snatches we got of both were enough to keep hoping. Enough to keep us from breaking entirely. From shattering down to our very souls.

I collapsed on my bed. Nuala and Cerridwen appeared a few minutes later. Just to sit with me. Their touches were light as I cried. It felt like they were barely embracing me. But I knew they were there. Appreciated their care and concern. As well as their company. If it weren’t for Rhys and Helion, I would have certainly gone mad a long time ago.

“My lady,” Nuala said softly, “how may we ease your pain?”

I shook my head. “Just… just sit with me a while.”

The twins nodded. “We serve and protect,” Cerridwen said.

The three of us stayed on the edge of my bed for hours. Hours, I knew, Rhys was spending with Amarantha. On Starfall. Because she knew he loved it, and she wanted to deprive him of it. Just as, if she found out we were mates, she would want to deprive him of me. Slowly. Painfully. In every way possible before I finally died. Hoping to break him beyond repair.

But my High Lord’s soul was forged in hotter fires, even, than this half-century-long trial. He would never let her break him. Even if she found out about his relation to me.

Long after midnight, Cerridwen pulled a small comb out of my hair that I’d forgotten I’d put in. A small, silver thing with a single star engraved into the top. No jewels, just metal. A simple ornament to remind myself it was Starfall. To remind Rhys.

Even if I had forgotten I put it in.

The twins helped me with the stiff buttons of my tunic and shirt and then left me for the evening to finish undressing and climbing into bed.

I didn’t sleep.

Forty-nine years, and I never slept the night of Starfall. Nor the Winter Solstice.

—

Rhys slipped into my room well into the next morning. I was still lying in bed, eyes closed but awake. He set a hand on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes.

His wings were out.

I sat up quickly. “What—why—”

He just held a finger to his lips. “So you know it’s me. Not some illusion. She didn’t see. I didn’t let them out until I closed the door in here.” His wings tilted backwards and then disappeared.

I leaned my head onto his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me.

“This kills me,” he whispered. “I should never have brought you to that party. Then you wouldn’t be stuck here.”

“It was my choice too,” I reminded him, sitting up from his shoulder. “I thought… I thought you’d need backup. Someone to distract anyone who came too near while you were getting into her head to make her confess. It kills me that I didn’t think to test your drink for curses. Sniff it for poisons. I want to kill her for all she’s taken from you. For the fact that we’ve lived like this for decades. That I can’t take you to be mine because of her. Some nights it makes me sick thinking about my mate being forced to bed a different female. This isn’t your fault, Rhysand. It’s mine too.”

I never called him his full given name to his face unless I was serious about something. He knew it too. Which was why his violet eyes finally met mine from where our knees were almost touching.

“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.

“I feel the same way about you.”

He kissed my forehead.

Forty-nine years. The bond had snapped into place thirty years ago, even though we’d known each other for two centuries before that. Thirty years of not being able to even kiss him on the lips for fear of us both losing control and accepting the bond on both ends. Slamming our scents together in an unmistakeable sign we were mates.

“I promise, I’ll find a way to get us out of this,” Rhysand vowed, voice low.

“I’ll help any way I can,” I said.

It wasn’t a bargain, per se. Not the type that required a tattoo. Just a quiet promise between two people in love.

Nuala appeared in the room. “Amarantha’s calling a party for tonight,” she said. “Throne room. The usual.”

“Thank you,” Rhys and I said at the same time. She nodded and disappeared.

Silence stretched out between us for a few minutes. Long enough that it started to make me uncomfortable. I got out of bed and started selecting clothes for the day. Awful, immodest, wicked, Under the Mountain clothes.

“What do you think?” Rhysand finally asked.

“About?” I tested.

“The party tonight.”

“It’ll be just like all the other ones.”

“Wanna shake things up?”

“No. A party just like all the other ones is how we’ve survived this long.” I picked up a brush from where it sat on my basic vanity, set my clothes bundle where the brush had been, and started to detangle my hair. “We survive by playing our roles. Wearing masks even worse than those at the Spring Court, stuck to their faces. The people here—they know what you are. They know what I am. They know I will pretend to tolerate their company while the monster inside sizes up its prey. They know you do the same thing. Changing it now won’t be good for us.” I shook my head.

“What if you arrive in your most revealing gown and we pretend to be lovers that will use and discard each other?”

I didn’t answer until I finished brushing out my hair. “You know that would be dangerous.”

“It would distract Amarantha.”

I threw the brush across the room, where it bounced off the padded headboard, soaring an inch past Rhysand’s ear. “I’m not talking about Amarantha!” I snapped. Rhys looked startled, though the expression smoothed out after the blink of an eye. “You know why we can’t do that to each other. Not now. Because… because—” I squared my shoulders. “—because having you so close, playing that game… you know neither of us would be able to help it. We’d come back here, shred each other’s clothes, and tomorrow Amarantha would start slowly butchering both of us.”

He looked away from me, down to his knees. I crossed to the door that would lead to my tiny adjoining bathing room. “I know,” he said softly. He stood up and stomped over to me as something seemed to rile his temper. “But don’t assume for a second that she hasn’t noticed you have never taken a lover your entire time here. Everyone else has—except you.”

“So what?”

“She doesn’t like being beaten at her own game. Everyone else takes lovers because she expects them to grow more and more wicked and base as their souls wear down and break. For pretty much everyone else, she’s been right. She thinks she broke me like a prize stallion with very little effort. She sees that you’re not breaking—and she’ll want to start working on wearing you down. Tamlin’s deadline is crawling ever-nearer and she’s getting paranoid and restless. She’ll turn you into entertainment just for defying her like this.”

My shoulders slouched. “Even so, she’d never give up you. And I’m not about to take any other male while I’m here, knowing it’s you I should be taking.” The barest flicker of feeling twitched at the mating bond between us. Which emotion, I couldn’t place.

Rhys looked thoughtful. “She’d let me have a side-dalliance as long as she suspected there was nothing behind it. No care, no emotion at all. Just base, primal, carnal instincts we’d later toss aside.” He shrugged. I missed the sight of his wings sweeping the air with his shrugs back home.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said.

“Your choice.”

It was always my choice. Even when things directly impacted him, or hurt his feelings, it was always my choice. “What about your choice?”

“Well, given I suggested it, I think you already know what my choice would be.” He gave me one of his best, sensuous, seductive grins. Wickedly flirtatious. Appealing to that part of me that was absolutely feral deep down. My chest tightened and I clamped down on the longing rising in my heart.

“Fine. But we can’t let—we can’t let the bond solidify. She can’t know.”

Rhys grinned. “I think you’re going to need to choose a different dress, darling.” He gave me a wink.

If I hadn’t already thrown my hairbrush at him, I’d have done it again.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #don't know how else to tag these #Mountain Night

45 notes · View notes

adhd-disaster-willie · 3 years

Text

you're the one that brings the sun; chapter 1/6

Summary: Alex is prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Willex roommate au!

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: The title is from the song “I Dare You” by the Regrettes. I’ve actually planned this fic out so here’s to hoping I don’t get burned out halfway through. It might end up having 6 or 7 chapters, 5 is kind of just an estimate.

---

When Alex was 11, his mother proudly plastered his report card to the fridge and exclaimed that one day, her little boy would go to Harvard. His father gripped his shoulder with pride and Alex beamed up at his parents like they’d just told him he had superpowers. 3 years later, he was 14 and teetering on the edge of failure in the majority of his classes. He wasn’t stupid by any means, just preoccupied. He’d started a band with his best friends and that felt like the most important thing in the whole world, and high school was new and scary, so it was easier to not pour all his focus into school. His parents’ smiles faltered but they kept up hope, Alex could tell. 2 years later, he stood shaking and crying outside of the Molina’s garage and suddenly, the concept of going to college begun to feel distant and fake. But he’s 18 now, and somehow, miraculously, gazing at the piles of boxes in the back of Ray’s car and swallowing down a lump in his throat.

It sure isn’t Harvard, but a part of Alex feels giddy at the fact that he’s attending a public college that was relatively easy to get into; oh his parents would be rolling in their proverbial graves. What didn’t make him quite so happy though, was the looming fact that he’d be living with some random person, because for some godforsaken reason, the college wouldn’t allow freshmen to choose their roomates. Some bullshit about meeting new people and socializing.

“Hey, ‘Lex. Dude, you’ll be fine.” Luke shakes his shoulders, before swinging one arm around him and the other around Reggie.

“Says the one who isn’t even going to college,” Alex grumbles, slipping from Luke’s grip and into the front seat of the car.

“Yea cause I don’t need it. Not my fault you’re both nerds,” Luke retorts.

“I’m not a nerd, I just like to have insurance-”

“Yea, back-up plan, safety net, heard it a million times. Reggie’s a nerd though.”

“Old news, dude,” Alex says.

“I am not a nerd!” Reggie protests indignantly.

“Tell that to your 2 years of college credit in math.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Nerd.”

“Math is fun!”

“You’re horrible.” Alex makes a mock gagging noise.

Julie comes bounding out of the house, her arms decked with various baked goods. She tosses herself in the backseat beside Reggie and Luke, looking quite pleased with herself at being able to force Luke to sit in the middle. “Tía was apparently up all night baking,” she explains, passing the sweets up to Alex. “Don’t be surprised if she shows up at your dorm with food every day.”

Alex snorts. “I would not object to that.”

Julie sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You guys are so lucky, I’m tired of high school. Damn September birthday,” Julie grumbles. Her birthday is just after the cut off date, so she would be 18 for the majority of senior year, but is just barely too young to be in the same grade as the boys.

Reggie leans over and pats her arm sympathetically, earning an offended squeak from Luke, who’s only pushed further into the back of the seat.

“Don’t worry!” Alex chirps sarcastically. “You get to spend more time with Luke, since he’ll be squatting in your garage!”

“Oh, joy,” Julie deadpans.

“I am not a squatter!” Luke protests, kicking the back of Alex’s seat.

“No kicking! I’m holding food!”

“Y’know Alex, you’ve been staying in the studio for 2 years, you’re not one to talk!” Luke argues.

“I have a job.”

“A stupid job.”

“A stupid job that gets you free coffee.”

Reggie nodds to that, chewing on a cookie. “Can’t risk losing your coffee privileges.”

Julie groans loudly and stuck her head out the window. “DAAAAD! Let’s goooo!” She cries.

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so badly,” Alex says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh shut up Lexi, I just wanna meet your’s and Reggie’s new best friends!” Julie says, laughing.

“I’m not gonna be best friends with my roommate.”

“Yea, Alex forgot how to do that!”

“Luke I will smother you in your sleep!”

At this, Ray approaches the car with a raised eyebrow. “No one’s planning a murder, I hope?” He asks, chuckling as he slides into the drivers seat.

“No sir!” Reggie replies, grinning.

“Not yet,” Alex mumbles under his breath.

“Alright boys, who’s ready for college!” Ray says, starting the car.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

---

“And that’s the last of it!” Ray claps a hand over Alex’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly.

Alex nods tensely, gripping the strap of his fannypack tighter.

The dorm’s probably as good as he’s gonna get. One reasonably sized bedroom complete with two horribly uncomfortable beds, a kitchen with a fridge that was in no way large enough to fit even a weeks worth of meals, a tiny living room that would probably fit a couch and a TV at the most, and a bathroom that smelled suspiciously of mustard. Really it isn’t terrible, but Alex has a habit of noticing every little detail, especially the ones that could be a problem at some point. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he’s standing amongst his various boxes, anxiety pulsing in his chest.

Julie grips his hand tightly and smiles, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Hey, Alex, you’re gonna be okay.” She squeezes his hand briefly.

Alex nods, exhaling shakily. “Yea, yea I know. It’s just…”

“A change, I know. But this is a good change. And-” she hauls Reggie and Luke over to them. “-we’re all here if you need to call someone and talk. And dad, and Tía, and I bet your roommate will be super cool.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Just pray he’s not a football player,” Reggie stage-whispers, shuddering.

