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russellsppttemplates · 8 months

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I'm his what? (Charles Leclerc)

Despite the initial uncertainty, your and Charles' take on the baby shower was perfect for you

Note: english is not my first language. I haven't written for Charles in so long and I must say I missed doing it 🥹

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

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Tw: pregnancy

The concept of baby showers had always left you a bit on the fence. While you didn't have anything against them, and rather enjoyed gifting the parents to be and celebrate the new addition, you were fortunate enough to be able to sort things out on your own. Like so, you and Charles went back and forth with the idea of having a traditional baby shower, deciding to give your own twist to it, the idea coming from one of your appointments when you noticed an association that helped new parents and was calling for any donations anyone could do. So, while you welcomed any gifts your guests wanted to give your family, you also encouraged them to donate something they could to the cause, having also decided to know the gender beforehand as you had grown irritated of people trying to guess what you were having. At the end of it, you and Charles wanted to have a gathering with your close family and friends to celebrate and welcome the new baby boy into the family.

"Do you think it was a bad decision?", you asked Charles as he helped you tie the bow in the back of your dress, "I just didn't want to make a big fuss, like, I already had people throwing guesses left and right, because my bump was too big or too small, because I looked like I was having twis and people calling me out for a fake pregnancy, I-, I just needed it to be low-key", you turned to face him, desperately wanting some reassurance.

"Amour, it's what you felt most comfortable with, right?", you nodded and he proceeded, "it's what we wanted, right? To gather everyone important for us in a comfortable setting. If anyone has something to say or point out, then it's they're problem, not ours. I want you to be comfortable, and if there is ever a moment that you don't feel it, you tell me and I'll deal with it. I don't care if I have to tell everyone to leave right then and there, because I'll do it if it means you're okay, that you're both okay. Is that understood?", Charles asked sincerely, the assertiveness in his voice clear as you had dealt with difficult and uncomfortable situations more times that he would've hoped just because you didn't want to seem rude.

Sighing in awe of him, you pecked his lips, holding his face between your hands, "understood, I love you", you smiled, kissing his lips properly before parting, holding his hand as you both walked dowstairs.

Greeting the catering team that had dropped off the food for the last time, you thanked them for their beautiful work before you headed to the garden. The sunny day had a certain breeze, making the outside temperature cool enough for you to be okay with having to stay in garden since the pregnancy had left you a lot more sensitive to the temperature.

People started to arrive, Pascale greeting you while she gushed, "chérie, you're glowing!", she kissed your cheek, "look how gorgeous you are! How's little one treating you?", she questioned, asking silently for your permission to touch your bump, smiling when you nodded. "He's been behaving okay, usually Charles is able to calm him down whenever he decides he wants to kung-fu fight in the middle of the night", you giggled with her.

"Yes, maman. Do you know Charles, do you remember him? Your son you seem to have forgotten about?", he teased his mother, kissing her cheeks once she stood up straight, flicking his ear, "how could I forget my most demanding son? It's not my fault one of my amazing daughters in-law is giving me a little grandson and she's an angel", she poked him back, "are you all good, dears? Do you need help with anything?", your mother in-law asked, "no, everything is sorted out, thank you. Just enjoy yourselves, yes?", you said, ushering her and greeting Arthur, Carla, Charlotte and Lorenzo who arrived following their mother.

"Hi, gorgeous mama, how are you?", Charlotte asked, greeting Charles as well, "I hope this one has been treating you well", the brothers teased Charles. Shaking your head while chuckling, "how do you people think Charles is like? I'm all for a little fun and games, but I also feel the duty to tell you that he has been incredible. He's supportive, he's been there everytime I cried about something stupid, everytime I needed to eat something, every appointment he could, and he's rubbed my feet everyday. He's the best", you gushed at Charles, not missing the way his cheeks blushed, "it's what I can do, that's barely worthy of mention", your husband mumbled, being shushed by you kissing his lips, hugging him close to you, "you're the best papa ever", you mumbled against his lips, "and you're still the most lovey dovey couple I've ever met! Oh, those look nice!", Arthur said, fake puking before seeing the food on the table.

