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wisteriainslumber · 6 months

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leoidevil friendship headcanons

two posts so soon?? no wayyy everyone seems to love their dynamic in penned in ink (deserved, i love them) so i decided to give you some fun, general hcs about the mean girls of all

warnings: swearing? i think thats it. wow, go me

they share a steady HBIC rotation

they respect each other so much but it will never look like it (bc seven forbid they show love and compassion and care in clown school, right?)

insults in this group = love. the more unhinged, the more it means they care for each other

aka if you try to break them up bc they look like they're going to throw hands they'll flip the narrative as if you are the crazy one for thinking they're genuinely fighting

do you see why these three are always split up in events now?

leovil are constantly using honey, dear, and sweetie in their arguments (derogatory)

once, when particularly annoyed, idia called them mom and dad bc 1. they remind him of his parents and 2. he hoped it would be weird enough to change the topic but no, leovil are running with it

there's made up lore about how idia was adopted. the story changes every time. so far, idias been a double orphan, picked up at a dumpster, cloned, picked up from the lost and found, and at some point he was biologically related to that fire lizard from frozen 2

leona regularly gifts idia super expensive jewelry. he receives a bunch of them and believes idia would have something better to do with them than he can (idia uses them for cosplay and hands some off to ortho because he likes the way it shines)

and the gifts progressively get very specific to idias interests but the chances of the court giving the second prince a custom headset (conveniently aligned with idias interests) seems relatively low

vil vehemently refuses the charity but will not say no to exclusive afterglow savanna garments (she wants to feel special and leona isn't thaaat opposed to it)

whenever someone offhandedly mentions that they got their eyes on something, its a race to see who can get it first

and bc vil is a sentimental one, his room is FILLED with trinkets and photos of his outings

leovil is always caught up on idias current obsessions, with leona knowing the key plot points and vil only knowing the names and faces

idia would not stfu abt this con and leovil didn't have time to pretend like it was annoying bc they do NOT KNOW who to go as (presumably idia just wanted to talk or maybe get one of them to go to the con for him but the girls were not having that)

like these two binged Idia's 'show of the month' and were having so much trouble figuring out who his favourite characters were, but ultimately settled for the main character and her friends

idia LOVEDD the surprise even though he has like, no clue who tf they were cosplaying (turns out leovil remembered the title completely wrong)

leovil were hella committed to keeping up their character while idia was too busy running around like an excited puppy

vil always carried around a bunch of tampons for his classmates but has a seperate pouch for leona & idia (bc they have nice patterned packaging. that's it)

leona's homescreen is a photo of them wearing mouse-ear shades. they all look so cool (leona has not revealed the lockscreen to anyone)

vil always lends his products to his friends because besties share everything (he even has specific formulas he's custom made for them! vil's never ever EVER gonna give them away tho bc then he wont have an excuse for an impromptu skincare session LMAOO)

leona's the designated everything holder bc idias backpack is always filled with random junk and his posture is terrible and he's the only one who can apparently 'treat vil's purse with respect' (he complains about it though)

even if they weren't important, i feel like if they got group kidnapped, they'd bully the kidnapper so hard that they'd be let go unharmed and the kidnapper would be in tears

leona has ALLLL the tea and it takes a swipe from idia to verify the facts. with rumours, vil can pinpoint exactly who is being talked about, down the the dorm, year, and class number

idia sits in between the custody battle for epel and jack DAILY. but the silly thing is whenever idia chimes in with a perfectly reasonable idea (like say, flip a coin), leovil suddenly get along again just to say it's a dumb idea (its not)

idia and leona have sibling solidarity and bc vil is an only child they exercise their sibling rights just to tell vil complete lies (aka, anything vil does, like sneezing, will receive a comment like 'if you sneeze more than 4 times a day, it means you're awakening a ghost')

and they're committed to the bit. idia will absolutely forge research articles and leona will claim his fifth-cousin-twice-removed had mysteriously gone missing because of it

when vil's feeling down they do not gas the queen up (she already knows it, hun). they let vil raid their closets to pick out their outfits for a photoshoot

when vil's not in the mood for THAT then its a code red. leoide will dress themselves up so good that vil feels underdressed so now he HASSS to go on their impromptu outing. peer pressure wins again

the gossip sessions over shaved ice or any kind of dessert go CRAZY in this trio, like they're so loud bc the tea is outrageous and you want to be mad but at the same time, go on, i gotta hear more

idias ideal hangout is a self-care day. they'll all wear facemasks and idia will do everyone's nails and they all gossip

sometimes idia will come up with a theory, like that sam is from another world, and vil will say it's bogus but ends up feeding more evidence for the theory

once vil beat idia in a video game (that idia was a pro at, mind you) on the first try and idia declared their friendship over

vil and idia are video game buddies but not past the AMs bc vil has a bed time (leona's still salty about the cats & videogames comparison so he only watches)

vil and idia fight over custody of ortho all the time but leona just uses the distraction to get ortho to leak all the juicy secrets

other than that vil and ortho are doing evil potion making aka finding creative ways go sneak veggies in leoides food

the trio never have any real drama so they always end up 'fighting' each other over the stupidest shit. like the way they tie their shoes, the typo they just made, or how loud they breathe

whenever one of them is seriously down, it's always a bad-cop/good-cop situation bc getting too serious makes these emotionally stunted losers feel icky

they do talk about their feelings though, but it never turns into a pity party

idia LOOOVES being dramatic tho and will set the stage for his sob story only for it to be that the cashier didn't wish him a good day

vil will use idia's lingo for the shock factor and pretends it never happened after and leona will pretend like he didn't like that his time got wasted but will reassure him. and by reassure i mean he stands w idia in line and says 'have a good day' to the cashiers so they'll say 'you too'

and no idc what u say, idia will chat shit about everyones crushes but will do one of two things: A. be besties w them if his friends end up dating and B. have a crush on the BAREEE MINIMUM

okay i joke a lot but leoidevil all keep each other in check and strive to uplift & become the best version of themselves

its three different flavours of self-hatred all communicating with each other

and they will still preach self-love (leona bc he thinks they deserve better, idia bc he gave up but that doesnt mean his loved ones have to, and vil bc he believes you will never be at a satisfactory point in ur life if you dont make amends with yourself)

btw they have a very elaborate plan to go to therapy together and a back up plan if they happen to end up at the ward instead

friendship bracelets but its the admission wrist bands

all in all, the whole school is afraid of this power trio but they're just super weird together

12/10 leovil still have pictures of idia's phantom bride wedding day

if there's other groupings or ships you want me to do hcs for, send me an ask! i love exploring character dynamics smmm this will definitely be a new series of mine

#idk what a block limit is but i hit it and I CANT ADD MORE NOOOO #didn't even get to talk abt leona as much as i want but know that idia & vil look up to him sm #it doesnt look it but idevil absolutely follow leona like little duckies (they're unaware of this but leona finds it cute)#literally feel free to add ur own i LOVE hearing everyones hcs they're all canon to me #they all have potential for part 2's isnt that great #every time i try to think of a name for this series i think 'clown school club'#me and the boys pulling up to the night raven clown association #its so horrible i might keep it but im open to suggestions #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #vil shoenheit #idia shroud #leona kingscholar

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sapphyreopal5 · 29 days

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I decided to make another witchy post with regards to Gen because one of my best friends watched Walker last night from last week and was outraged Geri gave away one of Cordell's shirts at the charity sale Emily gave him. She said to me "I swear Gen does things like this" and brought up a story she heard about Gen having burned a pair of jeans. I decided to look this up to see if it was true, not because I didn't believe her (I the most certainly did) but because I wanted to see the source of this as she didn't remember the con this story was told at.

Lo and behold, this story was told at Vancon 2019 during the J2 main panel with regards to a pair of jeans Jared had. When the question where this story was shared, he was initially a bit hesitant to answer it and seemed slightly embarrassed about what seemed like an innocent question: "Who is your style icon?" He then talked about how he had stapled these jeans he had for a pretty long time, boot cut style jeans (or should I say Jensen took over most of that conversation). Look and listen between around 32:20 and 36:31. It is around 36:19 is where Jensen says "when he wasn't looking I think I think she had a little bit of a ceremony in the back yard and she lit them on fire". A little bit before that they were talking about how these particular jeans were held together by staples and as Jared said around 36:08 Jensen said "they didn't work, they were held together by metal!" Then Jared while having his hands clenched in fists and smiling a little said "and love" and went on to say "long story short, I never did get rid of them but they did vanish".

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Now, I also read some of the comments saying things like "Hope Gen salted those jeans before she burned them, don't want those things to come back to haunt you for all eternity" and "in regards to Jared's jeans... Been there. Done that. Will probably do it again" and "They would held together by metal!!! …..And love lollllllll". Before I have idiots come to my inbox or post behind my back without mentioning my name like a coward saying I don't know how to make light of things or how to just enjoy a good story and laugh, I will say this. Jensen decided to chime in and answered half of the question for Jared with regards to this question about clothes and fashion icon.

Now, if you want to go ahead and watch when Jensen is answering the question about himself after the time mark slot I told you to look at, you will see that Jared is looking off into "space", looking in different directions and at one point starts to put the microphone up to his jaw and lifts his bottom jaw up and down. The microphone and jaw tidbit while staring off into the distance sounds a bit like "stimming" to me and he looked lost in thought at this point. Things like rubbing your legs, clenching fists, wringing fingers, etc. indicate discomfort, feeling threatened, or sensing conflict. [X] [X] [X] [X] A few sources you can check out for yourselves, 'cause I know for a fact some morons will come along and think I'm making shit up or looking for a reason to dislike someone.

Sure, it's all fun and games saying things like I hope she salted the jeans before burning them but wait until someone comes along and burns your stuff, then it won't be so funny anymore. Why she didn't think like a caring wife who is aware of things like him loving those jeans and taking them to a seamstress, getting them PROPERLY fixed and then giving them as an anniversary gift or something like I would've in her shoes (or really most caring, SANE partners would) instead of burning them when he wasn't looking, I can't tell you why but I can guess. It's clear he was embarrassed answering a rather innocent question because he was not happy talking about these jeans being gone and clearly was getting made fun of for the jeans. Staples are no solution for clothing true but DON'T go burning someone else's shit seriously...

According to this Tumblr post and other sites with regards to actions within witchcraft practices:

Burning - Burning an object is a common practice in spells and rituals. Fire is considered a cleansing and activating force. If you want to destroy something’s influence, burn it and dispose of the ashes away from your home. If you want to set something into motion, burn objects related to the situation to ash. If you want to activate certain energies, burn objects related to those involved. If you are performing a curse or hex, burn the object in the flame of a candle.

Something funny occurred to me last night while I was painting my son's piggy bank for his birthday coming up. I realized his ex girlfriend on screen and off screen Alexis Bledel (hello Gilmore Girls, Jared's first major TV role!) starred in the "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants" movies, which is about a group of 4 friends who bond over a pair of "jeans that magically happen to fit us all" and take turns sharing while they are in different parts of the world over some years. Close to the end of the the second movie, Lena Kaligaris (who is played by Alexis Bledel) gets upset when her grandmother tells her that her sister Effie lost the magical pants after she was upset with Tibby's ex and now Effie's also breaks up with her. Interestingly enough, the first movie was released May 31, 2005 (photography started May 17, 2004), which was a few months before the first episode of Supernatural aired on September 13, 2005. The second movie was released August 6, 2008, which was apparently a few months before Jared and Gen started to officially date and about a month after they met. Of course the girls or "sisters" did also patch up the jeans and put other things on the jeans. It seemed to be implied these jeans ended up in the water somewhere in the fourth book and Effie didn't just "accidentally" lose them.

At the end of the summer, Effie, depressed at the loss of Brian to his original love, runs off to spend a week in Oia, Greece with her grandmother. She impulsively decides to take the Traveling Pants with her in order to get back at Tibby (for getting back together with Brian) and Lena (for always choosing her friends over her sister). She accidentally loses the Pants so she calls Lena, and when the other girls find out, they all travel to Greece to try to find them. It is here that Lena patches things up with Kostos and finds out everything was a mistake. Despite days of searching, the girls do not find the Pants. However, they enjoy spending time together, realizing that they haven't all been together in a year. They went to the ocean and saw a color in the ocean from something, the pants. They also realize that they had begun to rely on the Pants to maintain their connection, rather than trying to maintain it themselves. They vow to always maintain their bond but not to allow it to keep them from moving forward.

Ironic also how it was Lena played by Alexis who also at one point almost drowned while wearing the pants during the first movie, who was Jared's onscreen ex girlfriend as Rory Gilmore on "Gilmore Girls" and offscreen ex girlfriend, which lasted about a year between 2000 and 2001. What he said about it to Glamour in February 2021:

The "Supernatural" star then finally broke his silence in a February 2021 story with Glamour, revealing that the two hit it off while playing a fictional couple on the set. "It is true! But I had never met Alexis before the show. We did date," he told the outlet. "When Alexis and I met, we were both 17 years old and were both Texans and kind of in this new, strange city, and I was like, 'Hey, want to go out to dinner?' I don't know if we tried to keep it a secret. I wish it was scandalous or something! I think it was more kind of silly. We were two 17-year-old kids who were like, 'Hey, you want to go bowling?' It wasn't anything super juicy."

Oh my, how is all of this relevant you ask? I would say that Gen burning Jared's favorite jeans he had for years before he started dating Gen was at best questionable. I am going to guess that this was a bit of a ceremony just like Jensen said and that she was hoping to burn away the influences of his past. 'Cause "letting go" of past influences seems to be key here, like of old former loves. Jared did say the jeans were held together with love. He just wants love Gen, isn't a big money hungry man but whatever. Synchronicities are a thing, and it seems to me that the burning of these jeans ultimately actually "burned the bridge" between Gen and Jared beyond this lifetime.

I posted this newly released song "The Prophecy" by Taylor Swift in a post earlier and I believe it's not only relevant to Jensen but also Jared as well. Check out the song and lyrics below ♥ However, if someone wants to look at why someone would burn stuff from a psychological or criminal justice point of view, the most common reasons include profit, extremism, crime concealment, and what the applicable reason here would be revenge (real or perceived injustice) or just downright spite. There are laws today about burning people's things for a reason. It's legally not acceptable, it's not psychologically acceptable and in cases like this it is not acceptable in the eyes of higher powers.

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Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle Oh, but it's gone again And it was written I got cursed like Eve got bitten Oh, was it punishment?

Pad around when I get home I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope A greater woman wouldn't beg But I looked to the sky and said

Please I've been on my knees Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?

Cards on the table Mine play out like fools in a fable, oh It was sinking in Slow is the quicksand Poison blood from the wound of the pricked hand Oh, still I dream of him

Please I've been on my knees Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?

And I sound like an infant Feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen A greater woman stays cool But I howl like a wolf at the moonAnd I look unstable Gathered with a coven round a sorceress' table A greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait I'm so afraid I sealed my fate No sign of soulmates I'm just a paperweight In shades of greige Spending my last coin so someone will tell me It'll be ok

Please I've been on my knees Change the prophecy Don't want money Just someone who wants my company Let it once be me Who do I have to speak to About if they can redo The prophecy?

Who do I have to speak to To change the prophecy?

Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle, oh But it's gone again

Pad around when I get home I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope A greater woman wouldn't beg But I looked to the sky and said Please

I would like to hope this was a one time deal with Gen burning Jared's stuff. However, I have a strange feeling that Jared finds things like this somehow something that should be tolerated and is evident in Geri donating a beloved shirt of his not long after he gave her the left side of the dresser. He glued together a mug she broke as apparently some foretelling of their relationship. I'm sorry to say this but the parallel between Geri getting rid of a shirt Cordell clearly loved WITHOUT asking him first and Gen burning Jared's favorite jeans he loved is pretty similar. Hmmm....

#anti genevieve #black magic #synchronicity #arson #Vancon 2019 #Youtube

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yandere-writer-momo · 1 year

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Heart Shaped Wound: Yandere Various Baki x Reader

Chapter 21

Author’s note: you’re getting Kiyosumi, your future stalker in this chapter.

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(Your name) had a great time with Katsumi last night, he made it hard to leave in the morning with how warm he was. Not to mention the tight grip he had on her, Katsumi tried his best to get her to stay with him a little longer.

(Your name) smiled at the mental image of how cute Katsumi was when he was sleepy. Not to mention how attractive his voice was when he first woke up. It was a little deeper and raspy.

“Sensei! There’s two doves outside!” Yuki squealed, her body bobbing up and down in excitement.

(Your name) smiled at the young girl before directing the students’ attention back on their English lesson.

Her eyes drifted out to see the two doves sitting together in a tree. One of the doves leaning its head into the other dove’s affectionately.

What a beautiful avian couple.

Kureha groaned as he flipped through his medical notes. It would appear as if (your name) has yet again rejected his advances.

He just didn’t understand why she wasn’t into him. Kureha knew he was attractive. Perhaps it was because he was a bit on the feminine side. Yet he had a feeling (your name) secretly liked submissive men.

Kureha sighed to himself glancing at the notes he’s written about her so far. He wanted to know more. He needed to know more about her and how she was able to withstand Hanayama’s brute strength with minimal damage.

