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smalls-words · 1 year

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Fulfil Your Oath pt. 3

Summary: You're supposed to be at the front, but... oh well.

Pairings: Diana x Handmaiden!Reader, others as normal.

Warnings: lil bit of blood, fighting, cool weapons.

A/N: The ending of this might make a few of you sniffle. Also, the song you sing is a cover of For the Dancing and the Dreaming by malindamusic on TikTok :)

Series Masterlist

*not my gif*

*Find me.*

Not a second later, you found yourself to be by Diana’s side in a bar, with loud men drunk enough to believe they were the next hit singer. You looked over at her and smiled. “Good evening.”

“Gentlemen, this is my handmaiden, Y/N.” She introduced you.

“Y/N, this is Sameer, or Sammy if you prefer, and Charlie.” Steve pointed to the men, who were dumbfounded at the sight of her.

“How… Where do you keep these beautiful girls, Steven?” Sameer asked.

“Do ya want a drink, sweetheart?” Charlie offered, his thick Scottish accent shining through his drunk stature.

“No, thank you.” You smiled softly, facing Diana.

“Vocasti? (You called?)”

“These are the men that are going to drop us off at the front of the war. Where Ares most likely is.” She explained, to which you nodded in complete understanding.

“There she is, the little bitch!” A man walked up to your table and pointed a gun at Diana’s face.

In a blink of an eye, you grabbed his gun from his hand and threw him across the room. Diana gripped your hand before you could do further damage to his pathetic body and guided you to sit back down.

“I am both frightened and aroused. Again.” Sameer murmured.

“Oh, here they are! I was wondering where you ran off to.” Etta’s voice made you smile, but the sensation that followed her did not.

You were shot back 36 hours to the moment you held your dead mother in your arms, sobbing against her chest. Every moment of pain and agony, even from the smallest of cuts by Antiope’s blade, were instantly replayed in your mind.

“Sir Patrick.” The men muttered with shock, standing up to greet the man.

“No, no, gentlemen, sit. Ms Prince, sit.” He murmured before looking at you.

“And who may you be?”

“Y/N Themys.” You replied with a smile.

“What a lovely name.” He charmed before addressing the group.

As he conversed, you watched him closely. He seemed incredibly reliant on his cane, whilst his clothing seemed to be that of the highest quality. His mannerisms were few and far between, a few words repeated here and there whilst hand gestures were rarely used unless for emphasis.

“Y/N?” Diana nudged your elbow, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” You asked, still a bit out of it.

“We’re going.”

You looked around to see the table was empty, with everybody moving outside to shake hands and promise to meet in the morning. You took Diana’s hand and let her guide you outside, her fingers interlaced with your own as she led you to an alley.

“Steve is letting me stay with him. You will stay with Etta tonight.” She murmured.

You couldn’t focus on her words, only her touch. Her arm around your waist, her breath mingling with yours but it was just that more powerful that it graced your lips. She had all and none of your attention as you stared into her eyes, wondering why your feelings had grown so strong in just a short amount of time.

“Okay?” Her free hand came to your cheek and you snapped out of it.

“Yes, princess.” You nodded.

“Good.” She smiled. “I hope you rest well tonight.”

“And I for you.” You replied.

You watched her walk towards Steve before she followed him to his house, Etta’s presence instantly bubbling up. “Oh, look how cute they are together. They’re like teenagers in love.” She sighed dreamily.

You turned, offering your hand to her. “Would you like a hand taking these things, Ms. Candy?”

——————————\\//\\//——————————

Walking through the busy train station was easy since you stayed behind Diana, her domineering presence subtly urging others to move out of her way. Yet, you watched her childishness shine through when she took what was apparently called ‘ice cream’, to which she almost moaned in delight.

“Here, Y/N, try some.” She offered her ice cream to you.

You slowly licked some of the ice cream, tasting a strong but delicious flavour of vanilla bean. “It’s amazing.” You murmured.

You handed it back to her and followed her through the crowd, coming to a bridge that was filled with returning soldiers. Some had no hands or arms, no leg or neither, whilst others were shell-shocked with another guiding them off of the bridge. Your heart sank at the small portion of destruction Etta had informed you of, your hand taking Diana’s.

“Habeo te. (I’ve got you.)” Diana murmured, squeezing your hand twice comfortingly.

The boat Steve had led you to was a small fishing boat that then took you to a sandbank, to which you walked on the plank of wood first before Diana. The two of you walked side by side for the miles that were necessary for darkness to fall, your hands never leaving the other’s.

As you spotted the campfire, your heart became tinged with the nights spent in Themyscira, following after your princess as she danced and celebrated with others. Sometimes it was for a promotion within the army, sometimes it was for a marriage, and others it was for fun.

“You’re late.”

“Cowboy sneak-attack, Chief!” Steve chuckled sheepishly, shaking the man’s hand.

The others hugged him tightly, greeting him well, before he walked over to you and Diana. He introduced himself in his native Blackfoot language, to which you both smiled and introduced yourselves too.

“Where did you find these women, Steve?” He guffawed.

He smirked at you both. “Diana found me, Y/N is Diana’s… best friend.”

You made yourself at home against the seat of a log, your coat as your pillow whilst Chief handed you some dinner. You waited patiently for Diana to receive hers and start eating before you did so yourself, enjoying the bursting flavours of garlic, cumin, black pepper and more.

“Chief, I must say this is delicious.” You commented.

“Thank you. It’s my own blend of spices.” He smiled proudly.

You took Diana’s dish once she was finished, although she did protest that she could clean it herself, and made your way down to the river. You admired the way the moon shone against the water and how the horses across at their station snacked on their hay.

The breeze that tickled against your skin brought your attention to Chief, who stood a few metres upstream to collect some water. “You’re connected.” He murmured, the wind letting his words brush by your ears.

“I’m sorry, the World of Man is still new to me. Could you explain?” You asked.

He chuckled to himself. “You are connected to the earth. I can see it with my own eyes - the water moves at your command, the horses too. You simply do not see it.”

You hummed in acknowledgement of his words, but had nothing to respond with since a hand fell to your shoulder. You looked up at Diana, her half-open eyes indicating your next duty like clockwork.

“Come back. You don’t need to do that.” She murmured, to which you instantly stood.

“Let’s get you some rest.” You chuckled shortly, but her hand simply moved to your waist.

“Let’s get some rest.” She nodded, confusing you - wasn’t that just what you said?

You walked back with her to the campfire, where Chief was already boiling the water from the stream. You stayed by Diana’s side and her hand never fell from your waist, the other only moving to retrieve your coat and tuck around you both.

Thunder struck above you, but it was odd. There was no lightning with it, but it seemed… different.

“Such odd thunder.” Diana turned to Chief for answers.

He gladly gave them. “German 77s. Guns, big ones. It’s the front out there. The evening hate.”

“So who do you fight for in this war?” You asked.

“I don’t fight.” He shook his head.

“So you’re here for profit?”

“No better place to be.”

“Nowhere better to be?” Diana frowned.

“I have nowhere else. The last war took everything from my people. We have nothing left. At least here, I’m… free.” He took his dry clothes from the rack above the fire and packed them into his bag.

“Who took that from your people?” You kindly asked, not wanting to push boundaries.

Chief turned to look at Steve’s sleeping form. “His people.” He murmured.

You leaned your head against Diana’s shoulder before groans came from Charlie, muffled words pressed into his sack of a pillow. You stood, the handmaiden in you willing to help, but he lashed out and backhanded you across the face in his thrashing.

“Get off me, woman! Stop making a fuss!” He growled, storming into the dark with his gun.

Diana instantly stood and laced her arms around you, pulling you back to the log where she wrapped your coat around you solely. You pushed off of her, whipping the coat onto her shoulders before tying the strings around her waist.

“I’m fine, my princess.” You muttered, but she grasped your wrist in her hand.

“Shh, shh, shh.” She gently whispered as she laid you down back to where you previously lay, a surprise in your hum when she pulled out her coat from her sack.

“Mine will be the bottom layer, yours will be the top.” She ushered you into silence.

The sound of Chief falling asleep and the fire’s dwindling light allowed you and Diana the privacy you needed. Through the darkness of the covering coat, her hand came towards your face but you flinched when it grew nearer to your cheek.

“Nunquam tibi nocebit. Scis illud. (I’d never harm you. You know that.)” She whispered.

“Doleo. (I’m sorry.)” You apologised, letting her hand fall onto your skin.

Her thumb was the most careful it had ever been. It did not dare to press into your cheek, but rather soothed the harmed area with her cooler touch. Her fingers gently fell into place, lightly caressing your ear, jaw and the side of your neck. You closed your eyes as she leaned toward you, curling your head underneath hers whilst your arm slinked over her waist.

“Goodnight, my handmaiden.” She murmured.

“Goodnight, my princess.” You replied, quickly falling asleep to the rhythm of her heart.

——————————\\//\\//——————————

Walking through the mud was the least of your worries.

The trenches of the British Army were barely holding together, many women and children seeking shelter in the trench. You’d already urged Diana to continue walking instead of helping, twice, but she knelt before another woman with a baby and you sighed in defeat.

“Steve, we need to help these people.” You told him, but he shook his head.

“We need to stay on-mission. The next safe crossing is at least a day away.”

You looked at the soldiers aiming their guns above you, bombs landing above and spraying dirt onto you. “How can Diana and I get up there?”

He bursted with emotion. “This is No Man’s Land, Y/N! That means no man can cross it, alright?! Now forget it - we are going!”

You took a step back at his outrage, determination in your stride as you threw your sack down and ripped off your World of Man clothes, revealing your armour. Bronze and gold lined the armour of a blue skirt and a golden chestplate, thin leather pieces covering your legs and arms, giving you slight protection.

You turned at the hand on your soldier, eying Diana’s armour of blue and gold. Your eyes widened. “You took that from the vault?! Are you crazy?!”

She smirked. “A princess has her ways.”

She slid on the crown of a warrior you both loved whilst you pulled out yours, smiling at the engraving on the inside that declared it was yours. You slid it onto your head before retrieving your weapons, a whip of nine tails curled at your hip whilst a bow and a quiver full of arrows slinked over your back.

Diana had her shield and sword at the ready as she stood at one ladder whilst you stood at another, an arrow cocked before you sparked it against metal and shot it into the air, causing a loud boom from its explosive power.

You nodded to her, your minds so closely trained that you could almost read them. Her, with her shield, sprinted forward and took the heavy fire whilst you came behind her. A bomb shot straight into the air and you leapt up, swirling your whip around to throw it back into the trench, then pulling back a set of six arrows before letting them fly into the heads of six Germans.

“Diana! Impetus! (Charge!)” You yelled, the two of you leaping into the trench.

Your whip cracked effortlessly, its slashing metal ends destroying the guns and armour of the Germans. You curled it back onto your hip as the British Army took over the trenches, your eyes immediately following Diana’s to the village ahead.

“Let’s go!” You ordered Charlie and Sameer, pointing to the village before you jumped out of the trench in one leap.

You ran by Diana’s side, your minds falling into one as you wove through the village with ease, taking down the German hostiles. A bomb went off beside you, one that was evidently planted, that threw you both up and into the side of the building.

You spotted many calm Germans inside the opposing building and you both charged through. You left Diana in that room to deal with fourteen men whilst you found your own set in a bomb-making station.

With a smirk, you looked down to see a trail of explosive powder from a leaking box. All eighteen Germans looked at you as your whip descended in a flash, sparking the powder and the boxes beside it.

You launched out of the roof and rolled out onto a flat roof, thankfully, looking to your right to see Diana burst through the glass of the room full of defeated men. You jumped from rooftop to rooftop, following your princess with a grace and skill none of the men expected.

With a finality, you dove into the centre of the town and left Diana to the tank, taking a bullet graze instead of letting it hit her shoulder. You winced at the pain but only empowered you, whipping the Germans’ guns through the chambers whilst arrows flew into their chests.

You gasped at the sight of the Lasso of Hestia in Diana’s hands, glowing a bright golden hue that she controlled much like you with your whip. You grinned as you caught glimpses of her using it as both defence and offence, throwing the Germans around with great ease.

When another bullet flew by you, however, things were different. You looked around to see another person drop dead, your quick eyes looking up to the belltower.

“Sniper!” Steve yelled out, to which Diana gathered others into nearby buildings.

She spun around, looking for you in a safe spot and she sighed in relief as she saw you standing with Charlie, Sameer, Steve and Chief. You looked around for a solution as Charlie hesitated shooting the sniper, spotting a piece of sheet metal from the destroyed tank.

Steve spotted it too. All four men followed after him but they struggled to lift the sheet, exposing them to the sniper. Your whip lurched out, glowing a gentle green before bringing them back to you.

“How…?” They looked at your whip before you leapt out to the open area, the Lasso of Hestia lying on the ground.

“Diana!” You called for her, picking it up.

She nodded, exposing her waist for you to wrap the lasso around before throwing her to the top of the belltower. The bricks crumbled beneath Diana’s forceful shield attack, barging through to kill the sniper.

You sighed in relief when she appeared unharmed, but you looked down at the still glowing rope and watched it tighten around your hand.

The world around you warped and turned before the sight of a woman with your mother confused you. Her hand fell to your mother’s stomach before the woman disappeared, a slight bump forming on your mother.

*My child.* A voice echoed around you, evidently feminine.

You shook your head, eyes closed, and when you opened them, you found Diana unwrapping the lasso from your grasp. You were resting against her, your head in her lap, and you could almost see tears springing at her eyes.

“I thought I lost you.” She sighed in relief as she pulled you into a tight embrace.

You matched it. “You could never.”

You stood slowly with Diana before many of the villagers came to thank you in Flemish or French, their cold hands taking yours. Before long, you were asked by a French man to have your photograph taken, of which you simply followed Diana’s instructions.

After it was done, you stood next to Sameer and Diana, looking over at a shaken Charlie.

“For all his talk of shooting, he cannot shoot.” She commented.

Sameer shook his head. “Not everyone gets to be what they want to be all the time. Me? I am an actor. I love acting. I didn’t want to be a soldier. But, I’m the wrong colour.”

You moved next to Diana and your eyebrows furrowed, looking out onto the destroyed village to see Chief denying the people’s money, even when they insisted. You watched Diana walk to where Steve held a device to his ear, but you did not care for it much.

Instead, you shed your coat and weapons and began to help the village tidy up.

——————————\\//\\//——————————

By nightfall, you were done and all of the debris was piled next to the destroyed tank. The pub was open for food and drinks whilst Charlie played the piano inside. You stood next to him as he tried to teach you a song, but your eyes were on Diana almost the entire time as she sat outside.

“Oy!” Charlie clicked his fingers in your face.

“Pay attention!”

“Sorry, Charlie.” You chuckled at his slightly drunken state, taking a sip of his beer.

You read through the lines and bars of music before you nodded to him, his knife against this glass attracting the attention of those inside. You smiled as Charlie began the piano, the tune starting off slow.

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas… with ne’er a fear of drowning…” You faltered slightly on the Irish pronunciation, earning an encouraging nod from Charlie.

“And gladly ride the waves of life… if you would marry me.” You reached the low note, causing some astounded gasps from the villagers.

“No scorching sun, nor freezing cold… will stop me on my journey… If you will promise me your heart… and love me for eternity.”

You looked up to see Diana’s eyes firmly on you, making you smile as you continued to sing. Your eyes never left hers, those warm pools of brown sparkling like gold from the bright lights of the pub, enrapturing you in her beauty.

You laughed heartily as Sameer came over to you, offering his hand to dance which you gladly took. You swung on each other’s arms as you continued to sing, the tune turning jaunty and lively as the villagers began to clap along.

As the song came to an end, you caught Sameer’s drunk state as he stumbled out of the bar, thanking you for your save before he went back inside. You were about to follow but when you turned around, Diana stood in front of you with a warm smile.

“That was beautiful. I didn’t know you could sing.” She murmured as she wrapped your coat over your shoulders.

As her hand came brushing down your arm, she noticed your small wince. Her brows furrowed and she pulled your arm out to see the bullet graze from before, her eyes turning up to yours in confusion.

“When did this happen?” She asked oh so gently.

“When we arrived here.” You gestured to the fountain and the area around in which you stood, soon turning back to her. “A man wanted to shoot you… I didn’t want him to succeed.”

In a flash, Diana had a bandage in her hand and a cup from the pub. She dipped it into the fountain’s newly-clean water and dripped it onto your outstretched arm, hearing you wince softly as it wormed into your cut.

“I’ll be alright, my princess.” You muttered, but she wasn’t having any of it.

Her gaze was laser-focused on your wound as she gently wrapped the bandage around it, apologising quickly for pressing on it, but she did manage to tie it properly. You admired her handiwork before she gave it a gentle kiss, making you shake your head with laughter.

Definitely not to hide your blush.

You looked over the villagers and smiled at their dancing, but Diana was confused by it. “This is not dancing. This is just swaying.”

You chuckled at her words. “My Princess, this is dancing. It is just a different kind than what we have grown with.”

She huffed and blew a piece of hair out of her face, but was confused when your hand was offered. “Come. Let me teach you how to dance in the World of Man.”

“Well, if I’m going to a gala, I’ll need to know how to dance, and I’ll need to learn it from a brilliant teacher since it is such late notice.” She smirked, taking your hand.

You grinned. “Well, I can’t think of any who are greater than me, my princess.”

You gently took Diana’s hands in your own before shuffling your right to her waist, wrapping it around her loosely. You double-checked your left hand was holding hers correctly, ticking off the list in the book Etta had given you that was safely stored in your sack.

“And now… we sway, as your tongue describes it.” You chuckled, guiding her to sway from side to side.

Diana’s heart soared. The feeling of your intimacy, the distance of your hearts not as far as they used to be. She fell giddy under your touch, your gaze, your soul; and she selfishly wanted it all to herself.

You watched as she grew restless at the sight of white spots falling onto her. You pulled her even closer, looking up at it with her. “It’s snowfall, my princess. It will not harm you - it is simply fractals of frozen water.”

She looked at you in wonder, your lips almost touching, before she looked back as snow fell onto her hand and hair. “It’s magical.” She murmured.

*Indeed it is.* You thought, your eyes solely on her.

She gasped suddenly, making you jump before she apologised. “I have to go ask Steve something!”

You watched her race off into the pub, your hand still outstretched as if your will could bring her hand back around your wrist.

Taglist:

@frog-bread , @blackcatlogy , @mutlifandomloverblog :)

#smalls words #diana prince angst #diana prince fluff #diana prince x fem!reader #diana prince x reader #diana prince #wonder woman angst #wonder woman fluff #wonder woman x fem!reader #wonder woman x reader

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jetaime-jespere · 2 years

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And The Sun Will Shine Again

A/N: well ... this came to me earlier today and I promptly texted Vic with the idea and her response was "yes. yes you should write this." So eight hours later ... here were are. It's part 2 of Have Yourself Another Dream, so the same trigger warnings/mentions of infertility apply here. I hope you enjoy, and as always thank you for reading.

Her fears are confirmed when they sit on the opposite side of their doctor, perching on the edge of two chairs in a room subtly decorated with pineapple motifs amidst a sea of diplomas and accolades. There’s a brass pineapple on a shelf on the wall, a ceramic one on the heavy oak desk just close enough that she could reach out and smash it into pieces as the fear fuels through her veins like wildfire. Emily learned quickly a few weeks ago that pineapples were a symbol within the infertility community thanks to another late night google search - and now it seems as if they came up everywhere she went. She learned some women battling infertility even got tattoos, proudly displaying their infertility warrior status. She’d always disliked pineapple, and now this turned her dislike to indifference. But she can't look away from the damn thing as the words soon became further away, as if someone pulled her underwater and she can only hear the voices around her, not understand them.

Their doctor, Dr. Esposito, reminds Emily a little bit of Dave. Personable and easy to talk to, with a sense of humor and quick wit. She’d liked him right away - he’s a straight shooter and honest yet human, and it was his assurance that helped her feel okay with any of this at all. He keeps talking, taking them on a recap of the last month of their diagnostic testing - multiple rounds of hormonal blood tests, infectious disease blood tests, genetic testing -and those were the easy ones. Some brought emotions she hadn’t anticipated - the internal ultrasounds a surprising reminder of what happened in Italy and the baby she willingly chose not to have. Ironic, considering the situation they’re in now. Others were downright painful - her lip bit to blood during the procedure that evaluated her fallopian tubes -the sharp cramps that radiated through her abdomen were some of the worst she ever felt not only then but in the hours that followed.

It’s Aaron who subtly brings her back to reality, gently nudging her knee with his own while nodding intently at whatever Dr. Esposito is saying. The doctor sounds almost impressed when discussing Aaron’s side of things - his testing coming back “optimal,” “all parameters within above average ranges for conception,” which makes all of this feel even more suffocating. That means I’m the problem, she thinks ruefully when his tone takes a different but inevitable turn - softer, more compassionate. The color drains from her face when he carefully explains the results and implications of her testing. He spends more time discussing the ultrasounds of her ovaries that suggested a diminished reserve - “not as many follicles as we’d like to see for someone within your age range,” confirmed by two different blood tests. It’s an entirely new language of acronyms and terminology - AFC, FSH, AMH to name a few of the many she’s learned over the weeks. She wishes she didn’t know any of it - that she could remain oblivious to the scientific side of this - the side that only the unlucky members of the infertility club get to learn. It’s supposed to be easy. Easy and fun and a happy surprise. It’s not supposed to happen this way - in a laboratory, putting her body through hormonal hell.

“What does that mean?” Aaron asks, shifting in his chair. Once again, Emily is reminded all of this is foreign to him. He never thought he’d be sitting here, that’s for damn sure, she thinks regretfully, reminded that Haley didn’t face these problems.

“Women with diminished ovarian reserve respond less optimally to ovarian stimulation - the hormone injections,” Dr. Esposito explains. “Typically, less eggs are retrieved, which can lead to an unsuccessful IVF cycle if embryos aren’t created. We aren’t there yet,” he adds quickly when he sees the doubt start to shade their faces. “A lot can happen between now and then. We’ll know more about how Emily responds to the medication once we start a cycle.”

“I’m only 37,” she says weakly, her throat dry and the back of her neck starting to sweat. I knew it. I knew it would be me with the issues. “I’m not that old. How does this happen?”

“Fertility declines for women at different rates,” he says kindly. “For some it happens even before 35. Others get lucky and it’s a nonissue. There’s nothing you could have done to prevent this, nor anything you did to make it worse. A lot of factors are at play but all of them are out of your control.” He offers a warm yet sympathetic smile, and Emily wonders how many times he’s given the same speech to other women sitting in her very place. She can’t bring herself to ask how many women like her actually get to have a baby.

“Not even the fact I terminated a pregnancy once?”

“Not even that,” he says with a shake of his head.

It does nothing to abate the guilt and something that feels a little too much like grief churning in her chest. Emily glances over at Aaron, who looks a shade paler than he did moments ago, his mouth pressed into a thin line. There’s worry all over his face and it crushes her more than she thought it ever could. He’d been the optimist throughout all of this, gently pulling her phone from her hands after one too many google searches. Aaron was the one who assured her in the dark it would work out, that they were doing everything possible to find answers, that soon they would be moving forward.

“Day by day,” he’d murmured to her one particularly rough night before their appointment, when she’s buried in his embrace with tears drying on her cheeks. “That’s all we can do.” His rational logic infuriates her when it comes to this, despite the fact he’s right about it all. There’s nothing else they can do. Yet the waiting is excruciating, watching time tick by as everything else stands still. Each passing day is a reminder she’s not pregnant. Sometimes Emily thinks about the baby they could have had by now. They’d have a three month old, a baby with dark hair and eyes like theirs. A baby she could rock to sleep and watch Aaron snuggle with on lazy Saturday mornings with Jack close by. A picture-perfect family, not months of disappointment.

It hurts to think that might never be within their reach.

“You have options,” Dr. Esposito’s voice brings her back to a reality she’d do anything to escape from. He explains with guarded optimism that given their diagnosis, IVF is their best option, the chances of a live birth from one IVF cycle is 25%, and Emily feels her world start to close in. She can’t bring herself to look at Aaron, who is nervously clearing his throat beside her. This very much feels like a worst case scenario. Of all that could be wrong, this feels the most daunting, unsurmountable even. “The chances increase to 55% with three full cycles.”

“I don’t like those odds,” Emily says quietly. Her head is spinning, caught in a vicious cycle of wanting to run like hell out of Dr. Esposito’s office and never look back. But the desperate side of her clings to the sickening realization this might be their only chance. But for the first time since the news was delivered she makes eye contact with Aaron and nods her head, a confirmation of their decision to move forward unspoken.

“We want to do it,” Aaron finally tells him.

“We’ll give it our best shot,” Dr. Esposito says to them both.

______________

As they anticipated but didn’t fully prepare for, IVF wasn’t for the weak of heart.

Each stage of the process had brought a new set of challenges. The first few weeks of birth control had made her almost unbearably anxious, and in a near constant depressed funk. It was quickly noticed by the team, which only made it worse as Emily uncharacteristically struggled to make it through each day without lashing out at someone. “I hate this,” she’d whispered to Aaron on the jet back to Quantico as a raging headache seared its way into her brain.

“I know,” he’d said simply; there was little he could do to comfort her. They were fighting this battle together yet separately - the innate unfairness of her body being the one forced to do all the work that was out of both of their realms of control. And while it was hell, a part of her felt as if it was somehow what she deserved for being the reason they were in this situation in the first place.