You walked along with Charles, picking at some of the food and drinks and greeting the people arriving, eventually getting tired, "I think I'm going to sit, my feet are hurting a little", you patted Charles' chest, hoping he'd stay in the conversation he was having with Joris, "I'll go, too", he said, placing the cup he was drinking from in the table next to him, following you to the set of chairs where Francisca, Pierre and Pascale were chatting, "here, hold my hands", Charles urged you after he tapped the chair to make sure it was well settled on the grass, "Charles, mate, I'm here! My wife is here and your mother is here, do you think we would let her sit wrong?", Pierre scrunched his eyebrows, wondering why Charles was fussing so much, "the grass could be softer on some places and the chair could have the legs unsupported. And, besides, I wanted to sit, too", he said, sitting in the chair next to Pierre so you could rest your feet on your husband's thighs.

"There was this time that Charles only fell asleep on my chest, and I remember cursing about it because I was so tired and, like, we had a perfectly good bassinet for him. But I also remembering wanting him to sleep on my chest when he was older and he was too big for it", Pascale shared, "it truly goes by incredibly fast, and you should enjoy all the moments, even if the ones where you don't see as good because in retrospective, you will miss them".

"Oh, according to my mother, I had trouble sleeping. She could hardly leave the room before I started wailing out", you blushed, "I hope that what goes around, doesn't come around", you chuckled, "but even now I don't need much sleep, maybe that's an advantage", you shrugged your shoulders, "not so soon, Y/N. From what I know from my sisters in-law", Francisca began, "no advantage is functional in the newborn stage", she cringed.

You had been chatting with them when you noticed a board with what looked like a calendar, "what is that?", you pointed, seeing Charlotte adjust her shirt before she walked to stand next to it, grabbing the board and asking Lorenzo for help as they propped it on a chair sp you could see it.

"I know you didn't need all of those things people do, but this one is actually funny and we have some funny answers", she chuckled, allowing you to read the cards. Confirming your theory, it was indeed a calendar of the month you were supposed to be due, all of the dates containing not only the day but also the time they thought your baby boy would be born, along withtl their measurements.

"Who wrote this card here? If my baby is that big, I'm going to be knackered!", you yelled, holding a card with the measurements you were sure belonged to a baby with at least six months. Looking around, your husband's bestfriend kept trying to hold his laugh, failing when he saw the shocked expression on your face, "Charles has a big head, and quite frankly, so do you!", Pierre teased you, earning a flick of his ear from you as soon as you approached him, "you think that's funny? I've been growing bones and organs in the last few months, so, until you do such thing, no talking about the size my baby boy's head", you threatened, "since when do you call Charles your baby boy?", he wondered, "I'm talking about baby Hervé. I know and recognise Charles' head is big, I have eyes", you muttered.

A while later, Charles went to the bathroom and when you noticed it, the song you had both danced at your wedding playing in one of the outside speakers, your husband coming from behind you, "may I have this dance?", he asked, stretching his hand so you could take it, "Do people even dance at baby showers?", you whispered, getting up and lacing your fingers in his and going to the bit where there was pavement, doing your best to embrace eachother given that your bump was growing everyday, "Hervé's baby shower was never going according to tradition, was it?", Charles kissed your forehead, "and besides, we haven't danced together in a good while, and I love having you two close to me", he said, allowing you to cuddle as close to him as humanly possible, "are you enjoying your day?".

You swayed as smoothly as you could, forgetting all about the family and friends all gushing and commenting about how cute you looked, "it's our day, my love. I know you sometimes feels a bit apart because of how this works, but we couldn't be any luckier that you're here for us, that you're Hervé's papa", you smiled, caressing his cheek wirh your hand, "you're a loving, empathetic, honest and kind man, and I couldn't do this adventure into parenthood with anyone but you", you finished, kissing his lips lovingly.

Wiping the tears on your eyes, Charles' hand then travelled to your bump, "I wouldn't do this with anyone else either. You are the love of my life and the one making one of my biggest dreams come true, and I'll spend every day of my life to show you how grateful I am for you and how much I love you", you offered, laying your head on his chest.