“God, don’t even suggest that!” Alex whines.

Encouragements and teary hugs are passed along, as well as a promise to meet at the Olive Garden nearby for dinner in a few hours, and then Alex’s posse is off to get Reggie settled, and Alex is left alone in the dorm. Alright.

Alex takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before beginning to wander the dorm. He’s anxious to start unpacking without his roommate and risk doing something that they wouldn’t like. Even choosing a bed feels wrong, he really doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this person. But leaving the dorm meant people everywhere so that was a definite no. He sighs, lowering himself to the wooden floor and pulling out his phone.

“Yea… uh huh. Yes Caleb, I got here fine. No the Uber driver did not try and kidnap me. The boxes- the boxes are not too heavy. Okay. Okay. Yea, bye. Mhm.”

Alex looks up hesitantly upon hearing the voice nearing his dorm. The person standing in the doorway is well… less of a person and more of a large stack of boxes threatening to fall over any second. “Hello?” Alex stands up and makes his way to the boy stood in the entrance.

Said boy pokes his head out from behind his boxes and grins crookedly. “Hi, uh, I’m Willie!” And well, Alex is a goner. He swallows thickly, breath catching in the back of his throat. Willie attempts to adjust the boxes but ultimately fails, sending them tumbling to the ground amongst several muttered curses. “Well… nothing fragile in there,” he falters slightly. “I think.”

“Um…”

“Right! Sorry, uh.” Willie holds his hand out and Alex shakes it tentatively.

“Alex.”

“Alex, cool.” Willie smiles again, his dark eyes twinkling as he does so, smile lines popping out. He brushes his hair -which looks so soft and pretty- behind his ear to reveal a small golden hoop on his right lobe. Alex is dead, actually 100% dead. Because he’d been prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Alex forces out a smile, all too aware that he’s still standing stiff and awkward in front of Willie, his grip on his fannypack tight enough to make his knuckles glow white. Then Willie coughs as some sort of attempt to fill the silence. “Sorry!” Alex squeaks. “Do you need help with the… the uh, boxes?”

“Oh yea, that’d be great!” Willie replies, beaming. “I don’t think there’s anything fragile in there, but y’know, my memory is absolute shit so if I broke some fancy china dishes I didn’t even know I owned, don’t be too shocked.”

Alex laughs anxiously. “Yea uh… I didn’t start unpacking cause I um… I didn’t want to claim a bed and stuff with-without your input?” His voice cracks at the end and he winces because Jesus fucking christ Alex.

Willie chuckles and Alex notes that he has the kind of laugh that echoes through your whole body and settles right in your heart. “ ‘S cool, man, I don’t mind.”

“Right, cool. Do you uh… are you okay if I take the bed farthest from the window? I’m not- not much of a morning person, and the window is… it’s east facing” Alex mutters, his gaze focused on his feet which are rocking back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Yea, of course,” Willie replies. “I don’t think I’ve woken up later than 8 in 5 years.”

“That’s horrific!” Alex cries, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He steps back and blushes an even deeper red upon realizing how stupid he’s being. “I mean- I just… sorry, I just meant that-”

“You’re good, dude. I don’t bite.”

Alex cracks a tentative smile. “So uh… I’ll just start unpacking then.”

Willie shoots him a thumbs up and smiles once again, which is a thing he apparently does a lot.

An hour later, Alex’s belongings are unpacked and organized and the room feels a bit more his. He feels slightly lighter, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. This isn’t so bad. Fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, he shuffles out into the living room where Willie is presumably unpacking. Except that he’s not.

Willie is laying upside down on a couch that somehow appeared while Alex was gone and he’s flipping through a tattered magazine while his belongings remain mostly unpacked.

“This quiz says that I should try roller skating,” Willie sniffs. “Some personality test this is- oh hey Alex!” He scrambles up so that he can look Alex in the eyes properly, and points to the magazine in his hand. “Found this in a box, not sure how it got there since I’ve never even subscribed to one of these, but there’s a chocolate chip cookie recipe in here.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “Personally I prefer peanut butter cookies, ooh especially fresh out of the oven. There’s this bakery near my house that-”

“Did you get… any unpacking done?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

Willie looks around at his boxes and laughs sheepishly. “Well I unpacked one and opened 3 so… some, yes.”

“Where’d the couch come from?” Alex pokes the cushion warily, as if afraid that it’s full of bugs.

“Room across the hall,” Willie says, pointing. “They both brought couches and didn’t have room for two we got the one with more stains.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply is forced and tense, and he winces upon realizing. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his roommate to become so comfortable so fast and he felt like he was several steps behind. Damn extroverts. Drumming his hands against his thighs, Alex slowly sits down on the other side of the couch, pointedly looking ahead instead of at Willie.

“So.” Willie scoots closer, sitting cross legged with his elbows on his thighs and chin resting in his palms. “What’s your major?”

Small talk, god Alex hates small talk. “Um, music,” he answers.

“Ah, that’s cool dude.” Willie nods.

“Uh, what about you?” Alex asks.

“Art,” Willie replies, grinning. “Be prepared for paint stains, like, everywhere.” He chuckles and nudges Alex’s shoulder playfully. Alex is going to implode, he’s sure of it.

Alex laughs awkwardly. “So uh… what’s wrong with rollerskating?”

Willie shoves his shoulder again. “Everything, dude! Well-” he cuts himself off, thinking. “-I just kinda suck at it, definitely better at my skateboard.” He jerks his head in the direction of a skateboard leaned against the wall and Alex wonders how he didn’t notice that.

“Oh, that’s- that’s cool. I rollerblade but I uh, I can’t skateboard to save my life.”

Somehow, they slip into a comfortable rhythm, and Alex notes that his anxiety no longer has him in a chokehold. Willie seems to have that affect; he’s just so… open. Alex doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s subconsciously created a folder in the back of his mind labelled “Willie,” and he doesn’t think he’s capable of forgetting anything Willie will ever say to him.

“- that’s why airplane food is just, horrible. Cause you basically lose like 30% of your tastebuds because of the elevation.” Willie smiles at Alex, gaging his response.

Alex would rather die than admit that he’s still trying to figure out how the topic of airplane food came up, so he just nods enthusiastically, actively stopping his eyes from dancing across Willie’s face, which is practically glowing in the evening sun. Evening. Shit. Alex pulls out his phone frantically. “Shit.” He says it out loud this time.

Willie’s brow furrows in confusion. “You good, dude?”

“Uh yea I’m just, I’m supposed to be meeting my fam- uh my friends for dinner and I have to be there in like 5 minutes.” He ignores the way Willie’s expression falls, convinced he’s just seeing things.

“Yea um, of course. I won’t keep you.” Willie stands up, his posture the stiffest that Alex has seen it in the whole 3 hours they’ve been acquainted for. “I’ll just… order a pizza.”

Alex hesitates in the doorway, weighing his options, which has never been his strong suit. “Do you want to join me?” He blurts impulsively. Willie looks at him in surprise. “I mean only- only if you want of course, we’ve only really uh, known each other for a few hours and you- you probably don’t want to, it was stupid. I’ll just- I’ll just go-”

“No! I’d… I’d like to, eating pizza alone in the dark sounds a little pathetic,” Willie responds.

Alex smiles genuinely. “Ok, ok that’s uh. Cool. That’s cool.”

---

Alex is already regretting this. The restaurant isn’t too crowded, he notices with a relieved breath. But it’s loud. It’s loud and yet only one group of people is talking. Alex doesn’t even need to guess who.

“Ok but- no- no- the whole song would be better!”

“Say banjo one more time, I dare you!”

“Banjo.”

“Julie, what the hell?! This is betrayal!”

“You stole my breadstick, it’s only fair.”

Alex coughs, quieting the table to a dull roar.

“Alex!” Julie pulls him down to sit next to her. “Oh? Who’s this?” Reggie is grinning wickedly and Luke waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Alex want to shave them off.

“This is uh, my roommate Willie,” Alex responds, his voice raising an octave. “He didn’t have plans so I uh… I invited him, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok!” Julie pats the space on the other side of Alex and Willie sits down, appearing… oddly nervous.

“Congrats! Your Alex’s first new friend since,” Luke taps his chin, pretending to think. “7th grade.”

Alex’s face promptly falls into his hands. He’s seriously considering the whole, shaving Luke’s eyebrows in his sleep thing.

Reggie leans forward conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on banjos?” He asks, making a point to ignore Luke’s dramatic complaining.

Willie raises his eyebrows, clearly confused. “Um. No comment?”

“I’m… sorry about them,” Alex says apolegetically. “Uh, this is Luke, Reggie, and Julie-” he gestures to each of them; Reggie waves, beaming happily. “-and Julie’s dad should be…” He trails off, looking around.

“He had to take a phone call, something about Carlos refusing to eat dinner until he proves the house is haunted,” Julie explains, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I… okay.” Alex shakes his head. “Are we waiting for more food or did Reggie eat it all?”

“Ha ha,” Reggie punctuates his statement by sticking out his tongue. “We’re waiting for the actual meals-”

“Yea Luke already ate the entire bread basket.” Julie shoots a glare in Luke’s direction.

“Well… you suggested we get hotdogs,” Luke grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Payback.”

“Okay,” Julie laughs.

Willie leans over to whisper loudly to Alex, “What’s the story with the hotdogs?”

“Don’t tell him!” Luke cries, leaning across the table and slamming his palms down.

“We don’t talk of the hot-dogs,” Reggie mutters miserably.

“Food poisoning.” Alex shudders slightly. “Very bad food poisoning.”

“We almost died,” Reggie says, eyes widening. “Like, for real death. I’m pretty sure I was a ghost for a few seconds.”

“Reg, you were not a ghost,” Alex says, speaking like Reggie’s a 10 year old talking about monsters under his bed.

“I was!”

“You were not!”

“So,” Luke smiles mischievously, taking Reggie and Alex’s bickering as an opportunity to apparently torture the latter. Despite Alex’s warning glares, he turns to Willie with an innocent expression. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Luke,” Alex hisses, all too familiar with Luke’s antics.

“Hmmm.” Willie is painfully oblivious to Alex’s panicked expression as he mulls over his answer. “A lot of stuff really.” He shrugs. “Rock, pop, I like those lo-fi playlists when I’m trying to study.”

Luke nods, clearly pleased with the answer, but he isn’t done and Alex wants to hide under the table. He knows what’s coming next. “Thoughts on… drummers?”

“Luke.” Alex is seconds from lunging across the table.

“Drummers?” Willie asks, tilting his head confusedly.

“Yup,” Luke says, popping the p and still smiling like he’s some sort of innocent puppy-dog and not an absolute bastard.

“Hot,” Willie jokes. Alex can’t even hide the way he manages to choke on his own spit, and Luke and Reggie have never been great at subtlety, turning to Alex with matching shit-eating grins. Willie either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yea, pretty sure young Roger Taylor was my gay awakening.”

Reggie is full on giggling now, and Alex’s entire face is gleaming a bright red. Willie glances around the table, puzzled.

“Mhm.” Luke nods before swiftly turning to Alex. “Hey Alex, by the way, you left your drumsticks in the car, do you need them back?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, coated in some sort of poisoned honey. It’s Willie’s turn to choke on nothing, failing to disguise it as a spontaneous coughing fit.

“Fine,” Alex squeaks as he sinks further down in his seat. If he pulls out his phone and messages Luke a flurry of threats, that’s no one’s business. He dares a glance at Willie, who has become quite fascinated with his hands, which are tapping out a mindless rhythm on the table, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusted red.

Needless to say, Alex makes sure Luke doesn’t even get to look at the next bread basket.

---

I hope you liked it! Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

I’m hoping to update at least once a week, but who knows. Ok thats all.

chapter 2

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

#willex #jatp #willex fic #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie jatp #willie nolastname #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #ray molina #willow writes #ytotbts #you’re the one that brings the sun

231 notes · View notes

ohhipstaplease · 3 years

Text

Eating For Two

After date night at Ichiraku results in a stomach ache for Naruto, he ponders how his wife can out-eat him every single time.