Their bathroom soon turns itself into a mini pharmacy full of several thousand dollars of IVF medications. The counters are littered with boxes of medication, syringes, and icepacks to ease some of the bruising that came as a painful side effect of the regimen. A medication schedule taped to the mirror quickly becomes their lifeline, and Aaron takes on the role of administering each of the shots daily. He mixes each one with precision, the cap firmly in his teeth as he calmly counts to three before quickly sticking the needle under her skin as quickly as he can. He takes great care to be gentle - anything he could do to make it slightly less awful for her. “You aren’t half bad at this,” Emily finally says one night when her entire stomach is covered in bruises and she’s exceedingly sore. “Despite the fact I’m becoming a human pincushion.”

“I doubt it,” Aaron tells her with a gentle smile, pushing her back against the pillows to press icepacks to the growing bruises. “But I’m glad you think so.” He frowns when he finds another one blooming, an angry dark purple splotch. These are getting worse.” He inspects them carefully, moving the icepacks to cover the discolored areas.

“They hurt,” she winces as he hits a particularly tender spot. “They’re ugly too.”

“The bruises are,” Aaron agrees. He brushes his fingers over her cheek and moves the icepacks before carefully laying down next to her and drawing her close. “But you aren’t. You better not forget that.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes but snuggles into him even closer. “You’re too good to me, Aaron.”

“Because I love you,” he tells her simply, the honest truth.

The affirmation is supposed to make her feel better but it does the opposite. She goes rigid in his arms, the tension pulls at her bruises enough to make her wince.

“What is it?” He murmurs, brushing her hair from her face.

“What if this doesn’t work?” She whispers, soft enough that he can barely hear her. She has yet to say those words aloud - despite thinking them every day, multiple times a day. She hasn’t allowed herself to dull his hope - she can’t do that to him.

Aaron shakes his head, presses his finger to her lips. “No,” he says firmly, cupping her face in his hands. “We aren’t going there. Not tonight.” She tries to look away, unable to hold his gaze. “Look at me, Sweetheart. Please.”

Emily finally does, her lip pulled between her teeth. “I’m sorry. Sometimes this is all too much.”

“I know,” he whispers, still holding her face in his hands. “But we’re going to make it through this, Em. Together.”

If only she could believe him.

______________

The shots come with more side effects besides just bruising - fatigue and dizziness plague her for the entirety of the fourteen days of medication. The bloating starts not long after, rendering her uncomfortable and irritable from the sluggishness. “It’s only temporary,” Emily tries to reassure herself as she examines her changing body one morning in the mirror. Achy, tired, sluggish from the lack of normal workouts, completely vetoed by Dr. Esposito. “This won’t last forever.” Yet she feels unrecognizable, a shell of what she was before this journey started. Any remnants of hope she has are fragile, some days nonexistent. She still fears what will happen if they aren’t successful - if Aaron will be able to look at her over time - what if he grows resentful? What will Jack say if a sibling never joins them? The weight of it feels crushing, an intense pressure she wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy.

______________

By some miracle, they land on the right side of the less than promising statistics they were given that day with Dr. Esposito. “You are very lucky,” he tells them as he delivers the news their cycle was a success, culminating with three normal embryos - essentially giving them three chances at a successful pregnancy over the next few months. “I’ve seen couples with your stats get none.” It’s a sobering reminder just how lucky they got, for the alternative could have easily been their reality too, leaving them back at square one.

A month later, in arguably the least complicated and painless part of the journey and the last step of the cycle, one of those embryos is transferred. Both Aaron and Emily watch, hands wrapped together and eyes transfixed on the screen that shows the entire process, the small speck on the screen the size of a poppyseed making its way into her womb. Pregnant until proven otherwise is their unofficial motto, the final hurdle being the twelve day wait until the first blood draw pregnancy test.

And exactly five months to the day Emily had laid in his arms in a hotel in Princeton after yet another round of disappointment, they get the phone call they’d been waiting on - the transfer is a success and for the first time, they have a positive pregnancy test. “Congratulations,” the nurse says cheerfully, and for forty eight hours, everything feels like it finally settles into place, that it was meant to be after all.

Until it isn’t.

The second blood test is where it all falls apart before their own eyes. Emily knows something is wrong the moment she realizes it’s Dr. Esposito on the other end and not one of his nurses to relay the news. “No,” she breathes before he even gets a chance to speak, because she knows what he’s going to say. Aaron is beside her instantly, wrapping her into his arms before she dissolves into silent tears. His weight is steady beside her, the only thing keeping her upright as it all comes crashing down.

“I’m so sorry, Emily,” he says softly, sounding almost as devastated as she feels. “I wish it was better news. Your HCG levels are only minimally higher, which is typically indicative of a nonviable pregnancy.” There’s a long pause of silence that feels agonizing, like a knife twisting itself into her heart and settling there.

“What do you mean nonviable?” she croaks through tears, clinging to Aaron’s jacket and soaking the fabric of his shirt.

“We’re going to need you to come in for another blood test and potentially confirm where your pregnancy is located and what steps need to be taken,” Dr. Esposito explains carefully. “If your levels don’t decrease there's a risk of an ectopic, which means the pregnancy is growing outside of your uterus.”

She can’t bring herself to speak and she chokes back a sob that gets caught in her throat somewhere, making it hard to breathe, let alone think. This can’t be happening. Not now. We did everything right … Everything went perfectly. How is this happening? Aaron is the voice of reason, pulling himself together in time to ask about next steps, squeezing Emily a little tighter as their hearts continue to shatter into pieces.

______________

The third blood test, followed by an ultrasound a day later confirms an ectopic pregnancy in her fallopian tubes. If left untreated, it could kill her. Emily can’t bring herself to look at the images on the screen or even at Aaron, who has scarcely left her side in the last few days. Instead she stares at the ceiling and wills this miserable experience to be over. She’s sick to her stomach at the thought of it, lost in what feels like a trance or some terrible dream she can’t wake from. Beside her, Aaron looks despondent and exhausted - they’re both living the same nightmare yet experiencing it so differently, with seemingly little means to comfort the other.

“The best course of action is a methotrexate shot,” Dr. Esposito says from where he’s seated at the foot of the table Emily lays on, curled on her side. “It essentially terminates the pregnancy by stopping the cells from growing any further. By doing this, we won’t have to do surgery or remove your tube.”

Emily stares at him, eyes full of unshed tears. She’s heard of Methotrexate before - powerful enough to be used as a cancer drug, one that comes with a slew of negative side effects and some potentially serious ones down the road. The thought of taking it is terrifying - the alternative almost seems like a better one - but Dr. Esposito has never steered her wrong before. He wouldn’t steer her wrong now.

All she can do is nod, her entire body numb with grief. A small part of her is grateful someone else is telling her what to do.

“You should know,” he adds, his voice laced with sympathy. “After the shot is administered, you’ll have to wait three months before attempting pregnancy again to reduce the risk of birth defects. After three months, if you’re ready, we will talk about doing a second transfer.”

“Thank you,” Emily manages to whisper before the tears start again, the paper beneath her crunching loudly.

“Take as long as you need,” he says before slipping out to give them some privacy to grieve.

______________

When he hears the news, Morgan immediately offers to take Jack for a few days, so the house is silent when Aaron and Emily finally make it home. It feels empty and lonely, in disarray after the last few days of chaos that descended down on them all. Dishes are left in the sink, crayons and paper strewn across the counter from earlier that morning. Jackets slung across chairs that aren’t fully pushed in. They stare at the mess, both too exhausted to think about tackling it.

“I need to go lay down,” Emily mumbles, moving slowly towards the stairs as the cramps have already begun. “I feel like shit.”

“I’ll help you -”

“I don’t need help, Aaron,” she snaps a little too quickly. “I just want to be left alone.” She doesn’t mean to lash out at him but it comes out too fast, and she’s instantly regretful of her words. “I’m sorry,” she says almost immediately when the hurt bleeds across his face. “I - I don’t know what to do with myself right now.”

“It’s okay,” he tells her calmly, reminding himself what the toll of grief can do to a person. He’s been there before. Instead, he helps her out of her jacket, watches her grimace with the movement. “Why don’t you go upstairs and start the shower? I’m going to clean up a bit and see what there is to eat.” He touches the side of her face, swiping at a tear that’s already started to gather under her eye. “I’ll be right up.”

A shower sounds like a monumental amount of effort but it’s where Aaron finds Emily a short time later. She’s seated under the spray, legs curled to her chest and her head on her knees, rocking back and forth. He doesn’t bother getting undressed - just kicks off his shoes, leaving them next to her clothes on the ground before opening the double glass door. “Em,” he whispers, the scalding hot water hitting his skin like millions of tiny needles. “Sweetheart, it’s too hot.”

“I didn’t notice.” She doesn’t look up.

“Can I sit with you?” He asks, concern brewing in his chest. Emily doesn’t answer so he sits down beside her after adjusting the water, stretching his legs out. His clothes are soaked, the walls are fogged and the air is thick. Another five minutes of silence passes before he adds, “I made you a grilled cheese. It's in the bedroom when you're ready.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something,” he says firmly. “We can split it once we dry off.” It was a ritual they shared - sharing a grilled cheese in bed after a bad day - that started over two years ago following a terrible case in Houston - and he can almost sense a slight smile on her face that he remembered today.

She considers the offer for a few moments and swipes water out of her eyes.“Fine.” Emily slowly uncurls her legs, bringing them down to rest over his and lays her head on his shoulder. “I should have known we wouldn’t have gotten lucky.” Her voice is laden with sadness, an overwhelming sense of defeat. “It was stupid to be so hopeful on the first try.”

“There’s nothing stupid about hope, Emily. Sometimes it's all we've got.”

“This is the second pregnancy I ended, you know.” She shivers; the water is no longer as hot as it was before. “How’s that for odds? Do you think it’s a sign that maybe I’m not fit to do this?”

“Em,” Aaron begins patiently. He’s unwilling to let her continue going down this path of blame. “This pregnancy could have killed you. What happened was not your fault.” He pauses, a thought crossing his mind. “Neither time was. You had to make two impossible choices. But they were the right choices for different reasons.

“Doesn’t make me feel any better.” She takes a shaky breath, her head still on his shoulder as she whispers, “I’m bleeding already.”

“They said that’s normal for a few days” Aaron reminds her as he reaches for her hand. “We’ll keep an eye on it.” He kisses her head, noticing the way she relaxes just a little bit when he does. “How are the cramps?”

“Still there. I think I’m used to them at this point.” Emily laughs bitterly. “I’m so tired of this, Aaron. It’s so unfair that others don’t have to go through this. And it sucks.”

“I know it does.” He shifts them both so that he can bring her into his arms, letting her lay against his chest as the spray hits them both. “We’re going to make it through this one day, Emily. Together. You and me.”

She’s silent for a few moments, contemplating his words before she finally asks, “When do we know when to stop?” Her eyes bore into his, her body heavy with exhaustion settling in. “Do you ever wonder how far we’ll have to go … if we’ll be able to keep going with this? I don’t know if I can handle the heartbreak again and again.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Sweetheart. But I don’t think we need to make that decision today. One day at a time,” he reminds her. “Today it’s hard, tomorrow will be hard too. It might not get easier for a while, but it will one day, no matter what decision we make together. I need you to remember that.” He holds her against his chest, rocking her in his arms as the water starts to turn cold.

His words give her the slightest bit of comfort, some of the first she’s felt since this nightmare began. “I promise, I will. As long as you promise you’ll always love me, even if we can’t have a baby.”

“I promise I will,” he says without hesitation.

It’s all she needs to hear.

#aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #angst #aaron x emily #this is pure angst sorry but thats the vibe these days

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rosetheex-editor · 7 months

Text

[Video transcript begin.]

[The transcript begins with someone panicking, Moving back and forth in a wheelchair breathing heavily. Another person identified as "Evelyn." is sitting there watching, as the other person continues panicking.]

?: what if he's dead? i can't lose him again, i just can't!

[Voice identified: Rose.]

Rose: evelyn. what should i do? you got any ideas?

[Evelyn’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised at Rose’s request. She hesitates for a moment, thinking.]

Ev: Would you like to… watch a movie?

R: yeah… that might help… what should we watch though? i mean, like, i’ve got some old cartoon movies, ness brought ‘em over.

Ev: I was more-so thinking we just… turn on the TV and see what’s on.

R: yeah… yeah ok that works.

[Rose slowly moves over to the couch, looking for the TV remote. Before shrugging and sitting down.]

R: do you have the tv remote?

[Evelyn pats her pockets, then stands and moves over to the couch, lifting up one of the cushions.]

Ev: Er, well. Hm. I don’t know where it could’ve gone… We can just change the channel on the TV directly, though. Right?

R: yeah… should be able to. want me to do it?

Ev: Oh, no. I don’t want to make you get up. I’ll do it!

[She smiles at Rose and moves to the TV. Turning it on and going through each channel before landing on one playing a movie titled ‘The Invention of Lying.’ She makes a satisfied noise and goes back to the couch.]

R: good choice… i think? Honestly, i only watch sailor moon or seinfeld… not by choice though.

Ev: I’ve never seen this one, actually. I just thought it would be… fitting. No clue why. It looks funny, though!

R: Yeah i suppose so!

[After a small while of the two watching the movie, Evelyn gets a text, she reads it, and clears her throat.]

Ev: Rose, have you ever heard of the Garden of Eden?

R: i think ruby mentioned it once? the garden with the first two humans right?

Ev: Yes. That’s the one. Do you know what happens in the story?

R: a snake makes adam and eve eat the forbidden fruit or something, why?

[Rose looks at Evelyn with a look of confusion, before taking a drink of water.]

Ev: Yes, the serpent lied, it tempted them, it deceived them into eating the forbidden fruit. They were cast out of Eden for eating it. By God. The serpent was cursed for its deed, and some say… as were Adam and Eve.

R: oh, yeah? why did you ask?

[Evelyn's voice takes on a slightly deeper pitch, her facial expression subtly morphs from a look of innocence to something slightly more sinister. She turns to Rose.]

Ev: Let’s move to something more on topic. Have you ever been bitten by a snake, Rose?

R: n- no? wait… someone asked me that before… what was their name?

Ev(?): Ophelia.

[Rose looks at Evelyn? now even more confused, moving a tiny bit backwards on the couch stuttering as she speaks.]

R: h- how… did y- you know that?

Ev(?): I think you need to be a little more careful with who you let into this apartment.

R: ok… v- very funny e- evelyn…

[The red haired woman begins to laugh, it begins as a quiet giggle, but builds until it doesn’t even sound human anymore, it’s screechy and unfamiliar, as she laughs, her posture switches from slightly hunched to a more professional stance, with her shoulders pushed down and her neck elongated. She looks at Rose again.]

R: e- you're not evelyn…

[Faint music can be heard as someone pulls into the parking lot ten stories below.]

Ev(?): Never have been.

[Not-Evelyn smiles, two large fangs now visible in her top row of teeth, her eyes narrow, and she lunges forward. She grabs Rose’s arm and sinks her teeth into them as far as they can go, causing Rose to scream in pain. She takes them out after a few seconds. Licking the blood off of her teeth as she stands up.]

Ev(?): Eden, PR department.

[Voice re-identified: Eden.]

[She laughs, grinning at Rose as she ties her hair back and adjusts her clothes. The fangs on full display the full time.]

Ed: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a little… date, with your father. See you in hell, Editor.

[The red haired devil winks at Rose and swiftly strides towards Edgar’s room, climbing out the window to the fire escape, the metal clangs fading into the background as she descends.]

R: w- what the hell…

[Rose tries to get up, only to roll onto the floor sweating trying to crawl to the door. Footsteps can be heard, as Rose's breathing becomes sporadic and quick at the same time. A knock at the door, a faint voice is heard.]

?: Rose! It's me, open the door!

[Voice identified: Ness.]

[Rose can't speak only faint and troubled breathing as she gets closer to the door, Ness knocks again this time faster as Rose tries to reach the door.]

Ness: Rose? You ok in there? Damnit! Is she at the hospital? Let me call Marin-

[Ness is interrupted by Rose opening the door, the weak girl looks up at Ness as she drops 2 bags she yells in terror at the injured person in front of her, falling to the ground before quickly jumping back up.]

N: ROSE! SHIT, ARE YOU OK? CRAP, UHHHHHHH–

[Rose grabs at Ness' pant leg as a plea for help, Rose's arm immediately falls to the ground. Ness scrabbles before picking Rose up and calling someone on the phone, running as she does so.]

N: MARINA ARE YOU AT WORK? UHHHH MEET ME THERE. LONG STORY! JUST FUCKIN’ DO IT!

[Ness runs down the stairs with the passed out injured Rose on her back, the last thing picked up by the phone is Ness tripping on a stair.]

[End transcript.]

#showfall ask blog #encoreverse blog

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griffintail · 3 years

Text

The Sister’s Return

Summary: (Y/N) has reunited with her family with Dream’s looming threat...

Pairings: SBI x Sister! Reader

Warnings: Minor Fight scene, mentions of blood, mentions of past manipulation and present manipulation

A/N: This is a part two to The Sister’s Happiness

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

(Y/N) hesitated outside the tundra home as Techno went up to the house first.

“You promise he’s not mad?” (Y/N) whispered to Tommy.

“He…was mad for a while,” Tommy admitted. “We all were. It took us all a little while after…what he did to me to forgive you.”

A crow swooped into the window as Techno looked at the younger pair as Ghostbur hummed floating into the house.

“Phil! We found little note!” Ghostbur announced, making (Y/N) wince hearing her brother’s old nickname for her.

“Play the song again please Wilbur?” The twelve-year-old girl begged as Wilbur looked down at his guitar.

“Mmh, only if you sing it with me. My throat’s getting tired.”

It was a lie. He just liked singing with his less annoying youngest sibling.

“Ok.”

“Here we go little note.” He smiled, giving a small strum to his guitar.

“Even if he was mad, you can’t hide now.” Tommy huffed, following after.

(Y/N) looked down at Fran, who had followed them all the way, before walking up to the house with shaky legs. Before she even got to the door, Phil came out, a soft smile on his face.

“You’re ok.” Phil laughed quietly before coming over and taking her shoulders gently as she froze. “I’m so sorry angel. I-I should have been there and I’m sorry.”

“Daddy’s girl.” Tommy mocked from the top of the stairs.

He really hadn’t changed after everything.

“It’s ok Phil, I should be saying sorry, I—”

“No, it’s alright. Let’s get you inside.” Phil told her, looking around the area before putting a hand on her shoulder.

He led her in now, Fran trotting in behind them. Once the door closed, (Y/N) had a feeling she hadn’t felt since she had been with…Dream. She…felt at home…

Ghostbur floated as he hummed, taking some potions off a brewing stand as Techno rested his axe on the wall next to the door as he went to stop Tommy, who was already digging through his chests. Phil went to help with potion brewing as (Y/N) stood there.

She felt like a stranger though.

“Just because I’m letting you back in my house, does not mean you can dig through my things.” Techno scolded Tommy as he pulled him away.

“Come on blade. If I’m going to help, I need some gear.”

“You have your own gear and Dream’s gear!”

“Technically Tubbo has half his gear!” Tommy pointed at him.

“Come on Techno, don’t you want to help your favorite siblings?” (Y/N) grinned motioning to a sixteen-year-old Tommy, who put an arm around her.

“Yeah, big man! Just a few things for the poor?” Tommy motioned to a fifteen-year-old (Y/N).

Techno rolled his eyes at his siblings' shared mischievous grins. He knew he should have hung out with (Y/N) more, Tommy had been too much of an influence on her.

“You think there will be a fight?” (Y/N) asked, everyone, looking at her.

“Yes.” Phil nodded. “I got a message that…he wasn’t very happy you were moving on without him around.”

“You can say his name. It doesn’t affect me as much anymore.” (Y/N) told him quietly.

“Good because Dream is a bastard and we’re going to beat him again.” Tommy cheered. “The Sleepy Bois and their little sister are back!”

(Y/N) smiled lightly and Tommy froze slightly, surprised by the smile. “Yeah, we are back.”

Tommy stood there before grinning as he came over, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Yeah! Look out bitches!”

“Fucking pricks.” (Y/N) followed suit.

“We’ll show them who’s the best!”

“And have whatever we want!”

(Y/N) actually gave a laugh after they recited the bit they always use to do. Tommy was grinning widely. He had missed his sister.

“Fuck yeah!” He punched the air.

“Alright you little bastards, get your gear somewhere you can get to it quickly,” Techno told them.

“I got an ender chest in my old room, come on.” Tommy let go of (Y/N) before sliding down the ladder.

She followed after him, Fran making home next to the fireplace.

“We’re not going to actually make (Y/N) fight with us, are we?” Phil asked, not wanting his youngest to be around the masked man again.

“No. Ghostbur,” Techno said, the ghost zoning back into the conversation.

“Yes, Technoblade?” Ghostbur smiled.

“Why don’t you tell (Y/N) what you remember? She hasn’t seen you in a while.”

“Oh yes! That’s a very good idea Technoblade!” He nodded before following after the younger pair.

“You got crows scouting?” Techno asked.

“I’m not idiot Techno.” Phil gave a joking scoff. “I’ve been doing this longer than you.”

“Good. Then let’s get ready.”

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow around the odd room as Tommy went to the ender chest, pulling out a few pieces of gear.

“So, this is where you went when you went missing.” (Y/N) muttered.

Tommy paused, gripping the edge of the chest lightly. “Please don’t talk about that.”

“Oh shit.” She put her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry Tommy. I—Shit.”

“It’s fine, you didn’t do anything during that time it was all Dream,” Tommy said, putting his armor and weapons on his bed. “We just need to be able to read each other again too I suppose.”

“Well…after everything you still seem like you so I don’t think that will be too hard.” (Y/N) tried to lighten the tone.

“I’ve changed a lot! I’m a bigger man.” Tommy crossed his arms at his sister.

“Sure.” She teased.

“Alright, listen here you prick.” Tommy started until Ghostbur floated down.

“(Y/N)! We haven’t talked in so long, we should talk.” Ghostbur said to her excitedly.

“I uh. Sure. If you want to Ghostbur, I just…” She looked at Tommy’s gear. “We got a thing to possibly do.”

“Well, if it’s only possible we have some time.” Ghostbur grinned as he took her hand, making her shiver at the cold contact.

“Oi. Ghostbur, let her get her things first.” Tommy told off the ghost.

“Oh, ok. Get your things.”

(Y/N) went into the ender chest, taking out her armor, bow, and sword.

“Is that your old bow?” Tommy looked at it surprised.

“Yeah…I put a mending enchant on it before we got your discs back.” (Y/N) grinned. “So, it’s still in action.”

“…I think it will be perfect for fighting Dream with again.”

She paused before nodding; the grin still wide on her face. “I think so too. We’ll fuck up his shit again.”

Tommy nodded, deep in thought for a minute.

“Hey, Ghostbur, wait up there for her, she’ll be there in a minute,” Tommy told the ghost.

“Ok!”

He floated up the ladder again and Tommy shifted awkwardly for a moment.

“Did you…did you like doing all that stuff with him?”

(Y/N) gripped onto the bow, taking a shaky breath.

“I thought I did. I told myself I did…but every time I saw your face…I hated it. But he told me…he told me it was for the better and I believed him.”

“We’re what’s best for you because you’re our family, and don’t forget it, alright prick?” Tommy crossed his arms, looking away.

“Thanks, Tommy.” She smiled lightly. “I won’t.”

She went to leave but he stopped her again.

“Hey, if you…want to talk about it too, I get it,” Tommy said quietly.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She nodded.

Then she finally went up the ladder, Tommy passing through the room quickly to go to the main room, and Ghostbur held out a piece of blue to her the second she got up.

“Oh, uh, thank you.” She took it.

“There’s so much to talk about! Techno said we should talk about what I remember. I remember a few things about you!” He grinned, clapping his hands together. “You use to sing music for me and I wouldn’t make fun of you for being a child because you could be really mature.”

“Oh…you don’t remember a lot of things?” She asked, sitting.

“No, but that’s ok. I remember a lot of happy things!”

“So…you don’t remember Dream and me?”

“Mmh, I remember thinking about how nice it was to see you next to Dream when we were making L’Manberg, even though I thought about how unhappy you looked.”

(Y/N) stared at the wall as she stood to the back of the group. Wilbur was at the top, looking down at her in shock and she looked away.

“I would like to know though Dream, how you managed to get my little sister on your side.”

“She saw past your stupidity.” Dream answered simply.

He’ll just use you for power.

Dream’s voice echoed in her head, making her jaw clench.

“Alivebur didn’t think you and Dream were very good friends. He often scolded Tommy if he brought it up.” Ghostbur hummed, before whispering to her. “Dream is a bit of a bad guy.”

“Yeah…yeah, he is Ghostbur. That’s why me and him aren’t friends.”

“Oh, that’s a shame, but now you can hang out with us again!”

(Y/N) thought about the times she had caught Wilbur’s glare across a battlefield or simply across the open area. She had thought he hated him but had he suspected something was wrong?

…

“She’s a bitch now! Fuck her!” Tommy shouted at Wilbur.

“Don’t say that about her Tommy.” Wilbur snapped. “She…looks so unhappy. Dream holds too much power, we can’t get to her easy, we need to figure something out to get to her.”

…

“What the hell did you guys let happen to (Y/N)?” Techno motioned to above the ravine where Pogtopia was stationed.