"Look at them looking so cute, seems like yesterday they were two idiots in love and everybody but them saw it, and now they're having a kid", Lorenzo pointed out, earning a nod of agreement from Pierre, "it's a good job they had us to set them up".

"Don't think I've forgotten you all but wished my body would fall apart after having this kid, Pierre. I've just stopped contemplating wether or not you're still his godfather. Don't make me rethink it again!", you taunted, "I'm his what?".

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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zegrasdrysdale · 5 months

Note

Hi! I wanted to ask if you could write a request for cole caufield! So him and reader are like newly public but have been dating for a couple months, but she’s getting hate on the internet bc her ex is someone who’s famous (idk who lol) but anyways she goes onto like a podcast and talks about how much better of a boyfriend cole was to her than her ex and when she gets home he’s just so in awe of her and the way she feels and speaks about him (I’m so sorry if this didn’t make sense) 😭

[ to love and to be loved ] c. caufield

paring : Cole Caufield x influencer!fem!reader

summary : tired of the hate she's been getting, (Y/N) goes on a podcast to talk about her life, her past relationship, and her new public relationship with Canadians star Cole Caufield

warning(s) : language, mentions of cheating

author’s note : my first time ever writing for cole so pls tell me if i did okay :)

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She didn't know what she thought would happen when she and Cole went public with their relationship a few months after they started dating. There were a few hours where all she saw was support, until her TikToker ex decided to say something about the announcement she and Cole made.

All she sees right now is hate from thousands of people after her ex's comments on his Instagram story. He called her a bitch and said she used him to gain fame and use his money to get what she wanted. He even tagged Cole in a second Instagram story to warn him about her "manipulative ways". His millions of fans agreed with him and have started to flood her feed with hate and negative messages.

She can't even imagine what Cole's comments and DMs look like.

It's been a week since that day, and she's only grown tired of seeing all the hate. She's hasn't spoken out about her ex's accusations about her despite her having more serious accusations about him and his own girlfriend.

As soon as she was invited to go on one of her friends' podcasts, she jumped at the opportunity to speak out about what's been going on. It's time to speak out, and that's the reason her friend invited her on to the podcast.

The set is comfortable. She sits on the couch next to her friend and her friend's podcast partner. A microphone sits in front of her on a stand. A table sits at her feet that holds cups of coffee for the three of them. It's a cozy set up.

"Thank you for inviting me," (Y/N) says to her friend. "I'm sorry Cole wasn't available to come on with me. He flew in this morning from his road trip and has practice today. He didn't want to risk being late to the rink."

Her friend Demi says, "It's not a problem. I understand that he has a busy schedule. Thank you for agreeing to come on."

"It's time I spoke up about this," she tells her friend. "Don't be afraid to ask the hard questions. I'll happily answer any of them."

One of the crew members tells them they're going live in less than a minute. (Y/N) throws her curls behind her shoulder and sits back to get comfortable on the couch.

The same crew member counts down from five before pointing at Demi and her podcast partner. Demi is the one that gives this episode's greeting.

"Welcome back to TikTok Stuff You Should Know," she says into her own microphone. "To my left is Payton, which is not surprising at all because she's glued to my side. Today we have a very special guest joining us. She is a very close friend of mine who has been dealing with a lot of hate recently after launching her relationship online last week. Please welcome (Y/N) (L/N) to the podcast."

Payton looks over at (Y/N) and speaks. "Welcome, (Y/N). We're very happy you're able to join us today."

"Happy to be here."

Demi smiles at her and says, "So, we're all dying to know. How is your relationship with Cole Caufield? How have the two of you been dealing with the past week?"

There it is. Starting out strong.

"Cole has been super supportive of me," she replies. "He's been doing his best in trying to distract me over the past week. I think we've both been trying to stay off social media this week and focus on making sure we're both okay. He's been playing really well recently too, which makes it very easy to distract myself from everything that's been happening on social media. I think he's been using hockey as his own distraction."