Blank Period | Canon-Complaint | T+ | 1K+ Words | Ao3

For @nhweek 2021 | April 15: Ramen / “I love the feeling of your hand on my back.”

Naruto woke up in the middle of the night, his stomach feeling a tad unsettled. He tried not to rouse Hinata as he turned on his side, scolding himself for trying to out-eat her yet again during their weekly date night at Ichiraku. He should have known better by now, honestly, but he couldn’t help himself.

Typically Naruto was able to at least keep up with her, but lately, he noticed she was eating a bit more than usual. This of course flew right over his head, and instead fueled his competitive streak.

“Another order of miso pork ramen, old man!” Naruto yelled as he attempted to keep up with his wife.

Hinata, though, completely unbothered, continued eating at her normal pace. Clearly, she was savoring every bite, whereas her husband was simply trying to catch up to the amount she had already eaten.

“You know, Naruto, they say slow and steady wins the race,” Teuchi said, nodding towards Hinata.

“Oh, dad. Let him be,” Ayame said as she prepared another bowl for Naruto, “If he hasn’t learned his lesson by now, I don’t think he ever will.”

Naruto furrowed his brow, “Can I just please get my food without the lecture?”

Hinata giggled, “Naruto-Kun, can’t we just have a nice dinner? It doesn’t have to be a competition every time.”

He bashfully smiled at her and nodded, “Yeah, I know...you’re right.”

Nonetheless, four bowls later, Naruto knew he had gone over his limit once again trying to match Hinata.

She simply shook her head as she wrapped an arm around his waist and led the way back to their cozy apartment. He watched her as she got ready for bed, unfazed by what she had eaten, and sighed. Somehow, he loved her even more for her healthy appetite.

He smiled as she kissed him and said her goodnights, but started tossing and turning the moment his stomach began bothering him. He couldn’t believe she was sleeping so soundly beside him, almost as if she hadn’t eaten her weight in pork miso ramen just hours earlier.

He had spent the better part of a year attempting to figure out where she was putting it all but thought it was better not to ask. Sakura would surely scold him if she ever heard of him asking such a thing.

He knew he was never known for his tact, but since he married Hinata, he’d truly been trying to be more aware of what he said and did. Still, though, it was in moments like this that he wished he still had no filter. He truly wanted to know how his petite wife was able to eat even more than Choji at the drop of a hat.

“Naruto?”

He turned his head slightly to find Hinata, awake, peering at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Hina. I’m okay.”

She shook her head, “You ate too much again, didn’t you?”

“I said I’m okay.”

Hinata reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a bottle of antacid. At this point, she knew her husband well enough that she kept it at their bedside for these inevitable moments.

Naruto chuckled as she handed him two and rubbed his back as he roughly chewed and swallowed the tablets.

“How could you beat me again?” He managed to mutter.

She stifled a laughed, “It’s not a competition”

“I didn’t even know you liked ramen that much until we started dating.”

“You never asked,” Hinata smiled, still gently caressing him.

His eyes fluttered closed, finally sleep appeared to be in reach. Of course, it was only once Hinata took care of him yet again. She was his comfort.

He curled into her touch, “I love the feeling of your hand on my back.”

“I know,” she murmured, pressing her lips to the back of his neck.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, Naruto praying the antacid would kick in quickly so he could finally go to sleep.

Still, though, the question lingered in his mind. He didn’t care if Sakura would yell at him later on for asking it, but he just had to know, “Hinata?”

“Yes?”

He took a breath before asking, “How are you able to eat that many bowls without getting sick? It’s just not fair. Look at me, I ate two fewer bowls than you did and I feel like I’m dying.”

She looked at him blankly before she smiled serenely and responded, ”It’s a little easier when you’re eating for two.”

He turned on his side to meet her gaze and asked, “Y-you’re what?”

“I’m...I’m pregnant.”

It took him a second, but when he understood what she was telling him his stomach ache disappeared and the sleepiness subsided. He took her into his arms and couldn’t help but kiss her all over.

There was a rush of emotions that flooded him, utterly floored him. He lifted her pajama shirt and kissed her still flat stomach, placing a hand protectively over it.

“I can’t believe it,” He whispered as he felt tears gathering at the corner of his eyes.

“I have a feeling this baby is really going to like ramen, it’s all I’ve really been wanting to eat,” She said, brushing her husband's hair back as he laid his cheek on her abdomen.

He wanted to stay like this for as long as he could.

“You two eat all the ramen you want, okay, Hina? Just say the word and I’ll take you to Ichiraku any day of the week.”

Hinata laughed, “Okay, Naruto-Kun.”

“When did you find out?”

“This morning, I just...didn’t know how to tell you.”

He tightened his grasp around her and nodded, “I’m glad I asked.”

“What?”

Naruto smiled to himself and shook his head, “Nothing, Hina. Let’s go to sleep, you need your rest.”

Hinata let out a sigh, “Are you planning on falling asleep like this?” She asked, clearly referring to the fact that he was laying over her bottom half, embracing her stomach.

“Yes.”

“Naruto...” She pleaded.

“Nope, can’t move me. Not tonight, at least.”

She didn’t try to fight him any further, simply traced his back as they were both lulled back to sleep in each other’s arms. Undoubtedly having dreams of the future, and the little ramen eating champion that was about to take over their lives.

#nhweek2021 #naruhina #naruhina fanfiction #fanfiction #naruto fanfiction #fluff #hinata hyuga #naruto uzumaki

119 notes · View notes

wehaveafuture · 2 years

Text

A little excerpt of something. I’m not sure if there’s any thing here, but any feedback would be appreciated.

The big, white letters on the freshly painted mailbox at the end of the long drive spelled let everybody in King County know this was the Greene residence. Usually, people were up and down the drive from nine in the morning until six in the evening bringing their pets and livestock to Hershel Greene for his veterinary expertise. There was usually an almost constant cloud of dust hazing over the farm from all of the activity. But for the past two weeks, it had been pretty quiet. Daryl’s Uncle Hershel had driven his youngest daughter Beth down to Florida to pick up Maggie from her dorm for the summer.

Daryl had offered to stay behind and keep an eye on the property until Hershel returned. He was due back in two days, which worked out perfectly, because that meant Daryl had two whole days with his best friend in the world before they set out on the adventure they’d been planning since they were sixteen.

He took a long pull on his cigarette before stamping it out on the dirt road. He’d practically sprinted down the long farm drive when he’d got Carol’s text that she’d turned off on her last exit and was headed his way.

To describe the feeling in his chest and gut as butterflies would have been an understatement. He felt like his nerves were on fire, and his blood was rushing through his veins like white water rapids. It had been almost five months since he’d seen her, and that was the longest they’d been apart since they met ten years ago on the first day of sixth grade.

She’d graduated three days ago, but he hadn’t been able to go because Hershel’s farmhand, Otis, had been sick. Daryl had spent Carol’s graduation day watching the ceremony from a livestream on the university’s website in between cleaning out the stalls and feeding the livestock. She’d called him later that night and they’d sat up for an hour talking about the trip they were about to take. Daryl couldn’t wait. She sounded so happy and not at all upset at him for missing her big moment. She’d said she understood, but he still felt guilty as hell and hoped he could make it up to her with the best road trip ever.

The last year had been tough. He’d gone up to see her in New York once every couple of months. She’d occasionally fly home on a weekend. But the past five months, she’d been seeing someone, and while Daryl knew it would happen eventually, it had felt like a kick in the stomach.

They’d been inseparable since sixth grade. They’d grown up together, she an only child to a single dad, he an orphan living with his mom’s uncle Hershel and his two younger daughters. They’d both been dealt some rough circumstances, and they had bonded over that. They were each other’s first best friend, first crush, first kiss, first love, first lover. He could still remember holding her in his arms the night before she left for New York, praying he wouldn’t wake up from this dream, holding back tears at the thought of losing her. They’d had that one perfect night, and they’d never talked about it again. Sometimes it felt like it hadn’t really happened. Maybe she regretted. He certainly didn’t. He’d carried that night with him for the past four years, and now she was coming home. They were going to have three uninterrupted months together, and he still wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Did it have to mean anything?

He'd had entirely too much free time to think on those matters the past few days, and his stomach was in knots. They’d promised each other a long time ago that after college, they’d go explore the world—or at least the lower forty-eight states—before jobs and responsibilities kept them from it. And the fact that she still wanted to do this was enough to keep him up at night. Was she bringing her boyfriend along?

Daryl had fought with the horrifying thought that he might just be a third wheel on a romantic couple’s trip. But she’d never said a thing to him about bringing this guy along. But she hadn’t told him anything about a break up. That was something she’d have told him about, he was sure.

#au caryl #caryl fanfiction #caryl

7 notes · View notes

songbirdstyles · 4 years

Text

call me.

summary: being quarantined away from harry is absolute torture - until it isn’t.

warnings: smut, some fluff and angst if you squint! phone sex <3

word count: 3.4k

song inspo.: call me - blondie

You haven’t been sleeping too well since the beginning of quarantine - whether it’s the stress of what feels like the world ending or the noticeable absence of your boyfriend, lying beside you, you can’t be sure. All you know for sure is that it takes you nearly three hours of lying in bed, staring up at your ceiling in the dark and being entirely too aware of the empty space beside you in bed, to finally be able to get a few hours of sleep. And you’d even resorted to shifting to Harry’s side of the bed, where his pillow faintly smelled of his cologne, but it did little to put you out of your insomnia-induced misery.

It was a cruel twist of fate to end up quarantined on nearly opposite ends of the world from Harry. He was merely supposed to be in LA for a week or two, and you were supposed to go with him until you’d gotten sick at the last minute - and it hadn’t been a big deal, until the global pandemic locked you in London and him in California. And now, you’re wishing more than anything that you’d ignored the cold niggling the back of your throat and utilized your ticket to the states - it would’ve made the entire situation decidedly less miserable than it is.

The light of your phone screen illuminated from your nightstand tells you, in its glaring bright intensity, that it’s 3:21 in the morning. If you squint out of the window, curtains pulled open, you swear you can already see the sun, poking insistently above the horizon - but, no, surely not yet. You pray you have a little bit of time left to try and get some sleep before your biological clock forces you up.

(It’s not looking too good, though, as another minute ticks past on your phone and your eyelids still aren’t feeling the heaviness you’re craving.)

Perhaps you’ve grown too accustomed to curling up beside Harry’s body, feeling his breath against your neck when you occasionally wake up at this time for an early morning shag. And maybe you’ve been a bit spoiled, traveling with him more as your relationship progresses over the past three years - but you hadn’t suspected it would be so horrible for your sleep schedule to not have him around. Bad for your sanity, perhaps, but do you really need his body wrapped around yours to get even a wink of shut-eye during the night?

The answer was, apparently, yes, as more minutes tick on your phone and you’re still wide awake. LA is 8 hours behind London, approximately, so if it’s 3:27 in the morning here -

You’re grabbing your phone off of your nightstand without bothering to finish the math problem you’ve conjured up. Harry’s the most recent person you’ve texted and you swipe open your conversation, finger hovering briefly above the call button before tapping it gently.

There’s a chance - a small, miniscule one - that he won’t be awake. You’ve been texting him nearly every minute of every day, constantly calling him and FaceTiming and you know his sleep schedule is worsening like yours. He goes to sleep later and wakes earlier and takes naps scattered all throughout the day, so you’re prepared, emotionally, for him to not answer your call. You’ll be disappointed, perhaps, but there’s a bottle of melatonin in your bathroom you’ve been trying not to abuse during the nighttime. It makes you drowsy for working online and continues to afflict you during the day, so you’ve been trying to stay away from them.

Doesn’t mean you won’t use them, though. You simply don’t want to - if Harry doesn’t answer so you can chat until you’ve tired yourself out, then you’ll make the trek into the bathroom and succumb to the stupid pills -

“‘Lo?”