They had just run and his own little sister had just tried to hunt them down with the rest of the mob of Manberg citizens. Her downfall though was Techno had taught her himself. Yet, there was just such a cold look in her eyes…

“She did it to herself.” Tommy scoffed.

“I don’t know, I haven’t been able to talk to her in a few years. I can’t get her alone no matter what I tried, that’s not the problem right now.” Wilbur paced.

Techno thought it was a huge fucking problem though and decided he needed to figure out what was going on, on his own.

…

Techno heard the crow before it flew through the window. It gave a flap of its wings to Phil and Phil nodded, looking outside.

“He’s close by.”

The pair had managed to get (Y/N) alone and they had seen through the façade when they talked to her and tried to subtly get it out of her. They thought they could get another chance when she left but then Butcher Gang came and Dream visited Techno’s home.

Sure, they had been mad about her betraying their trust by telling people where Techno’s home was but when Tommy came to them, they weren’t mad for long. They were the first to understand what must have happened to her as well.

Phil put on his last bit of armor as Tommy came up to them, paling slightly.

“He’s here already?”

“He’s close.” Techno nodded. “Get ready, we’re not taking (Y/N).”

Tommy hesitated but nodded. He didn’t want Dream near his sister again. As the young boy put all his gear on, Techno picked up his axe with his crossbow on his back and Phil grabbed his own bow. He managed his gear on when Techno saw Dream walking through the snow.

“Let’s go.” Techno nodded.

The three went out, weapons at the ready and Dream grinned behind his mask.

“Sorry Dream. I don’t do charity cases for the homeless, gonna need you to leave.” Techno told him, shouldering his axe.

“Are we really going to go through this again Techno? Are you going to talk to your voices again too?” Dream laughed. “I know you have what I want. So, either, send her out now, or I’ll kill all of you.”

“You can try, you green bastard, but I finished you once! I’ll do it again!” Tommy shouted.

“But here I am Tommy! You can’t stop me. I got out of prison and now here I am. Back again!” Dream took a step forward and Phil aimed his bow. “You won’t, no, you can’t kill me, Tommy. Come on, we were friends, weren’t we?”

Techno put the axe in front of his brother as Phil shot the arrow in front of Dream when Tommy’s breathing picked up slightly.

“You’re not getting anyone today,” Phil told him. “So, we’re going to give you one chance to say you failed and leave.”

Dream merely smirked behind his mask before going straight for Techno. With ease, Techno blocked the sword with his arm, the sword sparking on his armor before Techno swung his axe right for Dream’s side and the masked man jumped back.

“A fight it is then.” Techno grinned, the voices going into a chant.

Tommy pulled his sword and Phil switched for his sword as well. The fight was on.

…

“What else do you remember?” (Y/N) asked the ghost. “About…me.”

“You were an awful lot like Tommy but you could calm down and be little note with me.” Ghostbur smiled. “It was always nice seeing you and Tommy play together though. And when you two become friends with Tubbo, it was meant to be really. It always made Alivebur smile and it makes me smile too!”

“It seems a lot of things make you smile though Ghostbur.” She laughed quietly.

“But there’s so many wonderful things we get to do and see!”

(Y/N) smiled lightly. Ghostbur seemed to be all the good things about Wilbur…but she missed the bad stuff of her brother…

Both the ghost and she jumped though when they heard the sound of fireworks.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Ghostbur muttered, taking out a piece of blue.

(Y/N) leapt up, as she now could hear the cawing of the crows and metal on metal. Dream was here!

“Shit, shit, shit.” She panicked, throwing her armor on.

“(Y/N),” Ghostbur mumbled.

She looked at the ghost of her brother as she put her helmet on. A panic was in her eyes but there was the spark of a fire that brought good memories to Ghostbur. Memories of when she’d practice sword fighting and archery with Technoblade or when she’d scream at Tommy’s bullies or when she was taking lessons with Alivebur to learn guitar. He smiled lightly as he saw the real (Y/N) that had been missing.

“I love you.”

“…I love you too Ghostbur.” She gave a light smile before grabbing her one arrow, sword strapped to her side.

She got outside to see Techno loading his crossbow with another firework as Tommy was dodging a sword swing from Dream who had a cracked mask with slightly singed clothing while Phil was dashing to go in for a low blow. Everyone had minor wounds as armors had dents and scratches. (Y/N) felt her breath catch in her throat as she gripped onto her bow before raising it.

“I never throw away my shot.” She muttered before letting the arrow fly.

It caught Dream’s mask and it flew off his mask. (Y/N)’s arrow reappeared on the bow as she pulled back, her infinity enchantment doing its work to bring her arrow back as though it was never gone even though it pinned Dream’s mask to the ground.

“STOP!” She commanded.

“(Y/N)!” Dream grinned ducking from Tommy’s sword swing before knocking the boy down, winding him as he parried Phil’s attack, pushing the older man back. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Where have you been my friend?”

“Drop your sword!” She demanded.

“(Y/N), come on. It’s me, Dream.” He smiled.

She clenched her jaw as Techno looked between the pair as the other two of her family stayed where they were. Then she changed the direction of her bow and it snagged his pant leg, pinning the fabric to the ground as another arrow appeared in her bow.

“Leave my family alone.” She told him.

“Your family?” Dream laughed. “They haven’t tried to talk to you in almost three years! Now, they thought they had power over the two of us because I was locked away; they tried to use you! I broke out to save you.”

His voice was creeping back into the back of her mind as she gripped onto her bow.

“YOU BASTARD!” Tommy’s voice broke through the voice of Dream.

Dream hissed as Tommy snagged a weak point in his armor, drawing blood.

“How dare you say I’d use my sister!” He shouted, pushing the man back, jumping back as Techno quickly aimed his crossbow.

Dream dove out of the way as the firework went off where he had been.

“I won’t let you use my sister like a puppet.” Techno put his crossbow away to replace it with his axe.

An arrow landed in front of Dream’s face and (Y/N) pointed her bow to the ground.

“I never miss, so take the friendly warning. Leave and never speak to me again. Leave this land.”

“You…you can’t…” Dream gave a laugh.

“She can do whatever she wants mate,” Phil said, all three of them standing in front of (Y/N). “And you’ll have to go through us to even think about her. I suggest you leave.”

“You’ll regret this.” Dream spat at them before getting up and ender pearling away.

A weight was gone as (Y/N) teared up when the three looked over at her.

“Oh dear, you need some blue.” Ghostbur came out now and gave the girl a piece of blue.

“Thank you.” She sniffled wiping away her tears.

Tommy came over putting an arm around one side of her shoulders as Techno went on the other side as Phil put a hand on her head.

“We won!” Tommy cheered.

She had missed her family…

#mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction #sbi x reader #tommyinnit x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #ghostbur x reader

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kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎.

thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate in her vice city collab! i had a blast writing this piece, and i’m terribly sorry this is so long that was a mistake (and congrats on 2k!!) also, the phattest of thank you’s to @eijishimas for brainstorming/beta-ing :) you saved me ☺🤲🏼

katsuki bakugou and eijirou kirishima | f!reader, time travel sex, guns, prostitute/stripper idrk!reader, tw!blood (non-descriptive), dacryphilia, squirting, spit roasting, d-penn, shower sex, multiple rounds. minors dni!

— 5k words (yikes)

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

Las Vegas, Nevada. April 15th, Year 3036.

"You ready?"

Mina shoots you a look through the golden-lit mirror, wiggling her eyebrows. You roll your eyes and finish dusting the powder off your cheeks before rising to your feet and tugging at the belt of your silk robe. "My answer's the same every night."

Vice City. A strip club and casino in Las Vegas, Nevada, where opposites collide—the poor and the rich, the beautiful and the ugly, the smart and the stupid. There's no judgment because here, they're all degenerates looking for a good time, and you're just a pretty face with a good body.

As your silk robe hits the floor, it's kicked to the side with a heel, and you saunter through the beaded entrance to your private room and into the vibrating club. Giving your bodyguard a solid pat on the shoulder as you watch the sea of bodies shake, you complete the ritual.

"No creeps?" You demand more than request. He nods curtly.

"No creeps."

You give him a cute little smile and let your hand linger for a little longer than necessary before stepping into the neon red chaos of the strip club. Because what do the rich and the poor have in common?

They're all addicts.

Surprisingly, humanity doesn’t kill the planet.

Mother Nature's still standing strong—though the sun is a bit swollen—and space exploration solved that overpopulation issue. Bill Gates taught us all how to avoid a climate disaster and Tesla put Ford out of business. Humanity is much bigger than earth now; we're no longer people of the planet, but an intergalactic species that still eat Costco pizza rolls for dinner but killed Cable along with cars with wheels. Costco still exists—Starbucks doesn't.

Still no aliens, though.

"See something you like, Cutie?"

In your defense, he's been standing over here with his friends for ages—almost like they're casing the damn place—but those ruby red eyes kept floating your way regardless, and you'd rather bag it with someone your age before you're requested by another seventy-year-old. The redhead blinks like he's shocked you came over here in the first place—like he didn't watch you sashay yourself to the other side of the club just for him. You suppose the name fits. Cutie.

He looks at you with a strangely giddy look on his face before he's licking his lips and swallowing, eyes flickering to the blondie to his right.

"I'll be back in like, twenty minutes, man."

The blond gives him an exasperated look and groans—his other two friends don't notice. "Eiji—"

"Twenty minutes!" The redhead yells over the music as you not-so-subtly pull him away. Your regular GILF looks your way, and you suppress the queasy feeling in knowing that at least you'll be able to fuck someone from your decade.

"You got a wallet, Cutie?" You purr as you two approach the back room. The redhead winks, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the fattest black leather wallet you've seen in a long time.

"Don't go anywhere without it," he says, but falters when your bodyguard holds his hand out with a request for fifty bucks. "I—whoa dude, why am I paying you?"

"Because that's how it goes. The young lady gets her share," your bodyguard clarifies. The redhead looks at you for what seems to be for confirmation. You nod.

"Alright," he resigns with a shrug, stuffing a fifty into your bodyguard's sweaty hand. The man grunts but clears some of the beads guarding the entrance to your private room anyways, giving you two enough space to go inside.

"No door? That seems a little...exposing," the redhead snorts to himself before he's holding his hand out, despite the fact that you’re already nestling comfortably in his lap. "Eijirou, by the way."

You take his hand apprehensively, and he snorts at your confused frown. Eijirou's big—painfully so, and you feel small sat upon his thick thighs because you are in comparison—and he has to curve his back a bit so you're at eye-level. "What? No one's introduced themselves to you before?"

You shake your head, "Usually they just throw me onto the bed and get right to it."

Eijirou rolls his eyes at that, and you don't realize he's guiding your hips into a smooth roll until the harsh fabric of his jeans brushes against you in the best way. He moves you in time with the music vibrating the walls, "I guess that makes me more of a gentleman, then."

His lips hover over yours and yet he never advances, doesn't move to kiss you on the lips, nothing—it nearly has you buzzing. So does the hand he pins you to his lap with. "Are you going to kiss me or what?"

"What's your name, Sweetheart," he asks lowly. You give it to him, and he grins.

"Y/N,” Eijirou tries on his lips before he confirms it with a nod. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Aren't you the flatterer," you purr, coiling your arms around your neck. His hand finds your ass and you're almost positive he's going to close the gap between you two until he says:

"Who were you runnin' from, Y/N?”

Years in the business help build a mask and you wear yours well, with that cute little smile as you cock your head to the side and ask, "I'm afraid I'm not following."

"Oh, I think you are," he says, looking you dead in the eyes. The gravity in his face doesn't falter. "Who was it."

As he stares into your soul, your own eyes avert to the sheets. "What's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me, really," he shrugs off his jacket and places it on the bed next to him before returning to his initial position—or perhaps, closer. "But I happen to find you real cute, and cute things deserve to feel safe, no?"

"In case you haven't checked, this isn't a very safe place," you scoff, removing your arms from his neck to cross them over your chest. "And I don't appreciate idiots like you trying to save someone like me just 'cause you wanna get your dick wet more than once."

Eijirou raises an eyebrow but he never stalls, "Oh? This happens often then?"

"I—" you falter, "...No."

"C'mon, Sweetheart," Eijirou tugs you by the waist and you have to press your hands to his chest to keep him from falling forwards. "You don't wanna stay in this place, do you?"

"It's my job," you defend with a huff. The redhead shrugs.

"Sure, but don't you want a little adventure? A little excitement in your life?"

"Like there isn't enough excitement right here?" You snort. Eijirou teeters his head back and forth, though the daring look never fades.

"But something tells me you're bored," he says with a near sarcastic face, clicking his tongue. "Something tells me you find the idea of something new exciting."

You open your mouth to respond but he keeps you from doing so, finally pressing his lips to yours. You nearly squeal in surprise but somehow, you find yourself kissing back with a passion you've never kissed another client with before—and maybe, just maybe, the idea of something new doesn't sound too bad.

Eijirou pulls away with a cocky grin like he knew you'd like it. Like he knew that'd be the catalyst for your response to what he says next, and maybe, he's not as much of an idiot as you thought.

And maybe you’re more of an idiot than you thought.

"Say, Sweetheart. You wanna get outta here?"

"Yes," you breathe, like an idiot, because you were wholly and utterly unprepared for what happens next.

Eijirou gives you the cutest smile, before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun.

He sees your expression change and lifts both hands, pointing the black pistol towards the ceiling, "I—hey wait, you're gonna be fine, okay? I won't shoot you."

You cower and he pouts. Apparently, this wasn't the reaction he was expecting at all.

"I swear! I'm mentally stable, see?" He flips it sideways with a grin, "the safety's on."

You hate it that his comment makes you trust him. Slightly.

"C'mon," Eijirou smiles, reaching his gunless hand out for you to take. You do, albeit reluctantly. "I won't do anything too stupid. Just...shake things up a bit."

Shake things up a bit, Eijirou says, and yet the first thing he does is when you two exit the room is press the pistol to your bodyguard’s head.

"Eijirou," you hiss. Luckily no one in the club has noticed, yet, but you doubt their ignorance will last for long.

"I'm gonna need my fifty back, buddy," Eijirou pats the man on the back, and it's strange—you've always thought your bodyguard to be a big guy, but he looks rather petite next to the redhead. Your bodyguard reaches for his walkie-talkie, but Eijirou tuts, tapping his hand away with the tip of his gun.

"Hey dude, I'm not gonna shoot you. See? The safety's on," He repeats, flashing the barrel. Your bodyguard's eyes widen, and so do yours.

The safety isn't on.

"So, that fifty," Eijirou purrs, and your bodyguard stuffs the bill into his chest with a grumble. Eijirou hums, satisfied, and gives the crumpled bill to you without a second glance, too busy nodding to his friend on the other side of the strip club. A noirette from across the way nods back.

Pop-pop!

It's fucking chaos, as anyone would expect when blindly firing into a crowded club. Eijirou keeps a tight hold on your hand as he and his other three boys storm towards the pit bosses working the casinos with guns a-blazing, demanding they fill their pillowcases like a bunch of C-class thugs.

What the fuck did you get yourself into.

"This is not what I meant by excitement," you hiss through grit teeth as a terrified pit boss fills Eijirou's bag like he's a greedy kid with an attitude on Halloween, while your co-workers cower under the bar and pool tables. Eijirou sticks his tongue your way.

"This isn't the exciting part, Little Miss Excitement."

It's the steady sound of sirens that has your eyes widening, and the fact that you're positive they're getting louder. You catch sight of your bodyguard on his walkie-talkie, big body cowering behind the smallest trashcan, and turn back just in time to see Eijirou squint as he aims and shoots bullseye.

"That is."

The police have lost sight of two vehicles carrying the four armed men who robbed Vice City Casino and Club tonight at roughly 2:53 am. Witnesses say they came in a group of four but left with an exotic dancer named—

The moment the blondie from the club sees you walk through the door, he’s tossing the stack of bills in his hand with a sigh.

"Katsuki, Y/N. Y/N, Katsuki."

Katsuki looks nothing but happy, and refuses to acknowledge your presence as he crosses his arms.

"Ei. What the hell did we say about witnesses."

"Um," the redhead rubs his lips together before wearily looking at you, and you hike his jacket further up your shoulder. At least he was decent enough to give you that. She's an exception?"

"Not a fuckin' thing," the blond grunts, turning to you to flash a tight smile. "Goodbye."

"I—wait," Eijirou skates until he's stood over the ash-blond, with a hand on his shoulder and the other braced against the table. Speaking in a quieter voice, he says, "C'mon man. The poor thing was practically begging to get outta there."

The ash-blond does nothing but sigh before shoving a palm into a pile of money to push himself into the kitchen—and subsequently further away from you.

"She's gonna call the cops," Katsuki grunts wearily from the island, eyes narrowed. Eijirou follows.

"She's not gonna call the cops, dude," the redhead scoffs at the outlandish idea. "You heard the radio! At this point, she's as deep in it as we are."

As they continue to go back and forth over the island, you let your eyes wander. It’s a penthouse, and rather homely, with near egg yolk lighting, high walls, and big windows. You can't help but think about how you're in a strangely expensive part of the city before remembering this evening's events. No wonder they can afford such a nice place.

You find yourself smiling at a particular corner with a frustrating amount of photos stuffed on a little glass table, one that contains a selfie of the two housemates in high school uniforms. There's a ring sat in front of it, one that glints gold when you hold it up to your face, and if you squint you can see little flecks of green in the red of the ruby. It looks scarily close to an engagement ring.

"Hey, what's this?"

Both of their eyes rocket from the conversation to see you slip the delicate thing onto your ring finger.

"Don't touch it!" Eijirou tenses before realizing it's much too late for that. "Er—at least don't twist the top."

"The...top?" You ask, lifting your hand until it's at eye level.

"Yeah like, the jewel thingy," the redhead gestures to the ruby—and you can't stop thinking about how it's almost the same color as his hair. Waddling into the kitchen with your eye still trained on the thing, you ask:

"What is it?"

"A time-travel device," the ash-blond grunts. Eyes still full of suspicion, he watches you and the redhead interact over the island with arms crossed over his chest and reclining against the sink. You frown.

"Aren't those usually...bigger?" Because even though it's 3036, time-travel is still fairly new (space exploration took a long time, okay) and all the machines you've seen are at least the size of a shower. And yet, this one can sit on your pinky.

"Kats has been working on some stuff," Eijirou beams and it edges on proud; you notice the ash-blond near blushes with a huff as you hop to sit on the marble counter.

"'S nothin'."

You stare at the thing in faint amazement, and Katsuki kicks off the sink to near the island. Lifting an eyebrow, you say, "You know you could get rich off something like this? Instead of robbing strip clubs for a living.”

The ash-blond scoffs, and you wonder if someone else has told him that before. "If I gave that to the public, I have no fuckin' clue what they'd do with that shit."

And you shrug, supposing he's right—time-travel devices are hard to get your hands on, and that's for a reason. If everyone starts jumping around in the time-space continuum, fucking with shit, the world will promptly and utterly collapse. Sounds fun, doesn't it?

"It doesn't work with a big time range," Katsuki defends with a shrug, sliding his forearms on the counter. "The most it can do is a few hours"

"Not that it makes this any less cool," Eijirou says with a slight bounce. "I personally think it's really fun to play with."

Katsuki rolls his eyes. "That's 'cause you use it to fuck."

You nearly choke.

"I—what?"

"W-Well, okay," Eijirou chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "But also other stuff! Like when I'm really hungry, I might go to the future and take some of my fries. Future me's fries, that is."

"Or you'll try to take future-me’s goddamn burger," Katsuki growls. You flip the ring over like there's anything left to see.

"How often do you use it?"

"Nightly," Katsuki answers for him. Your eyebrows lift. Oh wow.

"It—it's not nightly," Eijirou defends weakly, huffing and puffing. "Weekly maybe, but—"

"Almost every night," Katsuki sums for him, giving you a little grin. You snort back before your eyes drop to the ring again.

"Uh oh," the redhead almost gasps, fingers thrumming on the island on either side of your being, "She's thinkin' about it."

"I'm not thinking about it," you huff, though your eyes never leave the ring. It's an...interesting prospect.

"Oh, you're totally thinking about it," Katsuki grunts, and you struggle to find where his enthusiasm came from. What happened to goodbye?

"C'mon," Eijirou tempts with a casual toss of the head. He touches your shoulder—Katsuki touches the other. "See what happens."

"What if—" you stare at the ring with pursed lips, fingers grabbing the ruby. "What if it's random? Or if we're not where we expect to be in a few hours or something."

Eijirou shrugs. "It's always a gamble, but that's where the fun is, no?"

You look down at the thing with a sigh. You suppose.

In one quick move, you twist the gem and screw your eyes shut. At first, you feel nothing, but then there's a sudden head rush, and you can easily see how someone can get addicted to this.

You hear a faint sound, one that could be excused as a rush of wind past your ears, before you feel your knees against a hard surface and your body in a different position.

"Oh, I like this much better."

You open to your eyes to a much different sight than you closed them to.

Katsuki and Eijirou look gargantuan when you’re on your knees, your back flush against the refrigerator and eyes watering due to the cock nestled halfway down your throat. You choke in surprise from the sensation, hands rushing to keep Katsuki from cutting your oxygen supply off for good as Eijirou stands impatient, cock hard in his hand and drooling for attention.

"F-Fuck," the ash-blond wheezes, seemingly just as taken aback from the position as you are. "Your mouth is fuckin' heaven."

"C'mon Sweetheart, don't ignore me now," EIjirou purrs, chuckling as the head of his cock hits your cheek with a wet slap. "At least give me a little something."

You grab his cock harder than you would've out of slight indignance, grinning around the other when it makes him hiss; Eijirou joins Katsuki in resting a hand on the fridge door for purchase.

You weren't the best at Vice City for nothing, after all.

"Shit, loosen that grip a little, will ya?" Eijirou wheezes—you don't listen, and his chest shudders when you seem to only move faster.

"'M too fuckin' close, where's that ring," Katsuki blabbers more than he grunts, and you lift your hand just in time for him to twist the jewel again, sending you three rocketing into the past.

You cough and splutter atop the kitchen island, chest heaving as you finally get the air Katsuki's cock allows. The head rush definitely doesn't help, and you find yourself getting dizzy enough to grab for someone's hand.

"Breathe, Princess," Katsuki says, and Eijirou lifts your hand to his chest so yours can rise and fall with his.

"So that's," you wheeze once you're able to get some semblance of a breath back. "That's time travel sex, huh?"

"Yeah," Eijirou says, a little breathless himself. "Addictive, right?"

"A little," you giggle, and find yourself looking for the ring again. Katsuki snorts.

"What, you wanna go back or somethin'?"

You flush red, eyes darting to the walls guilty, "A little bi—wah!"

There's a rush and the room morphs again. You would’ve fallen headfirst into a set of white sheets if it weren’t for the fact that you’re sat on Eijirou’s face.

"Hello beautiful~" the redhead singsongs from below, and you can't help but notice your bra is MIA as Katsuki takes a seat behind

you to run his hands up your sides to put the underside of your breasts.

"Pervert," you snort, though you figure you’re just as bad as he is with two of Eijirou's fingers deep in your pussy and Katsuki's hand on your clit. The redhead's leaving hickey after hickey on your inner thighs and you just try your damnest to not fall.

"Only for you," Eijirou winks cheekily, scissoring his fingers, and your hips stutter against his face when he slides his tongue in between.

"Fuckin' love the sounds you make," Katsuki grunts, before his other hand finds your neck and tightens. "And fuck you're so goddamn wet—you love this, don't you?"

You keen with a nod (and suppress the urge to say no shit, Sherlock), and Katsuki's pinching your clit between his two fingers, licking a fat stripe up your neck and chuckling when you shiver.

"What, your clients don't make you feel this good, Sweetheart?" Eijirou practically moans into your cunt, eyebrows folding when you thread your fingers through his hair and yank. "Bet that fifty was worth it, wasn't it?"

"Y-Yeah I—" you whimper, unable to get a sentence past your shuddering chest. "Guys, I'm gonna—"

The bedroom melts back into the kitchen, you're back in Eijirou’s jacket and not sat on his face. Your thighs and neck are hickey-less and yet, you're still so fucking horny.

"I hate you," you seethe, almost immediately, and Eijirou's grin is so wide it bends his eyes.

"Awe, you love me," he giggles and your frown only deepens as you reach for the ring—Katsuki snatches it out of arms way with a tut.

"Ah ah Princess, don't be greedy now," he purrs, but you couldn't give a shit about being greedy, and it shows in the way you quickly grab for it again. Katsuki passes the ring to Eijirou and it easily becomes a game of monkey in the middle.

"Give it—"

"I don't think so, Sweetheart," Eijirou says, pressing a big hand to your face to keep you from going any further. With a smirk, the redhead twists the ring, and suddenly you're full of him on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight," he curses behind grit teeth, sweat practically dripping off his shoulders in rivulets as he pushes your face into the kitchen island so hard it's numb. So are your knees. "You're so pretty like this—shit—"

You barely have the room to whimper, let alone answer, and you find Katsuki perched on the opposite counter, weeping cock in hand. The redhead chuckles as you struggle to take all of him, hips squirming as he aims for places you've never been able to hit on your own. "I'd stick your tongue back in your mouth if I were you, Sweetheart. The money’s a little dirty, don't you think?"

And that's when you realize your knees are elevated upon two stacks of green, possibly some of what Katsuki had been counting earlier, and a twenty swims in a pool of drool under your cheek.