Maybe he should ask her out to dinner instead?

(Your name) was thrilled to finally have a day to herself. A day without a date. Plus she could finally open the gift Hanayama had given her.

(Your name) made her way down the busy streets, a certain drunk catching her eye. It would appear he was mentally struggling with how his face was buried in his hands, a bottle of sake sitting beside him.

“Hello.” (Your name) slowly approached Kiyosumi, treating him as if he was a wounded animal. Her hands out so she wouldn’t frighten him into fight mode. She could tell from his muscles that he was a fighter of some sort and she should never underestimate someone based on appearance.

Kiyosumi glanced up, his dark eyes wide at who was in front of him. His angel was here again. He scolded himself for getting so drunk again. Kiyosumi had tried to be sober but he was disheartened when he hadn’t seen her again.

And he knew that it would not be socially acceptable to admit to her that he had been searching for her over the last few days. She’d probably think he was more of a creep than a loser if he did.

“Hello.” Kiyosumi muttered, his face flushing a bit under her sympathetic gaze. He couldn’t stand how much she seemed to pity him. Kiyosumi didn’t want to come off as a charity case to her.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days. How have you been?” (Your name) plopped herself next to Kiyosumi. She could smell the liquor on him from here as well as a mixture of cheap cigarettes, musk, smoke, and leather.

Kiyosumi’s eyes widened before he cleared his throat to compose himself. He couldn’t remember the last time someone asked about his well being. It was a foreign feeling but not one that made him uncomfortable.

“I’ve been the same.” Kiyosumi replied, his voice cracking a bit since he was screaming at the bar tender prior to sitting on the curb. Kiyosumi has been at an all time low as of late.

(Your name) hummed, her eyes skimming over the dark circles under his eyes and the slight gauntness in his cheeks. Seems he wasn’t sleeping or eating well. (Your name) wondered what his story was for him to end up in such a state.

“Have you eaten anything?” (Your name) asked, her expression softening at his frantic eyes. He reminded her a lot of an injured stray cat. It was so disheartening to see how much he struggled to ask for help when he clearly needed it. Depression was an awful disorder to have and she’s seen a lot of people succumb to it over her short life. A lot of people resort to drugs and alcohol to try to silence the despair they feel but it always ends up making it worse.

“No-“

“How about I get you something to eat? It’s important to eat a few nutritionist meals throughout the day.” (Your name) gently placed her hand on the back of his leather jacket, his tears watering up a bit. Kiyosumi couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so kind to him.

“Thank you.” Kiyosumi replied, (your name) smiling at him.

“Of course. I hope you start to get better, mister.” (Your name) stood up, her eyes looking around for a food stand or restaurant. She believed soup would probably be the best for him since he was intoxicated still,

“My name is Katou Kiyosumi. I’m a mechanic.” Kiyosumi muttered, (your name) smiling down at him.

“My name is (your full name). I’m a kindergarten teacher.” Kiyosumi thought it was interesting how his angel was a kindergarten teacher just like Katsumi’s girlfriend was. It was such a strange coincidence… almost as if… she couldn’t be Katsumi’s girl right? She gave him her full name so she was interested in him right?

Kiyosumi watched her as she walked across the street to get him something to eat, his hands tightly clutching his pants in anxiousness. He could feel his head spinning and his stomach twisting as his mind began racing. She couldn’t be Katsumi’s girlfriend or she wouldn’t be so kind to him. Katsumi has everything, he doesn’t need her too.

Kiyosumi felt like he was going to be sick. He stood up, hastily making his way towards the garbage can to empty out the contents of his stomach. His body shaking as the self doubt came back. God he was such a loser.

“Kiyosumi? Are you alright?” Kiyosumi turned his head around to see a concerned (your name) holding a container of soup in her hand.

“I’m alright…” Kiyosumi replied, his body recoiling when she outstretched a napkin to him. The rough texture of the napkin rubbing against his lips as she wiped the vomit off his face.

“Don’t push yourself so much.” (Your name) smiled at him, trying her best to cheer him up. She handed him the soup. “You should eat before you take some rest in a bit.”

“Thank you.” Kiyosumi didn’t know what to say. He thought she would’ve ran when she saw him throw up. He was going to savor every second of her attention that he had.

“I hope you feel better. Take care of yourself, Kiyosumi.” (Your name) told him with a smile. Kiyosumi frowned when he realized she was leaving. He was such a loser.

“Will I see you again?” He asked, (your name) flashing him a grin.

“Hopefully when you’re not drunk again.” (Your name) waved at him. “I’ll hopefully see you next time sober.”

Kiyosumi took one last glance at his soup taking in a deep breath. Hopefully he would be sober next time. He needed to get clean, maybe she’d go out with him if he got his crap together? The thought of her entertaining him with her time was enough to motivate him to better himself a bit.

Hopefully next time he could get her something to eat instead of buying himself liquor.

But now he at least knew her name and that she was a kindergarten teacher so that would narrow down his time searching around for her. He couldn’t wait to see more of his anngel every chance he had now.

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Author’s note: congratulations, you have a stalker now. Thanks for reading!

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danpuff-ao3 · 2 years

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Today is Lila my love's birthday! Happiest of birthdays, @liladiurne! My lovely Crabby Queen! 💖

Before I properly met Lila, she was A Big Deal. I remember when her fic Sudden Light was coming out and being hooked. (And also devastated, but I digress.) Rarely do I follow WIPs, but for Lila I made an exception. That story was so gorgeous (and painful, did I mention that?) that I leapt for joy at every update email.

So amazed was I by her clear gift, as a wordsmith, a creative, and (most importantly) an angst aficionado. So when I met Lila for the first time, I was a bit starstruck. And there she was, this absolute genius, being so kind to me and complimenting my work. (Cue my confusion but also my excitement.)

Many people had raved about Lila's work to me, and I'd seen firsthand her gift. Her passion for these characters and for writing is so clear in her work, and all the clearer when you meet her. Now she is still A Big Deal and a Very Important Person, but she is also very near and dear to me. She is more than just this very confused genius providing great literature for free, she is an absolute gem of a human. Lila is one of the greatest gifts this fandom has given me, and to celebrate her existence I shall rec to you my TOP 5 Lila picks! (Though you should really go read all of her work, it's all incredible, I guarantee it.)

Sudden Light

Snarry. Rated E. 48k.

Seven years after the war, in the dead of winter, Severus Snape meets a beautiful stranger on a train. Inevitably, he falls in love.

On the Deficiencies of Translation Spells

Snarry. Rated E. 41k.

Divorced, single, and free, Harry lives a completely unapologetic life in Paris. Between casual hook-ups and an easy, comfortable job, he likes to think he is as close to happiness as he'll ever be. And when he gets offered a teaching job at the prestigious Académie Beauxbâtons, he thinks he may have found exactly what was missing. But Harry is thoroughly unprepared for what he finds there - a familiar face that's been haunting his dreams for six years.

Compulsory Figures

Snarry. Rated E. 6k.

Severus is a four-time Olympic gold medalist and a figure skating legend. He's also a heartless bastard who uses his fame and influence to bed as many pretty young skaters as he can. At eighteen, Harry has just begun training for his first Olympic Games. And he's exactly Severus' type.

Certain Dark Things

Snarry. Rated E. 50k.

“You want me. I know you do.”

I was too worn-out by then to even deny it. In the light of day, with only the summer wind and the cicadas to hear, it didn’t seem necessary to hide it. “It doesn’t matter, Harry. This can never happen.”

He stared at me some more, and I did my best not to falter under those shimmering eyes. “I won’t tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he assured me.

“I know you wouldn’t,” I added, insisting on the conditional. I didn’t like the way he’d spoken as if it had already happened. As if I had already lost.

Perhaps I already had.

In which Severus takes a trip to Italy, thinking he'll have a quiet time at the Malfoys' villa, but Harry has other plans.

Miraculous

Snarry. Rated E. 15k.

When Severus finds out that the gorgeous and charming young man Lucius set him up with, the one who's accompanying him to his mother's charity ball, is really a hired escort, he is furious and disappointed. At first. But then he realises he can use this to his advantage. After years of celibacy, he's finally found someone he connects with, someone who understands him. And this time, Severus actually has the means to see him again. Or the money. But if money's what it takes to spend time with Harry, then he's more than willing to drain his family's fortune. In an unexpected twist of faith, he might not need to.

#danpuff recs #liladiurne #snarry #happy birthday friend!!!!#I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

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skzsauce01 · 2 years

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The First Step

Synopsis: To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love. Or, a dance with the object of your disdain is more appealing than a conversation with the object of your displeasure. Regency AU/Pride and Prejudice AU inspired by @/mocimori’s art of Chan as Darcy.

Warning: one mention of gin

Word Count: 2.5k

Pairing: Elizabeth Bennet!reader x Darcy!Bang Chan featuring Bingley!Felix and Jane Bennet!Yeji

The greatest mistake you have made in your life is believing that your mother had your best interests at heart. If she truly did, you would not be listening to Mr. Hwang regale you with tales of his esteemed patroness, the good, gracious Lady Suzy Bae. After your mother gifted your hand to him for the first two dances, you feigned exhaustion when you arrived at Netherfield Park. The ball barely began, but your dear sister fortunately explained your fatigue from too much sun during last afternoon’s long walk. And being the gentleman he is, Mr. Hwang offered to wait until you found yourself better rested, never mind that there were other ladies he could have danced with.

Now you solemnly nod at her ladyship’s latest act of charity. You have never wished ill upon another person, but you dare hope that a lady catches his gaze, and he finds himself enchanted by her. Then you shall be free for at least half an hour before he inevitably returns. The only benefit to this conversation is that you are in perfect view of the dance floor. Yeji and Mr. Lee look absolutely enamored with each other.

The music ends with a dreadful finality as the couples cheer, then part ways. Mr. Lee asks Yeji for a second dance, and beneath her composure, you sense her delight. Mr. Hwang notes this as well, and before he can do the same, you declare that you shall like some punch.

You slip into the eddying crowd around the refreshment room and out the other entrance where you find a moment of respite. Your neighboring friend, Ryujin Shin, nearly leaps up from her chair when she spots you.

“I have scarcely seen you all week. Where have you been all evening? Your sisters are dancing, and you are nowhere to be seen!”

You inform of your cousin’s generosity, and she sympathetically smiles. While the two of you walk around the hall, recounting the latest news about the soldiers staying in Meryton, you nearly forget about Mr. Hwang, awkward and solemn even among merry guests, until he appears at the opposite end of the room. You grab Ryujin’s arm and make to turn in the opposite direction before he notices you. But you are unfortunate and have to wait in mortification as Mr. Hwang takes stiff, measured steps towards you. Ryujin has the kindness to voice her condolences.

“I do believe I have run out of excuses,” you murmur to your friend. “Do you have any suitable ones?”

She quickly glances at the approaching Mr. Hwang while you keep your own eyes averted. “Surely he is not as disagreeable as you say.”

“He is to inherit the estate when my father passes, so you must understand my feelings. Aside from my future in the poorhouse, when I introduce you to him, you will understand. He is quite an odd man.”

She chides, “You must not speak like that! Mr. Lee seems to very much like Yeji, so the poorhouse may not house you and your sisters, after all. But very well, I shall try to see from your point of view.” She then leans in conspiratorially and says, “I hate to alarm you, but a certain gentleman from Derbyshire is coming our way.”

The sound of a set of approaching footsteps captures your attention, and you pretend to laugh at something Ryujin has said. The gentleman from Derbyshire, otherwise known as Mr. Bang to his contemporaries and to you as the most arrogant man you have ever had the pleasure of meeting, is a great source of resentment for not only you but your mother. Having insulted you and having the coldest manners, there is no lost sentiment between you and Mr. Bang.

Ryujin curtsies to Mr. Bang as he now stands imposingly at your side. Before you can do the same, to your complete shock, he asks you for your hand in the next dance, and in your state, you accept and thank him for the offer. In the happiest of moments, Mr. Bang departs and Mr. Hwang has finally made his way to you. You prepare to inform him that you are engaged for the next dance, but instead, he passes by you entirely! Your joy turns into horror when you realize that he is heading for Mr. Bang.

“Surely you are not going to introduce yourself to Mr. Bang,” you say.

“He is the nephew of Lady Suzy Bae, and I must inform him about how well his aunt has been faring. I did not think I would see a man of his standing at this assembly.”

“He will think of you impertinent! Mr. Hwang, I recognize that you have your duties to your patroness, but this is improper, and I assure you that he will take it unkindly. Please, I am certain that he will be willing to introduce himself to you once he learns of your devotion to his aunt.”

Your dissuasion is unsuccessful, and you watch with unprecedented embarrassment as Mr. Bang replies with civil contempt for your cousin’s follies. Mr. Hwang believes himself to be held in the highest regard now that Mr. Bang received him, and he struts away like a peacock. The music for the next dance begins, and he again asks your hand. When you inform him that you have been spoken for by someone else, his disappointment is clear. Ryujin, the compassionate woman she is, offers her hand instead. She does not need to be kind to that miserable man, but you suppose that she can learn of his oddities throughout the number.

During the beginning of the dance, Mr. Bang seems content to not speak, and you yourself are satisfied by the silence until it becomes too tiresome to bear. To not have conversation for a whole dance is a punishment in itself, but for your prideful partner, it is most likely a delight. You still vividly remember how cold he was during his first ball at Hertfordshire. In your own insolence and perhaps in defense of your cousin, you ask about the Lady Suzy you have been hearing about. He makes a noncommittal answer and becomes quiet again, though you are certain he is vexed by the question.

After another moment of nothingness, you ask, “Is there something occupying your thoughts, Mr. Bang? Most couples talk at least a little bit during a dance. It would be strange, otherwise. But if you are not confident in your words, I understand completely.”

You have offended him, but Mr. Bang’s good opinion matters less the more you are in his presence. He is either unskilled at conversing while dancing or rude, and you have firmly decided that he is simply rude.

“What occupies your thoughts?” he says.

“Usually my books or my sisters. Now it is your turn to share.”

“You enjoy reading then?”

“I am fond of a great deal of things, reading books being one of them and socializing another. I imagine you prefer reading more, considering your reluctance to be in the company of anyone but your own circle. You have deprived us all the honor of knowing such a fine gentleman.”

“As you stated in our last meeting, a fine gentleman ought to have happy manners and a good heart. Do you declare me one then?”

“Yes, even if you are lacking, but I will not fault you for that. It is difficult to be everything all at once.”

“I wonder where you get your audaciousness from.”

You archly reply, “My mother. It is a family trait. Do you take after your aunt?”

At the mention of Lady Suzy, his face loses what little cheer it had. “Do all Hwangs desire to know about my aunt?”

“We are disposed to be in awe of anyone of such gracious character. My cousin speaks so favorably of her, so it is only natural that I want to learn more.”

After a moment, he answers, “No, I do not believe I take after her.”

Having only heard of her ladyship, you cannot confirm or deny whether that is a fine thing or not. The dance continues in silence once more, and you have resolved to not speak to Mr. Bang anymore. His sullenness is beginning to affect you, and you refuse to let him ruin the rest of the night. As you pass Ryujin who is directing Mr. Hwang to the correct position, you exchange a look of sympathy with her. There are more miserable partners than yours, however strange that may sound.

“What would you give a sister for her birthday?” he suddenly asks. “You have four, and I seek advice for what to give my own.”

The thought of Mr. Bang having a sister flummoxes you, but even more astonishing is the warmth in his voice. You have never heard him speak to or of anyone in such a manner, not even Mr. Lee who seems to be his closest friend. He adores her very much, you realize.

“It depends on which sister.” You do not know if Mr. Bang knows all your sisters’ names, but that does not prevent you from listing them all. “For Yeji since she is the eldest and my favorite, the embroidered handkerchief I have been working on. Lia sings often, so new sheet music for her. Chaeryeong would want a book of poetry, and I saw Yuna admiring a bonnet in one of the shops in town, so a new bonnet for her. How old is your sister?”

“Ten years my junior. She will be sixteen.”

“Yuna is nearly sixteen, so perhaps your sister would like a new bonnet.”

“Thank you. I shall consider it.”

His haughty tone belies his gratitude, and your cheeks flush with indignation. However, you nod back, wondering why you initially answered so goodnaturedly. You could have misguided him completely or at least teased him for being unaware of his sister’s taste, but instead you were perfectly cordial. He is the one who misled you.

He does not attempt to strike up another short conversation, and you do not either. It is a waste to spend your words on him. You dare believe that he scoffed when Mr. Hwang knocked against his shoulder. While you normally would be the one to do the same since your cousin declares himself an uncannily excellent dancer when the opposite is true, you can hardly stand anymore of Mr. Bang’s pomposity.

With as much cheer as you can muster, you finish the dance in good spirits and try to not to seem too eager to leave Mr. Bang. You curtsy and thank him for the incomparable honor of being his partner, but before you can separate from his presence, he asks if you may accompany you for a refreshment. He is determined to provoke you.

“My friend requires me, sir,” you say with faux disappointment. “I beg your pardon.”