Your heartbeat picks up as you push yourself to sit up further in bed, pressing your phone close to your ear. You should’ve expected that your boyfriend would be awake now, considering it’s only 7:30 in LA, but it still brings a smile to your face to hear his voice.

“Hey, babe,” you murmur, voice quiet in the darkness of your room. There’s no one around for the loudness of your voice to disturb, but it still feels right to keep it low. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”

Harry chuckles on the other end, and you try to picture what he’s doing. When he’s home you’re usually eating dinner at this time, or curled up on the TV watching a movie, or fucking in the bedroom - “‘Course not. Jus’ got off the phone wit’ m’mum an’ had t’shower. She misses us.”

“I miss her too,” you tell him, smile widening at the thought of Anne. Yes, you miss her quite a bit - she’s always been kind to you, and more of a second mother than merely the mum of your boyfriend - but you have some sort of ulterior motive for calling him, so you figure you should get right to it. “I miss you a lot, Har. The apartment’s awfully empty without you here.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end, for just a second, before Harry’s responding, “I miss you too - ‘course I do. Wish I’d canceled this stupid fuckin’ LA trip - I’d do anything t’be home wit’ you now.”

You sigh softly, leaning your head back against the headboard of a bed that’s feeling entirely too big for you right now. You’d always complained that Harry slept like a starfish and took up entirely too much space, but you’d swim across the ocean to curl up in bed with him for just one single night. “I haven’t been sleeping much, either. Guess I’m too used to having you here with me. You know, waking up with you on top of me and middle-of-the-night sex.”

“Middle-of-the-night sex,” Harry sighs dreamily, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth with the beginnings of a smirk working its way onto your face. “God, I miss that. M’hand just can’t do the things you can. Doesn’t even come close, really.”

“I hope so.” And you give him a moment to bark out a laugh before continuing, clammy palm pressed to your bare thigh beneath your comforter, “My fingers aren’t doing too much, either. They’re not as big as you - can’t get me off an inch.”

His breathing is growing heavier, loud even through the phone, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him - you’re horny and he’s surely getting hard and you’d like nothing more than for him to help you get off. Just his voice, slightly raspy and deepening with every syllable, is enough to make wetness pool in your panties. “Jesus, doll - gonna make m’hard.” And then there’s a pause, where you’re surely meant to respond but all you can do is grin and try to control your breathing, before Harry murmurs, “S’what what you wanted? Wanted t’make my dick hard?”

You nod, and then breathe, “Yeah.”

“Bloody hell, you’re a minx, y’know that?” And you did, in fact, know that, so you confess your affirmations. “Guess that’s why y’woke me, then. Need me t’tire you out, don’t you.”

It isn’t a question - Harry can read you like a book, even 5,000 miles away, and he knows exactly what your intentions are. “I just miss you.” His soft, cocky laugh on the other end has you sliding your hand up your thigh, pushing your digits into your lace panties and feeling the wetness present in the apex. “Really - I miss you, and your dick - just please help me get off, Har. Won’t bother you with it ever again.”

“Don’t have t’take it that far,” but you’re hardly listening to him. The first circle of your fingers on your clit has you moaning quietly into the receiver, and you can hear Harry’s sharp intake of breath at the sound. “Startin’ without me, are you? S’awfully rude.”

“You’re taking too long,” you exhale, running your fingers through your soaked folds - but you pause, anyway, listening intently to the shuffling on the other end of the phone. “Got me so wet, just hearing you talk.”

When another second goes by with no response you pull your phone from your ear, pressing the speaker button and resting it on your tummy. You grab your comforter and pull it off the bottom half off your body, letting the cold air hit your bare legs, just as Harry groans, “Okay - m’ready. Had t’go back t’my room - but m’here now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking just a moment to listen to his quiet grunts and imagine exactly what he looks like right now - sitting on the edge of his bed, pumping his cock, slow and steady at first, just to get started. “Wish you were here with me,” and as eager as you’d been to have your first phone sex experience, you hadn’t counted on the slight awkwardness that makes it harder for the words to come out. “Been - been dreaming about it, about you fucking me so good, and I wake up drenched, Har, just thinking about you.”

Just as you’d expected, Harry takes over almost immediately - he’s much better at dirty talk than you are and it’s only proven when he moans, “M’always thinking of it, fucking your pretty little cunt ‘till you’re crying. And you love it, don’t you? Moanin’ so good for me, so loud - the way you cry when I pinch your clit - can y’do that f’me, doll? Pinch your clit, just the way I do it.”

Shaking fingers dip out of your folds and trail the wetness up to where you need it most - the sensitive nub that’s throbbing for your touch. Just as he’d asked, you use two fingers to softly pinch your clit, the small action sending waves of euphoria flowing through your body as you drop your head back with a cry. It reverberates through the room, louder than any of your moans and whines, exactly as Harry had wanted.

“Wish you could do it -” you do it again and give him the same resounding cry, circling your clit one more time before dragging your fingers back down to slide between your folds. “Your fingers, they’re so much bigger than mine - feel so much better.”

“Fingering y’self?” His voice is nearly whiny with excitement and you know exactly how he looks now, his bottom lip between his teeth and sweat beading up on his cupid’s bow. “Tell me how it feels.”

You can’t quite describe it, even if you’re desperate too. Fingers curl in your cunt, brushing against the sweet spot inside of you that has your back arching off the bed, nipples pebbled and hard against the material of your soft tank top. One isn’t enough, and it doesn’t fill you nearly as much as Harry’s so you add another, taking just a second to run it through your dripping folds before pushing it in. “Oh, god - feels so good, thinking of you - two of mine s’hardly one of yours.”

To that, you get a loud groan, mingled with a low cry that sends chills crawling up your spine. For a second he doesn’t respond and you wonder if he’s cumming already - but then he’s grunting, “Miss you, on all fours f’me - s’how I’ll take you first when we see each other. G’na let me pull your hair, know you love when I do that -”

You do love it, and merely remembering the feeling of him, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulling your head up when it starts to droop onto the mattress, has your walls clenching around your digits, and you impulsively add a third.

“ - or maybe I’ll jus’ bury my head in tha’ cunt of yours. Miss the taste of it so much,” and Harry’s voice picks up, in speed and pure excitement, and you can hear the faint sound of him, pumping his cock. It’s hard to think of anything you’d love more than to watch him eat you out for bloody hours, fisting his hair and tugging on his curls just to hear his sobs. The way he flicks his tongue against your folds and slaps your clit when you squeeze your eyes shut in pure euphoria. “Taste so sweet f’me, don’t you - taste y’self for me, doll. Know you taste so good.”

Harry’s got such a hold on you, sometimes - perhaps you’d even say all the time but especially during moments like these. So you don’t hesitate to pull your fingers out of your cunt, walls fluttering around the sudden emptiness, and you bring the digits up to your mouth. Slowly your tongue swirls around your fingertips before wrapping your lips around them, and the soft moan as you taste yourself has Harry whining on the other end, the noise long and low.

Normally, when Harry asks you to do something like this you would put on an absolute show for him. Pumping your lips up and down his shaking digits, eyes never leaving his as his lips slowly part in a needy pant. And - of course - you’d always know that, when you pulled your mouth off of his fingers, you’d be absolutely in for it, and that was the thrill of it. He can’t see you (FaceTime sex is something you’ll need to bring up another day) but you still perform, adding more volume and less eye contact with the darkness around you.

His breathing is rattly when you drop your fingers down to your thighs, fingernails curling into the soft skin as you would do his back or his scalp. You give him briefly a second to take everything in, the images he must be producing, before you breathe, “Tell me what you’re doing, Har.”

“M’gonna cum soon - gonna cum on m’fist, imaginin’ s’your pussy -”

“Yeah? Imagining me sitting on your cock, right?”

By Harry’s resounding moan - the exact noise he makes when you ride him and he tosses his head back in ecstasy - you can assume that he hadn’t been imagining that, but he surely is now, and so are you. God, the way you lean back, hands to his thighs, feelings his palms run up your stomach. And they’ll circle your tits, tweaking your nipples with a lazy smirk at how fast they pebble in his fingertips, before dragging down to your clit, on display for him - and he moves them so slow, but he knows you’re aching for it.

You squeeze your eyes shut, focusing two fingers to circle your clit and sensually dragging your free hand up to your boobs as Harry moans, “Your pussy s’so tight around me - g’na fuck you so hard when I see you - you’re not gonna walk for weeks.”

It sounds absolutely dreamy as two of your fingers pinch at your nipple, closing your eyes tighter. If Harry were here he’d grab the back of your head, force your body down to his so he could lap at your nipples and relish in your sobs - and you can’t do that, necessarily, but you bring your thumb up to your tongue, licking the shaking digit before lowering it back to your nipple. It doesn’t give nearly the same effect but it’s close enough, and you can feel your cunt fluttering with desperation to cum.

“Playin’ with my tits, Harry - pinching them just how you do.” You swallow back the urge to sob out, if only because the noise will trigger just the sort of choked up moan from your boyfriend that’ll send you over the edge and you want to last longer, dammit. “Oh, god -”

“Y’cummin’, baby?”

“No,” you exhale, “not yet -”

“Good,” and you can tell merely from the teasing lilt in his voice that you won’t last past the end of his sentence (and his staccato pants are already enough to have your clit throbbing beneath your touch), “‘cause I keep thinkin’ about that time - fuck - that time we shagged in y’mum’s house, remember? An’ I had to put y’knickers in your mouth, ‘cause you were -” and his rant is cut off by the telltale whine that’s almost always accompanied by him cumming near violently - “bein’ too loud, an’ we didn’t want your mum to hear? Be loud f’me, babe, please, need t’hear you -”

You remember that - how he was fucking you so goddamn hard your bed was hitting the wall and he had to drag you to the floor, pressed to your carpet with your drenched lace panties in your mouth. And Harry tossed your legs over his shoulder like it was nothing, pounded you into the carpet while your mum was asleep just a few doors down the hall, hand firm around your throat. He’d never done that before and God, you love it. Love it almost as much as you love him, but you figure you shouldn’t dwell on it now.

His words have the exact impact he’d hoped for and your head slams into your headboard with a choked up cry, loud through your room and into your phone, still resting on your sweaty stomach. Wetness coats your fingers as your assault on your clit continues, arm shaking with the pressure of riding yourself through the orgasm while still trying to listen to Harry - he’s sobbing out, sound of skin against skin growing louder until you hear the euphoric groan that tells you he’s reached the same high you have.

It’s a gorgeous harmony of your moans mixing together - his crackling through the speaker that’s been used and abused during your little session - and you know you’ll never get tired of it. No matter how many times you do this - for as long as you’re apart - you’ll never, ever get tired of it.

Your body is still trembling when the shockwaves of your orgasm start to wither down. There’s a thin sheet of sweat, coating your body and beading in your hairline and your fingers are covered with your cum, the bed sheets beneath you damp, too. You’ve only ever squirted a few times before - in Harry’s mouth, for the most part, with that bloody talented tongue he’s got - and you wipe the slick onto your thighs before sitting further upwards, grabbing your phone.

Harry’s silent on the other end and you squint at the screen to check the time. Your vision is clouded - perhaps your brain is simply clouded - but you reckon it says 4:00.

“Jesus,” he breathes on the other end, hardly audible through the phone. In your mind’s eye you can picture him, passed out on the bed with his legs still dangling off, running a hand through his hair to try and alleviate the sweat sticking to the curls. “Gonna have t’shower again.”

You smile, shifting back down so you’re fully lying in bed. There’s still a wet spot beneath your arse and your back but you’ll worry about it when you wake up (whenever that may be.) The idea of even moving back over to your usual side of the bed sounds like pure torture, because if you bury your nose in Harry’s pillow, it smells like his cologne with just a hint of the strawberry shampoo he sometimes steals from you. “Tired me out there, Mr. Styles.”