"Oh, but I don't think you care," Eijirou grunts, shoving your face deeper into the marble countertop as his hips speed up. "Dirty fuckin' girl. Bet you'd do anything for a fifty."

"I wanna fuck her," Katsuki rushes as if his mouth moves before he can speak. Eijirou wheezes a laugh.

"What, I can't enjoy this?"

"No,” the ash-blond grunts.

"Hmm..." Eijirou debates, though his hips never stop as he gives Katsuki a look and goes, "How about no?"

Katsuki growls at that, and you find your fingers clumsily twisting the ruby on the ring that sits on Eijirou's finger, sending the three of you flinging further into the future.

"Fuck!"

"This isn't the future I was referring to, but I'm not complainin'," Katsuki grunts with a feral grin. You nearly slip due to all the water in the shower and you're positive that you see the sunrise through the window paint Eijirou's skin gold.

"I gotcha, Sweetheart," Eijirou soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your arms while your nails dig into his shoulders, the red lines jagged from how roughly Katsuki fucks you from behind. "Fuck—you're doing so good for us, taking him so well."

You whimper and Katsuki lands a heavy slap on your ass—heavy to the point where you nearly knocks both you and the redhead into the tile behind him. Eijirou's calloused hands find your clit fairly easily, and that's enough to almost send you over the edge, pussy fluttering around Katsuki's cock.

"She's gonna cum," Katsuki grunts. "Can fuckin' feel it."

"Uh oh," the redhead singsongs, turning to you with a grin. "Were you trying to be slick, Sweetheart?”

Though it's difficult, you lift your head, eyes swimming in unshed tears as you choke, "I—n-no, it's jus—"

You're in the bedroom again—this time your back comes in contact with a dresser, metal rattling from the weight Eijirou slams you into it with. The redhead supports you both with two feet planted into the floor and a hand around your waist, grunting into your ear with an exhaustion that implies you've got to be at this for hours.

"Ei-Eiji—"

"I know, Sweetheart," the redhead coos breathlessly, licking up the sweat that runs down your neck. "Just a few more times, okay? Hold on for just a little longer."

You sob, head thunking against the wall as you realize you have no idea where Katsuki is. Though it's only a fleeting thought because before you know it, Eijirou's dropping you to your feet, bending you in half, and railing you into the wall.

"Goddamn," he grunts, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, "this is—this is the best lay I've had in a fat second."

You pant a laugh, hands pressing into the wall to steady yourself, "Good—good to know the fifty bucks was worth it."

"Oh baby, it was more than worth it," Eijirou hikes your leg up as high as it'll go for a deeper angle and he gets it, his growl melting into a semi-chuckle as you squeal, thighs jumping.

"Fuck Ei!" You scream, and he's tugging your hair to straighten your back out.

"You like it rough, Sweetheart?" He pants into your ear, grabbing your neck for a better grip. You nod as much as you can.

"Y-Yeah—I—" Eijirou drops you until you're stood at a perfect 90-degree angle, "I need—need'ta cum, p-please—"

"Twist the ring, Sweetheart," He pants, resting his hand on the wall next to yours. It still glints gold on his fourth finger in the moonlight, "Get us there together, yeah?"

You don't have to be told twice.

"Mph!"

"Fuck!”

Your knees dig into a mattress again as Katsuki fills your mouth. With his cock down your throat and Eijirou's buried deep in your cunt, there isn't much you can do but take both of them at the same time—though you're positive that's what they intended.

"Shit, me too." Eijirou wheezes a chuckle as his hips piston into you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back while he reaches between your thighs to rub your clit. That’s enough to send you flailing over the edge, moan muffled by Katsuki’s slowly softening cock. Then, with a devilish grin (and before the redhead can cum) Katsuki reaches for the ring on Eijirou’s finger and twists it.

“You asshole,” Eijirou groans, and suddenly you three are back in the shower, with Katsuki’s hips battering into yours as the redhead supports your weight from below. Katsuki chuckles before his grip tightens and he’s filling you with another load.

“C’mon Princess,” Katsuki grunts, reaching for your clit. “Come for us again.”

You choke again before you’re digging your head into Eijirou’s muscled chest with a moan, shaking from the aftershocks Katsuki continues to fuck you through them.

Until the room morphs, and you’re face down on the kitchen counter.

“Fucking finally,” Eijirou wheezes with a bitter chuckle, casually flipping Katsuki the middle finger as he's sat on the opposing counter. “Fuck, you're shaking baby, you gonna cum with me? Yeah?“

Eijirou batters into your cervix and that's the catalyst for your third orgasm. You squeeze so tight you think you may have knocked the wind out of the redhead when his chest crashes into your back, and you open your eyes just in time to see the kitchen melt into the bedroom again—in a time you all have yet to visit.

Your legs are thrown over Katsuki’s shoulders as he pushes your back deeper into Eijirou’s chest, both of their cocks filling you so much and so well it brings tears to your eyes. As your thighs quiver with an impending orgasm, Katsuki’s the first to fall off the edge, eyebrows furrowing as his nails dig into the meat of your thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice fucked hoarse and lips bit pink. Eijirou nibbles into your shoulder with a gasp as his sweaty hand finds your clit again, neither of their hips ever stopping.

“Cum for us one more time, Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck before adding another hickey to the collection. Your chest shudders.

“I—I can’t—“

“Oh yes you fuckin’ can,” Katsuki growls, and you squeal as he tweaks a nipple. “I know you got one more in there. Give it.”

Your legs kick against his chest with a curse as you orgasm for the final time—this one much wetter than the last.

“Holy shit,” Eijirou nearly laughs, looking at where the three of you are connected. “Did you just squirt?”

“I—“ your face blends red when you see the absolute and utter mess that sits in Katsuki’s lap, before looking away with a determination to never see it again. “...Maybe.”

“Clean up?” Eijirou asks, eyes flickering to the ash-blond. Katsuki shrugs.

“Nah.”

A rush of wind and you’re sat on the kitchen counter. Eijirou’s jacket protects you from getting goosebumps due to a drop in temperature and though you do shiver, you find your body much more unscathed than it was.

“Hi,” Eijirou chuckles a little breathlessly.

“Hi,” you giggle back, a little nervous but in the best way. “So um...we do all of that tonight?”

“I guess so,” the redhead says a bit cheekily, raising an eyebrow. And then, with a wink, “Probably more.”

You stare at the ring on his hand in awe. Whoa.

"I fuck—fine, we can keep her, Shitty Hair," Katsuki grumbles from his spot near the kitchen sink, and despite the sour look on his face, you can't find a hint of it in his voice. Figures.

"Told you he'd say yes," Eijirou beams with a thumbs up.

"Can we...go do that stuff now?" You ask, albeit a bit hesitantly because...well, usually people are asking to have sex with you. Is this how they feel?

"Of course we can, Sweetheart," the redhead beams, before taking the ring off to place it onto the counter. "It was all a part of the future, after all."

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #— 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐔 #bnha smut #mha smut #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #tw.blood #tw.guns

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ushidoux · 3 years

Text

What We Inherit - Ushijima x Reader

Summary: Ushijima’s childhood has a greater effect on him than he lets on and you only just start to realize once you meet his parents. (~2.6k words)

Warnings: divorce discussion, angst with a soft ending, character study of a sort?, sfw

A/N: Ushijima needs more background so here’s me trying to grasp at straws for an understanding of his character.

---

Ushijima favors his mother, you realize suddenly.

Not favor in a preference sort of way - while you can tell he’s an attentive son (to the point that you are worried he is too much so, stiffer than usual and mildly anxious), you realize the reason why your gaze lingers a little too much on the details of her face and the way she walks when she rises out of her seat is because she is so much like him. Or rather, he is like her.

For some reason, this sudden recognition is groundbreaking.

After all, it’s odd to compare this small, unassuming woman to your boyfriend who frankly embodies strength, but the links of blood are there, and obviously so. You can see him in the same hazel eyes that seem to pierce through you, the smile that is soft and polite but restricted, and even the way she walks, back straight and shoulders squared in confidence but touched with a feminine grace.

When your eyes blink and reopen, he looks almost exactly like her.

“You took a long time to visit,” she admonishes him once he returns from storing away the fresh fruit he’d brought as gifts to sit beside you in the living room. Her tone is not exactly harsh but it’s not exactly teasing, and she doesn’t look at him while she speaks - she’s too focused on you. Before you can take the time to further dissect her sentence and decide if the tension you’re feeling in the air is imagined or not, she shifts gears.

“Is he good to you?” She asks you suddenly, her eyes that are his not leaving yours as she brings a cup of perfectly tepid tea to her lips.

It’s such a direct statement that you’re startled by it. It gets to the crux of your meeting without need for pleasantries; in fact, she hasn’t asked you anything past your name, and you wonder if it’s because she doesn’t care, if she plans to ask later or if Wakatoshi has told her all she needed to know about you.

You immediately eke out a “Yes, of course,” however, because it’s true. He is good to you. He’s been nothing but good to you for the past couple of years, and even though you’ve only been dating officially for the past year, he’s promised you he will continue to be this way for as long as he lives. It’s almost irresponsible that he says something so definitively, but you trust him with all your heart.

She seems satisfied with this answer because she smiles and sets her teacup on the table with barely a sound. “I’m glad.”

Her smile is like his too, you take note. When you turn to glance at Wakatoshi, he too is smiling down at you, filled to the brim with pride and affection.

---

The Ushijima family home had started off intimidating but had become warm, much like him, as time passed. That ease began with his mother relaxing out of a kneeling position into a seating position and finally asking you about yourself.

It turns out Wakatoshi had spoken to her about you, although some of her details were incorrect, and for with every clarification you ended up making, you could see his ears grow pinker and pinker by the second.

His mother, of course, didn’t notice, her eyes growing wide and nodding intently as you gave her more and more details about your life as though she were hearing things for the first time.

“I told you all these things, Mother,” he finally intercepted when he’d felt that the constant barrage of questions had started to overwhelm you, although it seemed he was the one being overwhelmed by the exchange between you two.

You gave him a glance in surprise, as did she, and then she nodded, folding her hands together, the stiffness and extreme formality returning slightly to her demeanor. It made you a little upset, the way she seemed to retreat back into her shell, and you pouted ever so slightly at him.

Picking up on your pout, his mother finally teased, “Wakatoshi-kun’s always been serious like that, ever since he was a child.”

It was a bit ironic to see this very poised woman also call her son ‘serious’, but you smiled weakly in response, reaching over to hold his hand.

There you noticed again that he was stiff even if his face was unreadable as always. For a split second, you wondered if there was a flash of resentment you saw in his features, but you decided that that too, you had imagined.

“I suppose I can show you some childhood photos. That’s what’s normally done at meetings like this, is that not so?”

Without waiting for an answer, she rose and whisked out of the room, leaving you and Toshi to each other.

Once she was out of earshot, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“She’s very nice, Toshi, you should have brought me sooner,” you whispered with a soft playful pat on his shoulder. He didn’t offer much but a soft hmph in response, so instead you scanned the room, taking in the sparse decorations in the living room.

Most of the decor was traditional and minimalistic and separating from Wakatoshi, you gravitated towards a display case in the corner. As expected, trophies and ribbons from his matches were proudly shown here along with other trinkets and knick-knacks.

What surprised you was a picture slightly tucked away in the corner of Wakatoshi, much smaller, smiling and clearly as carefree as any well-affirmed child would be, resting comfortably on the shoulders of a then-young man with a matching grin. Next to them was his mother, also younger, her hair loose and flowing, unlike the semi-neat bun she wore today, and just as genuinely happy as they were. Her arms wrapped affectionately around the man you presumed to be Ushijima’s father, and her eyes were almost closed, squinting cheerfully in the bright sun.

They looked so happy, you remarked. Even if it was in the past, it was a nice memory to be brought to the forefront, not something to be stashed away.

Unconsciously you reached for it for a closer look, not realizing your boyfriend was behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“I found the album,” His mother announced, peeling your attention away from the snapshot in time. You still had the picture in your hands when you quickly went back to sit, and jokingly, you pointed out:

“I think I found a good one already!”

His mother took one glance and for a split second, you could see her placid demeanor break, but then she let out a soft chuckle without further comment, instead opening the heavy photo album to gush about her perfect son.

---

The short-lived shaken expression on once-Mrs. Ushijima’s face haunted you longer than you expected, and you found that you were still thinking about it long after you had left the home and were back home with your lover.

“Toshi,” you finally ventured to ask, now under the cover of night as you lay in bed together just moments before sleeping. He moved ever so slightly, his heavy arm shifting from draped over your shoulder to over your midsection to make it easier for you to turn to face him, which you did promptly in the dark. “Did your mother ever consider getting remarried?”

“I don’t think so.”

You paused, carefully choosing your next words. You wanted to ask him if what you’re sensing, he’s sensed, this very small bit of remorse that you picked up. Maybe it was too much to assume, so instead you end up saying nothing.

He picked up on your need to say more and interlaced his fingers with yours, pulling your arm up so that he could press the back of your hand to his lips.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not upset about them, not at all. Besides, step-siblings might have made things complicated.”

What you wanted to ask was, does your mother regret it?

---

A year and a half later, in sunny California, you’re seated side-by-side with your Toshi and before you is a smiling man who looks every bit as cheerful as the man who carried his son on his shoulders in that single image burned in your memory.

Again, you realize Ushijima favors his father.

Admittedly, not as much as his mother, but you still see him in the broadness of his hands, the animated and focused way in which he talks about work, in the way he listens intently to your every word, although his eyes aren’t as sharp as Ushijima and his mother’s - they’re soft, round and brown and they’re surrounded by the beginnings of crow’s feet.

Ushijima is noticeably more relaxed around his father, you note, but the same bit of tension fills the warm air when Mr. Utsui asks you when the wedding is.

“We haven’t decided yet,” he cuts in, speaking for you now even though you had reached a steady pattern of conversation with his father. You’re a little bit annoyed at the curt way he interjects, but especially at the fact that he does this, when you’ve been not so subtly talking about marriage for a couple months now.

In fact, it’s when you shift from talking about your future together in grand terms (let’s buy a house, let’s have three kids, maybe a dog) and instead specifically bringing up when to be wed that you realize he cares more about his parents’ failed marriage then he lets on.

A ring didn’t stop them from separating, he insists. To you, it sounds initially like I don’t know if I want to marry you, but you know in the depth of your heart that he would choose you over himself any day.

But the concept of marriage itself bothers him and while you sympathize with him, it’s hard for you to let go of the idea of a ring, a pretty white dress, and taking his name.

It’s with that same premise that he’s visibly irritated by his father’s abrupt joke, and you and Mr. Utsui are both taken aback when you see the visibly irritated expression on his face, but his dad laughs loudly to defuse the situation.

“Jumping the gun there, aren’t I?” he says, reaching across the table to affectionately pat his son’s shoulder. “You just look so comfortable together! In fact, it reminds me of your mother and I back in the day.”

The statement meant to palliate him makes the situation all the more precarious.

Really, it’s careless the way his father says it so easily, and you can see the comment has hit something deep inside your Toshi by the very slight tension you see in his jaw and the way his eyes narrow. It’s as though, in a single sentence, his father has both denied his childhood pains and plainly uttered a curse onto your relationship, and Wakatoshi won’t allow it.

“Please refrain from comparing us to the two of you in any way from now on.”

His words are controlled, precise and seething, and you wince reflexively. The sugary sweet, half-eaten stack of pancakes in front of you no longer seems appetizing, but you pick off a blueberry with your fork and eat it to give you something to do while your heart pounds.

What will his father say in his defense?

“You’re right,” Takashi says - he wants you to call him by his first name because you are important to his son - with an understanding nod, his eyes still kind despite the fact that his son’s look is almost menacing, even if he doesn’t intend to be.

“You’re not at all like us.”

---

In the quiet aftermath of the tense brunch date, you finally decided to give up on the idea of a wedding.

You could argue that there was always therapy, but you weren’t sure to what extent the old wounds inflicted so early and so neatly tucked away could be healed with talk and introspection. No longer were they simply wounds but reminders of the following:

Marriages fail. Love doesn’t always last.

You inched a little closer to him as you walked together on the beach through the night, unsure if your increased need for closeness was related to the chill of the small breeze picking up from the waves or because you were starting to wonder if Ushijima’s father was wrong.

What if you were the same? What if you did end up like them? Thousands of miles apart, with uncomfortable painful memories of each other and a son who repressed his resentment… There was no way to know, was there?

You stopped suddenly, your heels digging into the sand as you broke the pregnant silence between you two.

“Toshi,” you murmured softly. Still holding your hand, he turned to face you, his eyebrows just slightly raised as he watched you in the moonlight.

“I won’t talk about marriage anymore. I get it now,” you finally decided, your voice wavering ever so slightly unlike your steadfast resolve.

He looked into your eyes, again trying to parse out what you were feeling from the slight knit in your eyebrows and the very slight tremor in your hands.

“It’s cold,” he replied simply, taking off his hoodie and putting it around you. “Here.”

You frowned as you pushed your arms through the sleeves, your hands curling into tight fists. If you were going to bend like this, he should at least acknowledge you!

“It’s still important to me, and I think we would be different, but I understand your feelings,” you insisted, staying in place.

He had to give you something, anything. It wasn’t selfish to ask for a little bit of credit, was it?

You saw him flash a small smile, then lean over to give you a kiss on the cheek. Before pulling back, he let out a small laugh, the first since hours earlier.

“You don’t want to get married anymore, sweetheart?” He teased, his arms rubbing up and down your shoulders, and your frown grew deeper. This was an odd time for one of his jokes.

“I’m being serious!” Your voice came out whinier than expected, to the point that you were almost embarrassed, but it only made his smile grow wider.

His hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, making sure that all you could see was him, speaking sincerely to you under the night sky.

“That’s too bad because I bought a ring.”

Your heart stopped.

But then it restarted, and instead of shivers, a new warmth seemed to run throughout your entire body with every new beat in your chest.

“W-what?”

“I want to marry you.”

I want to marry you. The words seemed to bounce around your now empty head, making a ruckus you couldn’t exactly think through.

“But you said…?”

“I don’t need a ring to prove that I’ll love you forever, but if it’s important to you, I’ll work hard and buy you a ring for every single year we are together.”

He must have picked up the habit of saying careless and deliberate statements from his father because you were now choked up with tears that you couldn’t wipe away because your hands were too busy resting on his that held your emotional visage.

“T-Toshi…”

“We’ll be different from my parents, ____, I swear.”

You felt as though your heart would burst, so all you could do was nod. It didn’t help that his eyes seemed to shine far too much tonight as well. Was it just a trick of the moon or was he trying to convince himself too that he wouldn’t do you wrong?

“It’s true that I don’t have the ring on me, but I want to formally ask you today before I dare put a ring on your finger,

Will you marry me?”

Again you nodded, tears finally rolling down your cheeks in relief, because the answer had always been yes.

And you knew for sure, that the two of you would fight like hell to be happily married after.

#ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagine #haikyuu imagine #sfw #fic: what we inherit #mae.writing

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im-in-love-with-pizza-bites · 3 years

Text

Feeling faint

Tom Holland x Sister!Reader, Holland Family X Sister!Reader, Harrison Osterfeild X Platonic!reader

Summary: Your brothers comfort you after you faint at Tom's wedding.

Warnings: mentions blood, a concussion, fainting, fluff.

Reader's age: 15

Request: Anon

A/n: Thank you for the request! Also so sorry bought the name though 🤣 also like I just made the bride an OC so ya.

It was all going good, you were stood behind your brothers in a row, Harrison was the best man, your brothers were groomsmen and you had the honor of being a grooms woman. You were just behind Paddy, as you watched your soon-to-be sister-in-law come down the aisle. Once her dad was by his seat the officiant started.

"Thank you, please be seated. Today we gather to lift Tom Holland and Amelia Williams up in celebration of ever-lasting love. In the presence of their beloved family and friends, Tom Holland and Amelia Williams will pronounce their love through this ceremony and begin a lifelong journey together."

"On this day, we offer gratitude for the blessings that have been bestowed upon Amelia and Tom. In this fast-spinning, always-changing world they have at last found peace and comfort in one another." He continued, you started swaying slightly feeling faint. You subtly leaned forward putting a hand on Paddy's shoulder in an attempt to hold yourself up as you watched the ceremony.

The ceremony was just about over and you were still feeling faint, you were still leaning on your older brother as the officiant finished: "By the power vested in me by the Universal Life Church Ministries, before your families and your friends, I now pronounce you lawfully and spiritually united Please seal your marriage with your first wedded kiss." Once they pulled away from the kiss and were about to walk down the aisle a loud thud was heard along with Paddy exclaiming help. Everyone turn to looked seeing you laying there unconscious, Paddy was already down by your side. Harry and Sam moved quickly to come to your sides followed by Harrison, Tom, Amelia and your parents. Most of the crowd was standing but no one came much closer.

"She's breathing." Sam announced. After a few seconds, you were opening your eyes.

"W-what happened? Why does my head hurt so much?" You asked your family.

"You fainted your okay." Dom said. "Give her a bit of space.

"Oh... Sorry." You mumbled putting your hand up to your head where it hurt.

"It's okay." Your sister in law said softly. You moved you hand back to looked at it wide eyed.

"I don't think that's good." You said out of it.

"Yeah, that isn't." Your mom gently moved your hair out of the way to look at what happened. "We need towels over here." She said to which Harry hurried off to grab some.

"I don't feel so good." You mumbled eyes closing.

"Woah no Tom don't let her close her eyes." Dom said.

"Hey look at me." Tom said, your eyes opened slightly seeing Tom and Haz standing there.

"Oh hi. Did I ruin the wedding?" You said your words slurred a bit.

"Paddy go get her water please." Harrison asked.

"No you didn't ruin the wedding bun." Tom assured. "Just keep your eyes on us."

"Okay." You smiled, "did I ruin my dress? I wiked it." You slurred. Sam chuckled from behind you where he was standing with your mom and dad, while they looked at your head. "It wasn't a joke!"

"Your dress is fine. Sam don't be such div." Harry said handing your mom the cloth.

"Yeah don't be such div." You looked at your brother and stuck your tongue out. Paddy finally came back with the water bottle and passed it to Tom.

"Y/n drink this. Mum is she okay?"

"I'm gonna take her to the hospital I'll keep you posted don't worry." Nikki said. "Dom help me get her up."

You took a sip from your water and looked at your sister-in-law. "I'm sorry." You said once again.

"It's okay." Tom and Amelia answered.

"If you say so I guess." You mumbled eyes closing.

"Y/n look at me." Harrison said catching it immediately.

"What I'm tired." You said glaring at the man.

"You got to stay awake." Sam said as he and Harry got you to your feet, Nikki still holding the cloth to your head.

———

You were back from the hospital just into time for the reception. Tom was the first to greet you of course as he was quite worried, Sam and Paddy were close behind along with Harrison. Harry and Dom went along with you and Nikki. Harry was there to hold the towel and make sure you stayed awake. You were stitched up and had a bandage on your head but otherwise, you were fine. The doctors chalked your faint up to you not eating or drink enough that day. Once you got liquids and a snack you started to get back to yourself but you were feeling super embarrassed and bad about fainting and taking the attention off of the newly weds.

"How are you feeling?" Amelia asked when you came into the venue the reception was being held in.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry about early." You said giving an apologetic smile.

"It's fine stop apologizing." Tom interjected. "You couldn't avoid it."

"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled though you were still embarrassed.

"It really wasn't that big of a deal. Your fine." Amelia assured you once again. You shrugged, before turning around noticing your other two brothers and Harrison standing there.

"Are you okay?" Paddy asked.

"I'm fine.." You mumbled. You didn't like the attention, now normally you'd love it since you are usually over shadowed by your brothers but today was supposed to be about Tom and his wife then you faint. It was the one day that you didn't want any attention on you.

"That's good." Sam smiled. You shrugged rolling your eyes.

"She's fine look still as sassy as usual." Harrison teased. He was like a fifth brother to you so you two acted like siblings.

"Shudup." You grumbled.

"Okay what's wrong?" Tom asked you as his wife walked off to do something.

"Nothing... Just fainting in public is embarrassing.. And fainting at a wedding more so." You mumbled. "And I still feel bad about taking the attention off of you and Amelia." You added.

"Oh y/n. No one's mad at you for fainting at our wedding." Tom assured you once again.

"Everyone is just glad your okay." Sam added on smiling at you.

"I guess..."

"Are we not going to talk about the fact she was talking like she's fainted in public before?" Harry inquired.

"No we are not." You said simply.

"Okay. But really it was funny." Paddy said, "and explained why you were leaning on me the whole ceremony."

"It was kinda funny." Harrison said chuckling.

"Oh woah you found my pain funny." You said jokingly.

"There your back to yourself! Yes now we have a reception to get to come on." Tom said giving you a quick hug before leaving to find his wife.

"So when have you fainted before?"

A/n: How was it? I'm not good at comforting people so writing it is semi-hard for me. Also, I think I wrote the wedding well... Idk I haven't been to one since I was 3. And I don't remember anything about that except walking up to a guy who I honestly know if he was the groom or the groom's brother. (The groom is an identical twin)

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x sister!reader #tom holland's spiderman #spiderman #peter parker #harry holland #holland family #sam holland #paddy holland #harrison osterfeild fluff #harrison osterfield #teen!reader #x teen!reader #x sister!reader #sister!reader #send in anons #anon fic request

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bees--in-my--bones · 3 years

Text

Sunset

Character: Natasha x gn!Reader (please note I did write this with a female reader in mind, so I'm sorry if there are unintentional biases but there were no pronouns or indications of gender at all)

Note: soulmate AU where you can only see color when you look at your soulmate for the first time. i hate to admit it, but i did get this idea from tiktok.