Payton nods along as (Y/N) speaks. Demi's eyes are on her. They're both listening to everything she's been saying.

That's only a fraction of what's been happening.

(Y/N) has been in tears almost every night, especially since Cole has been on a roadie for the past four days. The first three days after all hell broke loose were perfect. She laid in Cole's arms every night and woke up next to him every morning. It made the days a lot easier.

Since he left, she's been in tears on FaceTime with him. It hasn't been as easy without him near her. It actually kind of sucks. She didn't even get to see him before she left.

"What made you want to come out about your seemingly new relationship with him?" Payton asks. "Did you think that Ethan would say something about it when you and Cole posted about it?"

She shakes her head. "I always thought Ethan was a really nice guy," she explains. "I certainly didn't expect this out of him. Especially after everything he did throughout our relationship. Cole and I really love each other and we both got tired of hiding that from the public. It was his idea to make out "

"That's an interesting comment," Demi slowly says like she doesn't know what her ex did. "What did Ethan do during your relationship?"

(Y/N) bites her bottom lip for a second. "He cheated on me," she tells the two of them. "All the time at the end of our relationship. Actually, his new girlfriend is just one of the girls he fucked while we were in a relationship. He would have a new girl every weekend and I would look the other way because I loved him."

"It wasn't because you didn't want to lose your constant source of followers and money?" Payton asks. "I'm not taking a shot, by the way. He accused you of using him for fame and money so I just want you to be able to clear the air."

"No, I understand," she replies after being caught off guard by the way the question was worded. "Um, no. I never once used him for followers or money. I made my own money by posting my own content across social media. I stayed with him because I wanted to believe he was a better person and that he could change. I truly loved him and I wanted a future with him. After nearly three months of this, I couldn't do it anymore and I ended things with him."

She notes that Payton looks genuinely surprised by her words. Demi looks annoyed because she and (Y/N) are actually very close friends so she was one of the first people that she told what was going on. She was one of the people that told (Y/N) to end the relationship when Ethan started cheating on her.

"That's crazy," Payton drawls. "Holy shit." She looks over at Demi. "Did you know about all of this?"

"(Y/N) is one of the most genuine people I have ever known," Demi says. "I hated seeing her in that relationship at the end, and I hate that she's being accused of using someone for followers and money. There was a reason she rarely ever posted Ethan on any of her social media. She didn't want to constantly post him because she was afraid to be labeled as a user. She loves creating content and videos. She's so much happier now."

A small smile forms on her lips as she thinks about Cole. She thinks about how he actually loves her and isn't afraid to show it.

"I am so much happier now," she echoes. "I mean, Cole is the best thing that has ever happened to me. He was so patient with me at the beginning of our relationship because I was still healing from my last relationship. He spent so long trying to show me that it's okay to love and be loved by someone that I gave my heart to him. I trust him with my everything, which is not something I would've said this time last year."

Demi smiles at her and Payton mirrors it. "That's so good to hear," Payton says. "Sounds like you caught a good one, (Y/N)."

"I absolutely did," she replies with a smile on her own face. "He is the best boyfriend. I've been so emotional this past week and he has made sure to be there for me the entire time. He checked in on me while he was on the road for the past few games. I am so in love with him, and he helped me believe in love again. I am so grateful for him."

One of the crew members tells them to begin wrapping up. Payton takes over. "Well, thank you for talking with us, (Y/N)," she says. "Where can we find you and Cole?"

"You can find Cole on the ice tomorrow night at seven when he and the Canadians take on the Calgary Flames," she says. "You can find him on social media at colecaufield. You can find me on social media as well at yourusername. Or you can find me somewhere in the stands at Cole's home hockey games."

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It feels like an eternity since she's been home when she walks into her apartment in downtown Montreal. She shuts the door behind her with a sigh and leans against it.

When she throws her keys in the bowl by the door, she sees Cole's car keys. "Coley?" she calls. "Are you here?"