There’s the sound of rustling on the other end of the phone before Harry’s murmuring back, “M’glad - y’need to get some sleep, y’know. S’not good for you to be up so late.”

“I know.” Your eyes are already beginning to feel heavy as minutes continue to click down on your phone, and hearing his soft breathing is fucking therapeutic. If you close your eyes (which feels oh so good) you can almost feel him, body tight around you as he pulls your back to his chest, nestling his nose in your locks with a deep inhale that never fails to make you giggle. “I love you, Har.”

God, you can almost hear him smiling on the other end. You miss it so much - his smile - but just him, and feeling his arms around you, heartbeat against your spine lulling you to sleep. Whenever quarantine is over and you’re free to go to him, you won’t wait a second. You’ll hop on the first plane - you’ll fucking tape yourself to the side of it, if you have to.

For now, though, hearing him sleepily mumble, “I love you more, babe,” is enough. And you keep your phone planted on your chest, Harry’s steadying breathing like music to your ears as you settle in for what’s gearing up to be the best goddamn sleep of your life.

#harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #my tenth fic!#ik it isnt that big of a deal but i remember writing early risers and thinking nobody was ever gonna read it #let alone enjoy it #and now look at me #i wrote this sucker in like three days and i actually like it a lot which is crazy for me #im very inspired by blondie recently #harry styles writing

1K notes · View notes

lilliagradiewrites · 3 years

Text

evermore (jj maybank)

Summary: Y/N is in a depressive state, but refuses to tell her boyfriend. After she walks out on a party, JJ realizes that something is off, and rushes to comfort her.

*based off of the song “evermore” from Taylor Swift’s new album!!

WC: 2.2k

WARNINGS: Mentions of depression/ symptoms of depression, mentions of anxiety & panic attacks, mentions of suicide/ death. (The reader is at a very low point during this. Please proceed with caution of mentions of depression triggers you.)

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I have a new piece for you. This is a one- shot, and is on the shorter side. If you don’t know, Taylor Swift released a new album on the 11th. I have been so obsessed with it, and one of my favorites from the record is the title track “evermore.” I knew i had to write something based off of that song! This is inspired by that song, and I encourage you to listen to it while you read.

Much love to you all, and happy holidays! I hope you enjoy!!