You hurry away to Ryujin who is entertaining Mr. Hwang’s demonstration of a one-person cotillion by clapping rhythmically. When she sees you, she says something to Mr. Hwang and walks over to you. As the two of you take a turn about the ballroom, you exchange recountings of your own partners.

“He is a suitable partner,” Ryujin remarks, “not nearly as disagreeable as you described. You ought to give him a chance. The poor gentleman is so nervous, all he can talk about is his patroness.”

It is indiscernible whether she is serious or not. “I would rather dance with Mr. Bang a second time. Long-winded speech is more insufferable than an awkward air.”

“Be careful unless you want him to overhear. He stares at you a great deal, you know. Far more than he should if he truly disliked you.”

“He finds me barely tolerable. He is watching me because he truly dislikes me. Come now, let us forget about our horrible partners and find someone else to dance with. I refuse to let them occupy my mind at such a merry ball.”

But they cannot escape your mind, for you still owe two dances to your cousin, and he will only stop pursuing you once you have fulfilled your mother’s promises. After the first one with Mr. Hwang, you declare that you need a refreshment, and this time, you truly do. The punch is strong, remedied with gin to keep its enjoyer lively for the duration of the ball.

“How are you faring?”

You swallow one last mouthful of punch and set your cup down. “Mr. Bang. Perfectly well, thank you. If you have come to me for more birthday gift ideas, then you will find me unsatisfactory. I am afraid that a lavishly trimmed bonnet is the best that I can suggest.”

“Do you not think that it is too frivolous, especially for a girl of her age?”

“Frivolous!” you cried. “Please tell that to my mother. What is less frivolous than protecting your face and neck from the sun? So long as she uses it, I see not how it would be. Yuna certainly wears every bonnet she owns.”

“And what of Miss Hwang? What is she like?”

His eyes land where Yeji and Mr. Lee are, smiling as they chat with each other. She danced with him twice, you remember. Twice! For a brief moment, you forget about your anger as you take in her joy.

“Yeji is the kindest, most wonderful person I know. She is generous and sweet, with hardly any malice in her. What is your design?”

“If I recall, you once said it was difficult to be everything at once.”

“Difficult, not impossible. Some are more blessed than others, and some more unfortunate. It is our family’s great fortune to have a dearest daughter and sister like her. I do not pretend to understand why she is so lucky, but I will not tolerate anyone who has such objections. Would you not feel the same about your own sister if someone had suggested something deplorable about her?”

“I would.”

“Then we are in agreement. A rare instance, so let us delight in this moment.”

You hope that it will be enough to deter him from talking to you further, but Mr. Bang is resolved to have the last word. “If we are truly in agreement, will you accept if I ask for the next dance?”

“You intend to prove me wrong, but I also have a game: I shall accept only if we have a proper conversation, and from our last acquaintance, that has shown to be your weakness. If you wish to withdraw, I shall harbor no ill feelings.”

“Then let us delight.”

You fully expect to tease him mercilessly, but it is quite a shock to you and the rest of the attendees when Mr. Bang begins to share his favorite books with you, unprompted. His taste and yours do not differ much, and you no longer know what to make of him.

Evidently, neither does the rest of Hertfordshire because the word the following day is that the two eldest Hwang sisters have caught the fancy of two of the county’s most eligible gentlemen when surely only one has.

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windydayey · 2 years

Text

Inazuma Runaways

Kaedehara Kazuha x fem!reader

Pt. 1

There was a time when a little Kazuha was a at the market.

"I- I thought you left me!!!" he turned back to see a little girl crying who later got carried by the hands of a man.

He was 7 at the time.

They walked away the girl still crying then she dropped something. A hairtie from the festival stalls?

He picked it up hoping to give it back to her. If they met again that is.

Years passed the hairtie was now forgotten no idea where he kept it either. On his final departure after taking some of his belongings he had this tiny box he forgot what he had it for.

"Hey little guy we're sailing soon!" Captain Beidou called out to him. He quietly got up and got on.

He was leaning at the wooden wall listening to the sounds of the ocean, oh how pleasant it was. Gifted sharp ears and sense of smell which added more to his friend being the wind.

Of course his sharp sense of hearing heard Beidou bicker with someone. He got a little curious hearing the captain Beidou's awkward tone.

"Listen girlie you should've made early reservations"

"I'll tell you why later! You need money? I got it don't worry!"

"Uhh see that's not the only problem the other is you are not just a normal citizen...you are the eldest heir to the Inazuma charity temple and they will sooner or later come search for you, we'll be in BIGG trouble."

'Inazuma Charity? The temple heads for the villagers?'

"It's fine we have plenty other kids in the family anyway not to mention I've already s-" that girl hesitated. She took a breath and started "severed my ties with them"

Beidou was at loss of words "oh- well um okay gutsy girl"

"Besides I know a certain traitor from Inazuma is in board too so..." She folded her arms.

She's definitely talking about him, now that he is involved he can intervene.

"I heard the mention of me is it?" He entered

"oh-.." she was a bit surprised

"So miss may I know why exactly you need to run away?" He asked.

She sighed "listen there's not much time okay? I'll tell you while we sail and if my story is not enough to convince you when we have to come back again you can return me here, I promise."

"uhh...." Beidou sweatdropped from your tone and expression you seemed to be genuine about it "Ah damn it fine captain can handle this much trouble anyway"

The girl left out a real tight breath out "phew"

It was dawn and you and Kazuha were at the table, sending suspicious looks to eachother. It was clear both of you wary of eachother. One wondering how you knew of him and you wondering what he did to to be chased by the decree.

"So" he slid a glass of juice to your side "May I hear your story?" You slid the glass back to him "Only if I hear yours first" He smirked "Fair isn't it?" You asked.

"For being a maiden of the temple you're really too sharp aren't you?" He stated, "Personally I think putting your life decisions on the god's hands seems like a gamble to future to me."

"and your's aren't?" You smiled "Atleast I won't regret it."

"You're around the same age as me aren't you?" You asked "Atleast your age isn't confidential is it?"

"yeah.."

One thing he could make out from this conversation was you preferred to be independent too.

"Alright if I tell you mine promise you'll tell me yours?" You accepted the glass of juice

"And if I don't?"

"Kaedehara's never break a promise" you stated. He was taken back "How do you know my name but not my age?"

"Trying to start a small talk you know" you shook the glass. "If you're that curious how about spilling some of your story to me while I spill mine" you smirked.

'Ah how sly' he thought.

Sometime passed and you heard all about his situation.

"...I see..." You expressed your bitterness.

"It's truly a pity that the Shogun decided to take such measures like it will ever improve the condition of Inazuma"

"Do you despise the archons?" He asked

"I do not. I just find it foolish to idolise the archons to the point people forget about their own opinions."

" I see...." He spoke "Well it's your turn"

You stared at the half empty glass "Well... I'll try to keep it short-" he cut you off "I do not mind to sit for a few more hours,....the night is quite long after all"

"Such smooth way of talking did you scam people with those words?" You chuckled.

"It's not scamming if they themselves really believe you" he defended himself.

"I was never a child of grace and devotion, well atleast I thought I was. Till I started reading it changed my point of view truly, so many people's thoughts and opinions so different. I started to realise I craved Independency but couldn't because I felt my opinions were inferior to the elders who lived longer and were more wise. One night I sneaked out to a ...food stall"

you sighed "I'm a foodie yes, I met a drunk man their, I was taught people who drink either drink to relief the pain or drink in the flow. But the drunk man there wasn't sad at all not because he was drunk but he told me about his adventures, that not having a penny now it's already frustrating but he'd rather die enjoying freedom of his choice than the burdensome job his parents had wished for"

"Maybe those words were my final straw and I started to act out, I started finding flaws in the adults mindset and wished to chase my dreams. And here I am two years later finally"

"That's not a there's to it is it?" He raised a brow "You sure you want to hear it?"

"Of course you owe me one" he grabbed a glass too.

You giggled "I'm not sure if I'll get along with you"

"Put up with it till we reach Liyue for now"

You finally took a step into the grounds of Liyue now, you were a little dizzy from sailing at the boat. You were trying to search for a place to sit "Need a hand?" Kazuha asked.

"It's fine I just need a little more time" he sighed and grabbed your hand "Don't be stubborn I'm sure you're aware it'll backfire on you only if you pass out right not?"

Sitting down in one the wooden boxes you defended yourself "It's not that bad though!?"

He smiled "hush hush you owe me shrimp balls for that"

"Huh...what's that? And how much is it?"

"Don't worry I'm sure you're wallet it loaded"

"...HEY!-"

#genshin hc #genshin imagines #kazuha ff #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha

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frostandflamesfanfic · 2 years

Text

The Last Three Years (Sherlock x Reader) - Chapter 7

| | Masterlist | |

Chapter 7: Anybody Else

"How could I be so dumb? I'd say, 'run,' to anybody else. [It's] easy when it's anybody else...so tell me why I stay?" -Faouzia (Anybody Else)

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x Watson!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k+ (hopefully this makes up for the delay!)

Warnings: IMPORTANT TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of miscarriage, description of abusive/toxic relationship, non-graphic violence

Summary: Like everyone, you had some skeletons in your closet. You never thought your past would catch up with you. . .until it did. As you sit with Elora in the park, you begin to reminisce over a moment of tragedy during the faintest time of hope.

Author's Note: To preface this chapter...it's a doozy. Not going to sugarcoat it, I started writing this chapter during a really difficult time in my life and just used it as a sounding board. I've since had a change in lifestyle and am in a much better place right now, but I want to provide a warning because the character of Xavier can be a very triggering one for many readers.

“So you were pregnant?” Elora’s face contorted into a wide-eyed frown. Her left eyebrow lifted ever-so-slightly in disbelief. Her shaking hands crossed across her chest.

You felt your head bobbing up and down in silent nod. It was really the first time you were telling another soul about this secret. Well, one of many secrets. Your gaze darted about the flat, an anxious tick that allowed you to avoid making eye contact with your previous flat-mate. After what had happened, you couldn’t think about fully coming to terms with it. It only made you feel more and more like a failure each time.

“What happened?” You hated that she asked that question. It was obvious Elora already knew the answer. She just wanted to hear you say it out loud. She wanted you to break.

“I, um,” you started. “I. . .” Your breath caught in your throat. Sweat coated your palms as you began to lose your nerve. Anxiety took over your every thought and you could feel the panic course through your veins. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

The coat fell from your grasp onto the floor as you got up and bolted out the door. Elora’s voice came from behind you, calling your name. But you couldn’t go back. You just needed to clear your head.

You needed air.

You needed to be able to breathe.

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

The truth was that you had thought you understood love years ago, back when you belonged to another. Strange as it sounded, you were a lone traveller in a distant land. The random sneers and dirty looks from passersby as you attempted to navigate through Beantown felt like daggers. A few months into your degree, you had met him: Xavier. It was clear he was studying political science. His words were always so calming. Any time you were afraid, he would be there to make things right again. When you had finally agreed to go out on a date with him, it had started almost too perfectly. He would take you to dinner, give you small gifts to show his appreciation. It was difficult at times, though, as the paparazzi seemed to find you both wherever you went in the city.

Nevertheless, he had given you a home, a place to call your own in an ever-foreign country. He promised that no matter where you went, he would always find you and bring you back home to him. The world of fame and fortune that you had initially been able to hide from became a constant in your life. You had grown accustomed to the flashbulbs as his name became more common on the ballots. Even when he had proposed, it was sudden at a political rival’s charity hall. The simple wedding of your dreams vanished almost overnight. Instead, you were met with the lush luxuries of an expensive reception filled with people you had never even met before.

Even the attire felt like too...much. You had to admit the lace backing of the design was gorgeous in its own right, but it wasn’t your mother’s dress. It wasn’t personal enough for you. There weren’t any personalised place cards with a specific flower attached for each of the guests. Nobody had a truly sappy and embarrassing speech about you or Xavier at the reception that would instantly make you feel like you were a part of his family. Ice sculptures littered the surrounding area, dripping onto the floor and blocking any hope of partygoers seeing the arrangements you had wanted. Hell, your own brother and sister weren’t even invited!

When you initially approached Xavier about inviting your family, he would become defensive. He would explain how he felt uncomfortable having them there. “They wouldn’t truly understand how to interact with the guests, darling,” he coaxed.

When you had argued against the calmly-delivered insult, Xavier had merely waved his hand. “I know, sweetheart, but this isn’t just about us. If we don’t invite Senator Jackson, I can kiss the election goodbye. We can always have another party just for them. Close friends and family. Doesn’t that sound better?”

Yet, you still couldn’t complain. It was the life almost every young person dreamt about, complete with your own personal prince. You would have felt ridiculous to turn him down after everything he had done for you. It was almost as if you had owed him even the smallest things to be happy. So you did what he wanted: you altered your appearance, limited your interactions with others, and fully became part of his social circle. She would smile for the cameras, waving when necessary. The fake persona would become a mask. You were no longer the same person you were when you arrived.

One point, early on in your relationship with Xavier, you had managed to speak with John during his service. He had been pleasantly surprised to hear that you were engaged, even more so that you had gotten married.

“Isn’t it a bit sudden?” he had asked. “Haven’t you just met him?”

“I suppose,” you relented. “But he really has been amazing. I barely needed to lift a finger– all the planning was done in a few weeks. Even the tiny salad forks were chosen by someone else. And you should have seen where we went on-”

“Yeah, that’s all well and good, Pip,” John cut you off with an old childhood nickname. “You have the fancy objects and the high-end homes. But are you…happy?”

You had hesitated at that moment, but you weren’t sure why. “Of course.” In hindsight, you should have immediately said yes. You were practically living in paradise, why couldn’t you say yes? Something had been holding you back even then. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

There was a brief period of silent static as John paused to reply. “I’m not sure. But as your big brother, you know it’s my job to make sure you’re happy. I don’t want to hear you’re happy and find out later that you were lying to be accepted. Otherwise I’ll need to make a special trip back to teach my new brother-in-law a lesson neither of us will forget.”

“John!”

“I’m only saying that you really need to think about-”

Astonished, you had hung up the phone in anger. John had called a few more times in a row afterwards, which caused Xavier to frown at the phone. “Is he calling again?”

You gave a short nod. “Uh, yes,” you tutted out.

He gave a short hum in response. You had known him long enough to know what certain sounds meant coming from his mouth. “I thought you just spoke with him.”

“I did.”

“ Oh. ”

Concerned, you frowned at your fiance. “What’s the matter?”

Another noncommittal noise left his lips. “It’s nothing, darling, I’m sure. It just seems a bit clingy of John. . .doesn’t it?”

To say you were surprised would have been an understatement. You just sat there in slight shock. “It wasn’t clingy of him to do,” you started. “We just had an argument-”

“Maybe he should be more considerate when he calls,” Xavier cut you off. “Surely he doesn’t expect you to pick up all the time. Especially after he got you upset. You need time to decompress.”

As brief and heated as the conversation was, the brotherly advice from John was enough to make you start questioning things. It was true there were days that you had begun to miss the person you once were. What had happened to the person who always spoke up for themselves, not giving a damn when someone tried to change your actions? Where did the early morning teacups get replaced by soap-streaked coffee mugs and rainy days? You would think back to the carefree days at your family home in the country, where you were truly happy regardless of the circumstances. You, John, and Harry didn’t have the fanciest of childhoods, but you made do. Your parents did what they could to provide for the three of you, but there were days the strain became too much. To make matters “easier,” Harry had decided to move out as soon as possible. John followed soon after, carrying on your father’s legacy within the military as you were left behind to be the baby yet again.

Having nowhere else to go, you stayed with your parents for as long as possible. When they eventually passed on, you had promised yourself that you wouldn't stay in one place for too long. Instead, you would find someone who would give you what you needed. They would be your missing half and travel with you on incredible adventures.

At first, Xavier had given you a chance to make good on that vow. He took you to a variety of beautiful and exotic locations, though it was mostly for him to improve his publicity. Looking back, there were so many warning signs you had missed. If you could have gone back, you wished you could shake some sense into your past self and tell them there was someone out there, but you were too late to save them.

With Xavier, it wasn’t until after the wedding that you realised your first mistake was saying hello. As time went on, his trust with you began to fade. He had started to trap you in a house with nowhere to escape. Your mind became a prison filled with the lies he would continue to scream at you:

“You’re not good enough.”

“You are nothing but a worthless piece of garbage.”

"You only have me to trust... Remember that right?"

“The world is dangerous,” he would say. “You're always going to be with me. I won't ever hurt you and I’ll make sure no one else does, either." Again and again and again he would say this; the comforting phrase would escape his lips every time after hurting you. It was an endless cycle, one you couldn't ever escape from. You had been stranded- both literally and figuratively- far from everything you used to know and completely powerless against it all.

The first scare you ever had with Xavier had left you praying for a miracle. It had been a late night out at the library -- the only place you were able to find true peace. The smell of the leatherbound novels and the crisp pages against your fingertips fueled your curiosity as you turned to the next page. It would be your escape from the harsh reality you were forced to live with every day. You had been so entranced by the paperback world that you failed to realise the time. By the time you had arrived back at your shared home, he was waiting. . .and fuming.