She walks into the living room to see Cole sitting on the couch. He looks back at her and smiles. "You are freaking amazing, baby," he tells her. "I listened to the podcast on the way home and holy shit. I have never heard anyone talk about me the way you do. I swear I fall in love with you more every single day."

"You listened?" she asks.

Cole stands up with a nod. "To the whole thing," he replies. "I helped you believe in love again?"

"Yeah," (Y/N) breathes out. "You did. You showed me that it's okay to love someone without being afraid they're going to hurt you. I thought that for a long time, Cole. You helped me realize that it's okay to love someone again."

Without realizing it, tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She tries to wipe them away quickly but Cole notices them before she can wipe them away. He walks around the couch to get to her and he envelopes him in a hug. "I'm so proud of you, baby," he whispers in her ear.

She lets out a quiet sob and buries her face in his chest. "I'm so grateful for you," she replies.

"You're so brave for talking about the whole situation," Cole tells her. "I can't believe how well you're handling it. I'm in awe, (Y/N). I wish I had your strength. I wish I could've been there to witness the whole podcast."

"I'm only brave because you're here," she admits as she pulls her face out of his chest. Cole moves his hands to her jaw and his thumbs wipe away more tears that escaped. "I don't know where I'd be if you weren't here. I don't know if I'd even be here if you weren't, Cole."

Cole presses a kiss to her forehead and mumbles, "I love you. More than you'll ever know. You're so strong."

She closes her eyes and whispers, "I love you too."

(Y/N) isn't afraid to say those three words anymore. Not like she was last year. Cole has showed her that she doesn't need to be afraid anymore.

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MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #cole caufield #cole caufield x reader #cole caufield fluff #zegrasdrysdale request

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darkeralmond · 4 months

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In The Spotlight

TREVOR ZEGRAS X OC

October Series

synopsis: trevor meets hayden after the game and they hang out, the next day the band has to meet with aubrey to talk about a new album

warnings: language

word count: 2.8k

Fans poured out of the Honda Center arena happy with the 4 - 1 Ducks win. I stayed inside with Mal, Alex, and Wes as I anxiously awaited Trevor to come out and greet us. I would have some doubtful thoughts here and there such as, “What if he doesn’t show up?”

Mal rested her hand on my shoulder, “I’m sure he will.” She looked around, people still everywhere. “Just stay alert for people screaming ‘Oh my God! It’s Trevor Zegras’! That’s how we know he’s close by.”

I rolled my eyes as I tried my hardest to stop the smile that threatened to break through. It didn’t help that my cheeks now flushed with bright red heat against my already pale skin. “How will he even be able to find me through this crowd of people? There’s like at least tens of thousands of people here.”

Wes then looked behind me and smiled, “Like that.”

I turned around at the squeals that broke through the crowd. Before I could grasp what was happening, a sweaty casually dressed Trevor Zegras emerged through the valley of fans in awe around him. Some asked for pictures, some asked for autographs, and the others were too stunned by his presence to do anything.

My heart rate rapidly sped up as either a pit formed in my stomach or the butterflies had come back. His sky-blue eyes were fixated on me as a smile grew on his face. “Hayden Clarke,” he said, both enthusiasm and a New York accent slipping from his voice. “It’s so nice to see you again after all this time.”

A nervous smile made itself present on my face as he went in for the hug. Oh, okay! I thought as he wrapped his arms around me. As I embraced him, two things stood out to me. The first thing was our height distance. The last time I went to the doctor’s office in February, the nurse told me I stood at 5’4 and 3/4 — which is oddly specific. Since then I’ve assumed that I’ve grown to be about 5’5. Trevor stood at around 6’0, at least according to Google, and he looked it. Compared to me, at least.

I let go of the embrace and tucked some blonde strands of hair behind my ear. “It’s nice to see you again, Trevor,” I bashfully said. I struggled to maintain eye contact with him due to how sheepish he made me feel. “Have you met my band mates?” I asked him.

He shook his head and glanced over my shoulder before letting out a chuckle, “And I don’t think I will be.” My eyebrows furrowed as I turned around and found that the three of them had vanished. Those fuckers! I turned back to Trevor and forced a laugh, masking my aggravation with them. “Looks like I get to know you more now. Did you drive here?”