LET’S DO IT!

~~~~~~

The night was cold as you walked quietly down the street, the old cardigan your best friend gave you wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You weren’t dressed for the mid-october weather, your shorts and tank tops providing little warmth on your shivering body. As much as you hated the cold, it felt good to feel something again.

November was approaching quickly, and as you walked down the street that cold october night, you realized that you hadn’t had a true spark of happiness since that July. Of course, there were moments of joy, but it was never consistent, and lasted a day at the most.

You couldn’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment where everything went wrong, no matter how many times you’d tried. Countless times, you’d retraced your footsteps to find the moment your despair began. Unfortunately, this only resulted in distant memories from better times becoming fresh in your mind, pushing you deeper into the dark hole you were trapped in.

For a while, no one noticed a difference. Your group of friends, whom you adored, didn’t bat an eye when you left a party early because you were ‘tired’ or ‘not in the mood’, despite the fact that you loved parties. It hurt a little that they didn’t see a problem, and that only made the problem worse.

The first person to notice was JJ, your loving boyfriend. The blonde boy was the light of your life, but as your own issues began to overtake you, you found yourself pushing him away unintentionally. He would send texts, asking you to come over and see him. He'd invite you to come out to dinner with the pogues at The Wreck. He’d beg for your permission to show up at your house because he missed you so damn much.

Time after time, you replied with perfectly crafted excuses that left him concerned, but with no questions. That’s all you needed to accomplish, really. If he didn’t ask any questions, then you’d be fine.

The routine was working out pretty well for you in the beginning. JJ and the rest of the group would accept your excuses and go along with what you told them, even if they found it slightly suspicious.

But, after a while, your constant absence finally hit them. It was concerning, especially when it came to someone like you. Your parents weren’t strict, so it wasn’t an obedience thing. You loved parties, and were quite social, so it wasn’t a social anxiety thing. They wondered at their hangouts what could be wrong, but none of them could come up with a viable explanation.

Texts from your friends were lighting up your phone at a constant rate, but you trained yourself to ignore them. Your mind had convinced you that all of them hated you, and were only messaging you as a joke, or because they felt bad.

Though your brain tried to tell itself that JJ didn’t love you either, you were fighting hard against that idea. Even the slightest notion of your boyfriend no longer being interested in you broke you down into tears, so you tried to allow the thought to cross your mind as little as possible.

He texted you every day, asking if you were okay and trying to make plans. He texted you good morning, and goodnight, as well as a few other times throughout the day. He was a wonderful boyfriend, and you appreciated him, but you didn’t have the energy to show him the attention he deserved. You texted back for a while, but eventually gave up, leaving him on read almost every single time.

For the last few weeks, JJ had been broken up with worry. He worried that you were mad at him, that you hated him. He worried that you were leaving him. So, he showed up at your house.

As soon as he walked in your room, he could tell that something was incredibly off. You were normally a somewhat neat person, but your room was in complete disarray. Clothes littered the floor, empty plates and half-eaten bags of chips tossed absentmindedly to various locations.

And you. You looked like you hadn’t changed or bathed in weeks. Your hair was messy, and your face looked as if you’d been crying for years.

When you saw his face, your mask slipped on without a second thought.

“JJ! Hi, babes!”

“Hi, angel.” He replied, concern evident in his voice as he spoke. “I haven’t really seen you in forever. Are you okay?”

You nodded immediately, concealing your true feelings. “I’m okay. I’ve been taking up extra shifts at work because I need money for college soon. I’m trying to save up early. I’ve been so busy and exhausted, I just haven’t had the time or energy to see anybody.”

Lie. You got fired from your job a month ago because you called out ‘sick’ too many times.

JJ was still suspicious, but went accepted your story just as he had many times before.

“Alright, babe. I just miss you a lot. Take a break soon. Are you working tonight?”

“No.” You couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him again.

“Well, then, you’re coming to hang out.”

You shook your head quickly, pulling your hands away from his. “No thanks, JJ. I had a late shift last night and I’m exhausted. Plus, I have an early shift tomorrow morning, and I refuse to go in hungover.”

JJ took your hands back into his, meeting your eyes. “You don’t have to stay late, and you don’t have to drink. Just come for a little bit. Like, literally for an hour. We all just miss you so much.”

When he was looking into your eyes like that, you couldn’t help but say yes. Though you knew you’d come to regret it, the smile on his face after you agreed made it all seem worth it at the time.

“Yes! Okay, my love, I have to go deliver some stuff for Pope’s dad. The party starts at ten, so I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty.”

You didn’t say anything, simply nodding to indicate that you’d heard him and understood what he said.

“Bye, baby. I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It was barely a whisper, but it seemed to be enough for JJ. He gave you one final wave before exiting your bedroom and closing the door in his wake.

When he had gone, your anxiety began to cover you. You had come to hate gatherings and parties, despite the fact that they used to be your main source of happiness and excitement. How were you going to make it through this party?

Sighing, you turned to your bedside table, moving around empty cups to peer at the time on your alarm clock. It was hard to read due to the tears in your eyes blurring your vision slightly. After a moment, you were able to decipher the numbers on the screen. 8:06 PM. You had approximately an hour and half to get ready before your boyfriend would be there to pick you up.

The first half hour, you decided, would be used for praying you were able to make it through this night.

---

About 70 minutes after your boyfriend’s visit, the clock on your bedside table read 9:12 PM. You sat at your vanity, brushing on small amounts of makeup. You didn’t want anything too crazy like you used to do; it just didn’t feel right anymore.

The same thing applied to your outfit. After almost an hour of trying things on, you went for something simple. A sage green tank top, your favorite blue jean shorts, and a basic oversized white cardigan kie had given you. The outfit was basic, but cute nonetheless. You completed the look with your pair of slip-on vans that were so beat up they could barely be classified as white anymore.

Your hair, which you normally would curl or style for parties, had been brushed through and left down. That was all you had the energy for. The party hadn’t even started yet, and you were already exhausted.

At least you had showered. It had been over a week since you last bathed, and this party gave you incentive to take care of yourself. That’s the only thing you were grateful for when it came to this party.

As you finished getting ready, you promised yourself that you would try your best to enjoy the night.

JJ had come to pick you up as he told you he would, at nine-thirty on the dot. He was always careful to be very punctual when it comes to you. He said you looked pretty when you got in his car, and the small compliment warmed your heart significantly.

The party was smaller than your normal ones. The pogues were all there, and they were all happy to finally see you again. You greeted them kindly and took your seat beside JJ, wanting to make the night go by as quickly as possible. You had hardly even arrived and you were already anxious.

As the night went by, your anxiety only got worse. You began to zone out, not paying attention to the conversation. You snapped back to reality when the whole group laughed at some joke someone told, and you just chuckled nervously along, hoping nobody noticed you weren’t being attentive.

A few hours went by, slowly but surely, and you decided that you had to be done for the night. You had been on the brink of a panic attack for the last hour, and it was getting harder to fight it off.

“Alright, guys, I’m tired. I’m probably gonna head home. I’ll see y’all later.” You announced, standing up from your seat. Immediately, JJ stood up with you, leaning into your ear.

“I’m too drunk to drive, babe. Do you think you can wait a little longer for me to sober up?”

You shook your head lightly, pushing him away. “No, it’s ok, babes. I’m just gonna walk. I don’t want to pull you away from the party anyways.”

A look of concern took over the blonde’s face. “I don’t like that. You can’t walk by yourself at night, it’s not safe.”

“I’ll be fine, J.” You assured him. “I live, like, a five minute walk away from here. We’re super close to my house. It’ll be okay.”

JJ continued to insist that you wait, but you insisted on leaving. You reassured him multiple times that you’d be alright, kissed him, grabbed your cardigan and left.

That’s how you ended up in your current position, sobbing into your cardigan sleeve as the night grew colder and colder. You were still walking along the road to your house.

You hadn’t realized how cold it was when you left. Maybe it’s because you;d been sitting up against JJ, his body heat mixing with yours to help keep the both of you warm. Now, you were all alone, with nothing but your thin cardigan to protect you from the chill of october night.

As you walked, and cried, you wondered what it would be like to just stop breathing.

Your thoughts were halted by the sound of footsteps pounding the pavement behind you. Immediately, you tensed up, suddenly scared. Who was running on the streets late at night, besides her? Who had a reason, other than kidnapping or killing someone?

You turned slowly around, and your body relaxed as you realized you recognized the person barreling towards you.

A familiar blonde boy was running in your direction, seemingly desperate to catch up with you. You stopped walking, giving him time to meet you.

“JJ?” You were talking as soon as he was close enough to hear. “What are you doing, babe? You’re supposed to be at the party.”

“I’m walking you home. I’ll go back once I know you’re safe.” He explained. He looked almost triumphant at the fact that he’d caught up with you, but his expression changed to one of concern after he got a good look at your face.

“Y/N… have you been crying?”

You shook your head, almost in instinct, but he saw right through you.

“Yes, you have. Baby, what’s wrong? Did one of us say something? What happened?”

As you looked in his eyes, those beautiful blue orbs as rocky and deep as the ocean, you felt your mask begin to slip.

“I’m not okay, J. I haven’t been for a long time.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, and the tears came almost immediately after you’d finished.

JJ took you into his arms and held you close, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there on the side of the road.

JJ let you sob for a little while, just holding you and murmuring sweet words to you. Eventually, he pulled away and looked directly into your eyes.

“I’m here for you, okay? We’ll get through this, my love. I don’t know exactly what’s going on yet, but we’ll figure it out. Together. I promise. I love you so much, Y/N. So fucking much.”

He pulled you back into his chest, and in that moment, it dawned on you.

This wasn’t the end. This pain wouldn’t last for evermore. It would pass, and JJ would be there with you when it did.

So, for the first time in a while, you finally felt okay.

~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs are super helpful and super appreciated. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!

Happy holidays! - Lillia

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #outer banks fanfic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank angst

184 notes · View notes

legends-live-in-memories · 3 years

Text

Purple Lilacs

ayooo it me! Here is jasonette july saturday challenge: Hurt no comfort!

Maribat Masterlist AO3

word count: 3.1K

Warnings: mentions of body fluids, sickness, vomit and death.

without further ado:

Jason stumbled into the gas station restroom on shaky, unsteady legs. His chest ached and his vision swam, blurry with unshed tears. The dirty mirror and pale blue light couldn’t capture how disgruntled the fourteen year old boy was. He was still wearing his Robin suit, dirty and sweaty from breaking up fights and catching would-be criminals. His skin felt flushed but his blood was chilled to the bone. The fluttery pressure behind his ribs was a painful reminder of why he was here. He took a haphazard inhale of air and choked on it when he exhaled. His throat itched. The tears were beginning to fall behind his mask. The infallible Robin was unrecognizable in his reflection. His domino mask shielded himself from the agony that clouded his eyes. His mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, thoughts fragmented and disoriented. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. God, why couldn’t he breathe?

He ripped off his mask, tossing it without caution and splashed water on his face. He scrubbed at the sweat and exhaust that caked his skin, hoping, praying to wash this burning sensation away. He still couldn’t breathe.

He felt his stomach churn. He felt the bile clawing just beneath his adam's apple, desperate to escape. He barely had the strength to lean over to the nearby toilet before emptying his stomach. The smell burned at his eyes as the taste burned at his throat. He was left dry heaving for a moment, but that was all his body needed to expel what was clogging his airways. The petals floated pathetically in the waste in the toilet bowl; they were small and pale and stood out against the disgusting mix of vomit. Purple lilacs, first love. How fitting.

He had wished that the best week of his life wouldn’t end this way. He had wished, wished upon the stars in the skies and wished upon every dandelion he found in the manor gardens, that he could have something, someone, that was entirely his own. But her heart belonged to another and his heart was sick because of it.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Her name was a breath of fresh air, a spring breeze in early May. He had met her on a Monday, her class was taking a tour of Wayne Tech. She was the cute yet clumsy class representative with an iron will. She was alluring and charming and Jason was swept up in her eyes of ocean tides. He never spoke a word to her that first day. Choosing to just observe her joke and laugh with friends. He didn’t dare interrupt her. He saw her again Tuesday. She was in a teahouse that was close to her hotel. She was with her brunette friend, Alya, he remembered from when he overheard her chastising the girl for saying something embarrassing. That was when he found out about her crush on the model boy. Jason didn’t think much of it. He didn’t think he would have to. His sudden attraction was only fleeting, he reminded himself.

The first time he actually spoke to her was Thursday night. Her class had stayed out later than expected so he watched them from a distance during patrol, making sure she got back safely. Making sure they got back safely, he corrected. He didn’t plan to stop by her window when she was safe inside and he definitely didn’t plan to strike up a conversation. She had a quick mind and a sharp tongue to match. It was striking and it seeded something deep within his lungs. They spoke for hours, time lost to conversation, that it wasn’t until Agent A called into his ear that he realised how long he’s been strayed from his patrol route. He had bid her a good night and she wished him a safe one. He had found a friend in her and the joy carried him throughout the night. He hadn’t expected to fall hard and fast for her within the week. By Saturday his instinctual attraction had grown into sweet yearning. The weight in his chest as he waited for her class to gather in the Botanical Gardens grounded him in his spot. He had to remind himself that she spoke to him as Robin and that Jason Todd-Wayne was nothing more than their sponsor’s recently adopted son. He couldn’t speak to her about her favourite novels as he technically shouldn’t be privy to that knowledge. He wasn’t deterred by that, however. In fact, it spurred him on to get to know her more. It granted him the opportunity to relearn her interests all over again and watch her eyes blaze with passion.

He never got the chance. Her attention was divided between the garden’s attractions and the blond that stuck close to her like a burr. He watched her giggle and swoon as the boy complimented her. He watched as Adrien, he had learned, plucked a flower and tucked it gently behind her ear. It was a purple lilac. The colour complimented her midnight black hair and made her pale blue eyes shine. He felt his throat go dry as he watched on, his words withering on his tongue. The scene was truly adorable, straight out of a movie with a happy ending. He was happy that she was receiving the attention she deserved. But it still hurt that it wasn’t him lavishing her with it. He was the outsider lucky to be watching. Their tour ended with an exchange of business-friendly smiles and memorized platitudes.

Now it was Sunday night and he was gazing at the products of his foolish heart. He could count how few the petals were that mocked him in the toilet. He could taste them in the mix of bile that sat on the back of his tongue. He could breathe easier now; his lungs were no longer heavy but his heart was still so. How cruel, his first love.

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

He had died. He hadn’t remembered much of what came before or of what came after. It was all tangled and fractured. He remembered fighting with Bruce a lot and threatening his new ward. Jason was awful, a danger, but he was also angry and confused. He was hurt and lonely. It took awhile to find some common ground with his family again. It took awhile for him to feel normal again. It was hard work but it was worth it.