Warnings: canon typical violence, angst, major character death, no happy ending

Word Count: 1,859

A/N: This is my first fic ever! I'm actually really proud of how it turned out and I hope you like it and stick around for more! :)

You had never seen your partner.

It was just protocol. The nature of the missions you two worked, it was safer if you couldn't identify each other.

You had been near her, of course, and heard her voice whispering to you in the train station or over the phone. But you had never once laid eyes on her.

You were an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and one of Natasha Romanoff's most important and most trusted contacts.

Over the years of working together, you two had become the closest of friends. Fury had no idea that you two were that close, but what Fury didn't know couldn’t hurt him. If it was any pair of spies operating at your level, a close personal relationship would be a problem, but you two were the best in your field, and more than capable of handling it.

It had taken a while for the two of you to talk, really talk, the extent of your interactions being whispered conversations back to back on a set of park benches, or a flash drive set subtly on a table next to an untouched coffee, but one day, probably the best day of your life, you had asked the question and she had answered.

Every phone call with her, you would ask the same question before hanging up.

"How are you doing, Nat?"

And every time, without fail, you would receive the same, gruff, "Fine."

She clearly wasn't one to talk about the touchy-feely stuff. Which was fine by you, you didn't open up often either, most spies you met didn't, but you still gave her that chance, every time.

Until one day, much to your surprise, she responded, "Not great."

It wasn't much, but it was something different. It was an invitation to keep talking. Containing your excitement at the change in conversation, you kept your voice steady. "What's the matter?"

She sighed, the sound crackling faintly over her phone's mic. "I'm back in a place I haven't been in for a long time."

You had no way of knowing exactly where she was- S.H.I.E.L.D took plenty of precautions to be sure of that- but you could make an educated guess. The information you had passed along to her a few days ago had been about a weapons smuggler currently in Russia.

"You know what?" she said, "I don't really want to talk about it. I'll check in with you when the mission's over."

"Natasha, wait!"

Silence from the other line, but she was still on the call.

"Let's just talk. About something else. I think we could both use some casual conversation."

She let out a small chuckle. "Sure, why not? This is a burner phone and I've got time to kill."

It was a bit awkward at first, but you soon fell into a natural conversation. That night you talked about many things. Small things, like favorite foods, and big things, like plans for the future if you ever left S.H.I.E.L.D.

That's when you learned that she couldn't see color.

You weren’t surprised. You couldn’t see color either. It wasn't uncommon for S.H.I.E.L.D to hire people who hadn't met their soulmate. It was a lonely job, and soulmates were a liability.

It was a small moment in your conversation and you continued talking about all sorts of other things late into the night.

Unfortunately, though, all good things must come to an end.

"I'll have to talk to you later, Nat. I've got a big job tomorrow I need to get ready for."

"Goodnight Y/N, and thank you."

"Let's make a habit out of this, okay?"

"Gotcha, Agent."

You smiled and hung up the phone.

From then on, you always lingered on calls. Never quite as long as that first call, but the two of you were quickly becoming each other's closest confidantes.

Soon you began talking in real life, too. You never turned to face each other, never broke that boundary, but you relished the feeling of her shoulder brushing yours as you watched the pigeons in a park.

You called each other before and after every job to check in on each other. You had drop spots outside of Fury's radar where you left each other small gifts. Your life was lonely and cold, but she gave your days warmth and light.

-----

Around a year and a half after your initial conversation, you met in a smokey French cafe, sitting in nearby booths.

“Nat.”

“Agent.”

“Whaddya got for me?”

“No intel on the current mission, but I’ve got news from HQ. Fury’s pulling us from the field.”

You felt your blood run cold. Spywork was dangerous, but it was what you knew. You were good at it. If you were fired, you would be thrown into suburbia with a fake name and fake past- maybe even fake memories, if Fury deemed you untrustworthy- and you would live the rest of your days out in the rat race.

And worst of all, you would live out the rest of your days without Natasha.

“What did we do?” you asked her, putting a massive amount of concentration into keeping your voice from betraying your panic.

“We did good,” she said, a smile in her voice. “We’ve been selected for an elite team to protect the entire world. You and I, Barton, and if we can convince them, Tony Stark, Steve Rodgers, and Bruce Banner.”

“That gamma radiation guy? Do we even know where he disappeared to?”

“We never lost tabs on him.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “You scared me, Nat. I thought Fury had benched us.”

She laughed. “No, we’re still in the game for now. And when Fury gives the word, we’ll head back to New York and hang out like normal people for a change.”

“That would be nice,” you said, your voice quiet.

You heard her move around a bit, then swear. “I have to run," she said. "If I don’t make this drop Fury'll kill me.”

“I’ll talk to you later Nat,” you said. “Hopefully face to face.”

You waited for a response, but heard only silence. You turned and her booth was empty, like she had never been there.

------

"Hey there, Agent," came her warm voice over the receiver. You couldn't help but smile, remembering how cold her voice had been when you had first been partnered together.

"Hey there, Black Widow," you said, using the alias that some younger agents had been whispering behind her back.

“Very funny,” she laughed, “but I’m no Tony Stark. I don’t need a fancy code name.”

“You never know,” you said, your voice still light and teasing. “We should probably both come up with some cool code names for that team Fury was talking about. I think Black Widow suits you.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult?”

“No, it means you’re badass. How did your drop go?”

“Good,” she said. “Pretty standard, didn’t run into any problems. How are things on your end?”

“Not bad. I’ve got one thing to finish up this evening, and then I should be good to go. I’ll meet you at the airport at around 5:45 tonight?”

“I’ll be waiting for you, Agent.”

“I’ll be there, Black Widow.”

-----

You snuck around the corner of the warehouse. It was supposed to be one guy. Take him out, take down the whole operation, but apparently, the whole operation was being run out of here. You glanced at your watch. 5:42. Shit. You were gonna miss your flight. A guard passed by, and you froze in place.

You thought he hadn't seen you, but suddenly the sound of his footsteps stopped, then became louder as he ran back towards you, brandishing a weapon. Ducking under him, you grabbed the gun and twisted it away from you, and knocked him over the head with your own pistol.

Suddenly, a loud sound blared over the intercom. Shit. He had sounded the alarm.

You grabbed his gun and made a break for it.

-----

Natasha glanced anxiously at her watch. 5:50.

She glanced around nervously. You hadn’t answered a single one of her calls. She picked up her phone and dialed Nick Fury’s number.

“Fury? Yeah, I know I’m supposed to be getting on a plane, but Y/N isn’t here. Yes, I tried calling. No, Y/N told me 5:45. A good agent is not late, and Y/N is the best agent I know. Where was the mission at? I’m going in. Fury! Tell me now or so help me God... Thank you, that wasn’t too hard, was it?”

She snapped her phone shut. You weren’t too far from where she was.

------

Natasha pulled up to a worn down warehouse with boarded on one side with a forest. Truck after truck pulled away from the building, and she grimaced as she realized what had happened. This was not a simple job like you had thought. Whatever operation you had infiltrated was now fleeing after being busted, and they were likely on shoot to kill orders.

Suddenly she saw you figure limping towards the woods, and before she even knew she had moved, she was racing towards you.

-----

Pain tore through you.

Your abdomen was on fire. You had been shot before, but this hurt. You struggled to get to the cover of the woods. Suddenly a firm hand was on you back, arms were cradling you, and lowering you down to the ground.

“Shh, don’t move,” came Natasha’s voice. “They aren’t worried about finding us, they’re too busy running.”

You looked into her face, making eye contact with your long-time partner for the first time ever, and the world exploded in color.

The grass and trees became vibrant with life, and you turned to look at the new world around you. When you turned back to look at Natasha, her eyes were filled with wonder.

“You hair…” you said weakly, your voice trailing off.

“They tell me it’s red,” she said, her voice wavering.

“Red,” you said, relishing the word on your lips, the feeling of knowing what it meant. “Red is my favorite.”

She smiled, but tears trailed down her face. “Shh, don’t talk. Save your energy, we’ll get you somewhere where they can fix you.”

Ignoring her, you shook your head. "I'm not gonna make it."

You reached up your hand to touch her face. She grabbed your hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I’m glad it was you Nat. I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N”

She pressed a gentle kiss against your lips and cradled you against her chest.

“Look at the sky, Nat,” you said. “It’s beautiful.”

The sun was setting, and the myriad of brilliant colors spread over the horizon.

"As far as ways to go out," you said, "it could have been worse."

Nat said nothing, only held you tighter

The two of you sat like that until Natasha saw the sunset fade to black and white and the tears blurred her vision.

---------------

Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you liked it! @love8loki here's one of the reader death stories I was talking about. thanks for your advice lol

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #marvel imagine #x reader #soulmate au #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x you #gender neutral reader #major character death

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jimlingss · 3 years

Text

Black Waltz [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 13.2k

➜ Genres: 70% Fluff, 30% Angst, Butler!AU

➜ Summary: When your parents pass away in an accident, a family secret is revealed. The only person you can trust and rely on is your personal butler, Kim Taehyung.