“Uh, Alex did actually. We all pretty much carpool together since we live together.” I shoved my hands in my hoodie pockets while looking up at him. His expression had soften compared to him earlier on the ice.

“Well, since your friends abandoned you… would you like me to give you a ride home?” My eyes grew as wide as they could. He’s already offering me a ride home? Is he trying to be prince charming?

My mom told me to never get into cars with men I’ve never met before. She didn’t want me to pop up missing, but I have Life 360 now, so what’s the worse that can happen? “Yes, please,” I answered.

Now we had to get through the mass of fans that crowded around us, shouting and taking pictures. I squeezed closer to him as I wrapped my arm around his, letting him lead us out to where ever he parked his car at. It had to be in some player reserved area, especially with the traffic coming out of the Honda Center.

Somehow, we lost the crowd of adoring fans which felt like a sigh of relief. “I haven’t seen a crowd like that since Miami!” I laughed as I glanced up at him. I still hadn’t let go of him, it felt comforting in a way. Maybe even a bit secure.

“It always feels like I’m in a pack of sardines when I’m near that exit,” he joked. “I should’ve told you to meet me by the locker room.”

I shrugged, “I don’t even know the lay out of the arena like that. Though it was one of the venues offered to us.”

Trevor dug in his sweatpants pocket and grabbed his keys from there. “Why didn’t you?” he asked as he unlocked the car.

My arm slowly let go of his as I made my way to the passenger seat of the car. “Because we were already performing at SDSU’s amphitheater. There was really no reason to go there and then drive an hour to Anaheim.”

Trevor chuckled as he answered, “Well, so I could see you guys perform obviously.”

“Should’ve just come to the SDSU one then,” I replied in a snarky tone.

His hand flew over his chest as his mouth popped open in a comedic way. I laughed looking at the obvious fake offense on his face. “You’re really mean you know that!” He then started the car up and began backing out of his parking spot. He placed his hand on the head of the passenger seat as he turned back to guide himself.

That was really attractive for no reason I could explain. He noticed before I was able to catch myself staring at him the entire time he did this with my jaw slacked. He smirked as he put the car into drive, facing forward again. “You also have a staring problem.”

“I thought you said I was talented,” I bit back. Bickering was the only way of flirting I could perfect.

“There’s a lot of things I’ve said about you,” he replied. “Mean, talented, surprisingly funny, and really pretty.”

That caught me off guard, I looked back at him with my eyes wide. “What?”

“I would dumb not to shoot my shot with you.” He glanced over at me, stopping at a stop light. He looked over at me, the red light being the only thing illuminating his face in the dark. “I tried to at your first gig, but you wouldn’t give up on caring that speaker back to the truck.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t have you do that. That’s how I met Aubrey and got us our record deal.” I glanced down at his phone which was plugged into the car and then back up at him. “I need your phone to put my address into, unless you already know where I live and avidly stalk me without my knowledge.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor said as he put in his passcode and gave the phone to me. The light flickered green and Trevor stepped on the gas pedal. “You might as well put your number in there as well.”

A smile cracked on my face as a giggle slipped out. He was such a smooth talker, it made me want to scream. I put the address into Waze, the directions immediately popping up on the car’s screen, then did as he told me to. I put my number into his phone before placing it in the cup holder.

“Is there anything you want me to get you to eat before I drop you off?” he asked, again glancing over at me with his bedroom eyes.

“Uh,” I hummed. “There’s an In-and-Out burger near my house. I only had popcorn at the game.”

“Thank God, Hay. I’m starving,” Trevor said as he turned in the direction the app told him to. I’m already Hay to him? That’s cute.

🎶

After I came home from hanging out with Trevor, I couldn’t sleep. Nothing happened like a kiss or anything, but the tension was unreal and that was only the first hang out. He wanted to meet again at Pearson Park on Sunday with Jamie and Mal. I agreed without any hesitation, especially since Mal would kill me if I ruined her opportunity to meet another Ducks player.