He never believed you when you assured him it was only the library. “What’s the use of going to a library?” he would exclaim. “You were somewhere else. Just tell me where and we won’t have any problems. The last thing my campaign needs is rumours about a cheating spouse.”

Then you heard the snap.

All you wanted was a way out. You didn’t want to be exposed to your husband’s cruelty any longer. John had been involved in the war at the time with no way to reach him. You had had no other friends, a consequence of marrying so soon after university and Xavier cutting off any other outside communications. He didn’t want to risk losing you. He had staked his claim to you right from the start. You had been his and his alone.

You had been trapped in the darkness with any hope for light at all snuffed out the instant it sparked.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When you slipped out the door that morning, you had the worst feeling crawling up your spine. It wasn’t until you had crossed over to North Gower Street that you noticed the black vehicle creeping up behind you. You tried your best to double back, praying that you would confuse the driver. Surely, it was a coincidence.

“There are no such things as coincidences,” Sherlock’s voice snapped in your mind. “The universe is hardly ever that lazy. Pay attention to your surroundings. Be aware .”

As you slipped onto a busy street, you heard the car door open and slam. That was your sign. Someone was most definitely following you. The paparazzi tailing you had been one thing- you could distinguish their random shutter clicks and deliberate steps into the shadows. But this? This was different. The pattern was much calmer, the footfalls of this mysterious stranger were getting closer. Even when you quickened your pace, you could still hear them behind.

You knew you had to think fast. Glancing around, you noticed a street leading into an abandoned alley corner. The fire escape ladder had been drawn to the ground, providing a potential escape route if push came to shove. Your hand slipped into your jacket pocket to fondle the handle of the gun. If things got too out of hand, you could easily attack and claim self-defence. What else could you do? You were pregnant, for God’s sake! Yet, something in you refrained from pulling the trigger. No, you tried to console yourself. Don’t let it escalate. Just be mindful and keep yourself safe.

The footsteps drew closer to your hiding place and suddenly ceased. Your breath caught in your throat. You knew you needed to be careful when it came to celebrating your good fortune preemptively.

That’s when you heard the voice.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Xavier’s vaguely familiar accent dripped with an artificial sweetness. “You can come out now. You know there’s no use fighting it anymore. I’ve got you.”

Your knees threatened to give out as you pressed your back against the brick exterior. Not him, a voice in the back of your mind screamed. This can’t be happening.

“You have no one else to protect you,” he continued. “No brother, no police. Not even your precious detective and his adorable little sister.” You heard his footsteps draw nearer. “Let me look at you. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? I know every single thing that you do. Honey, I own you. That includes that little bundle of joy.”

You knew he was right. After your time together, there was nothing you could do that would truly take Xavier by surprise. He knew you too well. You allowed a quick prayer of strength to be muttered under your breath before your hand gripped onto the gun and you sprung from your hiding spot. “Why are you following me?” you called out, the barrel of the weapon steadily aimed at his temple.

Xavier appeared unaffected. He took a step forward and tilted his head to the side. “The holiday’s over,” he replied in a casual tone. “It’s time to come home.”

“This is my home,” you readjusted the gun in your hand as you spoke. “I don’t have a home with you. . .not anymore. . .not ever.”

“It’s cute you think that, doll. But we both know the only home you have is with me. Anything else is just a temporary arrangement.”

“Go to Hell , Xavier.”

You tried to fire the gun, but he was too quick. Xavier stepped forward and bent your wrist back, away from the trigger – your only form of protection. The weapon slipped from your grip and directly into his other palm. He clicked his tongue in mock disapproval as he slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Hell has me on the waitlist darling, I assure you,” he replied, reaching for your wrist again. “Now, get in the car. We’re going to get your things.”

You let out a growl and swung your knee up to slam into his groyne. Xavier hissed in pain and responded by tossing you to the ground. “That was a bad move, sweetheart,” he cooed. “One that’s going to cost you.”

Just as you felt the first blow, another series of footsteps joined you in the alley. The voice of Greg Lestrade calling out your name flooded your body with relief. “Is everythin’ alright?”

Xavier sniffed and dusted off his coat as he stepped away from you. “Everything’s fine, officer. We’re simply two old friends catching up.” His eyes narrowed at you on the ground, a warning- no, a promise- of what would occur if you said otherwise.

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” Greg crossed over and helped to guide you back to a standing position. “Care to introduce us, Sergeant Watson?” He didn’t look pleased to see this man in front of his employee; something you were relieved to hear. Greg held his hand out. “Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, Mister. . .”

Almost as if by magic, Xavier slid into his political alter-ego with ease. “Xavier Managold, sir.”

“Ah, Mr. Managold,” Greg clarified. “Now, uh, how do yuh know Sargeant Watson here?”

“University-” you started, but was interrupted by Xavier saying, “we were married.”

This news took your boss by surprise. “Married?” Greg’s eyes widened as he overcame the initial shock. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning that you were married before. That would have been something I’d remember. Especially seeing as you and-”

In a panic, you cut him off. “We’ve been separated for years now, Greg.”

You were greeted with a sharp tug onto your lower forearm, bringing you into Xavier’s chest. He was attempting to stake his claim. . .this time rather publicly. “Ah, but that is ancient history,” he said in a light tone. “Couldn’t let you be the one that got away, now could I? You just need to be able to give me a second chance.”

“Some way to ask for one,” your boss muttered under his breath.

Xavier cleared his throat. “Right, well, we’d best be off if we’re going to catch the train.” His grip on your arm tightened as he attempted to pull you off toward the car.

“Well, I don’t think that’s possible,” Greg’s facial expression echoed the same surprise as you felt in combination with the anxiety. “I need Sargent Watson’s assistance with a case. The Hartsinger murders. The bloody thing is driving us wild. We could use another set of eyes.”

You drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “Of course,” you replied, snatching the opportunity to grab your gun from Xavier’s jacket pocket. It was an action that didn’t go unseen by your boss.

Greg motioned behind him. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you. The car is just parked in the lot.”

“You see, Detective Inspector, we need to go back home,” Xavier chimed in. “We really can’t miss this flight.”

“I’m sure you can find another,” Greg replied, not being serious. “Maybe with one less ticket.”

As you tried to make your way over to Greg, Xavier let out a low growl and promptly tugged you back into his chest. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Greg tried to reason with him. “How about we let the officer go, mate? There’s no need to escalate the situation.”

You just shook your head at the elder officer. “Greg,” you managed to choke out. “Greg, it’s fine. Just- just go.” You weren’t a stranger to this kind of conflict. Whenever Xavier needed anything from you, he would force you to stay by his side. The less leeway you had to squirm away, the chances for you to agree to his demands increased. You had caved in more times than you liked to admit. Caving into him had always been easy, like a five-year-old trying to resist a cupcake as it rested on the table. Now that you had been free of that pain- of his control- you realised that there were things in life other than people protecting you. You learned how to be her own protector.

Being freed from Xavier’s clutches, you had learned how to protect yourself. Sherlock had helped to unearth that part of you again, the fighter that never left. He reminded you that you had always had the strength within you. It was simply just buried deep down after allowing the fear to be in control for so long. Sure, it may have resulted in him taking a beating of his own for shooting a handgun at three in the morning. Yet it had helped you feel more free; you had felt more alive now than ever before. In the four years you had known him, the consulting detective had brought you back- the person you wanted to be and always were deep down. Sherlock had taken your world of bland greys and white and transformed it into an explosion of colour. You were suddenly overwhelmed by the vast amount of blues, reds, and greens that greeted you everywhere you looked. You never wanted to lose it again, even after his death. . .and you certainly weren’t going to let it happen now.

You bent over, using your own body weight to send Xavier flying into the pavement below. He groaned in pain as he landed, but you could see the fire returning into his eyes almost instantly. This time, you wouldn’t be afraid. You would never be afraid of him again.

That’s when he grabbed your leg and you felt the sharp pain. As your face met the concrete beneath you, you gasped and felt a warm liquid as it dripped down your lips. You wanted to fight him; truly, you did. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than to retaliate with lodging a bullet directly into his prefrontal cortex. But you were sent back in time. You felt the fear as it crept its way throughout your body. You could no longer move. Fight back, Sherlock’s voice urged in your mind. Don’t be an idiot and stand there. Fight back .

But you couldn’t. Not for yourself, not even for your unborn child. The panic took over your body and you simply stared up at the clouds as Xavier began his attack. You didn’t feel the contact as his fist collided with your face. You couldn’t even hear the slander he was screaming in your ears. The only thing you could do was whisper tearful pleas. You begged him not to hurt or lay a finger on you. You couldn’t lose what you had. It was all you had left of him, of Sherlock. But you were helpless all over again. Maybe this is my repentance, you thought as your eyes squeezed shut, ready to accept your fate. If I suffer long enough, I’ll see him again. If that’s what it takes. . .

As you felt the weight being lifted off of you, you cracked open your eyes to see Greg pull Xavier off. “Xavier Managold,” he said, pulling your attacker’s arms behind his back, “you are under arrest for aggravated assault of a constable in the execution of their duty. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Xavier glared down at you for a moment before his facial features began to soften. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had done; he was proud of it. You saw the glint in his eye as Lestrade clicked on a pair of handcuffs and began to drag him away. “This isn’t the end, sweetheart,” Xavier called over his shoulder, voice echoing within your mind. “We’ll be seeing each other again very, very soon. I can assure you that.”

======================

Author's Note: Dang. Yes, I wrote this and I'm still in shock of it. Psychotic characters are so much fun to write! We still have one more chapter of angst and pain before we start to lighten up- God knows we need it now. For those curious about Sherlock himself, you shouldn't need to wait too much longer for something more Holmes-centric. I have a few ideas in the works ;)

I'm so sorry that this chapter is super late. Between life, uni, going to see Top Gun: Maverick, and writing an upcoming multi-part series (to be posted this week!!), my schedule has been hell. We're officially all the way through my pre-written chapters from before the creation of this account. It took me a bit of time to wrap up this chaos, especially after needing to update the pronouns in most of the work. I caught a few errors recently in stuff I've already posted that I have yet to adjust, but if you ever spot something that isn't quite right...let me know (I don't bite)!

As usual, don't forget to leave a like, comment, and a reblog to let me know you want to see more of this story! Until next week, my little sparks!

SH Taglist: @ohchoices, @severuined @southernhippie10198

#the last three years: our long game #tlty sherlock #frostandflamesfanfic #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #angst #im so sorry for this pain #gender neutral reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock imagine #sherlock x reader #watson!reader #afab reader #sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock fanfic

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shizuokadivision · 1 year

Text

Silent Tragedy Stocking Gifts

Kanon Hojo

A bar of expensive chocolate from Reika. It's her one weakness.

A wrapped gift from Sakura. It seems to be a good one as Kanon actually smiled for a moment at least.

And lastly, a chicken plushie from her older sister Karen. Kanon seems quite disgruntled at it because they swore to never mention the "chicken incident" ever again.

Reika Aichi

A wrapped gift from Kanon. Knowing her it's probably something deadly.

An expensive ornament from Sakura. It has genuine jewels on it.

And lastly, a cat plushie from the children from her charity foundation. They pulled together what little money they had to buy it for her.

Sakura Kito

A handmade plushie made to look like Kingpin from Kanon. Sakura couldn't believe her eyes when she saw it.

Cigarettes made to look like candy canes from Reika. Sakura was surprised when she started smoking one and it actually tasted like candy canes.

And lastly, a wrapped gift from her subordinates. A thanks to their boss for all she does for them.

#hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #shizuoka division #silent tragedy #kanon hojo #reika aichi #sakura kito #picrew #merry christmas 2022

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theyreonlynoodlesmike · 3 years

Note

i have a mad thomas x reader request where reader is forced to marry thomas (idk how just-) and is disgusted about it but eventually ends up liking him.(? idk how to explain myself:’)

No one look at me,,,,,,,,,,also this is heavily inspired by the Scarlet Letter and was supposed to be a tad darker but I copped out (also someone asked for a pregnant reader recently so this + that = this fic)

A Lie They Would Believe (Mad Thomas x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: dark themes, 1600 standards, values, and laws, affairs/cheating, ex-relationship with the pastor is mentioned, Thomas is Thomas, mentions of drinking, webs of lies, public humiliation, AFAB and Fem reader, pregnant reader, pre-marital pregnancy solved a la shotgun marriage, twisted win-win situation turns into love?, slow burn(?),

Word Count: 3.7k

You could accept your punishment with a turned cheek, you told yourself over and over again.

You could stare out at the audience of towns people, even as the sun beat on your face. You could stare out into the angry faces of the elders, into the pitying faces of your friends. Into the ashamed faces of your parents. But, you could not look at Cyrus Miller.

You'd missed your blood two months ago. You'd begged, prayed, everyday that it would come. But, the only thing that came was the morning sickness. You'd tried to hide it, tried to think of what to do. But, when you placed your hand over your stomach, you couldn't bring yourself to find the hag in the forest. And, when your mother held your spotless, white sheets in your face, you'd crumbled. You confessed in the privacy of your room as if you were confessing in church. You told her everything.

Well, almost.

"Tell us his name!" Cyrus said, a voice that you couldn't force to fall into the background. "Tell us the name of your accomplice and you shall suffer no more." He said, and you wanted to believe him. You let your eyes close for a moment, but your lips did not move. Your mouth did not open. "Tell us the father's name, so that your baby will not be born a bastard!" He said, and his hand reached out to grab your arm. His grip was strong and tight, unlike the caresses you'd become so accustomed to with him. While his words begged you to say the name, his name, the action spoke differently. You peeled open your eyes and looked up at him, at his raven hair and kind face. His dark, soft eyes. Tears pricked the corners of your own eyes, hard and glassy as you looked up at him. But, you were silent. Even as some of the townspeople yelled for you to confess.

But, how could you tell them that it was your persecutor who was the father of your child? That your pastor, the leader of this town, had sinned so egregiously? He had a wife, a daughter. You'd known both of those things when you'd fallen for him, but it was harder to ignore in the harsh sunlight. When both of them stood in front of you.

You knew you'd have to face punishment. Sex before marriage was a crime after all, completely forbidden. To think they didn't know you were an adulterer also. You didn't know what it'd be, but you knew you'd have no option but to accept it when it came. You'd already made your peace with it, made your peace with whatever God could condemn you to. Perhaps, you'd have to live alone, wear a scarlet letter on your breast. Perhaps, they'd cast you out completely, and you'd be shunned. Perhaps, they'd hang you. You touched your stomach at that thought. Perhaps, there were certain punishments you couldn't bear.

Your lips only fell open when a voice yelled,

"It was I." And a gasp fell from your mouth. Your head turned, snapped towards the voice. Towards the sea of faces that was the crowd. But, you knew that voice. "It's my child." He said, and your eyes fell on a face you knew all too well. And, at that moment, you knew exactly what type of punishment God had set out for you.

Mad Thomas.

***

The day had gone by in a blur.

Over and over in your head, one question repeated itself. Why? It was almost loud enough to drown out the constant whispers, the stories being spun by every person who seemed to have a tongue.

Union couldn't seem to stop talking about it. Of when it started, how long it'd been going on, when the pair of you had even had time to sneak off. You'd even heard a young Constance Berman whisper about how she'd always known something was going on between the two of you, only to be shushed by her older sister as you passed. As you'd been let free of the top of the church steps.

You'd been left outside, left out in the sun. Inside the church went your father, the pastor, and Thomas. You had no idea what Thomas was going to say, what lies he was going to spin.

You couldn't bring yourself to leave, to speak. You felt as though a blanket of white noise had covered your ears, covered your mind. You were surprised, to say the least. You'd thought a wave of devastation had washed over you the first moment you'd realized you were with child, but this? It made it seem like ripples in a pond. The only thing you could do was stare at the church door and wait for them to come out. But, you felt a warm arm wrap around your waist and you turned to see the face of your mother.

"Come," She said, and you looked back at the door blankly. You didn't want to leave. You wanted to be there when they came out. But, you couldn't find the words to say or the strength to keep your feet firm. So, you let her guide you away from the crowd, and towards your house.

It was only later that you were told you and Thomas were to be married by the end of the month.

***

You and Thomas were never allowed a moment alone. You didn't know whether to be relieved or not, but Thomas, a man who you quickly found was far more confusing than you thought, was playing a charade. He brought you flowers, carried your water pail for you, and even took you on chaperoned walks. You, however, were stony and stiff, barely able to contain your disgust for him. It was on your first walk that you whispered,

"Why? Why are you doing this?" And, for a moment, the incorrigible man seemed to pretend not to hear you. He glanced over his shoulder, as if the wind was at his ear instead, and you saw him cast a sly glance to the man behind them. It was one of your father's friends, walking only about two yards behind you. Finally, when he decided he was far away enough, he responded,

"Would you rather I had let them cast you out? Let you and your child starve in the woods?" Thomas said back, the most sober you'd ever heard him. It seemed that apart of your father's deal with him was that he cut back on the drink. He didn't even stumble as he walked.

"Don't pretend you did this out of charity. Why, Thomas?" You asked, and you, for only a moment, reached out to touch his arm. You pulled it back just as quick, hoping that your chaperone hadn't seen. Thomas looked down at the action, before he smirked and shook his head.