A lot had changed in Bruce’s nightlife. The Justice League Jason remembered and the Justice League that he returned to were worlds apart. It was jarring and he continued to long for some familiarity in his life. It was genuinely a surprise when he was invited to join their ranks, after years of struggling, but he accepted the offer with a tearful hug and grateful smile in the privacy of the batcave. He was introduced to the other new recruits, taken aback at how the community had grown during his absence. One figure stood out to him the most.

Her name was Ladybug, a Parisian heroine with some connection to Wonder Woman. Her personality was bright and bubbly and she looked like the poster child for the Justice League. She and Jason had hit it off quite well, slipping into easy banter and trading battle stories like old-age friends. Their time spent together left him feeling light and free. It was casual and comforting. Until it wasn’t.

One night after patrol, he stood staring at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. He was running through a checklist in his head of all the mundane things he had to do in the coming days. A trip to the drugstore for some cough drops, a couple cases to report and file here, some League meetings there. It was his new normal. He liked it. The thought of the Justice League led to the thought of Ladybug. Ladybug and her laughter at his jokes. Her half-hearted sneer at his puns. Her going on rants about fashion and the little twitch in her nose when she was frustrated with something. It was endearing, and enticing. It was always a delight watching someone who flung cars for a living lose their patience over mundane things. He was lost in thought when a coughing fit took over, bringing him back to the present. When his shoulders stopped shaking with the force of the coughs he felt something in his mouth. It felt like a piece of paper, thin and small. Thinking nothing of it, he spat into his sink and felt his heart clench. It was a single flower petal. A daffodil, meaning rebirth and new beginnings.

The melancholy was instant, the resignation almost stopping his heart. How cruel, his second love.

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

He had decided to ignore the signals his body was sending him. He ignored the scratchiness of his throat every time he thought of her signature pigtails. He ignored the ever growing collection of petals that would decorate his toilet, or his bathroom sink, or his kitchen sink, or his shower floor. He ignored how blood had started to appear every now and again. Ladybug was his friend and he valued her friendship. He wasn’t going to let some biological imperative prevent him from making any meaningful connection with her.

It was a random conversation one day, the topic of little importance, but it had drifted to a discussion of identities and living the double life. He remembered telling her his real name, secret identities among League members being a matter of personal discretion at this point, and the flash of faint recognition in her eyes made him curious. She told him how she recognised the name from a school trip she took years ago. Apparently they had met once or twice during her time in Gotham. Her name was Marinette, she had said, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

It was as if the air in the Watchtower was being siphoned out the room as the seconds ticked by. He remembered that name, and he most certainly remembered the pain that name had brought him. He died with his feelings for her trapped between his ribs but they were long forgotten, withered after his resurrection. That is, until they crashed into him at the mere utter of her name. The longing came back in full force and he felt it weigh heavy on his tongue as his nose started to burn with the effort to breathe. He didn’t remember much after that conversation beyond a hasty excuse of himself. He made it into a restroom on some random floor and all but flung himself into an available stall. His mask was ripped off his face and the room echoed with the sounds of him hacking and heaving.

His heart was a cacophony of emotions; the feelings of teenage infatuation for Marinette Dupain-Cheng and the mature adoration of Ladybug blended into a concoction of purple lilacs and daffodils. Tears pricked at his eyes as he felt his throat get burned raw from his emotions. It was stifling and all-consuming. He felt like he was drowning and free-falling all at once. Unable to breathe. His face was flushed and sticky and he felt shivers begin to creep up his spine. It was disgusting how his own feelings would betray him like this. Peeling himself off the floor was herculean. Jason felt weary and his bones ached with the burden of his own body. Superman was already waiting for him outside the stall, a water bottle in hand and silent condolences smeared all over his face. A silent agreement was forged between them. How cruel, his one love.

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

When Jason was younger he never associated love with pain. Love was always warm hugs and soft touches. It was gentle words whispered in the dark and saccharine sweet smiles. Love made flowers bloom in spring and the sun shine bright. How foolish he was. Now he knew. Love was a deep ache in his chest that pulsed in rhythm with his heart. It was a strangled gasp as he tried to breathe and it was tears that won’t stop falling. Love made flowers bloom, sure, but they bloomed in the deepest parts of him that he wished he could rip them out and everything attached straight from the roots. Love burned and festered and invaded everything that made Jason himself.

He couldn’t drown out the sensations no matter what he tried. A masochistic part of him was convinced he was addicted to the pain. Addicted to the reminder that he could love so strongly, so deeply. The idea that someone as callous as he could love someone so much that it could tear him down physically and mentally. Have the force of his own heart mold him into nothing but a garden of devotion. There was a part of him that didn’t want to lose the feeling of having feelings. The immediate times after his resurrection were wrought with nothing but mind-numbing emptiness so much so that his subconsciousness convinced him that he would settle for suffering as an act of love.

The tulip petals were beautiful, but worrying. He choked up an entire bud this time. His throat was still itchy and his fever had yet to be broken but the head of the flower in his hand was a distraction to all that had ailed him. Tulips, meaning opportunity and adjustment.

The voices on the television called his attention. It was some celebrity gossip channel and he couldn’t remember why he was watching it in the first place. He moved to change the channel when he saw her, Marinette, on the screen. She was attending some red carpet event and she looked beautiful. He wondered if she had made that dress; a memory of teenage ambitions floated to the forefront of his mind. A smile crept to his face against his will. He couldn’t help it, red was truly her colour. Then he saw him, her blond partner, waltz up beside her like he belonged there. He did, he reminded himself. The blond was her childhood crush turned boyfriend of a few years. She had told Jason stories during one of their many talks about him. He was funny and smart and a real casanova, she had said. Jason had pretended like those words weren’t thorns puncturing his lungs as he listened along. She looked at the model the same way Jason knew he looked at her. He was happy for her, truly.

His fever was back tenfold as he watched on and he was sweating a puddle into his couch. He couldn’t finish his meal and the coughs had returned. His shaking had overturned his food that was in his lap and it made a mess on the floor. He keeled over and added the contents of his stomach to the pile. Petals of lilacs and daffodils and tulips were pouring from his lips in clumps and he momentarily couldn’t breathe. He was becoming too accustomed to holding his breath during these fits. Becoming too accustomed to the lightheaded feeling inside his brain, the numbing feeling in his toes and the burning feeling in his heart. How cruel, his true love.

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

It wasn’t supposed to end like this. She was supposed to get her happy ending. She was supposed to grow old with her boyfriend turned fiance while Jason buried himself with his feelings. He cradled her close, feeling her faint exhales on his neck. He felt her body tremble and writhe beneath him. He was crying over her, gasping his breaths and gagging on emotions. She stared, eyes unseeing beyond him. She was speaking but he couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of his pulse in his ears. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

It was a simple job, a covert job that was only information retrieval. Everything was planned to perfection and every deviation was accounted for. Everything was accounted for except his body failing him. He was attacked with a sudden coughing fit that he couldn’t get under control and it drew their target’s attention to them. Guns were aimed and fired at them and he couldn’t get his own body to cooperate with him. Ladybug had taken to shielding him until he recovered but she was overwhelmed too quickly. Her suit wasn’t bullet proof, she was still vulnerable and the shot was in a critical place. She was bleeding profusely. He. Still. Couldn’t. Breathe.

He gathered what little strength he had and dragged her body behind a wall. He was hunched over her struggling to control his breathing and the situation. He couldn’t leave, too weak to carry her. He couldn’t fight back, too dizzy to focus on any targets. He couldn’t think, too lightheaded from the lack of air intake. It was a bad situation that was only getting worse. He was crying and heaving and she laid beneath him bleeding. The flowers in the back of his throat were choking him without remorse. He took off his mask and tried with all his might to breathe in. It was scratchy and rough and it felt more like a wheeze than an inhale but it was something. With this moment of clarity, he had an idea. It was really a last resort that Ladybug had told him about. He reached for her yoyo that was held in her hand and pressed the center dot that was actually a hidden button. It was a distress call that would signal to her partner and doubled as a homing device. It was a call for help. He didn’t know how long it would take for aid to arrive but this was all he could do at the given time. His lungs were still stuffed and his throat was overflowing. The petals were stuck between his teeth, their earthy taste rooting him. His limbs were growing heavier by the second and his vision was getting hazier.

He watched as the light faded from her eyes. As the shimmering blue dimmed permanently. He watched her rosy cheeks grow pale as blood poured out from the wound in her chest. He tried to cradle her closely, to offer her some form of comfort in her last moments but he could barely move. Another coughing fit racked his frame and involuntarily had him doubling over. The petals were flowing freely now, unrestricted from his relaxing airways. They were beautiful in colour as they joined the ever growing pool of her blood, only tainted by the dark red tinge of his own.

A new petal had joined the ones he had grown so familiar with. Yellow chrysanthemums, neglected love. In France, he thought, his mind muddled by a discordance of feelings, chrysanthemums also meant death; they were given as tokens of grief and comfort. How fitting.

Oh and how cruel, his last love.

#jasonette #maribat #jasonette july 2021 #saturday challenge #tw: death #tw: bodily fluids #tw: sickness mention #this is my first time doing hurt no comfort #be gentle on me #mlbxdc #mlxdc #onesided relationship #hanahaki disease

43 notes · View notes

darth-el · 3 years

Text

The Things I Have Become

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader Warnings: Angst and mentions of weed, pills, depression, PTSD, anxiety, and if this needs anything else let me know as it’s relatively dark A/N: I’ve tried to keep this gender neutral. It was also inspired by the song Shadows by Yelawolf (the song is so much darker) and my writing playlist with the song on is here is you want to listen to it.

Masterlist

Join my taglist here

There felt like a darkness looming over Steve ever since the events of Starcourt, he couldn't sleep or keep down anything he had eaten due to the constant anxiety with the thought of being surveilled by one government or another. The only thing that mildly numbed him were the pills the doctors prescribed and even they didn't do a good enough job for him. He didn't have many regrets in life but one of the biggest was inadvertently introducing you to what felt like his world that summer. He really wished he came up with a better lie than “We're teaching Robin Russian” when you came into Scoops that day when Robin was trying to crack the code. The moon shone through the cracks in the curtains and looking at his empty bed, he wanted nothing more than for you to be there with him and to comfort him when he woke up in cold sweats where he relived every single moment of Independence Day, he would get flashes when he was awake but at night the intensity was too much. He tried everything he could to distract himself so he could stay awake until he passed out from exhaustion, then the flashes would start again and it became a vicious cycle.

You had taken a lot longer to recover than doctors anticipated from the events of the past summer, you were getting pretty sick of being operated on by this point but you were pleased about the fact that you had a pretty steady supply of morphine or the reality would've felt far, far worse. You also had a constant stream of visitors to keep you entertained, however there was one that you wished would walk through that door but never did. It had been a months since you were admitted into hospital and lost your dad when he tried to save the world from the Russians, you foolishly thought that would've been enough to get Steve through the door; the fact he never did broke your heart slightly because you knew he would blaming himself meanwhile forgetting about the fact that Hopper was your father and El was your sister so it was inevitable. You really didn't blame him, you just wished that you could've told him that.

By the time you had left the hospital the snow on the ground was thick and the ground that was clear of snow was icy making it difficult to navigate on crutches, making you curse profusely every time you felt a piece of black ice under your crutch. Times like this made you realise how alone you had become and it was completely your choice, you could've moved away with the Byers and El but you wanted to forge your own path instead, even if it did mean staying in Hawkins for a little while before making a decision on where you wanted to go and what you wanted to do. You didn't want to be tied down any longer to this town and the second you left you weren't going to look back.

The second Steve heard a car door slam shut outside he felt the colour drain from his face and tensed up, he made himself scarce when he heard what sounded like someone trying to break down the front door. In reality it was you losing your balance and falling into it, he didn't come out of hiding until he heard your voice call his name while you were knocking loudly, he opened the door looking at you puzzled partially because he had no idea why you had come to see him and also why you were trying to break down his door. “Finally.” You said barging past him so you were out of the cold and took off your gloves with difficulty using your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asked still looking flabbergasted by your presence and letting the cold air in where he had forgotten to close the door.

“You didn't come to me,” You said with the second glove between your teeth as you pulled it off. “So I decided to come to you.” You sounded rather cheerful when you got the glove off with ease and Steve shivered like someone had walked across his grave prompting him to close the door.

“I didn't realise you were out.” He mumbled avoiding eye contact while walking into the living room.

“You would've known that if you came to visit me,” You said sounding rather snarky where the wounds were still fresh but you tried to put that aside for now. “You don't look like you've been sleeping.” You pointed out making him feel self conscious where he knew he had stopped putting effort into his appearance in recent months.

“Hm.” Was the only noise you could get out of him as he sat down on the couch furthest from you.

“Steve just talk to me,” You begged making yourself comfortable on a chair you knew you could get up from easily. “I'm not angry at you about anything, I'm just really fucking hurt.”

“What do you want me to say?” Steve responded sounding angry but you knew the anger was directed at himself more than it was you.

“Steve we have known each other since we were kids and were dating for six months,” Your voice was sounding like you had been completely shattered. “Be honest with me because I think I deserve it after you went MIA.” You were pleading and so focused on him you didn't fully notice the sharp shooting pains up your leg where you had moved into an uncomfortable position.

“This is my fault,” Steve said loudly pushing himself up from the couch and throwing his arms in the air. “I can't sleep because I see what I did to you every single time I close my eyes.” He sighed letting his arms drop to the side but still avoided looking at you.

“Ste-” You said softly before you were cut off.

“The only way I can cope is to make myself numb with the goddamn pills that the doctors gave me and I can't eat because I feel like I'm being constantly watched,” He continued. “I feel like I've become the things that terrified me.” He said his voice cracking, you just stared at him trying to process what he just said.

“Steve,” Your voice was still soft while trying to get up from your seat. “You didn't do this to me,” You said moving over to him and trying to make it so you were standing comfortably and less reliant on your crutches. “I would've died if you hadn't saved me.” You said falling slightly trying to stroke his arm which resulted in you grabbing it instead with him catching you by the waist so you didn’t fall into the coffee table and injure yourself more.

“If I had come up with a better lie though.” He sighed still holding onto you and helping you onto the couch.

“Do you really think I would've been safe?” You asked taking his hand and pulling him down gently so he was sitting next to you. “I mean Hopper was my dad and El was my sister.” You laughed before noticing the fact that his living room was littered with cigarette butts, you also noticed that there was a distinct smell of weed lingering in the air.