Now it was the afternoon and I sat on the couch, scrolling through Twitter. There were posts left and right about Trevor and I during and after the game. People were now speculating a possible relationship between us, which I now wouldn’t be opposed to.

One of the posts was from someone with a Trevor Zegras profile picture. They posted a picture they took of their TV screen showing my phone which said ‘Meet me after the game!’ and Trevor responding to it. The caption said:

THIS IS MY ROMAN EMPIRE!!!’

When I went onto Instagram, an Anaheim Ducks fanpage posted the same thing except it was the highlight and with the announcers. One of the guys said, “And there’s Hayden Clarke, lead singer of Pink Slip, shooting her shot with Zegras right there.”

“Technically he shot his shot first when he did that interview with Gina,” the other one responded.

It was kind of funny to see how viral this has already gone, and we haven’t even done anything.

Wes came out of his room with his burrito blanket wrapped around him. He yawned loudly before announcing his presence, “Good morning.” He had bags under his eyes and his hair was an absolute mess. I beamed at him and nodded my head, “Good morning!”

“Uh oh,” Wes laughed. “What did you and Trevor get into?”

I rolled my eyes with red cheeks and got up from the couch. I watched as Wes grabbed a mug from the cabinet and placed it beneath the coffee machine. “Nothing! I promise!” I pulled myself onto the counter and swayed my feet. “We just got food last night and we talked. He’s really sweet.”

“Is he boyfriend material?” Wes asked as the machine dispensed coffee for him.

“Okay. One, don’t ever say ‘boyfriend material’ again. Two, yes he is!” I chirped. “He said I was pretty and he did that sexy thing that guys do when they back out of parking spots and —” I heard my phone begin to ring, cutting my off from my talk about Trevor. Disappointment swept across Wes’s features as he was intrigued to hear more about my night with Trevor. I checked who was calling and saw it was Aubrey. I picked up the phone and put it up to my ear. “Hey, Aubrey. What's up?” I answered.

“Hey, Hayden!” she responded, “Is there any time I can see you all later today at the studio?” Wes leaned against the island next to me as he listened in on Aubrey and I’s conversation. He took a long sip of his black coffee.

I put the phone on speaker before I replied, “Uh, yeah! Alex and Mal get back around 2.” Mal and Alex were early birds unlike Wes and I, so they had gotten up early to get brunch. “It’s only Wes and I right now.”

“Hi, Aubrey!” Wes said to her.

“Hi, Wes!” she replied, I could hear the smile on her face. She always had one. “I should be free around then. I’ll give you a call if anything changes,” Aubrey said.

With that, I said bye and hung up the phone. Wes pulled himself up on the counter and said, “I wonder if she’s gonna talk about Trevor.” He then gasped and playfully hit me, “What if she says you two should date for publicity?”

“Who said it would be for publicity?” I shrugged my shoulders while smiling.

“Don’t tell me you’re already falling for him,” he said with a chuckle.

I placed a finger over my lips and simply shushed him. I snagged the mug from his hands and took a swig. The bitter hot coffee made my nose crinkle as the boiling liquid ran down my throat. “This stuff is poison. I don’t know how you can drink plain black coffee.”

🎶

We entered Hillister at 2:03 PM and made our way to the control room where we found Aubrey glued to her phone like a screenager. She sat on the rolly chair while on her phone. She perked her head up like a dog when we entered the room. “Hey, guys! Sit down! I have stuff to talk about.” She gestured us to a couch that would she still believed would fit all of us — which it never did.

I crammed in between Mal and Wes. “Okay, we need to talk about new music.” She clasped her hands together and leaned toward us. “You guys haven’t released an album since last year, let alone a single. The fans are expecting stuff from you guys. Especially you, Hayden.”

“Me?” I asked.

“Yes!” Aubrey exclaimed. “There’s so much buzz about you and Trevor. It’s all I’ve seen on my feed. Which good job by the way, he’s a cutie.” Mal nudged me with her elbow and cooed as I rolled my eyes, though I struggled to hide my smile. “I’m gonna call up Kayla and see if I can get her down here sometime this week to discuss ideas,” she said as she pulled out her phone.