"Aren't we a perfect match?" He asked, and you gave him a look of confusion. He continued with, "You think I don't know what people say about me? Don't you see, girl? It doesn't matter if your father is the best woodworker, or the richest in Union anymore. No one would have you, or your bastard child. Except me." He said, and you almost couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. He continued, his words a whisper now, "Besides, it's a lie they would believe." You stared at him, flabbergasted by his words. Flabbergasted by how right he was.

Thomas had, well, a reputation. It wasn't out of character for his wedding to be one out of necessity, and perhaps it earned you some pity from the townspeople. How many women had Thomas seduced? And how many of them could truly judge you? Not to mention, his words left one thing clear.

So, it was my dowry, you thought. It wasn't an unheard of reason, and it made sense given the man you were talking to. Your father had been avoiding selling you off, even as you reached far into your womanhood. And, surely, your father would never have considered him under any normal circumstance, but now...You didn't seem to have much of a choice.

Thomas paused, picking up one of the wildflowers and handing it to you. You took it, knowing now that you had to play along. That you had to act as if he truly was the father of your child, and not someone as foreign to you as the land outside of Union.

"Your father was going to start building us a house. I was thinking right here," Thomas said, his voice only slightly louder for the chaperone to hear, but you barely paid attention. You were staring down at the yellow flower in your hands, before you glanced up at the man in front of you.

He was tall, but his hair was lighter. His cheeks were stubbly and his eyes- They were a clear blue. Almost the same shade as the sky above you. You watched as he talked, as he laid out his plan. And, while the idea of being married to anyone that you didn't love sickened you, you tried to tell yourself that it wouldn't be as terrible as you felt it would be.

***

You and Thomas sat out in the sun, where you were making a flower crown and he was rambling about one thing or the other. You'd gotten very good at pretending to be in love, even in the span of only a couple of weeks.

You gave him smiles and laughter, and he gave you gifts or stole a caress. It was enough to stir the people of Union so no one would be the wiser. And, with your father at his station a short way across the field, the pair of you could be somewhat alone. But, still within viewing distance.

"You're not listening." Thomas said, and you smiled to yourself for a moment. You looked at the finished crown, before you looked up and reached over to where he was laying on the blanket. He was half-sitting up, and you placed the flower crown atop his head as you said,

"Yes, I was." You replied simply as you adjusted it, and Thomas stared at you and gave a small scoff. He caught your hand as you went to pull it away, his grip loose. He held it almost gently, and said,

"Then kiss me." And your brows drew together. A quick,

"What?" Fell from your lips, and you watched how Thomas smiled. He laughed, letting your hand go as he said,

"So, you weren't listening-" But you were quick to interrupt him.

"Why would- Why?" The idea- the simple idea was preposterous. Why would you kiss him? In broad daylight no less? The suggestion made you nervous, made a weird feeling start in your stomach. And, you ignored how this feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar.

"They're going to expect us to kiss on our wedding day, girl. Shouldn't we have some practice?" He said, and you thought perhaps the first time he proposed it had been kinder. You stared at him, thinking over his words. Thomas waited, reaching out to touch your skirt. It was only to pick at it for a moment, before he drew his hand away.

You couldn't tell if that was the only reason Thomas wanted to kiss you, if there wasn't some ulterior motive somewhere. You wouldn't put it past him. But, really, he was right. Not to mention, while the pair of you had been affectionate, had you been affectionate enough?

That's what was so aggravating about Thomas. He was always right. He saw clear through whatever facade anyone put up, and saw the truth. Perhaps, that's why he was such a good liar.

Perhaps, that's why he was staring at you.

"Fine." You said, before you looked over your shoulder. You were in the field, but you were more or less a public spectacle. You could hear Thomas draw closer, feel the warmth of his hand reach for your arm.

"Let them look." He said as he gave a tug on your arm, and you turned back to face him. It was strange to hear him say that, such a stark difference from what you were used to. To have him so close was different than before, but Thomas didn't close the gap. You supposed he was waiting for you to do that. He whispered, "Well?" And, finally, you did. It was a short kiss, a quick stolen one. Still, it made Thomas smile. "So chaste." He let out a small laugh, and it was your turn to scoff. "Are you sure-" And you could guess what he was going to say. You kissed him again, if only to silence him. It was deeper, firmer than your last had been. And you hated to admit that you didn't hate it. Thomas was well-practiced, and the feeling of his thumb grazing your cheek was nearly as warm as the feeling of the sun on your back. It made another feeling start, one that you tried to stamp out that very second. You pulled away again, cutting it short. Thomas, for just a moment, tried to follow you before he pulled back. He had a small smile on his face, one he didn't try to hide as he pushed his hair back.

"You're practiced." You said quietly, the closest thing to a compliment you could give him. You'd heard rumors of him galavanting with the likes of Abbi Berman and some of the others. Perhaps, there was some truth to them. Thomas glanced over, and returned the words,

"Aye, so are you." When he smiled and glanced down at your belly, you knew the jab had been intended. And, unfortunately, he'd managed to make you laugh.

***

You knew it was coming. You had prepared yourself for it. Before the wedding, the pastor would counsel both of you. And, he was going to counsel you first.

You stood in a dress your mother had made, with your corset done loosely as not to press on your stomach. You'd been staring out the window, at the cloudless day and the happy faces of your town. Why shouldn't they be happy? It was the day for a celebration.

You'd even caught glimpses of Thomas. Your mother was fussing over him, and Issac had swiped his pouch. He looked- Well, you could tell he'd been scrubbed down. Most of his teeth were still black, but in clean clothes and with a clean face...Perhaps, he didn't look terrible. You tilted your head, and, almost as if he could feel you staring, Thomas' head turned. He caught your eyes, and reflected your posture with a tilt of his own head. It made you smile, something you found was less forced the more time you spent with him. Your head turned from him when you heard someone come in.

"Wonderful day for a wedding." Cyrus said as he closed the door to the chapel, and you tried to manage a smile. "Sit." He said, and gestured to one of the pews. You did, and you both kept your distance. The chapel was dim, only lit by the light outside. The pair of you were silent for a moment, before Cyrus said, "The magistrate is here. He seems eager to start. Do you," He paused for a moment. "Do you have any doubts?" And you felt that the question was not quite as empty as anyone else would think.

You'd been staring at your hands, and you finally lifted your gaze to him. To his deep, dark brown eyes. After a moment, you found your voice.

"None at all. Thomas is- He shall be the father to his child, and he shall be my husband. I shall do my duties, and, I- I love him." It was hard to say, at least when Cyrus sat in front of you. "What is there to doubt?" You asked, your question equally as heavy. While none of you would say it plainly, you knew from the way he looked over your face that he understood you perfectly. The pair of you would never confess your secret, and you'd let the hatchet be buried. Forgotten.

"Does he know?" Cyrus asked, and you knew what it sounded like. In case any of the others were listening. Like he was asking if your soon to be husband knew you loved him. The question couldn't be more disguised. Really, his eyes said, Does he know about us?

"Yes. Or, I think he does." You replied, and you watched how Cyrus reached to touch his clean-shaven face. His face was half hidden by his hand, but you could see his eyes were disturbed. A secret was harder to keep the more people knew, but you said, "And he loves me. He'd do anything to keep this union." You told him, and you hoped he got your meaning. When Cyrus glanced at you, you guessed he did. Silently, your eyes said, If he does, Thomas won't tell. And, after a pause, Cyrus let out a sigh.

"Then, there seems little I have to counsel you on."

***

"Have you thought of a name?" Thomas asked you, and you hummed.

You were picking at your sheet, looking towards the window. It had been months, five if not nearly six. Your baby was due in only a few weeks now, and you still hadn't decided. Your husband, a word to describe him that didn't seem so weird now, laid besides you facing up towards the roof.

Thomas, well, he was not what you thought. He had a good, if not sometimes strange, sense of humor, and did not bruise easily from even the harshest words. He could take care of himself, after years of doing so, and, subsequently, you as well. Your mother and the mid-wife still came by to make sure you were in good health, but Thomas had most of it handled. He was a little lazy when it came to work, especially the work your father tried to give him, but he seemed to find that the work that came with having his own house agreed with him. The pair of you had become- Well, familiar. That was the word you would use. You couldn't say, nearly six months later, that it was still just pretending.

Still, Thomas didn't touch you in any way you wouldn't want him to, and you had to lift your head to throw a glance back to him.

"I have some ideas. Perhaps, if it's a girl," You paused, a sly grin coming to your face, "We could name her Abigail." And you watched him scoff and roll his eyes, even lift his head off of his arm for a moment as he said,

"Absolutely not." And you snickered to yourself as you went back to facing away from him. It was just a jest, a reference to an old dalliance of his, but Thomas, if anything, was fun to tease. The only issue was that Thomas was just as sharp when it came to his wit. "Y'know- Fine. Then, if it's a boy, we shall name him Cyrus." And you let out a noise of protest. You tried to roll over, declaring,

"No!" And now it was Thomas' turn to laugh. He placed a hand on your shoulder, trying to ease you back down. You let him, and even reached to hold his arm. To pull him closer. He followed, and you guided his hand above your bulging stomach as the pair of you adjusted. "Fine- Neither of those names. But, we must think of something." You told him, feeling as he stretched his fingers over where your baby grew. He held you, his warmth against your back. His hand rubbing your stomach lightly.

It made a strange sense of warmth fill you, one you couldn't blame from body-heat. And, it wasn't so terrible that you tried to push it, or him, away.

***

"She cries like no other child in Union." Thomas said as he climbed into your bed. You were supposed to be resting, healing, even weeks, nearly two months, after your child's birth. You felt like you'd been confined to your bed for so long that you were starting to become a part of it. Thomas was only here for the break your father gave him half-way through the day. Still, you smiled to yourself from where you laid on your side, and said,

"Perhaps, it is your smell that disturbs her." You said, your voice thick with sleep but a cheeky grin working onto your face. You shouldn't have prompted him, because he took the opportunity to drape himself heavily over your back.

"Oh, should I sleep outside tonight then?" He asked, and you giggled when you felt his stubble tickling your cheek.

It was already long into the day, and you'd become lazy from bed-rest. It felt far too nice to have his warmth wrapped around you, to where you nearly wanted to fall asleep. You had grown too used to it now, and you could barely imagine a night without it.

"I never said that." You responded, and turned your face back towards the softness of your pillow. You felt Thomas' hand raise, his fingertips brush against your cheek. He was being brave, especially when you felt his lips brush against your neck. It made you bite your lip, a twinge of something not so unfamiliar swirling in your belly. You wondered if he would continue. Hell, you wanted him to. But, it was nothing more than that.

Thomas, to your surprise, had more restraint than you would've assumed. He kissed your cheek, went to stand, and excused himself with,

"Your father will begin to wonder where I am." And you lifted your head to watch him step away, before you settled back down. He was clean, cleaner than he had been when he'd been sleeping in the outhouse. His hair was softer and longer, tied away from his face. And his arms seemed stronger, perhaps from the days of working with your father. He was, if you dared to think so, a kind sight to your eyes now. "Sleep. I'll be back by the time you wake." He told you, and, as he left, you found yourself hoping he was right.

#fear street #fear street 1666 #mad thomas #mad thomas x reader #thomas slater #thomas slater x reader

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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years

Text

Twisted 27 - When The War Comes [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, guns, knives, sharp objects, stabbing, hallucinations.

Word Count: 7500

Summary: Who will you become?

You had to control your anger. You had to control the fire in your veins until you were sure that your niece was safe, that your family was safe, then—

Then you would handle this situation. Until then, it had to wait.

All the training your father had given you was basically screaming at you to attack the threat, but you managed to keep yourself from doing so while you followed him through the woods, paying close attention to your surroundings.

The cabin. This was the way to your father’s cabin in the woods.

You had counted ten armed men on the way here but you had to assume there were more scattered along the woods. You stepped over a tree root before you looked up at the night sky and quickly found the stars that would help you. Thankfully it was a clear night, and your father had taught you long before how to read the sky for direction, in case you needed to-

Hunt.

A shudder went down your spine but you quickly shook your head, you had no time for that fear lurking in your head.

Fear could wait until you made sure you and everyone back home survived.

Considering how your family had no boundaries when it came to you, you were one hundred percent sure that by the time tonight was over, they would arrive at your apartment to see where you were.

“So what is your game here?” you moved your wrists that he had bound the moment you two had reached the end of the road and got off the car to walk into the woods, “You take me there and what? You’ll kill me?”

He looked over his shoulder, “How can you ask me that?” he said and you raised your brows.

“How can I not ask you that?”

At least you could leave a note. Lincoln was just that stupid.

“They’ll come looking for me,” you told him as he rolled his eyes, still pointing the gun at you.

“Who, your boyfriend?”

“He works in the FBI, you fu—“ you had to remember to stop yourself. He had access to Lily, so you knew you had to play it along, even if you barely felt anything other than anger. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“You broke up with him once, you can do it again,” he said and pointed at the pen and paper on the kitchen island, “Just write you need some time or whatever, he can see it when he gets here. Less suspicions.”

You grabbed the pen and paper, then clenched your teeth, your mind working nonstop.

“I’m waiting, Y/N.”

You stole a look at him, then leaned in to write on the paper;

Hamlet,

I need some time alone.

Ophelia.

Ophelia died in a lake, and you hoped that Spencer could make the connection between that and the time you had told him about Lincoln pushing you into the lake by the cabin.

He took a look at the note, then made a face.

“You call him Hamlet?” he said, shaking his head, “I never really liked that play. Let’s go.”

“Do you seriously think I would harm you, in any way?” he asked when you got to the stone stairs leading to the cabin, “I will explain everything once we sit down.”

“Will you untie me?”

“I’m not an idiot,” he answered as you climbed the stairs after him, his grip on your arm almost too tight and you gritted your teeth to stop yourself from coming up with a comeback. You looked up at the cabin, the memory of the last time you were there hitting you out of nowhere and churning your stomach, but you managed not to throw up as he slightly pushed you through the open door.

Don’t be scared, you commanded yourself in your head Fear is useless.

That was one of the things your father had taught you during those predator and prey games. Prey always got scared, which led them to panic, which led them to making mistakes that would cost them their lives.

You were a predator. You had always been a predator, since you were a child, and there was no fucking way Lincoln of all people could turn you into a prey.

He pulled a chair, then motioned at you to sit down.

“Remember, if you try anything…” he said, “If I don’t send the code to my friend—“

“Yeah, you’ll hurt my niece,” you spat, “Some man, aren’t you? Threatening a kid.”

He untied your hands, then pulled them behind the chair and started tying them again, and you raised your brows slightly.

Rather than wrapping the rope around your wrists separately then pulling them together, he was just tying them together, which was a terrible rookie mistake your father would never have done. Escaping from those, especially with a rope was almost easy with enough knowledge, and you slightly widened the gap between your wrists by pressing your thumbs together, not wide enough to make him suspicious but wide enough to give you enough space to move your wrists when you wanted to get rid of the ropes.

Almost everything was automatic at this point, you were following everything your father had made sure to engrave into your mind.

“There, that’s better,” he said and let out a breath, a small smile pulling at his lips, “Hi.”

You tilted your head, looking at him silently.

“That was a bluff by the way. I would never hurt anyone you love, I thought you knew that by now.”

That seemed to distract you from the fury, “What?”

“Everyone that I killed,” he pulled a seat for himself so that he could sit across from you and leaned in slightly, elbows on his knees, “Everyone, that was for you. I did it for you. Don’t you see that? From that childhood friend to your douchebag ex?”

Oh God you were going to be sick.

Spencer was right. You were sitting with the copycat killer back there, at the charity auction.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he ran a hand through his hair, “You told me what was happening, when we were kids. You told me a week before that night in the graveyard, that’s how your father let me come with you both. My parents had drunk too much at your parents’ party— you don’t remember any of that? I was the one who you shared that sacred secret with, no one else, not even your family. It was me.”

“Sacred?” you repeated, “My father was a monster, Lincoln.”

“Don’t say that,” he shook his head, the glare in his eyes sharpening, “Never say that. He…he is way ahead of all of us, if he didn’t get caught he’d be an even bigger legend than he already is. He brought us together.”

“You brought me here by threatening me and you tied me to a chair. My father is a terrible person, but this right here is your choice you fucking asshole.”

“Because I need you to understand,” he nodded to himself, “You will understand.”

“I will understand what?”

“That I did this for us!” he snapped and he swallowed thickly, taking a deep breath, “That I love you.”

A hysterical laugh escaped from your lips and you gawked at him.

“You love me,” you repeated, “You— you have been terrorizing me for months, you killed people, you fucking destroyed my life because you love me?”

“I’ll set you free,” he said, “Free of all these bounds everyone else put you into. I’ve seen your potential back when we were still kids, then after your father was arrested they turned you into something else, some shadow of what you’re capable of. Then I came back and you…” he ran a hand over his face, “You decided to get into an agent’s bed.”

“Don’t even—“

“He would try to change you,” he cut you off, sniffling, “He would, Petal. He would smother you with these stupid ethical rules and all that bullshit, but I’ll— we’ll be free together.”