The caskets are small. You’re not sure why but you always imagined that they’d be bigger. The undertaker already reassured you thrice that the bodies of your parents fit perfectly. Perhaps they were always that small. “Poor girl.” Someone murmurs in the corner, not realizing that you can hear above the discordant sobs. “She’s already such a weak child. How will she handle this?” “How do you suppose?” a man replies in a sharp mutter. “She’s just become one of the richest people in Trulia overnight. Look at this entire estate. All thanks to her father’s watch business.” “Will you have more delicacy?” she bites back in a whisper. “A man and woman just died.” You don’t bother looking at them. You don't cry either. Not a single tear sheds down your cheeks as you look through your netted veil to the closed coffins belonging to your parents. Even the gardener is sobbing into his hat, but you don’t. Your expression remains stoic. A man approaches, dark hair and darker suit. He bows his head towards the caskets and then turns to you standing by. You recognize him the few times you saw him in passing. He’s your father’s worker, Yoongi. “My condolences, Miss Y/N.” “Thank you.” “Your father was a great man. It was a privilege to work under his guidance. I’m sorry this happened.” You nod and he takes that you don’t want to extend the conversation and leaves you be. It was an unfortunate accident. More specifically, a railroad accident. It claimed the lives of many and that also included your parents coming home from a trip to Germany. “Eugene!” Suddenly, Uncle Seokjin throws himself over the casket. A few distraught folks try to pull him back, but he continues to howl, “How could you leave your only brother like this!” Aunt Marie cries louder into her handkerchief. It’s noisy. In the midst of the ruckus, the corner of your eye catches an older man with brunette hair. The wrinkles crease around his eyes with his sorrowful expression and he takes off his top hat as he approaches. You watch as he places a rose in front of your mother’s casket and then he turns to leave without addressing you. “Oh, Y/N!” Your attention is ripped away by your hysterically sobbing uncle grabbing your hands. “Poor Y/N!” Someone takes him away before you get the chance to shove him off. // Everyone gathers in the dining room not even a full day after the funeral. The wallpaper is dark, black trim that matches the hardwood. The long table is mahogany and there’s an unnecessary golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You’ve always hated this room and its decorations, especially the heavy curtains that block out the sunlight. “Y/N!” Your uncle draws out your name and smiles widely as he comes before you with open arms. He gives you a quick squeeze much to your dismay and then lets go. The middle-aged man searches your expression. “My favourite niece.” “I’m your only niece.” “Which makes you even more special to me.” His words are sweet. He shakes his head. “What did you ever do to deserve this?” You wonder the same thing. Aunt Marie clears her throat and Uncle Seokjin flounders. “Right, right, we should take our seats.” Your eyes lift to your cousin who smiles at you, dressed in a navy frock coat with an ascot tie. “It’s been a while, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d notice but I was greeting guests at the funer—” “I noticed.” You cut Hoseok off mid-sentence with his mouth still open. Aunt Marie chastised him under her breath to sit down and at the same time, the family lawyer enters with his briefcase. He’s been working with your family before you were even born. You could feel his sincerity when he spoke at the memorial. “Good evening everyone. Y/N.” Mr. Kim — Namjoon as your parents familiarly called him — nods at you in sympathetic acknowledgment and takes his place at the head of the table where your father once sat. He reaches for his briefcase and opens it up for a sealed envelope inside. “I never thought there would be a day like this. Most unfortunate indeed.” “A heartbreaking tragedy,” Aunt Marie agrees. “But no time like the present for us to fulfill their last wishes.” Mr. Kim slips out the crisp papers and then his eyes flicker up at you. You subtly motion to him that you’re ready for it to be read and he clears his throat. Your relatives are sitting on the edge of the seats, hands clasped on the table in anticipation. “I, Arden Eugene, resident in the City of Lennox, Country of Trulia, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me. I appoint my wife, Arden Hana, to inherit all my assets.” The lawyer continues, “In the event where my wife is unable to inherit...all my assets, including the investments, savings and the estate, liquid and otherwise, I leave my daughter, Arden Y/N, in their entirety.” Your aunt’s jaw ticks, your uncle has a face of disgust and your cousin’s jaw has dropped. You’re not sure why they’re so offended. It’s not a surprise. This is what you expected. That is until Mr. Kim adds the word— “temporarily.” Your head turns. The lawyer’s mouth continues to move. “Until the date and time when her half-sibling will be found.” You’re not sure what happens first. The gasps echoing in your ears, Aunt Marie nearly falling off her seat in laughter, your uncle standing up from his spot, or your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as blood drains from your face. You feel ill, like you might throw up right on the table. A half-sibling. Another child. There was another child all along. “—to which ownership of all asserts will thereby be shifted onto them.” “What is the meaning of this?!” Uncle Seokjin protests. “What child?!” “I’m sorry, Mr. Arden. I only know as much as you do.” Mr. Kim’s eyes place on you before he resumes reading. “I give my daughter, Arden Y/N, a pocket watch.” The amused snicker of your aunt is all too clear. A small box is placed in front of you. It’s the size of your hand, a deep wine red. For a moment, you want to huck it on the floor, but with your breath held in your throat, you nudge the lid open. It’s a perfectly round contraption, the cover golden and perfectly polished, reflecting against the candlelight. You flip it open to find handles ticking away as seconds and minutes pass. “To my brother, Seokjin, my sister, Marie, and her son, Hoseok, I wish them the very best in the rest of their lives.” Aunt Marie scoffs. Uncle Seokjin collapses back onto his seat. The will is finished being read and the paper is folded. The room is full of a tense silence as you stare at the watch. Mr. Kim clears his throat again. “As you are aware of the laws, Y/N, all assets are entitled to you temporarily. But as you have no husband to collect the inheritance, it makes things a bit more complicated. You may still live at this estate and continue the company, but you cannot alter it in any way. That includes liquidating, removing, expanding, or withdrawing. You do not have the jurisdiction to alter the company or any of the investments either.” Everything is essentially frozen. They left you with nothing. “Yes.” The corner of Aunt Marie’s lip curls and she sits back. “Even if you are twenty one, you need a husband to own land and wealth. Trulia’s quite old-fashioned, isn’t it?” Trulia — a small country that bridges France and England together, cutting the English channel into half. You’ve lived here all your life, born and raised, and never hated it more. “Y/N.” Hoseok breaks your train of thought and you look him in the eyes. Your expression remains impassive. “Did you know you had a sibling?” You hate it all. // The bedroom is shrouded in darkness as you sit back in the armchair. You’re loosely holding the cold, golden chain of the pocket watch, studying it as it swings back and forth. It’s like a clam, but without any engravings, designs or even ridges on the surface. It’s heavy, perfectly new and polished, the time precise. When both handles of the pocket watch come to twelve, the grandfather clock from downstairs chimes throughout the mansion. Your other hand crumples into a fist and with a strangled cry in your throat, you hurl the pocket watch across the room with all your might. It clatters to the ground, ear-splitting. A figure emerges from the shadows, leans down and picks it up with his white gloves. “Madam, are you not well?” “Don’t call me madam,” you snap at him. Taehyung comes closer, his dark hair slicked back, dressed in the usual black tailcoat and trousers. His smile is tender. “You are the head of the household now.” Arm propped up on the armrest, you press your hand to your forehead. “It makes me feel old.” “Then I won’t, my lady. I apologize.” He places the pocket watch on the vanity table and comes to your side. You look up at him, wondering if you look as bitter as you feel. “Even when they’re dead, they have to have the last laugh, Taehyung. They spared me nothing.” Your eyes sting painfully, the lump at the bottom of your throat aching. Anger has coloured your vision red. You’re so full of hate, but you wonder why most of all, it hurts. “I can’t believe my parents didn’t love me even after their death.” Taehyung kneels and takes your hands that are crumpled hard enough that your nails sink into your skin. He earnestly gazes at you. “You have me. I’ll be with you until the end.” He promises it rather recklessly. But he’s more than just your butler. More than just a worker in this house. He’s been a friend since childhood. The only one you can fully trust. Taehyung’s expression softens even more and he reaches out. He hugs you, propping your chin on his shoulder, placing his arms around your back. “You can cry.” You scoff. “You’re stepping over the line.” “Then discipline me.” You bite the inside of your cheek, vision becomes foggy as tears hang onto your lash line. “Why should I cry for those people? If...if anything, I should cry for my own circumstances.” Taehyung smiles. “Cry then.” For the first time, you let go. You sob into his shoulder, grasp his coat with tight fingers, allowing yourself to be at grief’s mercy. Wails choke out of your chest and the thick lump finally escapes your throat, leaving it raw and aching in a different way. The tears stain a path down from your welling eyes to your cheeks and then Taehyung’s shoulder like a chilling rainstorm. It feels like minutes tick away until you’ve cried yourself to exhaustion. By then, you’re so weak and you can barely open your swollen eyes. But Taehyung guides you to bed and pulls the covers. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm. “Get some sleep.” You nod and he extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp. Sleep comes easier than you expect. // When dawn arrives, the light of the sun comes through the white curtains to cast against your eyes. You stir uncomfortably before your lids flutter open. The world is bleary in your fogged vision and your body is heavy. You don’t want to get up, but you have to. “Good morning, mistress.” Taehyung enters, dressed in his black trousers and tailcoat with a white waistcoat underneath. His hair is pushed back in a windswept look. He sets down the golden tray balancing a water bowl and cloth. “Glad to see you’re already awake.” “Couldn’t sleep more if I wanted to.” You round the bed and collect the water to wash your face before pressing the cloth to your skin. Taehyung steps towards your wardrobe. “Would you like me to replace the curtains?” “It’s fine. I don’t want to wear anything too restricting today.” He hums. “Then will an aesthetic dress do? Green?” “Is there a dark blue?” Taehyung swiftly takes out a simple gown, cut loosely with a few frills at the neckline and a red, ribbon sash around the waist. The shade is a midnight blue and perfectly to your tastes as if he read your mind. It’s without any restrictive corset too. Heaven knows today is going to be suffocating enough, you don’t need to make it more difficult for yourself. You stand in front of the three panel mirror folded into a nook and lift your arms up. Without batting a single lash or looking twice, Taehyung undresses you from the silk sleepwear and helps you into the camisole before draping the dress over your figure. You sit at the vanity and he gently brushes out your hair. “Taehyung.” “Yes, my lady?” You look at him through the mirror. “Do you think I can do this?” His eyes flicker up and he smiles. “Of course you can.” “What if they don’t find me intimidating enough?” “Then I’ll stand beside you and help you with that.” What he says has you bursting out in laughter. You spin around in your seat, and Taehyung’s completely unsuspecting when you squeeze his cheeks together. His rounded eyes blink and his lips mimic a fish’s. It makes you grin. “You’re more of a puppy than a guard dog.” But well, you suppose it’s not important what the truth is. The illusion is what matters most. He pins half of your hair up and you barely powder your face before you’re leaving for the family meeting. On the way, you brace yourself, only temporarily interrupted by the gardener, Park Jimin, a man who’s been working on the estate for the past three years. He takes care of the garden well, better than your mother ever could. Her roses always withered. He, on the other hand, has quite the green thumb. “Good morning, madam.” Jimin greets you merrily. “Good morning, Jimin.” You slow in the entrance hall and Taehyung behind you does as well. “I hope you and the others are doing well. Thank you for still being here.” The young male blushes. “We’re just doing our jobs, ma’am. You already gave us a whole week’s break which we’re more than thankful for. We just had to come back for the funeral to honour Mr. and Mrs. Arden. So there’s no need to worry about us.” “I’m glad then.” Your smile eases. “Please continue, don’t let me stop you.” He nods and goes on his way. The moment Jimin’s gone, your expression hardens as you enter the main lounge area. There your uncle, aunt, and cousin are seated around and you recognize your father’s worker, Yoongi as well. You’re not sure since when this house became a guest home where anyone can enter and loiter in as they please. You’ll have to have a word with Taehyung later. “Y/N! My dear niece!” Uncle Seokjin’s loud and he stands from the armchair with an enormous smile that looks like it’s about to break his face. At that, everyone’s head swivels around. Yoongi slowly rises from his seat as well. But your uncle continues, “I hope you had a good sleep. I could barely get a wink thinking about your father and our happy days. Speaking of which, I was thinking about how empty this house will be with your parents gone. Isn’t it time for you to get married? You’ve been of age for a while. I happen to know this very kind young man from England. His name is Mark. I’d be happy to introduce—” “Uncle Seokjin.” You stop him. “I’d rather not have you speak about my private affairs in front of a stranger.” His pupils flicker to Yoongi and his mouth closes with a smile. “Right.” You turn to said man and he nods his head in acknowledgment. “Would you like to have tea in the parlor?” “No, this will only take a moment. I’m sure you’re already busy. My apologies for coming unannounced.” “It’s not a problem. What is this about?” “Your father’s company,” Yoongi says. “There is a client waiting for a shipment and since we closed we’ve been unable to finish the order. Would you like to refuse it?” “No. It’s fine.” You hold in your sigh and press your finger against your forehead for a moment. Then, you come to a decision. “You may continue and run business as usual. You may act as the temporary lead, Min Yoongi.” At the announcement, Hoseok rushes upwards with his jaw gone slack. “I could!” Heads turn towards him. “I-If you need me to! I could take over! T-Temporarily, of course!” Your eyes narrow into your cousin, your expression cold. “There’s no need, Hoseok. I’m sure Mr. Min here will already have his hands full. There'll be no time to properly train you and no way you could take over.” “But—!” You ignore him to address your father’s right hand. You’re not sure if this is the right decision, but Yoongi comes across as sensible and rational. He doesn’t seem to have any malicious intention or ulterior motives either. At least your father trusted him, so you will too. “I’ll take a look at the finances and figure out the details soon enough of where the company will move forward from now on. But for now, I will entrust you to it. Please proceed as you normally would.” Yoongi nods. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.” You shift on your feet and look to your butler whose height towers your own. “Taehyung, can you please see Mr. Min out?” He puts his gloved hand over his heart and bows. “Certainly.” The two men leave the room while your cousin crosses his arms and drops back down into the sofa with a displeased face. Aunt Marie’s eyes are narrowed in on you and she sighs, shaking her head. She comments, “You’re quite close with that butler of yours, Y/N. A bit too close, if you ask me.” Your brow cocks. “You don’t have any authority in this household to make such comments, Aunt Marie.” “I am merely looking out for you, Y/N,” she quips with an underlying sharpness to it. “You never know what rumours can get out and they can get quite nasty. It wouldn’t do you any good to be in a scandal. It’s best if you weren’t so close to the such lowly—” “I choose who I want to affiliate myself with.” Your voice booms throughout the room, unknowing to how Taehyung’s already returned and that he’s standing just outside of the room. “Taehyung is my most trusted confidant. To insult my personal aid is to insult my choices and thereby, me. From now on, I will not take such things lightly.” Aunt Marie shuffles back with a cough and the room’s swept into an uncomfortable silence. Taehyung smiles to himself and notices a timid maid rolling a cart down the hall towards the room. He takes over and dismisses her to which she’s grateful for, knowing the room is tense. But Taehyung is unaffected as he enters with an exaggeratedly cordial expression. He places down a cake stand of pastries on the table, then the teacups. “There, there. Let’s not get so upset in the morning.” Your uncle sits down and you find your place in front of the fireplace and the imposing family portrait above the mantle. In the meanwhile, Taehyung pours the tea with one hand in front of him. It’s earl grey, your favourite. You sip it warmly while your expression remains stoic. Uncle Seokjin clears his throat. “Your cousin, aunt and I have been discussing, Y/N—” “And?” He smiles. “We think it’s best if we...join forces.” The tea is no longer pleasant on your palate, so you set it down on the porcelain saucer. “How so?” “Well….” “We don’t know who this half sibling of yours is, Y/N,” your aunt cuts to the chase. “Who knows who they could be or what they would want with us! It is simply outrageous that an outsider could come and collect everything that your parents have worked so hard for and take everything away. Your father clearly had some misunderstandings when he gave us nothing and you so little. I believe he must not have been well when he wrote that will. There must be some mistake.” Uncle Seokjin nods and Hoseok finds the opportunity to jump in. “I have a friend who’s working in law. There must be ways we can challenge the will or at least find a way to claim back what should be rightfully ours!” ‘Rightfully ours’. You want to laugh. “So you want to sneak the money away?” “You shouldn’t put it that way.” Your uncle laughs heartily. “It’s more like making a wrong a right!” “Yes!” Hoseok enthusiastically nods. “We can’t just let someone else steal it, Y/N! What if tomorrow someone comes knocking on the door claiming to be your brother or sister, and they want to take everything away?” Aunt Marie offers a smile. “It’s best if we work together on this matter.” Taehyung steps behind you, shadowing your form as your relatives look at you expectedly. They have a point, but you’re not at all tempted by their most generous offer. “No.” “Pardon?” “I said no.” Your arms cross and you sit back. “Everything is already in my name, the estate, the investments, the company, albeit temporarily, but I’ll figure out what is to come on my own.” Hoseok’s mouth draws open. Your uncle is unable to muster a rebuttal. You scoff, rolling your eyes as if their very proposition is ridiculous. It’s too easy to play the villain — and it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself. “And why should I have to accept your help and have to split up my parents’ wealth when I can take it all for myself.” “Why you!” Aunt Marie stands up, face reddened. “Ingrate!” Her hand raises, arm extending back. But before she can slap you like she wants and knock your head to the side, Taehyung snatches her wrist. He’s faster than anyone can blink and he clutches her back, glare boring into her skin. Her teeth grit and she rips back her hand to her chest. You rise to your feet, eyes placed at the god awful antique cabinet on the other side of the room. “If that’s all everyone wants to say, then you can leave now. Thank you for coming to the funeral but from now on, none of you have permission to enter this estate until I announce otherwise.” Your aunt scoffs and with her remaining pride, she stomps out. Hoseok’s brows are knitted together at a loss while your uncle is already trying to reason with you. But you leave through the doorway and allow Taehyung to take care of the rest. // The streets are full in the afternoon bustle — hooves clacking as horses pull the street car, ladies with parasols giggling as they cross, shouting coming from the tenement windows above, wheels of the carriages rolling along the dirt. It’s the symphony of the city. But he leaves it all behind for a short carriage ride away. It’s a short uphill climb on foot that follows, but he swiftly gets to the magnificent mansion on a stretch of green behind black gates. It’s quaint here. A girl in a maid ensemble scurries over and opens up the gates for him. “Right this way.” The man is led up the path and he removes his top hat as he enters. The manor is darker on the inside, the wallpaper a deep shade, black trim matching the hardwood. He knows every inch of this place is ridden with wealth, from the chandeliers, the ornate carpet underneath his feet to the glass cabinets full of antiques. It’s old money that will last for centuries. But he doesn’t get to admire it for too long. A taller man with slicked back hair wearing a black tailcoat approaches. “If you’d follow me, sir.” He nods and silently shadows the butler to the west wing. They twist down the corridor before turning a left to two large doors. The butler opens them and he hesitantly enters after. There’s a figure behind the desk at the very back wall, an inked pen in her hand. He muses that the lady looks much too young to be residing so deep inside of this mansion surrounded in papers in the low lighting. She might be even younger than himself. “Taehyung, stay.” You mutter out of the corner of your mouth before he can leave. The doors shut and you finally look up as Taehyung takes his place beside you. “You are Detective Jeon?” He has brunette hair and brightened doe eyes, rather boyish looks overall. But you know better than to underestimate anyone simply based on appearances. “Yes, ma’am. I am Jeon Jungkook from the Bennett Detective Agency.” He comes up to you with his briefcase in hand and gingerly places a business card on the desk. “I believe you contacted me for a private investigation.” “Yes. I did.” You stand, going to the seating area and he follows suit. “Would you like tea?” “No, ma’am. I’m fine, but thank you very much.” You nod, noticing how Detective Jeon’s eyes flicker to Taehyung who comes to pour your cup. He finally asks, “How may I be of service?” You take a sip, savouring the flavour on your palate before placing the floral porcelain cup down. Your expression is indifferent as you sit back. “As you may have heard, my father and mother recently passed away in a railway accident.” “I read it from the newspaper. My condolences. Your father was a very charitable man and did a lot for Trulia.” “Yes, well, they left behind a will and revealed that I happen to have a half-sibling that is to inherit this estate.” It goes silent. A pin could drop in the room and echo. You inhale a breath and continue, “I want you to find this sibling of mine and tell me who they are, where they are, and what they’re doing. If you can do it, I’ll pay you a generous sum. However much you want. However long it takes.” Detective Jeon nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised or curious. You suppose he must be used to this sort of thing in his line of work. It was through your connections that you found him. He’s an upcoming private detective, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up in tenacity and foresight. He’s the best that Trulia has. “Do you have any leads?” You hum. It’s remarkable he asks that. You’ve been thinking about it — picking apart every single memory, all instances there could have been a hint, each time you could have been blinded to such a secret. “I don’t have any leads, but I have suspicions.” The detective leans in closer, doe eyes placed on yours. “I believe my sibling may be older than me and I believe contrary to any initial hunches, it may be my mother’s child.” Maybe your father knew and something had happened. Maybe he was ridden with guilt and that’s why he decided to give everything to your sibling. “I remember, years ago, my mother came in one drunken night and she told me about her previous lover. She was supposed to marry him and they even ran away together, but my grandparents found them and she was forced to marry my father. It’s possible that she may have had a child with him before I was born. And it may be possible he came to the funeral.” Detective Jeon takes out his notepad and begins scribbling. He bobs his head and you inhale a staggering breath as you continue to talk. You never thought you would have to divulge into your parents’ secrets after their death, that you would have to reveal all you know to a stranger. But you have to do what it takes if you want to find this person before your aunt and uncle do. “I saw a man about your height. He looked old, about fifty or so. He put a rose at my mother’s casket and left without speaking to me. I have never seen him before in my life.” “Did you see anything else about him?” “Nothing that would be helpful. He had brown hair, but he was wearing black as everyone else was. He left before I could get to him.” “Did your mother ever tell you anything else? Where they ran away to? What they were planning to do afterwards?” “No. She only ever spoke to me about it on that one occasion.” Frankly, you’re not sure if you want to know, but you push past the thought. Detective Jeon notes it and something prickles in your mind. “If you can, I want you to also look into Park Jimin as well.” His eyes lift off his paper. “He’s a gardener that works at this estate,” you tell him. “He’s always been close to my mother.” And unusually so. She never cared much for the help, but you’ve seen them walking together before and conversing on numerous occasions. “I’ll see what I can do for you.” The detective smiles and once the conversation concludes, he takes his briefcase. “Oh and Detective Jeon.” Your voice stops him on his way out and he turns. “It would be best if no one finds out about this, namely my relatives. They can be quite...nosy.” He looks at you and smiles. “Understood.” Taehyung sees him out and you take a moment to recline back into the armchair, gandering at the many bookcases lining the walls. You never thought you would one day sit in your father’s study like this. He was in here more often than any other room and somehow, it always seemed so big when you were a child. Taehyung comes back within minutes and you can tell by the expression on his face that he has questions. The corner of your mouth tugs and you languidly bat your hand. “Ask away.” “What are you planning to do when you find them?” “I’ll kill them, of course.” You get onto your feet, slowly rounding the desk. There’s a glass paperweight on the surface and you pick it up to fiddle with it. There’s a floral print inside and it catches the light no matter what direction you turn it to. You gave this to your father for his birthday one year. “I can’t return to being that naive person like you hope I will, Taehyung.” You’re not children anymore. As much as you wish, you can’t go back to that simple time. “I know.” You twist on your heel, looking him straight into his eyes. “Then will you help me?” He closes the distance in two strides and leans down to take your other hand. His plush lips kiss against your knuckles and he swears his loyalty yet again, “I’ll do anything for you, mistress.” // The next afternoon, you gather the entire estate’s servants together — the cooks, kitchen workers, maids and footmen. They look nervous at the sudden impromptu gathering, glancing at one another and quietly murmuring. You clear your throat loudly and their attention is taken. “As you all know, recently my father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Arden, have passed away. And I have become the new head of household. You have done a well enough job to be here and your services are much appreciated. For those who came to give their condolences at the memorial, it is something I will not forget. However, your loyalties must belong to me, not to my late parents.” There are worried glimpses exchanged and you begin to pace in front of them. “As I am now the lady of the Arden estate, I would like to begin anew.” You can’t afford to feed so many mouths, considering all the wealth is frozen. You’ll be paying with what you personally have until you can find a solution with Mr. Kim. Not to mention, you’re not sure who can be trusted, who your uncle and aunt have already persuaded. The last thing you need is extra eyes and ears in this house. “From now on, Taehyung will be the manager of this household. He will see to it that the household will still function. If you have any questions, ask him. If you have any concerns, then ask him. He will come to me with whatever he cannot solve.” “Few of you will stay and I thank the rest for serving this house for so long. I will make sure your severance pay is generous enough until you will be able to find work elsewhere. If your name is called, you may stay.” Taehyung, standing behind you, begins reading from the list. One of the three names called is none other than Jimin himself. The gardener smiles out of relief, eyes crinkled into half-moons. “Thank you, madam.” You nod and once it’s done, you leave for the study as Taehyung takes care of the rest. You don’t want to stay around to see disheartened expressions or hear pleas to stay. So you’re resigned to watch out of the upper windows instead. You’ve allowed them a few days to leave, but some are already taking their exit with their belongings with them, tearfully looking back at the mansion. It’s difficult but it needs to be done. “My lady…” You hear Taehyung come from behind you. You shift away from the window. “You’ll help me look for new help?” “Of course.” “Do you think four maids and one cook will suffice?” You count on your fingers. There’s already Jimin taking care of the gardens, you kept one maid so he’ll only have to hire three, and there’s a trustworthy kitchen maid too. It’s not like you need that many hands to take care of the estate. “Or will you need more help?” “That’ll be fine.” The edge of Taehyung’s mouth pulls. “I could technically do it all, if you’d like.” “And have you fainting on me from exhaustion?” You notice lint on his coat tail, so you come up to him and gently dust off his shoulder. “I think not.” Taehyung’s sly smile tugs. “Do you consider me delicate?” “No. But I am,” you clarify, looking up at the man. “If you’re not here twenty four seven attending to me, then what would be the point of having you around?” You brush past him, mumbling, “Can’t have you in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be by my side.” The man stifles back a laugh to himself, yet his grin is all too evident. “Yes, madam.” You glare at him over your shoulder, but it reminds you, “Tell the new help not to call me madam. You know I don’t like it.” He puts his hand over his heart and bows exaggeratedly. “Yes, young mistress.” You scoff. The title is not that much different and he knows it too. He always knows how to be cheeky, but you let it go because he’s Taehyung. It’s not like you can ever be upset with him for long. He’s already won before the game’s begun. // A few days later, there’s a knock at your door. It’s unusual. Taehyung never knocks and your suspicions are confirmed when an unfamiliar girl is sticking her nose into the room. “Umm...pardon me.” It’s an unfamiliar girl in a maid ensemble, a black dress with white trim and a ruffled apron with a headpiece. Her hair is dark and shiny, features sharp. You assume she must be one of the new ones. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find Butler Kim, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Kim, the lawyer— I think, is in the parlor. He instructed me to tell you that he’s brought it.” You nod and get up. But you stop for a second and come eye to eye with the girl. “What’s your name?” “Jane.” She smiles to herself as if she’s happy you’ve made a note of it. “If you could clear the teacup from the table.” “Oh! Certainly!” She rushes over and you don’t linger. True to what’s been told, the middle-aged lawyer is sitting in his chair and he staggers up as you come into the room. “It’s good to see you well, Y/N, and that you’ve taken charge of this estate so well.” “Thank you.” You motion to the armchair. “Please, sit.” “I brought your parent’s business expense reports as you asked.” Mr. Kim takes it from his briefcase and hands you the thick folder after settling down. “I didn’t think I would have it until I remembered there was a box in my office closet meant for this sort of thing. My office ended up branching out and opening a professional accounting firm a year ago, you see, so we no longer do bookkeeping.” You flip open to find your father’s writing, then pages of Mr Kim’s. The reports match up with what he says. It stops a year ago. You might need to get into contact with Yoongi to find the more recent expense documents. “Thank you for this. It will be very helpful to me.” The lawyer nods. “Anytime, child. Now about what you talked to me about last time….” “Yes, how is that coming along?” He sharply inhales. “As I suspected, it will be difficult to challenge the will in court, Y/N. It hasn’t been done before and it may be costly. For now, my first submission is still in process, so we’ll have to see if we can even speak to a judge. I’ll let you know how that comes along.” You’re grateful he’s still of help to you. He's older than your father is, but you suppose he must enjoy his line of work to not retire at this age. “Mr. Kim, if I may ask a question. Were...you aware that I had a sibling?” The man smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, I was not. The will was sealed and I was simply entrusted to read it to you all. It took me by surprise as much as it did for you.” If you didn’t know, the family lawyer wouldn’t either. You wonder how many other well-kept secrets there are in your family. That night, you look over the documents while burning the midnight oil. As usual Taehyung insists that you head to bed when the grandfather clock chimes past twelve, but after you tell him to go retire first, he stays silent beside you. Taehyung’s too stubborn sometimes, but you don’t tell him his company is pleasant to have. “Huh.” “What’s the matter?” “I didn’t know my father donated to St. Andale Orphanage.” You squint, reading the barely legible writing. You don’t remember that happening or it being posted in the newspaper. “It must’ve been done anonymously,” Taehyung comments and you make a noise in agreeance. But it’s strange. Your father always liked to have his name on donations so that people would know and it would be written in the newspaper. It’s not like him to go quiet and he gave quite generously too. “I’d like to go to the orphanage tomorrow.” You look up at Taehyung. “In the morning.” “I’ll arrange that for you,” he says with a smile. You close the books. “I’d like that man to join me as well. My father’s worker, Min Yoongi.” At that, Taehyung’s brow quirks. “For?” “He was close to my father, right? He might know something I don’t.” // The orphanage is a worn brick on the south side of the city in the poorer area, yet it somehow looks to be holding up well. It’s unlike the other buildings around that’s crumbling. You wonder if it’s your father’s doing that made this place half-decent. You can hear the laughter of children in the plot of grass fenced in. You watch them at the distance while strolling the perimeter with Taehyung to your left and Yoongi to your right. “It is quite cloudy today.” “It looks like winter is coming soon.” Yoongi looks at you. “If you’re cold, we could go inside.” “No, it’s quite alright. I don’t get to enjoy the cold weather often and it can be nice.” You turn with a small smile. “I might be like my father in that way.” “Yes, I remember he told me he quite enjoyed the snow.” His eyes gloss over, reminiscent. “Your father was a very respectable man.” “He was a good businessman and an even less attentive father,” you hum and feel Yoongi’s gaze on your profile, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but did my father ever speak about his private life, Mr. Min?” “Yoongi is fine. But no, not frequently at least. I only remember he once told me about flowers he was going to get for his wife before he headed home and I remember he spoke about you a few times.” “Me?” “Yes.�� Yoongi offers a polite smile. “He told me that you were quite talented in your personal studies.” You take a glance at him. There’s not a single trace on his expression that lets you know he’s lying or exaggerating, but you still find it hard to believe. “In his will, he gave me a pocket watch. I was hoping you’d know more about it. It’s gold and without any designs or engravings—” “Gold?” Yoongi gives you a peculiar expression. “The company doesn’t make gold pocket watches.” “Pardon?” He explains, “We found that the profits weren’t worth the costs, so what’s used is silver, bronze, ceramic or even glass. In the third collection, there were some gold watches, but you said there weren’t any designs or engravings on it?” “There’s nothing.” The corner of the man's mouth pulls. “Mr. Arden must have personally handcrafted it for you then.” Your brows furrow. You’re not sure how you feel upon hearing that, so you cast a glimpse to Taehyung who’s been quietly listening and he smiles at you. Yoongi clears his throat a moment after. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, Miss Y/N, but considering it’s about your family, I think you have a right to know.” Your head turns over in alarm. “What is it?” “Your cousin, I believe, Hoseok. He’s been….showing up to the company often. He’s been wanting to book a meeting with me for a week now and he waits until I’m done working to try to speak to me. I suspect he wants to take over the business.” You’re not surprised. “I’m receiving that kind of pressure in regards to the wealth and estate, Yoongi, and a hundred times worse. I think you have it in you to handle my overbearing cousin.” Yoongi laughs from his chest as if he already figured you didn’t have any real solution. But based on your answer, it’s allowing him to do whatever he wants to that cousin of yours. A few minutes pass before an older woman emerges to the field. “Children! Children! It’s time for lunch! Come along now!” Another woman comes to invite you inside, so you follow after them into a room where they’re serving soup and loaves of bread. You watch children as old as fifteen to as young as three line up one after another. It’s both sad and heartwarming to see so many sparkling eyes in hunger-pane frames. “Today’s food was given to us by Miss Arden and Mr. Min, can everyone give a big thank you?” There’s a chorus of ‘thank you’s throughout the room and toothless grins from boys and girls. When a woman struggles with carrying a box inside, Taehyung comes to help and then Yoongi. They’re supplies that you donated out of your own pocket, clothing and some blankets — it’s not much but still better than nothing. “I want more!” A pitched voice of a four year old boy in drab clothes knocks you out of your train of thought and you shift towards him. His friend adamantly shakes his head. “No! ‘Member what Sister Emmy said? You only get one!” You step forward, lips parting but before a single word can escape— “Here you go.” An older girl with soft features and her hair pulled back in a frayed ribbon has spun around with an extended arm. Her loaf of bread is in hand. The boy blinks owlishly at her and she beams. “You can have it.” “Thank you!” He takes it and the two boys run away. “That was very kind of you,” you speak up and she turns around, startled that someone saw. You smile at her, lowering yourself to match her height. “You can have more bread. There should be enough for the next few days.” Her eyes light up. “Really?” You don’t like children much, but this girl seems to be intelligent and mature for her age. “What’s your name?” “Rose, ma’am.” She bows her head awkwardly, rather well-mannered. “Thank you for the food.” “I’m happy to help when I can. Can I ask how old you are?” She counts on her fingers for a moment. “I believe twelve, ma’am, but I’m not sure.” As you frown, she quickly explains, “My mother died when I was young and I’ve never met my father, so I don’t know for certain how old I am….” Her voice becomes quieter and quieter as it goes on and you realize she’s ashamed. “That’s quite alright. I don’t have parents anymore either.” You muster a smile and the corner of her own mouth tugs. It’s pleasant to talk to someone who doesn’t know you, someone who doesn’t have any ulterior motives. “What do you like to do, Rose?” “I don’t do much. But I like to cook! And churn butter. I also like collecting eggs and making milk.” You hum. “How would you like to come back with me and work at the house?” Her eyes open wide, irises practically glistening from the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows. You’re normally not so impulsive, but you have a feeling she’s wasted here in the orphanage where she’ll have to work in a factory soon or get married by fifteen. Your mother always warned you to pick and choose the people around you carefully, and this girl seems trustworthy. Or at least, you can see capability. Taehyung was even younger than she was when he entered the house for the first time. He must’ve been six or seven. His dad worked for the household and so did his dad’s dad — a whole lineage that made it inevitable that Taehyung would follow too. Rose comes home with you three hours later. You take it that this kind of affair customarily doesn’t happen so quickly judging by the head lady there being overwhelmed by the generous offer of taking the girl. But the process was most likely sped up considering your well-known status and Rose’s enthusiasm at the promise of a private room, food each day, and a high pay at the end of every month. She was more than happy and practically begging the woman she knew well to let her go. And the woman was happy too — even thanking you for giving her a home. You’re not sure if it’s much of a home. But it’s yours. “This is...enormous.” Rose gasps as her eyes lay upon the manor, lugging her small case of belongings by her side. “I-I mean, thank you, ma’am. I will work very hard!” Your lips tickle into a small smile. “I’m glad.” The three of you enter and she gawks at the place. “Taehyung will show you where you’ll stay in the maid’s quarters and what will be expected of you. I’ll give you time to settle yourself, so don’t worry about anything for now.” “Thank you, ma’am!” “It’s right this way.” He guides and she tottles after him. You sigh softly with a smile as you watch the pair. He was amused when you told him that you wanted to take her home and he followed your instructions without much protest. Hopefully Taehyung will let her know that you’re not keen on being called ma’am or madam. You’re about to retire to your room, but you’re stopped on your way by Jane. She fiddles with her fingers nervously. “Miss, um, there’s, uh…” “What is it?” “There’s a guest in the parlor. He came about an hour or two ago and he insisted on staying until you came home.” You hold in your sigh, wondering why it’s so hard to take a rest these days. “From now on, do not allow anyone inside the house when I am not here unless said otherwise.” She flinches at your tone and dips her head. “Yes, my lady.” You make your way to the room to find out who this uninvited guest is, and your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the backside of an unfamiliar man. He’s dressed in a sack coat with a matching waistcoat and black trousers. He must hear your footsteps since he turns around and instantly gets up, jaw gone slack. “You must be Y/N,” he murmurs in awe. “You’re even more beautiful in person.” The man comes to you and takes the back of your hand, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You eye him the entire time. “And you are…?” “Oh, I apologize, I hadn’t realized I didn’t introduce myself.” He takes off his top hat and presses it to his chest. “I am Mark Carter. I believe your uncle may have spoken about me previously.” You vaguely remember something about meeting his friend’s son, but you can’t quite pinpoint the details. Your expression remains stoic and unimpressed. “Is that so?” “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” You guessed this would have happened, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. Being the head of the Arden Household and unmarried at that, it’s only natural that others will come after you. It would be wise of you to consider it as well — the only way you can collect the temporary inheritance is through your husband. But as silly and naive as it might be, you want to marry for love and not convenience. And it’s the one thing you won’t allow yourself to give up on. “Like what?” “Pardon?” “What have you heard about me?” Mark clears his throat. “Well, I have heard that you are as intelligent as your father and as beautiful as your mother, no less than a red rose blossoming in the morning dew of spring. And I must say, those rumours do not do you justice, Miss Y/N. You far exceed any poetry that could possibly be waxed.” The corner of your mouth curls in amusement. Admittedly, it’s nice to hear such bold and blatant compliments once in a while, even if they are exaggerated and likely crafted by your uncle. “While I am wholly flattered, Mr. Carter, is this what you came here to tell me?” The man’s posture straightens. “I came to ask permission to court you.” You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re taken aback at the man’s shamelessness, not sure if he’s dimwitted or simply brave. “Meaning?” “I would like to send you letters every so often if you grant me permission and perhaps if you’d be inclined to take strolls with me.” You’re not sure how to answer or what to say, but you’re starting to feel your impassive expression crumble. You muse it’s impressive your uncle found someone as overbearing and insistent as he is. “Can I ask why you want to send me letters? We’ve never met before.” “Actually, we have,” he says and blinks. “At your father’s charity function two years ago.” You scour your mind, but you can’t recall. Every charity function you attended, you just remember sneaking out food for Taehyung and sitting together outside looking at the stars. Mark reads your expression as he realizes that you can’t remember and his face falls. “It hurts me that you can’t remember the encounter but no matter.” He suddenly takes your hands and you lean back to create more distance. “If you let me, Miss Y/N, I promise you that you will not be disappointed.” “Mr. Carter—” “I have not been able to forget you since that night.” You wonder why he didn’t look for you sooner then if he felt so passionately about an encounter you can’t even remember. But before you can ask, he comes closer to you, forcing you to take a step back. “If you give me a chance, I will grant your every wish.” He’s crowding you, intruding in your space, larger than you are. Your mouth parts, trying to utter out a word, but it’s not necessary. A looming shadow comes over Mark, draping him away from the light. It’s Taehyung with a menacing expression — his lips drawn together, eyes practically burning holes. He grabs the back of the man’s coat collar and yanks him away from you, finally giving you space to breathe. “Please do not lay a hand on her ladyship, good sir.” “W-Who’re you?!” Mark looks between you and Taehyung as if expecting you’ll tell him to leave him be. But you don’t move whatsoever. Your butler offers the man a stiff smile that has your own mouth curling upwards. “Uninvited guests are no longer permitted in the Arden estate. The maid that you let in was inexperienced. A mistake like that will never happen again. So unfortunately, you will have to leave now until you receive a proper invitation.” “Wait!” You stifle back a laugh when Taehyung physically picks him up, nearly throwing him over his shoulder. The man struggles and his cries echo throughout the manor as he’s taken away, “Put me down! Stop! You idiot! You’ll hear from my father about this! How dare you!” Taehyung throws him out of the estate and you’re finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. When he comes back, he dusts off his hands with a more pleased expression. “What would you like for dinner, mistress?” // The next time someone visits, it’s not uninvited. “Who are you?” Jane has stopped in the middle of her path, duster in hand and scrutinizing the doe-eyed male in the foyer. His brow lifts at the girl, but before he can come up with an answer, Taehyung appears from the corridor. “Right this way, sir.” The man in his coat nods and walks away, yet the maid is still curious. Her eyes follow the stranger’s form and she murmurs to Taehyung, “But who is he?” “Her lady’s affairs don’t affect you,” he coldly deadpans. “It would be better to attend to your duties than ask questions.” “M-My apologies, Butler Kim.” Jane dips her head and turns around, but she still steals a glance over her shoulder with a pout and a huff escaping through her nose. Taehyung comes inside the study to find you and Detective Jeon going through what he’s found. “I looked into Park Jimin like you asked me to.” “What did you find?” Detective Jeon flips open copies of documents. “He was born and raised right here in Lennox, never stepped foot outside of Trulia. His parents are immigrants from the East, still married and living together on the West side of the city in a tenement. His father worked in a landscaping company and his brother, three years older than he is, is a wagon craftsman.” You go through the papers and sigh after a moment. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one you’re looking for. Well, you suppose you’ve ruled out at least one possibility. “He’s as boring as they get,” the detective says. “But I did find something...peculiar.” “What is it?” “That man you wanted me to search for, the one who came to the funeral, I think I might have found where he is.” Detective Jeon hands you another worn folder from his briefcase and you eagerly untie the string to look at the pages inside. “An intern at your father’s company actually spoke to him briefly and I found the inn he was staying at in Lennox. Spoke to the lady there and went to the train station. I have a connection with someone who manages the books and they found a train ticket. There’s more to it, but I won’t bore you.” His name is Arthur Kahl. There are small details of him written, how he’s in his fifties, where he lives and a drawing of him sits amongst the documents. Your brows furrow. This is him — there’s no doubt about it. “He’s an artisan. A woodworker,” Detective Jeon tells you. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar, but he grew up here in Lennox.” Your eyes flicker up to Taehyung and then the detective. “Thank you for this.” He offers a smile. “It’s all in a day's work.” Shortly after, Detective Jeon is escorted out by the butler. His eyes are perceptive but his senses are even more keen. He takes a glance at the taller man. “Your name is Kim Taehyung, right?” Taehyung’s brow quirks. “I think you already know the answer to that.” Detective Jeon boyishly smiles. “Is it alright if I ask a question? It might be intrusive.” “Then don’t ask.” “But see, I’m much too curious.” His steps slow while the two men come outside where it’s harder to eavesdrop. They stop on the front path of the manor leading towards the gates. “It might be the reason why I ended up in this line of work. Can’t give up on something once it’s in my head. I just have to know.” There’s a pause. Then, he doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Do you perhaps fancy Miss Y/N?” Detective Jeon’s doe eyes sparkle in the sunlight. It’s a subtlety that can only be noticed through careful observation. But he’s seen it — through the way you allow the butler to stay in every private conversation divulging the secret details of your family. How he always knows what you want without you needing to speak a single word. You’re in rhythm with one another and always taking glances when the other person isn’t looking. Jungkook has seen many things. But never a master and servant so close to each other. “That is an intrusive question.” Taehyung’s expression remains impassive. “My devotion goes beyond such kinds of frivolous and fickle emotions.” His mouth quirks. “Why don’t you do anything about it then?” “It’s not my place. I merely grant her wishes and fulfill my necessary duties.” “So you’re holding yourself back on purpose?” “That’s enough questions.” Butler Kim continues walking. “You’re a detective. If you’re that curious, I’m sure you can figure it out.” “You’re right.” Detective Jeon grins, led out the gates, yet he turns around one last time. “But if you’re willing to do anything for your mistress, would you kill for her?” His expression hardens while Jungkook flashes another smile. It’s not the kind of question that is waiting for an answer, so the other merely walks off, down the path and away from the estate. // You’ve only ever left Trulia twice in your life. Once on a family outing when you were five or six and another time for just a few days when you were accompanying your father on a business trip. You’ve never had the chance to see much outside of this country and it’s a wish that you never spoke to anyone before but Taehyung. There was simply never a chance for you to go. And while you expected your next journey out of Trulia would be an adventure and perhaps seeing new sights, you suppose this is a good excuse as well. “Can you please pack another dress? I don’t want to run out when I’m there.” Rose enthusiastically nods and goes to your wardrobe to pick another gown. While Taehyung is the one who would ever pack your suitcases, you don’t want to rely on him too much. He was already preparing the rest of the things for the trip and Rose seemed more than happy to help. “The blue one will be fine.” She nods and folds it into the case as you look over the gloves. “How long will you be going for, miss?” “A few days.” You look up at the twelve year old and the corner of your mouth tugs. “You’ll watch the house for me? I don’t want any roaches to crawl in while I’m away.” Her head bobs up and down. “I’ll try my best, my lady.” You smile, noticing Jane looking into the room. She realizes you’ve seen her and clears her throat. “Do you need any help, my lady?” “No, I’m fine, thank you.” It’s nerve-racking to leave the estate and Trulia. You trust that a few days won’t bring things into chaos, especially considering that you’ve kept your affairs discreet. But underlying the unsettlement is a buzz of excitement — that just for a short while, you can escape. You feel that way even a day later when you’re at the train platform. And whatever you were afraid of is washed away with Taehyung by your side. “Stand right here. I’ll only be a moment,” he tells you, holding your tickets to Colmar and you nod. Your hand grips the suitcase as you overlook the bustle of people. You’ve never seen so many gathered in one place before, families and lovers parting ways, children rushing past, the conductor quickly pacing to the front of the platform. It’s dizzying to look at and overwhelming to be in. You wonder if you look out of place in the mass of people. You chose to wear a white dress with a natural silhouette, a bustle pad underneath and a bonnet around your half pinned-up hair. It’s modest attire, but the threads are still expensive. The last thing you would want is to attract needless attention and that’s why you made Taehyung wear a normal white waistcoat and black frock coat with matching trousers than his usual stiff tailcoat. He looks rather nice in normal clothing anyhow. As you think about Taehyung, you start to search the crowd. The red and black painted train whistles, smoke coming from its chimney. It looks like it’s about to leave soon, but you’re not sure if you should go in or where you would even sit or put your luggage. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a train, you don’t know what to do. The endless questions and uncertainty drains blood from your face and you start to panic. Until Taehyung comes into sight. “What took you so long.” You frown at him but he still has the audacity to smile. “My apologies, I had to check if we were at the right platform. Let’s go.” He takes your suitcase and offers his arm which you take. Taehyung keeps you from being swallowed by the thick crowd and pushed back. His height looms over even most men and although his stature is lean, he remains steady. Once you’re at the doors, he puts down the cases and holds your hand to help you up the step and then he resumes by your side, cutting through the passenger cars. The two of you pass the more luxurious sleeping cars and as you peek into the window of the car of commoners, wondering if that’s where you’re heading, he slides open the door of a compartment. It’s a private booth with a large window and a ledge overtop for your suitcases. “Here we are, my lady.” Taehyung organizes your belongings as you sit down on the plush seat. A moment later, the train begins to move, wheels rolling against the rail and then it builds speed to chug along. You watch houses flash past the window. “What do you think?” he asks, sitting opposite of you. “Is it supposed to be so nauseating?” Your head is light and the world is dizzying from the fast motion of the train. Taehyung must see your weakened expression with the way his eyes widen in alarm. But you quickly lift your hand and try to reassure him, “It’s fine.” It isn’t. And he knows it. “We can get off the next station.” “No!” You inhale a deep breath, calming yourself. “We have to go. We have to make it, Taehyung.” You shut your eyes. There’s no way you can turn back now. “It’s probably because I haven’t been sleeping well.” Not when you’re up day and night taking care of what your parents left for you, even if it’s only temporarily. And not when you’re kept awake plagued by the secrets of the people who were supposed to be closest to you. “The herbs in my tea can only do so much.” Suddenly, you feel the seat dip beside you and your eyes flutter open to see Taehyung. He reaches over and gently guides your head to lean on his shoulder. “Then sleep. Don’t think about anything else.” The corner of your mouth curls. “You make it sound so easy.” “I’ll watch over you.” A noise is made at the back of your throat and you allow yourself to mold against Taehyung’s side, your head cradled against the slight slope of his broad shoulder. As you ease, your fingers slowly drag itself over until you graze the back of his hand. No words are needed. No explanations are necessary. Taehyung flips his hand so that his palm faces upwards and his fingers entwine with yours. Within a few minutes, your chest begins to rise and fall, soft breaths escaping your parted lips. Taehyung’s eyes stray from the windows to watch you. You’re cold and blunt, carrying yourself with an intimidating demeanour that either frightens others or causes them to despise you. But he can still see the traces of your childhood self, even if the recent weeks have forced you to harden. Taehyung knows that you’re still sentimental, that you’re affectionate, that you’re not as indifferent as you’d like to be. He knows you’re still grieving for your parents. The two of you grew up together after all. Since young, he’s been told he’s talented for this line of work, but devotion was another matter. He was told that being a butler meant more than just serving — it meant protecting. And he swore his duty to your name that day you took the blame when he stole from the kitchen and you got slapped by your mother. He can still remember your small frame standing in front of him. How your words didn’t waver. Taehyung knew it then and he knows it now — there’s nothing more important than protecting you. His mouth tugs and his eyes lift from your sleeping features, but something catches the edge of his vision. Taehyung looks up to the window of the compartment door and finds a man, blue eyes, blonde hair curled in front of his forehead. The stranger peers into the compartment and when he notices Taehyung’s gaze, he dips his bowler hat as if to shield himself. Taehyung moves. He cradles your head until you’re laying down fully on the seat and he quietly slides the door open. “Excuse me.” Taehyung moves past someone, eyes darted on the man who peeks over his shoulder and quickens his steps. He had seen the man before — earlier on the platform and then again when he left you alone. Taehyung came back right in time. You hadn’t noticed the man behind you at all. Taehyung quickens his steps, stalking after the man who looks over his shoulders once more. His strides hasten. He practically breaks out into a run. Taehyung chases after him as the train curves into a tunnel. The windows are blackened, darkness sweeping throughout the cart. He hears staggering breaths pulling roughly out of lungs and at the same time, the train rushes out the tunnel. Light breaks through the windows again and the steel door at the end of the cart begins to close. Taehyung sees through the tiny gap where panicked eyes meet his own gaze. Taehyung runs. He throws open the door and the cold wind rips through his hair with the intensity of a storm. The wheels shriek against the rail. There’s only a tiny step before one would have to make the jump to the other cart’s door. In between are violently rattling metal links that connect the two carts. “Hah!” There’s a squeak of shoes behind him. Taehyung ducks. The door slams closed. The man’s arm is extended midair, having missed Taehyung’s cheek and within a blink, Taehyung grabs his arm and twists it. The man shouts in agony, teeth gritted. “Why you!” His fist swings and it manages to catch Taehyung’s jaw. He’s knocked back, tasting a surge of coppery blood. Taehyung wheezes, but his lips curl into a smile. He launches himself forward as the man squares himself. An arm swings. Fist curled. Taehyung dodges. Taehyung takes the opportunity, no longer on the defense, and he swiftly strikes. The man stumbles back, air ripped out of his lungs, eye sure to bruise. Taehyung steps forward, but the man grabs something within his coat. “Step back!” Taehyung’s met with the muzzle of a revolver and puts his hands up, calming his breath. The man snorts with a sly smirk. “Yeah that’s right. You’re just a dog.” But then Taehyung's left hand clutches the man’s wrist and he contorts it at an angle, knee coming up to slam into the man’s stomach. Instantly, the man keens and wheezes. He cries out as the revolver crashes onto the links connecting the carts and falls beneath to the rails. Taehyung grabs the man’s collar and holds him backwards, nearly off the train. The man’s eyes become rounded in fear. There’s a storm of verdant in the background, fields and trees darting past. “Who are you?!” “Let go of me! I...I swear, I didn’t want to do this!” “What do you want with her?” Taehyung demands, shaking the man whose head nearly touches the steel rails. The man’s fist curls on Taehyung’s so he doesn’t fall. “Answer the question!” The shout is torn from Taehyung’s throat, his face crumpled into unadulterated anger, jaw clenched. “I-It was her uncle!” the man quickly spits out in fear of his life. “Seokjin! He hired me! He wanted me to kill her!” “So you were planning on putting a bullet through her head?!” “I-I just needed the money! I’m sorry! Please, please,” the man pleads. “You don’t have to do this. W-What has that girl ever done for you? You’re just her guard dog!” Taehyung has a deadpan expression, eyes dim. He begins to release his hold on the man who audibly sighs of relief. “That’s right.” But it’s too soon. “Don’t you know dogs are one of the most loyal animals?” Taehyung grabs the man again as he stands and throws him off the train into the soft meadow. “Woof.” The man’s scream echoes. Taehyung dusts off his hand. He comes back to the compartment to where you’re still sleeping and resumes his spot with your head in his lap, finding a warm blanket to drape over you. Six hours later, you wake up, rubbing your eyes. He smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair in front of your face behind your ear. But your sleepy daze shatters when you see his split lip. Almost immediately, you’re leaning over to Taehyung, grazing the wound with your thumb. He sharply inhales. “What happened?” you demand, worry written all over your face. It hurts to smile, but can’t resist it. He should never admit it — he likes it when your attention is solely on him. “I tripped.” You look at him incredulously. “Taehyung.” “I did.” He doesn’t give up the excuse no matter how much you prod and pry. The train arrives in the town of Colmar shortly after. It’s a quiet place with a certain dryness to the air in spite of the river running through the town and underneath the bridges. The homes are tightly knitted next to one another. It’s a cozy kind of atmosphere. For a moment, you can imagine your mother having spent her life in this place and you’re not certain how to feel. You decide to stay in an inn near the square, dropping off your suitcases in your given room. “We should find him, shouldn’t we?” You turn from the window to Taehyung with an unreadable expression. “We don’t have to,” he says and it’s all too tempting. You want to forget that you’re here looking for your mother’s old lover, that you’re searching for your sibling. You wish you can pretend that this is merely a trip to enjoy with Taehyung in a place far away from Lennox. But even if you were to dream such a thing, the truth would not stop plaguing your mind. You muster the strength to shake your head. “We can enjoy ourselves after. There’s no point in putting it off.” “He’s an artisan. A woodworker.” The detective’s words ring inside your head. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar.” It should be difficult to find the man — that way you have a legitimate excuse to put this off. You wouldn’t have to confront your parents’ secrets. Or meet a brother or sister you never wanted. “But he grew up here in Lennox.” Yet this town is small and there is only one known woodworker. If such a thing as fate or destiny exists, then it never stops being cruel to you. The bell rings as the door of the shop opens. “Hello there! How can I help you?” There’s an older man behind the counter busy at his shelf, brunette hair and features tender, wrinkles creased around his eyes to mark each smile he’s collected over the years. You come towards him with Taehyung by your side. “You were at my mother’s funeral.” At your murmur, the man turns around wide-eyed. Arthur Kahl, the man your mother loved, who she wanted to marry and be happy with. The father of your sibling. “You’re Hana’s daughter….” His mouth draws open. “Wh-what are you doing here?” “I came to see you. I think you may have answers to my questions.” “I-...I don’t know if I do, but please, sit.” He hobbles to the front of his shop, turning the sign over to not receive any more customers and the both of you sit on wobbly chairs. He knows you came this far, that you searched for him. There’s no other way you could have found him. “I’m sorry I never spoke to you at the funeral. I thought since we didn’t know each other, there was no point in bringing back old memories.” “Is it true then?” You look at him carefully. “About my mother and you running away together…” “That was a very long time ago.” “Then why did you come to see my mother?” “It was a long time ago, but I still wanted to pay my respects. Your mother...was a wonderful woman and treated me kindly. I’m glad she ended up having a good life and a happy family.” The corner of your mouth twitches. He continues, “While I never personally met your father, he seems like a very respectable man and a good husband. I’m truly sorry for your loss.” The words sit uncomfortably in you. Your parents always seemed to treat each other with mutual respect and trust. It was never a passionate affair like pairs you’ve met, but rather a quiet relationship of sitting alongside one another. You never would have guessed your mother had someone else. But you don’t want to know anymore about your mother’s history. “I received my parent’s will a day after their burial.” You inhale a breath, bracing yourself. “And it promised my sibling the estate and the company. I don’t want to harm them. I want to fulfill my parents’ last wishes. So please, allow me to meet my sibling.” Your eyes meet his earnestly. The man stares back at you, his brows knitting together. “My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. I don't know who your sibling is.” The clock on his shelf ticks loudly. “Your mother and I never consummated our relationship.” // The night sets in, matches hissing into a flame and thrown into the wood in the fireplace until it awakens and paints the room in a warm orange hue. The quietness is deafening outside of the crackle and pop of the fire. You haven’t eaten. You don’t want to. You don’t think you could stomach it. “My apologies.” You’re seated at the rounded table in the chair, motionless. You should’ve never come. You should have just stayed in the estate instead of trying to dig around in the secrets of your family, into the reasons why nothing was left for you, why they didn’t love you even after death. “But I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding.” You came here for nothing. “I don't know who your sibling is.” Your efforts were worthless. “Your mother and I never consummated the relationship.” There’s an ear-splitting crash that rings the four walls. Taehyung opens the door, eyes darting to you. You’re hyperventilating, clutching the handle of your suitcase, all your belongings fallen on the ground beside the wall. You toss the case aside with a frustrated cry. He calmly shuts the door before anyone in the inn can pry and closes the distance in two strides. “It’s okay.” He opens his arms and he engulfs your quivering frame. You grasp onto him, your hands twisting into his white shirt. “I-I don’t know what to do, Taehyung. I...I really thought I had it. I was preparing myself—” You were preparing yourself to meet your sibling. To confront it all. For once, you were ready. The frustration cripples you blind and angers you. How much longer will you be left in the dark? How much longer do you have to look like the fool, a child fumbling in her parent’s history searching for the truth? Why did they do this to you? Why? “You can cry,” Taehyung murmurs. And tears finally slip from your eyes to stain his shoulder. If it wasn’t for him, if he wasn’t here, you might have lost your mind by now.

#bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung au #bts au #taehyung writing #taehyung series #taehyung scenario #bts scenario #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #ooOoooOOoH LET'S GO

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felswritingfire · 3 years

Text

April Brain Rot #6

Prompts:

90. Violin

27. "Your heart is pounding."

Sebek Zigvolt x Reader

Summery: A ball between Royal Sword Academy and Night Raven College has one half fae in particular wound up- especially when he catches wind that someone is asking you for a dance.

TW: None

Word Count: 1,282

A note from Fel: This bastard (spoiler alert) gets not one but TWO fics to himself- what a little shit am I right? (I fucking love him, and so does my girlfriend and no, I will not shut the fuck up about her I love her- honey, if you're reading this I LOVE YOU- and she said that this was her favorite one so far so like *fist bump*). I hope you enjoy!

Sebek had been stealing glances at you all night. He would scold himself every time he caught himself doing it: drinking in the way the light hit your shoulders and the smile on your face as someone in your group made a particularly funny remark. He wanted this awfully… warm feeling in his chest to stop. Though, he’s been feeling that way every time you were in the room with him for a while now.

Maybe he was getting sick.

Or you poisoned him! He closes his eyes, nodding sagely to himself. That’s the only explanation. You were lying when you told him it was fine after he accidentally ate that bonbon you had made with Trey and now you were exacting your revenge-

“What’re you thinking about, Sebek?” Came Lilia’s remark as he floated behind the young man’s head.

Sebek almost let out the most pitiful screech, but bit his tongue to keep it inside (for surely he could not sully his Lord Malleus’ name with such a pathetic response! His Lord was actually here for once!). “N-” he cleared his throat, righting his posture before continuing- “Nothing, Lilia-senpai! Simply watching for any threats that could be awaiting the Young Master!”

Lilia giggles. “Oh, Sebek,” he pats his head. “I don’t think there’ll be anyone- or thing- gutsy enough to hurt our Malleus. So you should go enjoy yourself! Eat some food! Chat with friends!” The fae leans close to Sebek’s face, a sudden feeling of being overwhelmed pulses behind Sebek’s eyes as he watches Lilia’s pupils narrow into fine slits. “Or dance with a special little human before the nights up, hm?”

Sebek could feel the blush climb up his neck and ring in his ears. “I do not have a special human!” The sheer volume of his cry enough to have people around them wincing.

“Fine, fine,” Lilia said with a wave. The mischievous smile that quirked onto his face as he looks past Sebek has him dreading turning around. “So, that means you don’t mind some random boy from Royal Sword Academy whisking them away?”

“What?” Sebek could feel the blood boil under his skin as some- some- lowly male tried to ask you for a dance: holding his hand out to you with a slight bow and a gentle smile. Ace was letting out a series of high pitched ‘ooo’s!’ while Deuce was subtly trying to puff himself up behind you, crossing his arms to seem more intimidating. Grim was declaring how weird humans were while Jack and Epel were silently glowering at him, waiting for you to decide.

Hm, seems he overestimated how well that bunch could protect you. Before he knew it he was pushing through people to get to you and that boy, Lilia’s giggles following after him.

“Will you allow me this dance, beautiful stranger?”

You felt your cheeks flush a pink as the red head extended a hand to you, the very definition of princely. “I- you see, I’m waiting for someone to ask me so-”

“One dance wouldn’t hurt would it?”

“N-no-” you glanced at where Sebek had been standing only to see him gone, your heart clenching in an uncomfortably tight hold- “I suppose not.” You begin to put your hand in his when someone else catches yours, pulling you behind a broad back.

“You have no right-” You feel a shiver run down your spine at the growl, Ace and Deuce’s hands coming to pull you away from the two boys. Grim floats in front of you uneasily as Jack comes to shield you and Epel comes to hold your hand- “to touch them.”

“Pray tell, why not? This is a ball between Royal Sword and Night Raven to allow us to mingle together, is it not?”

“Maybe- but I will not allow someone so lowly to taint them.”

The red headed boy tilted his head, his gaze condescending as he crossed his arms over his chest. “And you think you’re worthy? Truly?”

Sebek straightened his back, his shoulders squaring, making him look impossibly big. “Yes.”

They glared at each other, despite the boy being up to Sebeks’ chin, he still kept his glare even with his. He opened his mouth to retort with a head of black and pink hair slipped in front of their view. “Hello!” Lilia said, his tone sing-songy as he flipped himself to float right side up. “You boys seem to be having fun!”

“I- Lilia- senpai, I don’t think we’re-”

Lilia hushed him with a finger before leaning over and nodding to you and the boys. “Why don’t you take our little (Y/N) for a dance, hm? I’m sure they’ve been waiting an awfully long time for you to do it.”

Sebek blinked, nodding and turning to you. Offering his arm as he asks: “would you allow me this dance?”

You note the blush that rests on his cheeks, a soft laugh leaving you as you put your hand on his arm. “Of course.” As he’s walking you to the center of the dance floor you look back at the boy and yell out: “I’ll dance with you later!”

Sebek bristles at that and you yelp as he almost lifts you off the ground as he sweeps you into his arms: one hand rests on the small of your back while the other holds one of your hands in a gentle grip. “I don’t want you near that boy, human.”

You feel a smile tug at your lips. “You know, I did promise him that I would dance with him later, right?”

“Yes, and I demand you revoke your promise.”

“Why?”

Sebek swayed the two of you back and forth, an annoyed sigh pushing past his lips. “He is a suspicious figure- I don’t trust him with the safety of the Young Masters friend.”

“That all?”

He huffs, pressing you closer to him. The sound of a soft tune being played on violins and a piano surrounds the two of you. It sounds like a song for lovers.

You rest your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the two of you swayed to your own rhythm. “Your heart is pounding.” You murmur.

“Well- that- I-” Sebek fumbled with his words, trying not to jostle you in his embarrassed and nervous twitches. “Don’t make fun of me, human.”

You laugh before saying: “I was waiting for you to ask me to dance.”

Sebek could feel his ears burn with a blush. “Why?”

You look up at him through your lashes before you huff and lean against his chest again. “You’re such a silly fae, you know that?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, human?” His voice builds in volume, his eyebrows twitching into an annoyed ‘v’.

“It means your dense, my handsome knight. So very, very dense.”

“I am not dense.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve been picking up on my attraction towards you and haven’t done anything? Sebek Zigvolt, I would have never guessed you were someone to string people along. How cruel.”

You almost burst out laughing at the mortified look on his face. “I- I-” his pale cheeks flush a deep red as he fights to make a coherent sentence. “You like me?”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “More than you know.”

He nods once, twice- trying to fight the smile threatening to split across his face but his eyes gleam like shooting stars. “V-very good, human. You’ve chosen the perfect partner. Yes, I will do well to protect you and the Young Master from now on.”

You let out a laugh, the song ending, yet the two of you continued to sway. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Thank you for reading!

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years

Text

Pleasure of the Written Word

Kinktober: Day 21, Sexting

Dean x Reader

A few text messages remind Dean of what he’s missing while he’s away on a hunt.

Warnings: smut, language

Dean was always missing you. A long time ago, you had both decided it was for the best, that you stay home. He would go out and defeat the monsters that threatened your peace, and you would provide as much information as you could. It was just easier that way. You researched, and he hunted. He was never worried about a djinn kidnapping you or a shapeshifter impersonating you, all he had to worry about was ganking the bad guy and finding his way home to you as quickly as possible.

The case he was currently on was supposed to a be simple salt and burn. That’s how they always started, but now it was two weeks in, and he was getting irritated. He just wanted to go home and see you. Was that so hard to understand? To make matters worse he hadn’t heard from you in a few days.

He was in the middle of downing a shot when he got the first notification in three days. Your beautiful name shining up at him through the neon lights of the bar. He quickly opened it, excitement coursing through his veins.

Y/N: I miss you.

His heart swelled and he quickly responded with a similar message, stepping away from the bar as he awaited your response. He didn’t need booze if you’re name was going to be blinking up at him for the rest of the night.

Y/N: Any idea when you’ll be home?

Dean: I don’t. I’m sorry, Baby.