“They managed to protect you though.” Steve sighed running his fingers through his hair.

“You really don't think I would've found out?” You asked feeling slightly offended despite the fact you had no reason to be. “I mean the bullshit story about how she was a distant cousin that I never met who had lost both her parents in a car accident and they named my dad of all people to look after her if anything happened, really Steve?” You asked shaking your head feeling even more offended that your dad took you for a fool.

“It was me that revealed everything to you.” Steve said feeling a massive amount of guilt.

“Whether it was you, my dad, or El it wouldn't have changed the outcome.” You said trying to reassure him but you knew your words weren't getting through to him. “You can't change the past Steve but you can change the future and I'm not sure my future is in Hawkins but I do know I want you in mine, all you need to do is decide if you want me in yours.” You sighed getting up and making your way out the door, it wasn't until you had reached your car and was getting ready to unlock it when Steve came outside, you noticed all he had on were a pair of socks making you wince where you could imagine how cold he actually was.

“Don't go.” Steve said looking teary eyed leaning against your car door as if to stop you from getting in, with that you led Steve back indoors.

This was the first night where Steve didn't feel like he needed to be distracted in order to go back to sleep where you were close to him, it wasn't the most comfortable night sleep by any stretch of the imagination due to your cast but you were happy because you felt like you made the right decision to stay in Hawkins. Both of you knew that you had a lot of work to do if you were going to make this relationship work now, you also knew that even putting the work in the memories were still going to haunt you both but you prayed they wouldn't eat you alive and you were going to make it out stronger.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things 1 #Stranger Things 2 #Stranger Things 3 #Stranger Things One Shot #Stranger Things Oneshot #Stranger Things x Reader #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things x Y/N #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington Angst #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Steve Harrington x Y/N #ST1 #ST2 #ST3

68 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Betrothed Ch. 11 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 11: Broken

Summary: Illumi cannot escape his past - but sometimes that fact isn’t all that bad.

Warnings: Death, Blood, Angst, the usual.

Words: ~2500

A/N: Sorry guys, this chapter probably sucks. When I’m working night-shifts I become erradic and can’t think straight, but I still wanna write, so...

Story Masterlist

No one knows what it’s like to be the bad man To be the sad man behind blue eyes. And no one knows what it’s like to be hated. To be fated to telling only lies. But my dreams they aren’t as empty as my conscience seems to be. I have hours only lonely. My love is vengeance, that’s never free.

- Limp Bizkit: Behind Blue Eyes

“Keep good care of Alluka, okay?”

He only nodded in response. You never doubtet him to protect her, yet also couldn’t help reminding him either after everything he’s been through.

After all, his fear of Illumi made him forget about his locked away sister for such a long time...

“And you’ll be listening to your brother, right?”

“Aye!” the little girl cheered, pecking the flustered boy on the cheek.

It was actually very adoring to look at those two siblings who were finally reunited, now able to make up for the time they’ve lost.

The only companion you’d take with you was your familiar Luna, and you also didn’t want to rely on Alluka’s powers now that you had a hint to your husband’s whereabouts.

Your sister-in-law had been through enough, and she also was way more than just someone to grant wishes. She had desires, dreams and a future to look out for. Both of them.

Gladly, Killua could tell you about all safehouses in Yorknew City so the Zoldyck family wouldn’t notice about you prying around. That information was more than enough for your search.

“What are you going to do from now on?”

“Getting my husband back, obviously” you shrugged at Killua’s words, clutching the ace of spades you were holding. Hisoka had given it to you - infused with a powerful nen, you could contact him whenever you felt it necessary.

“I know that’s all very much for you...” Yes, Killua had struggled with his brother’s mental illness ever since his birth. And now to act like all of that never happened just because you told him he had a change of heart? It seemed almost impossible. “So take your time processing things. We won’t bother you until you’re ready.”

Rumpling up the boy’s white hair, you grinned widely at your friends before you boarded the airship.

You were already halfway across the ocean when you got a message from Killua, warming your cautious heart:

“I’m glad you’ve joined our family. Save him.”

Days passed by as you searched safehous after safehous, as well as every shady corner of the city. Much to your dissatisfaction, your husband had always been gone as soon as you reached the scene of crime.

“I’ll find him, no matter what!” you thought just before you reached the next safehouse, deep in the mountains surrounding the great city. He had seemingly destroyed the Zoldyck Personal Transmitter, just as you had - both blessing and curse.

The view was breathtaking, yet you didn’t bother yourself with wasting any minute enjoying it. Luna’s cry told you that you were near, and that was all that counted right now.

Because there were only three spots left, and what if you’d search for him in vain and he had already left Yorknew City? Your guts twisted very unpleasantly at the thought, making it a lot harder to climb the last pile of rocks.

And there it was - a small brick house, nothing more than a one-room-apartment with the most needed items to survive a short time.

There were lights on inside, you clearly saw them from afar.

Fearing that he would leave if he noticed you, there was no other option left than to surpress your Nen completely, leaving you defenseless against every possible threat.

But when you entered, there was no one there - except...

“Oh?” As you stepped into the dim cancle light of the room, a small cat stumbled in between your legs, purring happily. “Who are you, sweetheart?”

Seems like Illumi made a friend, huh?

The thought alone made your heart feel like it’ll burst out of happiness as you pet the animal’s head, noticing that Illumi had treated it’s wounds.

Leaving Luna and the cat get to know each other, you roamed around the room, searching for any possible hint on Illumi’s location.

The house seemed to still be occupied, so should you just wait here for him?

But then, the TV that he seemingly forgot to turn off bursted the local news:

“The auction is only expected to take place in a few weeks, but the preparations are already in full swing. Even though everone is talking about the possibility of the Phantom Troupe blowing up the occasion, rumors about ‘special measurements’ have been spread. The organizers did not want to comment, however they assured us the auction will run safe and peaceful.”

“Organizers my ass” you gritted your teeth. Everyone on the world knew the legendary Ten Dons were secretly holding an Underground Auction, with the ‘legal’ one just being a distraction.

But now you could very well imagine where your lover has headed up to...

It’s the same every year. Many assassins would gather to protect the auction, very well paid by the Dons.

A very good occasion to start wiping out the profession of assassins completely.

Finding the place of action was no problem. A quick research and you knew that the tallest hotel in town was in their possession, where the assassins would probably be allowed to stay until the big occasion.

The hardest part however was what in the world you could do if you arrived there...

“P-Please, have mercy!”

As you broke into the building and entered the conference hall, the blood-bath was already in full swing, the true strenght of your husband unfolding in front of your very eyes.

“Sorry, but I cannot make exceptions” Illumi spoke calmly, hitting his enemy’s head with a needle.

There were twenty-five - no, thirty corpses laying around.

Did he really single-handedly kill all those highly professional assassins? Then again, you had never seen him go all out before...

Even though your husband seemed to have granted them a quick death, everything was a mess. Broken furniture, scattered bodyparts and puddles of blood everywhere.

Illumi obviously didn’t need any help, but the moment you saw another enemy try to attack him from behind, you snapped.

Before you could even comprehend what happened, your body had acted before your mind, leaving you only able to watch as the man fell to the ground.

That wasn’t right. Those assassins were mostly hunters, who arrested or killed criminals. They weren’t guilty or worthy of death.

And yet you did it...it was a reflex, your inherent wish to help Illumi being stronger than your rationality.

So you stood stock still as your husband turned around, furrowing his brows at the injured person laying at his feet - and finished him off.

"Oh? Y/N...” Why did his tone have to be so cheerfull, even at times like this? “What are you doing here?”

As if this was a casual chat, he stepped over several corpses until he faced you, while still remaining his distance.

You gulped harshly, even after all this time not prepared for this moment. “I-I was searching for you.”

“What for?” he plainly retorted, stepping harshly on one of the twitching bodies. “I’m glad to see you’re alright, but you shouldn’t be here.”

Folding your hands to keep them from shaking, it made your following words seem only more as if you were praying. “Because I want you to come back to me. Please...”

“I can’t do that, Y/N” he said and his pained smile ripped your heart in thousand pieces. “I’m too dangerous to be with you. I see that now. It’s no wonder you didn’t trust me back then - since I can’t even trust myself.”

Seeing your face stained with tears made him struggle with the wish to cradle you in his arms, soothing you like he always did. But he refrained from doing so.

“Don’t be sad.” He rose his bloodied hands in the air, gesturing across the room. "I found something I want to do. See? I’ll cleanse the world of other monsters like me and make it more safe for you!”

“Lumi...” Hearing this familiar nickname in your most alluring voice made him drop the facade for only a mere second. “...are you crying?”

“Huh? So that’s what it is.” Only now Illumi realized that he had been weeping as well, touching his face in surprise. He had already forgotten that he was able to cry as well."Yeah. It happens a lot lately.”

“Illumi, love-” you now pleaded, breaking out in convulsive sobbing. “You’re sick, you know that. But that’s not the right way...”

“No need to worry” he tried to compromise, pointing to his neck. “I used a needle on myself, in case my parents should get the better off me again. If I ever hurt someone innocent again, it’ll tear my aorta apart and I’ll die.”

You dared to take a few steps in his direction, but he backed off. “There’s no other way, Y/N. You’re the only one allowed to put an end to my life if you wish, but nothing else.”

“If I die, I’ll make up at least for a fraction of my deeds” Illumi thought to himself, his face now contorting to a rather mad smirk. “Y/N will be safe.”

You said nothing - no, you were left unable to speak.

Seeing the love of your life suffering so much was just too hard for you to bear.

“I’m not worthy of your love, Y/N.” God knows when he managed to appear right in front of you, but somehow he did, softly raising your chin. “I’ll never be” he added, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Y-You...” Softly sniveling, you embraced your husband, face wetting the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t need to be ‘worthy’. Love doesn’t work that way, Lumi. I’ll always love you! That’s up to me and you can’t just change that fact!”

“I could” he suggested himself, struggling with the temptation to kiss all your pain away. A needle could make you hate him, or even forget it all.

But he had promised himself to never manipulate other people or cut their freedom, even if just for their safety.

It was your own decision how to feel, or how you’d deal with it.

“Do you really still not remember, Lumi?”

“What exactly?” Your husband didn’t move an inch as you grabbed him tight, afraid he’d leave as soon as you let go.

“You spared me back then” you whispered, shivering as you tried to get a hold of him again. "We were still young, but you were already under their influence...”

Illumi clearly began to shake too, making you regret the previous words. Of course they would cause a flashback...

“Do you remember?”

“Vividly.”

Your husband must’ve been sixteen around that time - yet already a completely trained, fearsome assassin.

Who was his target again? He couldn’t remember.

All he knew was that the orders were to “kill the target as well as it’s allies and leave no witnesseses behind”. The job was precize, requiring to act quick to clean up every proof.

And then there was you.

Still in midst of your hunter education, you were assigned by your family to become the bodyguard over that certain politician, following him on his every step.

But now you saw it all in front of you: Illumi, with his hands firmly strangulating your airway.

He hadn’t developed his Nen abilities at the time, therefore having to do the job with his bare hands. And since you were the last one he had to get rid of, there was no need to hurry.

It was a strange feeling to have such a beautiful person writhing underneath him, piercing him with their pleading look.

Somehow it was a shame you had to die so early, and under those circumstances...

Just when you felt yourself passing out from lack of oxygen, you refrained from trying to pull his hands away - and placed one softly on his cheek.

Illumi froze, shocked by your deed. He had taken so many lives, made countless people suffer already...

But you were the only one who looked at him with such kind, sad eyes...absent of any hint of grudge.

You coughed heavily before you were able to corak out the question burning on your tongue: Why did he stopp fulfilling his mission?

"Yes, why...” he asked himself as well, rubbing the cheek you had just stoked. That sensation, the gentleness and affection of your touch was so foreign to him that he completely lost himself for a moment.

“Why didn’t you struggle?” he turned the interrogation around, almost forgetting about the severe situation both of you were in.

“Dunno” you shuddered, just now realizing that you had given in to your fate just seconds ago. “You seemed kind of sad.”

What?!? This must be some kind of trick!

“Does someone force you to do this?” The compassionate expression on your face scared him, making him want to run away from what he did not know. “You don’t seem happy to do this.”

“I don’t feel anything” the teenager scoffed, taken aback by your worry and care. “I am a highfunctioning tool of darkness and nothing more.”

"How sad...” You cracked a weak smile, and it’s brightness was enough to make him flee, your last words still spinning in his head. “I think under different circumstances, I would’ve loved to become your friend!”

You really were something else...flirting with an enemy that tried to kill you?!? Talking about being insane...

“I get now why my family was so much against our marriage...it’s a joke, really...”

It was a mystery how you didn’t recognize him right away, and how you only now remembered. They had to change all the facts, spending a huge amount of money to silence anyone knowing the truth.

Your name got changed, and everyone would have to act like you were their second child - because the one on the mission had died back then.

So the wrath of the Zoldycks wouldn’t caugh up with you to finish their job.

“You liked me...” Illumi let out a shaky breath, “...even back then.”

“Sure!” you now chuckled weakly, trying to brighten the mood. “How could one not fall for those eyes?”

“I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t.”

Leading his hands to your neck, you wanted to show just how much you trusted him. And immediately, his hands, wandered up to your face, softly suqeezing and stroking it as if he was making sure this wasn’t just a dream or an hallucination. “You’d never hurt me, Lumi. I know that.”

And finally, he cupped your face, hesistantly moving his own closer to yours.

“Is it really okay for me to love you?” he whimpered ever so slightly - but you already pushed your lips onto his until they were inseparable.

“Yes, it is.”

_____

If you want to get on the taglist or get removed from feel free to ask! ♡

@roseburry-jam @food-cures-all @oprah-winfriess @ullinic @sun-and-moon-elfingsmeme @chocolateislovr @sapphic-ghoul@coco724 @jessiejunebug@yukiwins@weflyinfluff@readlatersnowy @gibk @spasmodicterror@djgirl66@pweeenis@trblsicheng @theromaniangirl@cluelessmxnd@s1sterofthemoon @spasmodicterror @note-reblog@tamxixxx@orophaea @frankenduffy @cinnamon-beans @8-ash@cherryyongs @destructive-memories@patheticgay69@sappyisyourpappy @sadferalgremlin @selca11@itsfakearies@djgirl66 @rizawantspizza@g-creevan913 @oprah-winfriess@actressania @rolo-at-midnight @slutforpapawise@myminmango @scatter-mind001 @mimilovesfantrolls @the-temple-pythoness@g-creevan913 @jovialnoise @gibk @callumi@jiminie666@justhavefunwithit @nadzhaf @corpse-deactivated20011031 @mariana-127 @menhwra @rolo-at-midnight@jaz-plaz @loser-alert @illumifucker69 @leenaofarc@catlovesdogs17 @softvgold @gibk @bungeedummy @cinnamon-beans @illum1swhore @avaskylynnbrook @winchescumberholland@beifongt @kalxswin @reblogmeplease @kola95 @xxx-angelic@megurururu @melkuuu12 @angrymuffoun @illumiswifx @lunasin @yukiwins @angrymuffoun @shinakugo @avaskylynnbrook @heda-mikaelson @toandtvd-daily @aryu-azaha @bbunnycore @night-shadowblood-writes2@jasonpetertoddismygod @oya-noya @lolnoyoudontknowme@applekenm @nohxmanity @djgirl66 @groundbeefella @nohxmanity @actressania @doliren @pinetomyapple @cinnamon-beans @phos-faust @dailydumsterfirewithsass @winchescumberholland @1-800-jana-bitch @bella04martinez @la-la-la-land @bobfood @dopunopumain @xemonerdx @wicked-watering-can @muzanscumslut @awianeaves

Feedback is always appreciated!

#Illumi Zoldyck #Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #HxH #Illumi x Reader #Illumi Zoldyck x You #Illumi x You #Illumi/Reader #Illumi/You #Illumi Zoldyck/Reader #Illumi Zoldyck/You #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Writing #Arranged Marriage AU

142 notes · View notes