If your last encounter with your father had taught you anything, it was that delusional killers didn’t exactly react well to a reality check. You moved your hands under the ropes, pulling at them just a little.

You would just have to play along until you were free, then you could be out of there.

The more you know about your prey, your father’s voice echoed in your ears, The easier it will be to take them down.

“How about your girlfriend?”

His head shot up and he shrugged,

“I mean,” he trailed off, “She thinks she’s my girlfriend.”

You gritted your teeth. “Erica,” you said, “Right. My girlfriend doesn’t have the same financial status as we do, huh? My fucking assistant, Lincoln? What did you offer her?”

“Offer her?” he asked, “I didn’t have to offer her anything. Who did you think your father’s outside source was?”

You pulled back slightly and he scoffed a laugh.

“I know,” he said, “She wants to kill you, not that I would ever let her, but she can believe that for the time being. I know you feel betrayed honey—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“But we only need her until a point, after she makes a phone call to get your family off our backs, she will be my gift to you.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms to remind yourself to focus, “Your gift?”

“There’s nothing like killing someone you know,” he dragged the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, “It’s not like strangers, not at all. That shit’s special, Petal. You’ll see when the time comes.”

Before you could even think of an answer, you heard the footsteps coming closer and the door opened, making you turn your head to see Erica who almost looked intimidated for a moment upon seeing you, but she managed to pull herself together.

“You might want to check out the west team,” she told Lincoln and he paused.

“Can I trust you with this?”

Erica frowned, “You can trust me with anything, you know that,” she said softly and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling at the ropes tight enough to hurt before you felt it get loose just a little. The rough material of the ropes almost burnt your skin the more you kept moving your hands, but you gritted your teeth, trying to ignore it.

You heard the door close and the lock sliding into its place as you opened your eyes, and saw Erica putting the key into her pocket.

“I like your dress,” she said as she sat down, “Too bad it’ll get bloody.”

“You were my father’s outside source?” you asked, trying to ignore her comment, “You?”

She gave you a bright smile, and rested her arm on the back of the chair, making herself comfortable.

“That’s right.”

“Whatever he’s paying you—“

“He’s not paying me,” she spat as if she was insulted at the implication, “You ungrateful little bitch. I’m doing this because I want to, because I respect him. I believe in what he stands for, not like you would understand.”

“Jesus, you’re one of those freaks,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at the ropes around your wrists, “Serial killer groupie huh?”

“I’m not a groupie,” she spat, “I respect your father, not just any serial killer. It’s him. No one in your family deserves him, much less you, and—“ she shook her head, “The way you disrespect him and his name…”

“Disrespect him?” you let out a laugh, “Oh that’s rich.”

“He was right, you know?” she said, “Only the smart and strong is supposed to survive in this world, not weak. And he tried to raise you to follow in his footsteps, but you were too weak to do so. He just doesn’t see that.”

You clicked your tongue, “But you see that?”

“If he were my father,” she leaned in, gritting her teeth, “It doesn’t matter. By the time this is over, after I get rid of you and prove myself, he will see me as a daughter. Not you. You’re not strong enough to survive in our world. Lincoln agrees—“

“Lincoln is using you,” you cut her off, “He’s going to get rid of you as soon as he’s done. Let me guess, he told you you could kill me?”

“We’ll make you regret disrespecting father’s name first, then I will kill you, yes.”

“Yeah that’s not gonna happen,” you said, “Face it, you fucking idiot. He’s using you, just like my father is using—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence when she lunged from her seat and slapped you across the face, her ring splitting your lip. You made a face, and spat out the blood filling your mouth, trying to ignore the sting on your tongue upon biting it.

“You know what?” she asked, “Lincoln always said no for some reason, but if you keep going like that, I can make you hurt really bad.”

“Aw sweetheart, you don’t have enough training for that,” you cooed, “What, you did some google search, looked up my father’s methods and now you think you can torture people? You think that’s how it goes?”

“I didn’t say it’d be physical,” she curled her lips, “You wouldn’t want your family to get hurt, do you?”

Your eyes snapped up to hers, that fire awakening at the pit of your stomach. She tilted her head, obviously pleased with your reaction.

“I suggested Lily instead of your ex….Anthony, was it? I said we should kill her and put her in the middle of your living room back then, but Linc said no. He said it’d hurt your father too.”

A numbness spread over your forehead, then went to the back of your head, reaching your spine as you blinked a couple of times.

“You were going to kill my niece?” you heard yourself ask and Erica crossed her legs.

“I bet that would’ve made you think twice before you disrespected John.”

You could almost feel it. Feel the fury taking over, that anger your father had always insisted you possessed roaring through you until it reached your heart, wrapping itself around it tighter and tighter.

Let the predator come out Petal, your father used to say Let it come out.

You rolled your shoulder back and cracked your neck with your eyes closed, an exact copy of your father as you twisted your hands under the ropes before you opened your eyes again to look at Erica.

“You don’t deserve him,” she insisted, “You all—you all just locked him away and forgot about him until Linc came back, until we started this. He will see soon that blood means nothing, me and Linc are going to be his legacy, not you.”

You tugged a little harder around the knot, then turned your wrist and managed to pull it out of the tight rope even if it scratched the skin over your wrists, making the burn spread over your arm.

“He taught you some stuff, big fucking deal,” she said, “I learned by myself. Without anyone to help me. Without someone else holding my hand.”

You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the throbbing as you slowly pulled your other hand out of the knotted rope.

“Yeah you missed a rule though,” you asked, dragging the tip of your tongue over the dried blood on your lip, “You’re not supposed to make them bleed unless you can kill them.”

Erica pulled her brows together, then a shriek escaped from her lips as soon as you let the rope fall, raising your hands in a mocking manner so that she could see.

“You chose the wrong victim, baby,” you said and she kicked the chair at you, then darted for upstairs, screaming while you just raised your brows, rolling your eyes.

Panic always led to mistakes like these, like rushing to somewhere one couldn’t escape from.

Upstairs was always a bad idea.

You made your way to the kitchen and pulled open the second drawer where your mother used to keep the knives, then grabbed a huge knife before you flipped it in your hand.

“Erica,” you called out, “Get back here, you’re fucking fired!”

She slammed a door upstairs and you scoffed a laugh, adrenaline pulsing through you as you dragged the tip of the knife over the walls, climbing the stairs.

“You know, if you give me the key I might make it quick,” you flipped the knife again, playing with it before you ran it over the steel staircase finial, letting her hear the sharp noise, “No promises though.”

Silence.

“I know you’re in here,” you sang, looking into the dark. Your father had taught you this long ago, if you couldn’t see, you had to make sure how to listen in the dark to find the location of whoever you wanted to hunt.

You took a deep breath and held it, not even moving a muscle and sure enough, a very faint creak reached your ears and you turned your head.

Second door to the left.

It used to be Mina’s room.

You let out a whistle echoing in the otherwise silent hall, disappearing into the dark before you stood in front of the door and ran the tip of the knife over the wood, almost relishing the slight whimper coming from the other side of the room.

“You were going to go after my family?” your voice rose as you kicked at the door, and Erica let out another scream.

“Lincoln!”

“Oh come on, where’s that strong survivor you’ve been telling me so much about?” you taunted, kicking at the door again but it didn’t open. “Hm? I thought you were going to prove yourself?”

“I-I swallowed the key, I can’t give it to you!”

“Ah well, I guess I’ll have to cut you open!” you shouted and kicked at the door once again and at last, the lock broke with a click and the door swung open, hitting the wall. Erica grabbed the chair closest to her, holding it up.

“Don’t!”

You flipped the knife in your hand, the grinned and took a step to her, so focused on adrenaline pulsing through your system that you didn’t even notice her eyes focusing on something over your shoulder until it was too late. Before you could even turn around, someone pulled you back, expertly avoiding the knife by bending your arm back and pressed a cloth over your mouth and nose, that sharp scent making you gag.

Chloroform.

Lincoln.

A tingling reached your head and that fuzzy warmth reached the back of your head, then closed your eyes shut.

***

You had no idea how long it took you out, but when you opened your eyes, it was still night. You grabbed at the side of your head and sat up in the bed, the whole room spinning around you.

Your childhood bedroom. You were in your childhood bedroom in the cabin.

“Hey,” Lincoln’s voice reached you and you turned your head to see him leaning on the doorframe.

Shit.

That was a mistake. Of course that was a mistake, and you couldn’t even believe yourself just how stupid you had been to act so careless.

“Easy, chloroform messes you up,” Lincoln said, “I’d stay in the bed for a while if I were you. You can’t attack anyone like this, you know?”

You weren’t supposed to follow your dad’s example in a situation like this. There was a reason why he was locked away, a reason why people had caught up with what he was doing, he was way too impulsive, way too destructive in terms of physical means. You had been so focused on protecting your family and going after the nearest threat that you had forgotten who you were.

You weren’t just your father’s daughter, you were also your mother’s.

And this right here? It wasn’t your father’s expertise yet, his time would come when you would have to fight your way out.

It was your mother’s.

Manipulation.

It was time to channel her, not your father.

“What happened?” you asked and Lincoln heaved a sigh, then pushed himself off the doorframe.

“You went after Erica,” he said, “She’s pretty shaken, but I told you Petal. You need to be patient, we just need her up to a point. After that, she’s all yours.”

You narrowed your eyes and slowly swung your legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through your hair.

“And how much longer will I be subjected to this humiliation of yours? Can you give me an exact time or should I just wait here?”

He stared at you for a moment, trying to understand what you meant and you just arched a brow, a look of completely nonchalant sneer flashing over your face, the exact same expression you had seen on your mother countless times.

“I’ll take this silence as a no.”

“Humiliation?” he repeated, “When- how did I humiliate you?”

“How did you humiliate me?” you scoffed a laugh, “Are you serious right now?”

Jesus, your head was absolutely killing you but you had to focus.

“I’d never humiliate you, I love you.”

“Yeah yeah,” you waved a dismissive hand in the air, “You love me, we’re supposed to be together. I guess I’ll have to take your word for it while ignoring your actions, is that it?”

“My actions? Y/N—“

“So you bring me in here,” you cut him off, glaring at him, “You give me this whole speech about how you’d do anything for me, how we’re—we’re meant to be, and then you leave me in the same room with your ex so that she can boast about you? How you two are in love, how you two are together?”

“I told you, we just need her until—“

“That’s your love?” you interrupted him again and pushed yourself to stand up, crossing your arms while looking him dead in the eye, “Is that the proof of your love? Rubbing your girlfriend on my face? All the while she talks about how you two are going to be my father’s legacy together, like I don’t exist?”

“She just thinks that, I made her think that so that we can use her—“

“And then,” you said through your teeth, “You stop me and knock me out while I’m going after her to get rid of her?” you clapped your hands slowly, “Yeah. Proclamation of love right there Linc, congratulations.”

He licked his lips, obviously taking aback. “Y/N, we need her for now.”

“Mm hm, exactly,” you shot him a sweet smile “Looks like you need her a lot.”

“Not like that,” he shook his head, “Not what you think, I swear. She’s nothing.”

“No, I think she’s not nothing,” you clicked your tongue, “I think you formed some sort of attachment to your prey—“

“I didn’t!”

“Because you grew soft for her, and now you’re confused whether you want me more or her.”

He strode to you in three steps and pulled you closer, tilting your head up, and you had to command yourself not to make a face.

“I want you,” he said, “I always have, you know that.”

“Bullshit.”

He groaned, “Y/N-“

“No, it’s fucking bullshit.” You pushed his hands away, and searched your mind for the final nail on the coffin.

“Did you sleep with her?”

The expression on Lincoln’s face shifted and he averted his eyes.

Bingo.

“Did you? While you were in love with me, while you knew that we were meant to be, did you or did you not sleep with her?”

“You slept with that agent,” he shot back and you shook your head.

“I didn’t know you would do anything for me,” you insisted, “I had no idea—you said you had a girlfriend, I barely remember anything from my childhood let alone sharing so much with you and you didn’t tell me. But you knew,” you dug your finger into his chest, “You knew everything and you kept it hidden from me, so answer me this, did you sleep with her? While you knew you were in love with me?”

He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, then closed it again, and you took a step back, trying to look heartbroken.

“Wow.”

“Y/N.”

“Wow. You actually did.”

“Listen to me, she doesn’t mean anything, I swear to you. It was just to manipulate—“

“Get out of my room.”

He frowned, “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my room and leave me alone until you’re ready to show me you actually love me.”

“You don’t mean that,” he started and took a step towards you, but you grabbed the nearest object which turned out to be one of your old dusty plushies and threw it to him.

“Get out!” you yelled and he took a step back, raising his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll come back when you’re calmer,” he said and closed the door behind him, and you lost your balance, falling on your knees.

People were just so easy to manipulate, thanks to your mother.

“Okay,” you whispered to yourself, “Thanks mom, time for dad’s turn.”

Weapons.

You reached under your bed to take a look at the secret compartment that your dad used to make you put your knives, but it was of course empty. Lincoln was stupid when it came to you, but he wasn’t a complete idiot, apparently. You pushed yourself off your knees and stood up, then closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, trying to clear your mind.

Your father had taught you this long before, in every room, there was something you could use as a weapon or turn into one.

You took a deep breath, exhaled it and opened your eyes.

It would have to be something precise, Lincoln had a point, you were in no shape to get into an actual fight with him. So you would need something sharp, and something that you could hide in either your sleeve or somewhere easily reachable. Something that Lincoln wouldn’t see until the next time.

You could tear down the bed to get to the bed springs, but it would take a long time and there was the danger of him walking in on you.

There was a chair and your post-its, some tape, small notebooks by the corner, hair ties and a music box on the desk in front of the window—

The music box.

The music box had a mirror.

“There you are,” you muttered to yourself as you took the music box, then grabbed the tape and your hair ties. You checked the door, then sat down, covered the mirror with the long skirt of your dress, then pushed on it with your elbow until you heard the small noise of the mirror breaking. You pulled back and uncovered it, then grabbed the longest shard, ripped out a couple of pages from your notebook and started taping it around the shard before you wrapped your hair ties around it so as not to let it slip or hurt your hand.

By the time you heard Lincoln’s footsteps coming upstairs, you had spent almost an hour preparing your weapon. You looked up, then closed the music box and put it back before tucking your newly made weapon under the lacy sleeve of your dress, and got on the bed, leaned your back to the bedframe and crossed your arms.

“Petal?” Lincoln called out and you gritted your teeth and turned your head when he peeked his head in.

“Hey, do you want to join me for some food downstairs?”

You narrowed your eyes, “Depends. Will your girlfriend be joining us?”

“I knocked her out and put her in your dad’s basement,” Lincoln said, “She will stay there until you feel like getting rid of her, and I won’t stand in your way this time. Okay?”

He offered you his hand and you eyed it, then pushed it away and managed to stand up on your own.

“Still dizzy?”

“A little,” you confessed, “Still angry too.”

Lincoln chuckled and heaved a sigh, “We need to talk about this jealousy of yours babe.”

You managed to control your expression and ignored him as you went downstairs. The rug was pulled to the side so that you could see the hidden door to the basement, but it was closed. You looked at the table in the middle of the living room that was covered in food, and there was a vase of jasmine flowers between the lit candles. You were still sure that you couldn’t engage in an actual fight until the chloroform was completely out of your system, but you didn’t have to worry about it since Lincoln seemed not to put any knives on the table. Your dad’s old vinyl was playing by the corner, the soothing melody creating a complete contrast with what was happening.

“A dance before dinner?” he asked you, “Come on. That dress needs to be used in a dance, don’t you think?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders and took his hand, then wrapped your arms around his neck as he pressed his hands to the small of your back, pulling you closer before you started swaying with the melody.

You just needed an exact time for him to lower his defenses completely, because you only had one shot at this.

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

“You have no idea how much I waited for this,” he said, “When I was in Italy, I would….dream of this at night.”

You didn’t answer, you just made sure to keep your wrist at an angle so that the mirror shard wouldn’t slip.

“And when I came back and saw you for the first time in that red gown…” he murmured, “I thought I would drop dead. You were even more beautiful than I pictured.”

“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” you asked absentmindedly and he shrugged.

“I didn’t know how you would react.”

“And all those people who died?”

“Some of them were diversion,” he said, “Some of them were chosen. I promised myself no one could make you sad, ever. I would’ve killed that agent too if he was the one to break up with you, but then you said it was your choice, and… I don’t know. I thought it’d raise suspicions.”

Spencer.

He had considered killing Spencer.

Goosebumps rose on your skin but you reminded yourself to stay calm and focus, you had already slipped once because of your anger, you wouldn’t get a second chance.

“What about Anthony?” you asked, “You killed him… was it to frame me?”

“God no,” he said, shaking his head, “Of course not. Erica thought it was revenge for how you were treating John, but I wanted to make you remember how it felt to be in the scene of your father’s doing, how….how powerful it made you feel. I thought that would make you see how everyone around you was trying to make you into something you’re not. Deep down, Y/N, you’re just like me. That’s why we will be legends.”

A bitter taste appeared at the back of your throat and you swallowed thickly.