He could practically hear you sniff in indignation, annoyance blossoming while you marched around the bunker, cursing yourself for not joining him. The thought of your arms crossed, talking loudly to yourself as you fidgeted with a gun made him laugh. He was so lost in his own amusement he almost missed the next text.

Y/N: But my pussy wants you so bad.

He could barely believe his eyes, in fact he rubbed them a couple times to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He glanced over at Sam and considered asking him what it said, just to be sure. He threw that idea away pretty quickly, not wanting to risk it if he hadn’t misread. Instead he responded the only way he knew how.

Dean: Really?

Y/N: Yes, it’s so wet, just waiting for you to come home.

This was territory not yet discovered. Sure, you had said some risqué things over text, but never this explicit. You had once admitted it made you feel awkward, typing things that you had only ever whispered in his ear, but here you were. He didn’t know what to say. Like you had said, it came naturally when he was there, your legs spread and welcoming, but it was so incredibly strange like this.

Dean: And what are you going to let me do once I get home?

It was awkward, short, jaunted and begging for her to continue. And the time it took for her to respond was centuries long; however, when she did it was well worth the wait. Because not only did her words entice nerves that had been practically dead for two weeks, a picture had been included. His mouth watered at the sigh of her naked in the mirror save a pair of his favorite lingerie; her fingers dipping beneath the waistband of lace, as if she wasn’t temptation enough.

Y/N: Fuck me until I can’t walk. I want you to make me shake and scream until Sam has to leave because he can’t stand it any longer. And then I’ll let you flip me over and pound me until I’m raw.

Blood rushed to his dick and as subtly as possible he made his way to the car, the closest privacy available to a man who was about to lose control. Sam would understand, or maybe he wouldn’t, but that didn’t really matter to Dean as he undid his belt.

Dean: Is there anything else you want, Baby?

Y/N: I want your dick in my mouth, gagging me until I can’t breathe. I want to taste your salty sweetness until you come and then I want to drink up every drop you have to offer.

Dean: Yeah, Baby? You wanna suck my dick?

Y/N: I want to worship your dick.

His fingers tightened around his dick at her response and he began to pump, groaning softly to himself. He prayed the windows were tinted enough that no one would be able to tell. Another notification appeared and he was quick to open it, moaning allowed at the sight of another picture. You had abandoned the lace and now stood completely nude, perky breasts and the small mound of flesh he so longed to fill all available for him to see. And your fingers must have been working among the folds since you had first texted him because your lips were parted, eyes shut as you gasped. Another rush of blood filled his dick. He had never been so jealous of your fingers, allowed to touch you when he was 100 miles away. When he got home he was going to tie up those hands and ravish you, without those pesky fingers getting in the way.

Dean: Keep going baby im clos

That’s all he managed as his fingers began to shake from the orgasmic pleasure that was rearing its beautiful head as pumped.

Y/N: me too, me too

All it took was his imagination of you gasping those words, your sweet pussy taking place of his hand as you came and he was done for. His hips bucked forward as he finished, breathing heavily as he struggled to reply.

Dean: I can’t wait to get home to you, Baby.

The last picture she sent was of her face in post orgasmic bliss, those soft fingers he envied toying with her lips.

Y/N: Me too

#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean wicnhester fanfic #dean x reader #dean x reader fluff #dean x reader angst #dean x reader smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader fluff #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x reader smut #supernatural #supernatural imagine

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atinysunbaby · 3 years

Text

Meant to be | Choi San 🖤

Warnings : Cursing, violence, mention of rape.

Words count : 2.2 k

Previous 《 Prologue

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Present

My cheeks are burning from the salty tears escaping my eyes. A tightening feeling in my chest growing by the minute. The sobs keep escaping me, making my body move uncontrollably. Chocking from the sharp inhales and shaking from the cold temperature. This moment, forever will be imprinted in my mind. Those images I wish I could forget, unfortunately will hunt me till my last breath.

I suppose it's what most people feel too when they lose their parents. I wanted to deny it, but I saw their bodies. They were cold, bruised, bloody and no longer held any signs of life.

The last time a saw them, I didn't bother much to say goodbye to them. Only telling them to enjoy their little vacation in the woods. I was more exited about being alone then making them know how much I loved them. Now it's too late, I'll never be able to see their faces again, hear their voices, feel their arms around me when I need them the most.

I woke up to my cellphone ringing this morning, answering grumpily, thinking it was my mom who disturbed me from my sleep. It was actually the cops telling me to come to the hospital, but I wish it would've been her instead. I wish she could annoy me every morning now, but it's over. She isn't here anymore and neither is my dad.

I'm in my room, at this moment, crying my heart out. I ran out of the hospital immediately after seeing their corpses. They wanted me to identifie them, but I left with people screaming for me to comeback. I guess they probably know from my reaction, that it was indeed my mom and dad.

People keep calling me on my phone, but I don't answer. I'm laying on the floor, looking at the ceiling, waiting for my sadness to subside. I know that won't happen anytime soon, but it's the only way for me to calm down. Being surrounded by people telling me how sorry they are for my loss. A bunch of fake assholes making me feel even worse about the situation definitely won't make anything better.

Slowly my eyes get heavy, I try to fight the exhaustion but fail miserably. I fall asleep on the cold floor of my room, my window open and the sound of rain filling my ears. All of this crying definitely used up a lot of my energy.

The car crash, I wasn't there and I have no idea of what happened. But I see it, something is in the middle of the road and dad just told mom a joke. They're laughing.. until they hit that thing, an animal maybe. It goes right through the window and kill my dad instantly, but as for my mom. The car rolls off the road and fall down a small cliff. Mom's still alive, she's in pain, blood everywhere, she's crying for her husband to open his eyes and answer her. She keeps screaming that she can't feel him anymore? His presence? Her breathing is getting worse the more she panics. Suddenly the door on her side opens and something stabs her in the chest, putting a end to her desperate cries. Blood is streaming down her chin, her eyes looking directly through mine while she takes her last breath.

I open my eyes to see nothing but darkness. I frantically search for a sign of light, I reach around with my hands. My eyes are open wide and my breath shaky, until my fingers brush against an object. I stop every movement, slowly gripping it and letting a breath of relieve when I realise it's my phone.

I turn it on to see a ton of messages and missed calls. One standing out, my aunts name, my mom's sister. I never talked to her, but mom insisted on giving me her number. I look around my room and stand up to look outside the window, only to notice that it's night time. The reason of the darkness and freezing temperature. I close it and turn the lights on in my room. Then I sit on the corner of my bed and hesitate a few minutes while looking at the screen in front of me. My fingers finaly press on call. A few rings later, Aunt Kath's voice is heard. "Y/N! Y/N is it you?"

"Yes it's me.. why did you cal-" I'm cut off by a loud sob. My eyes widen in confusion, but I soon remember that my mom, her sister is no longer a part of this world. I sigh and wait for her to stop crying on the other side of the line. "S-sweetie- where are you? Are you safe? You're not alone ar-"

"Kath, my parents just died. I'm obviously not partying right now, but I'm okay.. I guess.." She stays silent for the next few seconds, my blunt answer probably wasn't expected, but it's understandable. "Sweetheart-I uhh.. you have no one to stay with right? So.. your mom made me your godmother, i-in case anything happened to her.. will you come live w-with me, here in Korea?"

It takes some time to process what just came out of her mouth, my eyebrows are furrowed. Many feelings are fighting to take control of my body, but the one that wins is frustration. "W-what?.."

"She told me to take care of you if she wasn't there anymore... It was just a precaution, but I guess it really happened." She says with a small voice, trying not to upset me further. Judging from my lack of response, she can tell I'm not that excited about this new information. "I asked you, but it ins't really a choice that you have. It's an obligation, you can't stay alone out ther-"

I hang up, not wanting to listen even for one more second. I need some time to think about it. She's right, I don't have much of a choice. I turned seventeen not too long ago and I don't have any family member here. At least none that I know of. I sigh defeated, once again pressing on my godmother's contact.

She picks up not even a second later, as if she knew I was gonna call her back. She doesn't say a word, waiting for me to start talking. I clear my throat after freeing my lower lip from my teeth. "How will I get there? How about my clothes and everything else in the house? My parents' funera-"

"I'll take care of everything you don't have to worry, just bring the necessary and I'll transfer some money on your account so you can pay for your plane ticket. As for the ride to my house, my boyfriend will pick you up" She spend a whole hour explaining to me how everything will go and I agree after hesitating for a while. If my mom gave Kath the role of godmother, she must trust her. So I will trust her too, anyways I don't really have a reason not to. She's been nice till now and she'll even welcome me in her house, she's taking me in. "Thank you Kath, I really appreciate it. I don't know what I would've done if I was all alone."

Days later

I prepared all my stuff, ready to fly to Korea. It took me a while to accept, but eventually I warmed up to it. It's an opportunity for me, to start over. A new life full of adventure, new environment and culture. I want to explore the world so why not start there.

Unfortunately though, I had to say goodbye to all my friends. We cried and spend the last few days together. We promised to text each other everyday and not to forget about one another. Sad thing is, my friends aren't the only ones I need to leave behind. It's hard to leave the place I grew up in, my house, my neighbourhood, my city, everything.

In a few hours, everything I ever knew will all be in the past. Only the memories will stay, the rest, all gone. So the day my parents died, I didn't only lose them, but my life too. The life they gave me. Now, I have to make a new one, by myself.

Landing in Korea

The flight was boring and quite annoying, I didn't know what to do. A baby cried for what felt like years and a couple had an argument at some point. Then the person next to me started to snore so loudly I thought the plane was crashing. I'm glad to finaly be on the ground, the loud voices of people speaking indistinctly seeming to sooth me from what I went through previously.

I sit on one of the chairs in the airport waiting for James, my godmother's boyfriend. He'll drive me to their house, apparently Kath arranged a room for me already. She doesn't have any kid, so she's looking forward to having me over.

"Y/N!!" I jump from the chair almost falling on my ass. I luckily manage to stay on my two feet and not make a fool of myself. Upon hearing a chuckle, I turn around and see an old looking dude smirking at me, maybe in his late forties. "Umm.. Hi can I help you?"

"James, I came to pick you up remember?" He asks while pointing at himself. I'm still unsure, he's looking at me weirdly. I can feel an odd vibe from him. It makes me feel uncomfortable, but I push it aside and nod before following him.

We enter his rusty jeep, the doors creaking when moving. Despite the outside looking a bit ugly, the inside is clean. The only negative point would be the smell, cigarette and..alcohol? Paying a bit more attention to the smell though, it doesn't only come from the jeep. The man next to me is even worst, it seems that he might shower rarely. Subtly, I bring my sweater paws to my nose, looking outside to distract myself.

"So, Y/N! How you holding up?" His loud and deep raspy voice makes me jump for the second time. I turn a bit a towards him not to be impolite and think before answering him. "I guess it's a bit easier then I expected. I didn't think that I'd feel any better, but after a few days it prove me wrong. But I feel bad, to already move on.."

He hums next to me, nodding his head lazily. I wait for him to add something, but the car is filled with silence. I'm relieved he doesn't speak further, not really being in the mood to have a whole conversation, especially with someone I don't know. So, slowly I turn back around towards the window. My mind drifting to the events that happened in just a few weeks, everything is so fucked up. Fortunately, Kath and James decided to help me.

About an hour past since we came out of the airport. We just entered a forrest, James informed me that it'll take a while still. He insisted that I should go to sleep and when I'll wake up, we'll be home. I ponder for some time, but eventually agree. It doesn't take long for me to fall asleep due to not being able to get much sleep in the plane.

I wake up when the car come to an halt, a man's voice coming from next to me. Curses escaping his mouth, confused I open my eyes. The events from the previous hours coming back to me, tears threatening to escape my eyes. My body shaking slightly from fear, uncontrollably.

The ride was a lot longer then what James had told me it would be and I slept, only to be woken up by a hand covering my mouth. Horrible things happened in that car and it wasn't a nightmare, no mather how much I wish it was one. He said he would tell Kath it took us some time because of the traffic and the airport. Then he threatened to kill me if I open my mouth.

I can't let him see me crying, I don't want him to have another reason to hurt me. Despite being terrified and completely drained from energy, I swallow the bill in my throat and wipe the tears from my eyes. While I'm breaking down, next to me James is whistling and turning the car off. Announcing with a loud scream to Kath that we arrived.

"Omg! Y/N! Sweetie you really are here." Kath comes out of the house shouting happily, her arms open, waiting for me to give her a hug. I rush to open the door, but a hand grabs my arm. His nails dig in my skin and I whimper, both from fear and pain. "Remember. You talk, you die."

He puts my bag in my hand, pretending to be helping me. Finally I escape the horrible vehicle and run into my godmother's arms with a heavy heart. The second she engulfs me in her warmth, sobs spill from deep within me. She cries with me but not for the same reason. She cries because she lost her sister and now I'm here. I, cry because I've lost my parents, I lost my house, my friends. Because I've been raped less then an hour ago. Because I feel completely broken and hopeless. The new life I wanted for myself, only starts with even more problems then I had before.

Next 》 Chapter 2

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #san fanfic #werewolf au #atiny #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reincarnation!Reader

Words: 2755 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, mention of torture, swearing, angst.

Requested by: @asphodelshare

Hi! I read your Five fics and I like your style of writing! If it’s not too much to ask, could you write one where Five had to leave the reader back in the 2019 Apocalypse bc he didn’t have a choice. He then sees her 1963 counterpart, she doesn’t know him and he tries to stop himself from reconnecting w/ her but he can’t help himself. It’s up to you if it’ll end on a happy note or an angsty one! Xx

A/N: The Eternals are my personal touch, so I guess this should be considered an AU of some sort. I'm sure this wasn't what you thought would happen, I'll be frank, it wasn't what I thought either 😂 The end just wrote itself! And it wasn't what I had planned. Ouups.

He tried. Really, he tried. Ever since the first time he saw you walking in the street wearing a school uniform, a school bag hanging loosely on your shoulder and a lunchbox in hand, Five had had a hard time resisting his need to run to you and hug your form with all his might. Granted, Five had no proof that the girl walking away from him was this time-line version of you, she could simply be a perfect replica of your 15 years old self with the same habit of drawing on her school furniture, the same bright smile and the same bewitching laugh. Yes, she was just a replica. A too perfect replica.

Five forced his legs to take him away from her walking form and tried to push the girl at the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on his task to stop the new apocalypse and return back in 2019 where he left you.

It never was in the plan to let you die under the meteor shower that ravaged the Earth, if anything you were at the top of his list of people he had to save. Unfortunately Five came to the conclusion that the past was a place way too dangerous for you to venture, add this to the Commission who would surely double down their effort to kill the Hargreeves and whoever helped them, your chances of dying in the past were way too high for his liking. The boy would never be able to live with himself if you were to die permanently in the past and not for only a few days in 2019.

For a whole day, Five managed to forget about the girl and his feelings altogether. Alongside Diego, he broke into their father's company building and discovered some precious information. The part of the night involving the younger Pogo let him a bitter taste in his mouth but it didn't stop him in the slightest. Back at Morty's, Five was almost surprised to find his brother still breathing on the couch, his new partner in crime cauterizing his bullet-wound.

"Did you cut yourself shaving? I can teach you to shave like a big boy." Sighing the boy put a gaze to the bleeding scratches burning his neck. All he could hope now was that Pogo didn't give him Herpes B.

"No, I just ran into an old family friend." Five turned around towards the kitchen in hope of finding a perfectly brewed coffee pot. He groaned in disappointment when he noticed that not only was the coffee pot empty, but Elliott wasn't tied in the chair anymore.

"You untied him?" Five shot Lila a brief glance before returning his attention to his surroundings, listening attentively to any sound allowing him to pin-point the man's location.

"No. Was I supposed to?"

Ignoring her question, Five made his way to the rooms down the hallway. He never ventured there before, he assumed that the three doors lead to a bedroom and some storage rooms filled with conspiracy theories just like the living room. Turns out he was partially right.

Elliott's bedroom was empty, the bed still undone. The next door opened on a black room with pictures hanging on the walls and dyeing material placed neatly.

From behind the last door, Five could hear two distinct muffled voices. He recognized the first one as Elliott's but the second one made him frown in concentration. It sounded familiar even though he never really talked to anyone from this time-line other than Lila and Elliott.

Confused, Five opened the door, not prepared at all to see you standing in front of a seated Elliott, the two of you arguing in hushed voices. The cracking door alerted you, your angry gaze instantly found him, standing in your doorway with his mouth slightly opened in shock like an idiot.

Five gulped as you made your way to him, there was no way that she wasn't you. Not only did she look exactly like you, but her pissed-off expression was the same as the you he knew. Your fists were tight at your sides, no doubt giving you the courage to not back down before him, your furrowed brows created little wrinkles that Five desperately wanted to ease away by a light stroke of his fingers and your eyes. Oh your eyes. How he had missed their spark.

“Who are you?” You harshly asked while poking his chest with your delicate finger.

Five had a hard time keeping his arms to his sides, preventing them from pulling you into a tight hug that you were sure to hate. Instead, he breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his frantic heart. “E- What are you doing here?” He mentally cursed the slight waver in his voice, then again, you tended to have that effect on him.

“I live here. Why are you here?”

He was at a loss of words and couldn't help but stare at you in disbelief. You lived here?

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Elliott stood up, his anxiety showing in the form of a hand scratching the back of his neck. “This is my daughter Y/N. Y/N this is- this is- eh. He’s one of them.”

You even had the same name! It finally clicked into Five's head. He had heard of the rare phenomenon back in his days at the Commission, someone extremely important to the balance of the time-line would reincarnate after each one of their deaths to keep the time-line on track. Those very few, only eight in the whole world, were constantly chased by the Commission who in the beginning tried to discover the secret of their perpetual rebirths but then changed their goal to killing them as soon as they could when they discovered that the reincarnations could remember their past and future lives. Five had always thought that the Eternals, as the Commission called them, were just a story created by bored time analysts to kill time.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, a small smile slipped out of his control at the perspective that this was really you right in front of him, his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime and the object of his affection.

“The name’s Five.” So far you didn’t seem to remember him. Maybe you were too young or it was too soon. He had no idea how your condition worked.

"I don't care, asswad. You and your friends tied my father to a chair-" Five's heart stopped at the insult modern you used to call him all the time when his shitty attitude managed to get on your nerves. As much as he hated the nickname, he couldn’t help the rush of excitement he felt when he heard it. You may be starting to remember your future even if you were unaware of it.

"He tried to shoot us." Five deadpanned quickly remembering why they tied the man in the first place.

"You are in our house!"

"He invited us in." Okay, this one was a lie. Five had space-jumped in first, but then Elliott hadn't kicked him out so he would consider it as an invitation to stay.

"Dad!" You turned to the embarrassed grown-up, disbelief written all over your face.

Five decided to let them argue alone and go control his ever growing feelings somewhere else, preferably somewhere you were not. Walking back to the kitchen to finally make himself some coffee, Five thought about how he could help you remember who you were- no, will be.

“What’s the beeping?” Lila’s voice broke through his reasoning, catching his attention when she poked the computer screen.

Five made his way toward the machine, a grin stretching his lips. “Vanya.” In a second he jumped away, carrying on with his plan to gather his siblings.

It was only two days later that he saw you next. You were eating your breakfast while quickly scribbling on a poor paper sheet, your foot bouncing rapidly on the floor as the seconds passed. Five was watching you over his warm cup of coffee, swiftly averting his gaze whenever you would lift yours. An elbow hit his shoulder, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall on the floor, wasting his precious black liquid.

“What?” Five snapped at Luther after making sure his drink didn’t spill over his hand.

“Why is Y/N here?” His whispering was not subtle at all although luckily for the blue-eyed boy, the sizzling eggs covered the excessive sound.

Five went to his brother’s side, turning his back to you in the meantime. “She’s not the same Y/N. Well, she is but-” He groaned at the complexity of the situation. His brother would definitely not understand, so he went with the easy way out. “Long story short, this is her past life. Now stop talking abou-”

“Oh, hey even your little girlfriend made it here.” Diego joined the conversation without a care in the world. He grabbed a plate along with some toast before dropping them at Five’s outburst.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He could feel his body heating up despite his best efforts.

All three of them tensed for their own reasons yet they all not so subtly turned their heads in your direction. If looks could kill, they would definitely be at the verge of death.

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Five just received his killing blow.

You hurriedly grabbed your bag under the table and rushed out of the room, paper in hand. The silence following your exit permitted your last words to bounce in his head, hurting his feelings like nothing before. If he could gauge the pain he felt at this right moment on a scale of 1 to 10, he would say that without a doubt this was a 10.

What you said was the plain truth. In any lives of yours did you and him became a thing. It didn’t stop the fact that after all these years suppressing his romantic attraction toward you, Five had nurtured the hope that maybe one day, you two could be more than friends. Today this hope just blew up in his face, mauling his heart in the process.

So in the blink of an eye, the boy disappeared from the kitchen to live his pain alone, away from prying eyes and the pity of his brothers.

Later that same day, Five was nursing his seventh cup of steaming coffee of the day when someone sat next to his own spot on the second floor, legs dangling in the air where the floor stopped to show the once TV shop. He sipped on his coffee as an attempt to show them that he wasn’t interested in the slightest in what they had to say, needless to say that it didn’t work. He should be used by now, it never worked.

“I’m impressed that you didn’t die from a heart attack or something. Your blood pressure should be pretty high with all the coffee that you drink in a day.” He nearly choked on his sip when your soft voice reached his ears.

He turned to you, baffled to see you smirking at him. Not angry. Not annoyed. Playful. "You know, if you weren't from the future and weren’t endangering my father by your mere presence here, I would have loved to be your friend."

Just when Five thought that he couldn’t be surprised anymore! "How do yo-?"

"Klaus doesn't stop talking about how he misses youtube." The boy sighed, clearly his brother couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He wondered if sewing his mouth shut would suffice to shut him up for good. Knowing Klaus, he would definitely find a way to express himself without his mouth. “Also I remember you, asswad.” You bumped his shoulder with yours before crossing your arms on the railing before you and resting your head on them.

His eyes went wide, the meaning of your words slowly registering into his brain. He turned to you, trying in vain to not get his hopes up about your remembrance. A very genuine smile stretched your lips, making Five almost drop his mug on the floor below. He then realized that if you could remember your future life, then you surely remembered your future death and with it, how Five abandoned you to your demise. Guilt pulled at his heart at imagining what you went through because of him and fear darkened his heart at the thought that not only your past self would hate him but your modern self too.

Something on his cheek caught his attention, the delicate stroke of your fingers awoke a fire under his skin when he noticed your gesture and the concerned frown disturbing your perfect features. This time around he couldn’t stop himself and reached forward, smoothing the creased skin with a light brush of his fingertips.

“I’m sorry.” His hand dropped in defeat at his side, his gaze fleeing yours.

“What for?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I abandoned you to die.” His voice was so small, saying it aloud made him doubt his choice. He closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears away, his remorses started eating him alive.

You moved closer and took the mug out of his hand when it was within your reach. You disposed of it before wrapping your arms around his waist and put your chin on his shoulder. He didn’t open his eyes, instead closing them tighter to the point that he started to see stars dance behind his eyelids.

“You.” You blowed on the side of his face. Once. Twice. “Hey you. Open your eyes.” You sighed when he merely relaxed his facial muscles but kept his eyes shut. “I understand you know? You had to. I’m not mad.”

You proceeded to poke his cheek when the absence of reaction on his part was starting to get on your nerves. “I’m talking to you, asswad!”

You gasped when Five suddenly turned his head to the side and connected his lips to yours with force. His hands found the side of your face to keep you close when his lips moved with yours in a desperate motion, as if you would vanish at any seconds. At one point, the kiss stopped tasting coffee, a salty taste replacing the strong addicting aroma.

Slowly Five pulled away to discover tears running down your cheeks. His first reaction was to close his hands into fists wanting to jump away and remove his damned heart from his chest with his bare hands. As the blue waves flowed around his fists, your lips stretched in a smile stealing his breath.

"Took you long enough." Your almost imperceptible whisper was so loud in his ears.

A smile mirroring your own formed on his face, he was beyond the moon all the while asking himself how he could have been so stupidly blind to your feelings.

"We got there, that's what's important." You hummed in agreement before repositioning your head on his shoulder and contemplating what next.

A few days passed and Five along with his siblings met their father. Needless to say that it went down pretty quickly. For some odd reason, Five found himself thinking that it could have been worse. Someone could have died. Or hurt. Everyone was in one piece if we didn't count Diego's soul.

Space-jumping back at Morty's, Five thought that he was horribly wrong. Elliott's body laid in a chair obviously having been tortured before being executed. As much as the boy wanted to feel bad for the man who played such a great role helping him reach his goal, every thought that passed through his mind was directed at you.

Five yelled your name before jumping from room to room before he noticed a crimson red trail leading to the black room.

His shaking hand grabbed the handle of the slightly opened door, pushing it with a shaky breath escaping his lungs.

If it wasn't of your school uniform you were wearing, Five couldn't have said for sure that this broken body was yours. The obvious torture you went through got him on his knees, water pooling from his eyes like two rivers.

He was wrong. So dearly wrong. This, right now, was the worst pain he ever felt. He didn't even have to open his chest to relieve himself of his excruciating pain for his heart had completely stopped at the agony scaled to 11.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number five imagine #the boy #tua s2 #the umbrella academy #this is angsty #and it was supposed to be fluff #my bad #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves

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