“And my father?”

“He knew we were supposed to be together,” he said, “He knew you would need a…companion in this. Us, free together. That’s why your father failed, because he couldn’t share who he was with your mother. It won’t happen with us, ever.”

Stab the prey, twist the knife, pull it back and watch them bleed.

You moved your wrist so that the shard could slip low enough for you to hold it and Lincoln leaned in slightly, his eyes closing.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips and you smiled.

“Oh Lincoln,” you murmured, your heart beating in your ears, “You should’ve known better.”

With that, you drove the shard right into his stomach, making him gasp and open his eyes. Betrayal was written all over his face, it was very clear he hadn’t expected it as you twisted the shard, making him lose his breath before you pulled it back, blood splashing over your face and your dress. You shoved him, making him lose his balance and fall down, taking the coffee table with him, causing some noise and as if on cue, Erica started screaming his name from the basement.

“Erica, shut up before I come down there and break your fucking neck!” you called out and the screaming stopped.

“Thank you,” you said and turned to grin at Lincoln who was breathing hard, his face pale.

“Y/N—“

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t die right away,” you said, “Dad taught me that one, ages ago. I stabbed you in the stomach, and it’s a pretty thin shard, so it’s not the blood loss that will kill you. It’ll be the toxic shock, because right now everything in your stomach including acid is contaminating your system. Should be fun, huh?”

“Why did you—“ he coughed, and you snapped your fingers.

“Hold that thought, I gotta get something from the kitchen,” you said and walked to the kitchen to open the drawers, then grabbed some knives and scissors before you want back to the living room, “Yeah, you were saying?”

“We’re meant to be,” he managed to say, trying to breathe and you hopped on the table before you cut the floor length skirt, ripping it out.

If you were going to run through the woods, you needed to be in something you could easily move and fight in.

“Nah we’re not,” you said, “You’re delusional, that’s it.”

“Petal—“

“See, I could’ve gone easy on you,” you said, wrapping the cloth around your injured wrist, “Really. I could’ve just escaped and handed you to the FBI and be done with it, but no. You two had to bring my family and Spencer into this so now,” you tut-tutted, “Now you get to suffer.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pressing on the wound and leaning his head back to the wall, “He never will, not like I do. We’re meant to get rid of every weak person in the world, everyone who deserves to die.”

You let out a laugh, now wrapping the cloth around your knuckles, “Uh huh.”

“You’re meant to be the legacy.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just meant to be a wedding planner,” you pointed at him with the knife and walked to him to grab the key from his pocket, then you pulled his boots off his feet, took off your heels and started getting into his boots.

“Petal, we’re supposed to be together.”

“Because my insane sadistic father said so?”

“Because I know you.”

You looked up from the boots you were tying as tight as possible, “Hm? You know me?”

“I do.”

You put two of the knives in each boot and jumped down to rock on the balls of your feet, trying to see if you could move well.

“That’s your first mistake buddy,” you said, now wrapping the rope over your boots, “See if you knew me, you wouldn’t be so careless, would you? You took me here and what? You didn’t think I’d kill my way out? You didn’t think I’d turn you and your serial killer groupie partner into my prey?” You pulled at the rope, “Honestly, you two fucked with the wrong legacy.”

“I don’t—“

“My father raised me to be unstoppable,” you said, “And apparently you know that. So you should’ve considered that it’d take more than two copycats to take me down, and—“ a manic laughter escaped from your lips, “Did you seriously think you could beat me at my own fucking game?”

He coughed, making a face and closed his eyes.

“You have hours until you die, but if I make it out on time, maybe I’ll send some medics here. Maybe. Depends on if I feel merciful, who knows?” you grinned, “Your survival depends on my mood, isn’t that ironic?”

“There are ten men between here and your weekend house, you’d never make it out.”

“I’m not going north,” you said and Lincoln frowned.

“South? That’s just woods.”

“No, it’s a longer way than north, but there’s a road at the end. Dad once made me find my way through the woods.”

“You can’t leave me behind,” he coughed again, “We’re meant to be together. We’re meant to work together and kill together, that’s our love story.”

You pursed your lips, then grabbed a jasmine from the vase and walked towards him.

“Even if I wanted to follow in that monster’s footsteps,” you said, looking down at him, “Even if I wanted a companion, it wouldn’t be you. You’re fucking dead weight, Linc. You don’t have what it takes.”

With that, you let the flower drop on him, unlocked the door and stepped outside, the chill air filling your lungs. After looking around to see whether it was safe, you went to the back of the house, and looked up at the stars, calculating which way to go.

Then, you tied your hair up and started running.

***

As it turned out, Lincoln had fewer men on the south of the woods, but there were still people. You had gotten rid of two of them and tied them up with the rope you had taken with you, but it would take one mistake for them to drag you back to the cabin, so you couldn’t take any risks.

You heard the faint noise of a radio and looked over your shoulder, then climbed up to the nearest tree, keeping as silent as possible. The light of a flashlight soon lit up under you and a man came into your view.

“South number five is clear,” he said into the radio and as soon as he put it into his pocket, you jumped down silently, standing behind him for a moment before you smacked his head into the tree, making him pass out. You unwrapped a part of the rope and tied his hands and feet before you stuck the cloth around your arm into his mouth so that when he woke up he wouldn’t be able to ask for help. You let out a breath and walked deeper into the woods, but as soon as you jumped over a tree root, someone grabbed you by the hair and slammed you head first into the tree. A ringing echoed in your ears, getting louder and louder but you managed to pull the knife from your boot and drive it into his leg, making him grunt and you used your whole body weight to turn around with his arm around you, popping it out of its socket and he dropped you with a yelp, kicking you in the ribs and a fire spread from your ribs into your whole body, making you stop the scream at the last minute.

“You fucking bitch-“ he said but as soon as he grabbed you again, you managed to push yourself up and grab the rest of the rope you had left. You kicked him back and jumped on his back, wrapping the rope around his neck as he tried to get you off.

“I’m not killing you you fucking idiot!” you grit out as he slammed back into the tree to get you off, “I’m making you pass out, that’s all!”

Soon enough, he dropped to his knees and fell to the ground while you tried to catch your breath, but everything hurt. You wiped at the blood that was seeping from the cut on your forehead, drenching your face and your dress but managed to tie him up and get away from him.

It didn’t take you long though. It felt like the whole forest was spinning around you and you felt someone pulling the ground from under your feet before you fell back, your eyes closing.

You had no idea how long you stayed there unconscious but the unmistakable sound of a shot being fired made you open your eyes with a gasp as you winced at the pain pulsing through your whole body.

“It doesn’t sound so good.”

You slowly turned your head to see your father sitting by the tree, his arms crossed and you let out a groan.

“Is this hell?” you asked, “I just died and it’s hell, right? There’s no way I’m hallucinating about you.”

“You didn’t die yet,” your father said as he looked at the way the shot was fired. “I assume you didn’t search for Lincoln’s gun before you walked out of the cabin?”

“Lincoln can’t move,” you said and your father tut-tutted.

“Erica could move just fine the last you saw her though.”

“Shit.” You closed your eyes for a moment and your father heaved a sigh.

“So what do we have here?” he said, “Head injury, concussion, loss of blood, and that guy over there just broke a rib or two, right?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t stand a chance against someone coming at you with a gun when you’re like this.”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes burning.

“I can’t move,” you managed to say through your teeth, “It hurts.”

“Does it hurt enough to kill you? Because that’s what will happen if she and her men find you here.”

You tried to blink back the tears, “What if it’s supposed to end this way?”

“Supposed to end this way?” your father stood up and glared down at you, “Petal, I didn’t spend years to train you just so that you could die in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Get up.”

“Dad, I tried to survive, okay?” you said, “I tried—”

“Well, that’s not enough right now, is it though?” he asked and snapped his fingers, “You’re a survivor, your mother and I made sure of that. Stop acting like a prey, get up.”

“Dad-“

“Get up!” his voice shot through your head and you opened your eyes again, coughing, that ringing in your ears due to the pain blocking out everything but the gunshot that sounded much closer than before. You dug your fingernails into your palms and pulled yourself up by grabbing at the nearest tree, then wiped the blood off your face again.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay, Stop acting like a prey. Which way to go?”

You looked up at the night sky and found the star you were looking for before you started making your way through the forest, even if it felt like you could pass out any second. You had no idea how long you had been walking when all of a sudden the brightness of flashlight entered your vision, making you hold your breath and grab the handle of your knife tighter, thinking that it was Lincoln and Erica’s men.

It was only when you saw a very familiar face wearing an FBI vest that you let out the breath you were holding, the knife slipping from your grip.

“Spencer?” you rasped out and he just stared at you before he started running to you.

“You’re alive,” he managed to say before he pulled you into a tight hug, making you wince in pain. He pulled back immediately, his hands cradling your head.

“Are you—“

He didn’t get to finish that sentence. It happened in less than a second, but the sound of a gunshot that rang through the forest echoed in your ears before blood splattered over his face, making you stumble as if someone pushed you from behind.

“Why is there blood?” you managed to ask before a fire spread through your chest, taking your breath away and Spencer’s eyes widened as he lowered them to the gunshot wound bleeding on your chest. Everyone ran past you, yelling something into the radio and shooting their guns at someone behind you while the fire made its way through your whole system, the ringing in your ears getting worse.

The last thing you remembered was Spencer catching you before you hit the ground but whatever he was saying to you got drowned out in the loud noise of the helicopter flying above you. The lights of it got brighter and brighter before a warmth pulled you out of the pain and surrounded you.

Then everything went black.

Chapter 28

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid imagines #twisted

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dontcallmecarrie · 2 years

Text

Tony knew not many people understood his not-relationship with Justin. Jarvis had, Rhodey still had trouble wrapping his head around it sometimes but mostly got it, Pepper and Happy both seemed hover between a mix of the “boys will be boys” stance the press seemed to favor, and bemusement.

It’s just.

Tony had friends, and enemies. Had allies and acquaintances, and teammates, now, too.

But Justin was special, because of everyone Tony knew, he was the only one who understood him on a level no one else alive could hope to match.

Was there before Pepper, before Rhodey— knew all his weak points, all his strengths, had been forged in the same fires that’d made Tony the man he was today.

Tony had been around 15 when he’d first learned that most of the time, there was no wrong answer when a kid was asked, “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

He’d known it, intellectually; but at the same time, it’d been impossible to wrap his head around. Had been mind-blowing, when Justin’s little sister had beamed and talked about art school when talking about future goals during the charity gala— like she wasn’t a high society brat just like him, like their parents didn’t have their lives mapped out to a tee.

Tony was an only child, it was a given for him. But beyond that...

He remembered Howard’s scoffs, when the question had come up. His mom and Jarvis were very proud of anything he made, but on the flip side, nothing he ever did was good enough for his father because the man constantly seemed like he wanted his son to be better, to be more—

Tony hadn’t really thought about it, until then.

And then Tony had noticed the moue of disdain in Hammer Senior’s face, and the glint of grim determination in Justin’s eyes as he’d stared down his father with a wintry smile. The wordless challenge in his voice, as he politely asked his father if he was feeling well, and the start of the answering sneer— before the man noticed he had more than his kids as an audience, and shook his head with a cold “we’ll talk about this later” before stalking off to do whatever it was adults did at this sort of thing.

Justin had deftly changed the subject not long after that, but that moment stuck with Tony.

But it wasn’t just that.

There was a strange sort of solidarity, in knowing he hadn’t been the only one born and raised with the express purpose of being his father’s future heir.

And...

With Justin, there was also a certain sort of guilt, too.

Not at the time, no, but later, when Tony was in college and blitzing through the coursework, he took a music history class because he needed humanities credits and it was the only class still open that didn’t have him on campus at 8 in the morning.

It’s funny, really: he’d signed up because his mom taught him the basics of playing the piano, and thought it’d be a nice change of pace.

Instead, that damn class ended up being Tony’s introduction to the term ‘gifted child burnout’. Which was a trip in and of itself, but came closely on the heels of his introduction to the in-depth biographies of Mozart and Beethoven, and. Um.

Well, there was no denying the parallels.

Especially because the more he thought about it, the more obvious it was: the hints of bone-deep exhaustion that Justin never quite managed to hide, the books he always carried around, and the snacks. The way his smile sometimes froze over just a tad, whenever anyone mentioned their rivalry, and now Tony couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of childhood he’d had.

It wasn’t his fault, Tony knew. But.

That didn’t make him feel any better.

For the record: when it came to classical music, Tony’s favorite was Beethoven.

#Thought Exercise #No Hero [Downward Descending]#My writing

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years

Text

He’ll Figure It Out

🖤🖤🖤🖤

Summary: You meet Kitten Drysdale

Pairings: Kitten Drysdale X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings: vaugue mentions of domestic abuse, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 900

Desperate Lives AU Masterlist

Bucky & Brooklyn Masterlist

You aimlessly walk all over the house, your body almost vibrating with nerves. You didn’t deserve to be here. Didn’t have any right to live so far from what you knew. You were told the owner was coming by to welcome you, and you want to thank her for her kindness, but then tell her take it back. It was just too much.

When you hear that little knock, and the chatter of young girls, you nervously go to open the door. Joshua peaks around your leg, giving the two of them a shy smile, “Do you mind if I come in?” she asks you holding a travel cake platter and casserole dish.

“Oh yeah. Joshua, why don’t you show...?”

“Aster,” she points to one of the girls, “And Iris,” pointing to the other. They’re quite a bit smaller than your own son, but he grabs at their hand to take to his room. “How have you been finding things?” she walks into the kitchen, setting the cake down on the counter, and putting the casserole in the fridge. “Fran said to put it in the oven at 350 for forty minutes,” she gives you an awkward laugh fiddling with her thumbs when the kids come running back in.

“Mommy, he he wants to open his toys.”

“Do you need help opening them?” Joshua gives a polite no ma’am, and looks at the floor, and you want to recoil in on yourself. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s too much, Mrs. Drysdale. He had some toys.”

“Bucky said that they were just in a small backpack.”

“Mrs. Drysdale it’s too much, thank you though,” leaning forward she gives him a sweet nod.

“Okay. You three go play with those toys then,” she walks back into the kitchen, and you can’t help but take in her appearance. She’s not exuding the utmost wealth, but her and her husband are definitely comfortable. “I don’t want to intrude. Can we have some coffee maybe?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll cut the cake,” everything seems easy as she makes the coffee. Preferring the pour over method over the easier Kruig. “Why are you being so nice? The house is enough.”

She gives you a sweet laugh, not to make fun or be malicious, but her way of gathering thoughts, “Have you and Bucky talked about me?” you shake your head no. Other than him saying you’d get along. “Bucky, Steve, and several others helped me when I needed it most. Didn’t hesitate to drop everything to do it,” your eyes fall to her ring, and she hides it behind her back.

“We’re not the same.”

“No, I suppose not. But I wasn’t the same person I am today, less than two years ago. My first husband...he was a monster. My girls, Aster is my current husband’s. Iris is my first husband’s twin brother’s that I didn’t know about until after she was born,” you look down at the table, ashamed for assuming things. “I needed to get away from him, and Bucky made that happen. Rallied the troupes to get me out of there. This isn’t charity, it’s not because I feel like I have to do it, it’s a thanks in kind. Me and Ransom, we can do this. We’re close. Our group of friends. We’re all these dogs at the pound that found each other in this weird way. I can never thank them enough for what they did for me, a stranger. Please, let him open those toys.”

“You’re rich?” you ask her, and she shakes her head no.

“My husband and his family. But we have more than enough. He’s a sweet kid. Look at it as a welcome home gift. Steve he’s a good friend to me, but he’s my husband’s first friend. Bucky has always been kind to me and my girls. Let them sit in on sessions, listened to me and Ransom talk about our messed up relationship. Because of him, and Dr. Banner, we’re able to have a good life now. I know that there’s an age gap with our kids,” her hand rubs over her belly and that’s when you notice her bump. “But my girls play easily with kids. Steve’s son James is usually with us, and another boy named Carter. I’d like to meet Sarah, too. I have a feeling they’re going to be my in laws one day,” she gives you a soft giggle, sliding over a mug off coffee.

“I’d like that. I can’t remember the last time I had friends.”

“You gotta start somewhere right?”

With an awkward laugh, you let out the tears, you weren’t aware that you were holding in, “Thanks, seriously. I’ve only ever had Sarah and Steve for so long. Joseph passed away a while back. It’s overwhelming. How close are you and Bucky?”

“Why are you asking?” she takes a sip of her coffee, assuming where you’re going with this line of conversation.

“He’s just spending more time with me...his son than his girlfriend. I didn’t want to cause problems with them.”

“Bucky’s a big boy. And it’s time for him to make some big boy decisions. Those decisions aren’t yours. Remember he’s just as overwhelmed as you are. While for you it’s because you now have all these people in your life. For him, he’s realizing he’s got a son, and that man has always wanted kids. He’ll figure it out.”

Masterlist

#desperate lives #desperate lives au #desperate verse #da au #dau #bucky barnes #brooklyn!reader #bucky banres x brooklyn #bucky x brooklyn #bucky barnes x brooklyn!reader #sarah rogers #joshua barnes #iris drysdale #aster drysdale #kitten drysdale

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imatechbummerliketomholland · 3 years

Text

I wish this trip never ends (sstbthw part 2) - h.h

Word count: 3768

Warning: angst, swear, mention of smoking

Pairing : harry holland

Request: no.

N/A: okay, i took me almost a whole month to write this but i'm kinda need to work on school too. Remember, english is not my first language, so be kind if you spot mistakes, i really tried my best. I asked you who the reader was supposed to end up with ... I'll let you figure it out but ... don't hate me for the end ... because after all ... it might not be the end. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Love you all! xx

taglist : @angeliquekalampoka , @harryhollandsgirlfriend (the one and only harry holland's girlfriend to me)

ღღღ

previously - and you can find part 3

Restoring a relationship of trust and regaining the bond that you both had was particularly difficult. You had to learn to find your place in Harrison's life, but also in his relationship with Grace. You were roommates and friends, but it was complicated to plan meetings with Harrison's busy schedule. Between his job search after the cancellation of his Netflix series, his photo shoots, his dates with Grace, those with his family. It was getting harder and harder to find a moment to reunite with the two of you. It was without counting your schedule.

You were supposed to meet at noon for lunch at that restaurant Harrison told you about where he took his mother earlier this year, for Mother's Day. You felt uncomfortable going to such a place. It was very fancy; you had taken a look at the menu and you knew in advance that you would not be able to afford to split the bill. That was sometimes one of the downsides of being friends with Tom and Harrison. They sometimes forgot that their salary was significantly higher than yours. After all, they were still simple, good-natured guys, never saying no to a quick takeout meal or ordering pizza, drinking a beer at the local pub. And sometimes, they offered to go to prestigious places, not paying attention to money, wanting to please their friends or family.

Currently you were in your room. You were throwing countless of clothes across the room, trying to choose what you could wear to this lunch. Harry stopped dead when one of your dresses flew out of your room, right in front of his nose, blocking his way. You had left your door open and your spontaneity got the better of your best friend.

“Easy, Tiger. I had no idea your clothes had the capacity of Dr. Strange's cape.” He joked before coming into your bedroom.

You turned to find Harry leaning against your doorframe, a smirk encrusted on his face. You gave him an unamused frown and his smile widened. This wasn’t funny at all; you were stressed as hell. It’s not like you still had feelings for Harrison and try to impress him – to be honest, you still had feeling for your friend, but not as intense as before, you had drawn a definitive line on the possibility of a romantic relationship with him, which had helped you a lot. – But you didn’t want to be dressed down and looked like a clown.

“Come on Munchkin, it’s just a lunch. At worst, Harrison can still make it looks like he invited you out for charity, sort of “Make a Wish” event” Harry joked, in his significant humor.

“Go to hell, Robert. Don’t you have a pack bag to make, mister “I’m going to Spain to help my superstar brother to hold his tea while he’s filming”?”

“Rude… I’m a film director, now”

Not for that, you thought to yourself, but don't have the balls to tell your best friend. You didn't want to take this joke too far. You smiled at his cute pretending offended face. You pouted mockingly before biting your lip. You loved the dynamics of your relationship so much. Your humor, sarcasm, your outspokenness, that's what brought you together. Harry pulled you lightly from your closet with a comforting wink. He chose Yves Saint Laurent poppy red wool jersey flared pants that Tom gave you on your birthday. You smiled at his choice. You liked these pair of pants because they were sparkling with vitality, the color was flamboyant. Harry then gave you a satin pearl-colored shirt from Zara and you laughed at the drastic brand difference.

“Oh I see. A classy look but no more than £ 1000 that's pretty smart,” you joked.

The choice of your outfit once again proved the reality of hanging out with wealthy people. You were not poor; you could even be grateful for the life you had had. But it would never occur to you to give your friends clothes that were going over the miles and cents. To be honest, you wanted it. You wanted to live up to the gifts your friends sometimes gave you. But the truth seemed quite different: you had cried over the price of a used Rolex you wanted to give Tom for his birthday. Even having saved for 6 months, you could not afford such a gift.

“Shut up, don’t be so dramatic. Wear that necklace Harrison gave you for Christmas. I’m sure you’ll look fine”

“Thank you,Baz…I guess. ”

You kissed his cheek and then invited him out of your room so you could get ready. It didn't take you more than thirty minutes, time to put on the outfit your best friend had chosen and to put on light makeup. When you were finally ready, you walked to Tom's room. He had offered to take you to the restaurant where you were to join Harrison. But when you got to his ajar door, you could hear the soft sound of a slight snoring. You let out a chuckle before ordering an Uber. You knew he had spent almost a full month in Los Angeles and hadn't returned until early last week. You wanted to leave him as much as possible alone so that he could rest before his trip to Spain for the reshoots of his film Uncharted. Tom was a boy who loved being in touch with those close to him, but you also felt his need to recharge his batteries. That's why you preferred to let him sleep.

You went down to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water before leaving. When your Uber arrived, you left a note on the refrigerator to let the boys know you were safely gone. It was little everyday things that made you look normal that you enjoy. A post-it on the fridge, a table organizing household chores had been drawn up. Note to yourself; It was Harrison's turn to take care of the laundry.

☙♡❧

You had really hoped this was just a grotesque nightmare. That it wasn't real. He was going to arrive; he was just stuck into the traffic. Isn't it?

But you were there, waiting for over an hour and a half, without any news from your friend. Some people watched you with pity eyes, the others didn't give you any attention. You internally thank Harry for choosing your outfit. You didn't look like a lost kitten in this prestigious setting. It didn't prevent you from being ashamed right now. The waiter had urged you to order several times but you had told him that you were expecting someone, that he would arrive any minute. The last time, you didn't know if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

But it never happened. Harrison never came to your dinner. You were alone, sitting at a table, pathetically waiting for your friend to show up. It didn't look like him. He had never stand you up before. And not to improve this embarrassing moment, the waiter came to you again. This time, with a man in a suit. He was elegant, carried himself proud but diplomatic. They stopped at your table, a tight smile on their faces. No doubt the man in the suit was to be the manager.

"Miss, my employee told me that you seemed to have occupied this table for a while now. I am sorry to tell you that if you do not order a few things, you will have to leave the establishment"

You looked at him with misty eyes. You have never been so ashamed in your life. You just nod your head, not trusting your voice just yet. After taking a deep breath, you finally apologize to them before telling them that you are going to leave. The manager of the restaurant, out of politeness awkwardly apologizing for this uncomfortable situation.

You've finished the Dry Martini that you allowed yourself to, paying for it with whatever pride you have left. You pulled your cellphone out of your purse and decided to call one of the boys. After three rings, he picked up.

"Hey ... can you please pick me up?"

Your voice was shaky, you were so ashamed but it was less distressing than having to walk the Walk of Shame to your house or cry in an uber. You hung up and shared your location. You left the lobby, leaving the restaurant, standing in front of the entrance to the establishment. The air refreshed your cheeks burning with shame. Luckily it wasn't raining today. Which was pretty nice compared to that early summer you had had.

When you saw Harry's car pulled up in front of you, you slid into the passenger seat without a word. The curly redhead gave you a heartwarming smile but you definitely could see a spark of annoyance in his eyes. You sigh, resigned while shrugging your shoulders. It was obvious that your friendship with Harrison was still shaky.

"I'm sorry, love. He's a jerk about it."

Coincidentally, like a mitigating circumstance, your phone vibrated, receiving a notification from Harrison. You were chewing your lip with a sort of anguish and irritation, watching the message the blond had sent you.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. My agent called me for a pretty urgent casting briefing. She's detained me until now. Are you still okay for this dinner?"

You were angry. You were mature enough and had known the boys long enough to understand their obligations. The fact that Harrison had a lastminute meeting with his agent and missed your dinner wasn't a problem. The problem was, he made you wait for over an hour and a half before notifying you. You wanted him to call you to let you know, or a simple text just after he knew for the meeting. You typed a short answer, shorter than this was impossible. "No". You rested your head against the headrest, turning your gaze to your best friend.

"Hey, he's a Netflix star now" you replied to his last words.

Your voice cracked on the last syllables and your eyes filled with tears. You weren't usually that emotional but the anguish and shame really took over you. Harry noticed, unsure of how to instantly respond to your distress. He would have liked to stop on an emergency lane to take you in his arms but he already had 2 penalties to pay, respectively for speeding and prohibited parking ... a third fine would not be really welcome. He simply placed his hand on your thigh, drawing circles on your pants to comfort you. He simply moved his hand to shift gears and instantly rested it on your leg whenever he had the chance. This gesture soothed you, enjoying the touch, grateful to have someone as your best friend to mop up your pain.

☙♡❧

Arriving at the apartment, no sign of Harrison. When you walked in the kitchen, you saw Tom sitting at the counter, scrolling his phone. He looked up at you, not directly noticing your annoyed expression.

"Wow..you're ... gorgeous. I love these pants on you"

You smiled, a little amused by the compliment. Of course he loved the pants, it was a gift from him. But your smile didn’t reach your eyes. With a look on your expression then on the clock, the actor understood that something went wrong. Harry was right behind and still no trace of Harrison. It was suspicious. Tom gave you a worried look.

"Do I have to ask…Never mind, I’m still going to ask. How was lunch with Harrison?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask him? Oh wait... right, he didn't show up" you said sarcastically although you could hear the hurt in your voice.

Tom frowned, biting the inside of his lower lip in annoyance. Harrison was his best mate since forever and he knew him so well. It seemed strange from Harrison to not show up. The blond has told him he was happy to see you again and walking through this whole awkward “feeling situation” because he didn’t want to lose you. In a quick movement, he rose from his stool to walk around the counter. The next second, he took you in his comforting arms and you finally let yourself go under the sight of the two Holland brothers.

“It seems like you need a break of all this shit” Tom said while he ran his fingers through your hair.

You let a little laugh escape through your tears. He wasn't wrong. You really needed to get away from this whole situation for a moment. But how? Harry watched the scene unsure of what to do. You were his best friend and it seemed like the solace you found was never in his arms. He had tried in the car, however, as best he could. He walked over to the counter to make you both a cup of tea. It seems that as cliché as it sounds, tea comforts you, as the English person you used to be. As the redhead waited patiently for the water to boil, a flash of genius - according to him - crossed the glare of his eyes.

“Why doen't she come with us to Spain?”

His brother's words seemed to suit Tom, who released his hold on you. You opened your eyes wide, not sure of what you had just heard. Go to Spain, with them? Once again, you knew you were going to argue on this proposition. The idea was not bad, Spain seemed a rather pleasant country. But you had just graduated and had a student job to save as much as possible. However, you could not afford to leave for several days in Spain, at the last minute. Plus, what were you going to do while Tom was filming and Harry was assisting him? He was sure the film's production crew wasn't going to give you a pass because Tom had decided.

“Yeah! That’s it, you’re coming with us”

“Tom, I have a student job. I can’t just…decide to go to Spain.”

“You never take a leave, come on. It’s not negotiable”

You were looking at Harry for help but he just shrugged. After all, he was the one who had initiated the idea of including you on the trip. You were trying to find a valid excuse to stay home. You really didn't want to impose yourself.

“I can’t afford that” you said, trying your best to convince him to quit the idea.

“I don’t care, it’s not even a problem. You coming to Spain with us.”

"Omg, does Z dominate you in bed to make you so bossy in life?"

Harry almost spitted his tea and laughed out loud while Tom gave you shocked eyes with pinky cheeks. You had always been sassy but hanging out with the boys had made you even more sassy than ever. How many times haven't you heard Tuwaine or Harry make fun of Harrison or Tom on the sex subject? Being a girl seemed to make you an untouchable character. The boys had never teased you about your relationships or your sexual partners. And while you've always had feelings for Harrison, you've had your own experiences. Anyway, you had just gone with the flow and Tom's brand-new romantic relationship with his co-star gave you the perfect opportunity.

“That's not the point.” stammered the actor.

Your smile widened, proud of your joke and the way Tom reacted. You heard Harry clear his throat. He had his phone in his hand and his own smile didn't bode well for you.

"The production is okay but it's at Tom's expense."

“You got to be kidding me…”

☙♡❧

You ended up in Spain with two of your best friends. You knew you had limited time before Tom had to fly back to Los Angeles for some Spider-man: No Way Home reshoots. So, you enjoyed as much as possible: accompanying the boys to the golf course - even though you weren't very involved in the sport -, spending time to visit touristic places when they were on set, talking with Rachael and other people from the set. You really enjoyed your trip.

On Wednesday evening you went out to a restaurant with Tom, Harry and two other friends/tom’s colleagues. You couldn't deny that it was fun. You had the opportunity to sunbathe a little while walking through the streets of Madrid. Spain was doing you good and not once did you think about your wobbly friendship with Harrison. You've just left the restaurant when a few fans politely show up to take pictures with Tom. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of how kind Tom had always taken in a few snaps when his fans approached him respectfully - and there weren't too many of them -. You sighed with pleasure before stepping away from the group. You leaned against a wall and took out the packet of cigarettes that Tom had asked you to keep in your clutch bag. Being an occasional smoker, he wouldn't blame you if you took one from him. You tilted your head back to admire the dark starry night when you felt a presence by your side. You narrowed your eyes in mischief as you looked sideways: Harry was there, his nose wrinkled from your cigarette. He didn't like it too much Silence filled your bubble despite the hubbub outside. You were in public and it was not surprising to meet travelers and Madrid residents mingling with the crowd to enjoy this pleasant evening.

"I wish this trip never ends." You finally said, breaking the silence.

Harry didn't know what to say to that. Instead, he was just looking at you. You were a little tanned, the Madrid sun had done wonders on you; your loose hair framed your face and the summer dress you had chosen for the restaurant looked great on you: It was a short red floral summer dress with a shingle collar. Light enough to keep you from suffocating but decent to wear on any casual occasion. You were beautiful, stunning. His heart exploded at the sight of you, so much that it hurt a few times.

"I wish I had been there for you more." he finally confessed

You finally turned your head towards him and shrug your shoulders, smiling shyly but sincerely.

“You were working, Baz”

“I meant…not only here in Spain. I’m sorry to have let you down recently”

You give him a confused look. He hadn't been a bad friend but he kept implying it. You just shook your head negatively to brush his words away. Harry had always been important to you. He had been the first to step towards you. It was him who introduced you to the rest of the gang. He had always been concerned about you.

The night you met, you immediately clicked up with him. And to be honest, for a moment, you thought he liked you that night. But he never took that step towards you and you never did either. You dreaded that if you kissed him, he would think you were interested in his notoriety by proxy. So you just acted like any reasonable person would - accept the status he gave you. And the second time he asked you to join him with his brother and his friends, you met Harrison and your heart exploded.

"I'm glad you brought me here"

“I'm happy you accepted to come.”

“I didn't really have the choice, Baz” you joked.

He laughed slightly. You weren't wrong, he and Tom had practically dragged you onto the plane, leaving you no choice to be by their side. But you could only thank them, especially Harry who had the idea. You took another hit on your cigarette before leaning back to check out where Tom was with his fans. He seemed to be talking with the girls and didn't seem overwhelmed. So, you didn't want to interrupt him and were just going to wait for him to finish. Harry played with his hands nervously, looking straight ahead and then at you. He seemed to be repeating this game for several seconds before finally asking the question that was in his mind.

“Have you heard from Harrison?” Harry asked quite casually

“He sent me several texts to apologize and wished me to have a good time in Madrid.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

You swallow hard before looking at him. There was an indecipherable glint in his eyes and you weren't sure what to make of it. You drew another puff from your cigarette, maybe that would save you from entering this conversation. But Harry's presence was all around you and you couldn't really escape. So you've decided to be honest.

“It’s complicated. I suppose so...”

“Mhmm”

“But my friendship with Haz is important, I don't want to lose him because of it.”

“Yeah, you can't imagine how well I understand you” he sighed

“What do you mean? Who’s the lucky girl..or guy ?”

Harry turned to you frankly and you did the same, stubbing out the half-smoked cigarette. You are well aware that the conversation was taking a more serious turn. He moistened his lips and walked over to you. Harry was full of things: he was full-loving, sarcastic, talented, daring, impertinent. But Harry was mostly awkward when it came to love. Not just an attraction, no, love with real feeling. Delicately, hesitantly, he reached out to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers, cautiously. You were frozen, your eyes fixed on him admiring his audacity.

"She's the most beautiful girl I ever seen." he said with a small smile.

Harry walked over to you and your heart was pounding at breakneck speed. Harry had ... feelings for you? You were really confused. Since when had he developed his feelings? Why didn't he tell you about it? Why hadn't he tried anything so far? So, were you right from the start? Was there a tension between you since the beginning of your friendship, since your met? But above all, did you want him to take that step? Instinctively, your body responded. You parted your lips and closed your eyes. You enjoyed the warmth of his hand on your cheek and were waiting for the touch of his lips. But it never happened.

"Hey baz, y/n..we're going back to the hotel" Tom said, taking his eyes off his phone. "I…Mhmm sorry, did I interrupt something?"

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland fic #haz osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield #tom holland

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