Kayla was older than all of us, but younger than Aubrey. I loved her songwriting abilities. Not only was she was good, but it gave us less work to do. That was sort of the problem though. The music didn’t feel authentic when performing. I just equivalated it to performing a cover of a song no one knows.

“Uh, Aubrey?” I spoke up and shifted in my spot again. She perked her head up and let out a hum. “Could we try something new…?”

“Oh, you want someone else?” Aubrey tilted her head to the side slightly, her phone lowering as she looked at me. “I can find someone with a new sound, it’ll probably just take about 2 weeks instead of this one.”

I shook my head. “No. I, uh,” I stuttered and looked over at Alex and Mal who were looking at me just as confused as Aubrey. “I was wondering kind of wondering if we could, maybe, start writing our own music.”

“Huh?!” Alex asked aloud, his eyebrows knitted together. I could hear the loud slap he had received on his arm from Mal due to his verbal shock.

If you would’ve suggested to me a year ago writing music for ourselves, I would’ve said no. I was, and still am, sort of embarrassed by the stuff I came up with growing up. I also wasn’t the type of person to suddenly change my mind especially on stuff this big, but something about writing our own music just made sense. It’s why I wanted to form a band in the first place. “Are you sure, Hayden?” she asked.

I looked over at the three of them before answering, “Yes. I just feel it would really challenge us as a band and make our music feel more personal. It’s a better way for us to connect with our fanbase.”

She placed her phone down on her lap and nodded her head, “Uh, yeah! If you guys think you can do it. I would love it, but let’s get into details,” Aubrey said as she adjusted her position in her own seat. “I want to be able to have everything recorded by the end of November, mid December at the latest. I want something to put out by Spring of next year.” She spun around and grabbed her keyboard from the empty chair next to her and wrote down the requirements. At least a 10 track album, something to do with love as it could really promote sales.

She also wanted us to go on tour again, but she said logistics of that would be determined around spring when the album is planned to drop. She wanted it to be bigger and better than the previous tour we had over the summer.

“Hayden,” Aubrey placed both her hands down on the clipboard and again stared right at me. “I believe you will be America’s next punk pop princess, this band will be remembered for decades to come.”

#apricot’s fanfics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras x oc #trevor zegras smut #jamie drysdale

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shybunnie20 · 2 years

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Closing Shift - Eddie Munson x Reader | One Shot

★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie visits the record store where you work and he likes what he sees.

Author's Note: No use of Y/N. It's gender neutral minus the use of "fair maiden." Be sure to reblog, follow, and show some love ♡

Word count: 950

Warnings: Swearing

tags: @protecteddiemunson4vr

The minimum wage pay is pitiful but working at a music store has perks. You get first pick at new releases when they get shipped in and your coworkers aren’t half bad either. The position is nothing to write home about but it’s an easy job. Most people find mundane tasks tiresome, but you don’t mind them. There’s something comforting about stocking the cassette racks, organizing vinyl records, and keeping the store tidy. Not to mention you get to blast your own tunes during closing shifts.

Earlier this week, Eddie popped in for the first time to check it out. The signs hanging from the ceiling were read aloud in a whisper as he familiarized himself with the layout. Once his eyes reached the far left of the room, he could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating.

When he walked in he wasn’t expecting much since most music shops are the same, but the fair maiden behind the counter took him out of his element entirely. His dirtied Reeboks suddenly felt tight and his palms began to sweat. Eddie was lucky that you didn’t look up from your busy work to greet him because he would’ve combusted on the spot.

“Have a good rest of your night.” Your coworker hollers on their way out the door.

“You too!” You respond while inserting Iron Maiden’s “Piece of Mind” into the tape player.

Sunday nights are always slow so you don’t hesitate to blast the songs you’ve had stuck in your head all day. Now that you’re alone, you can get the closing tasks done. A stack of boxes beside the counter calls for your attention first.

The blunt utility knife slices through the packing tape with ease. There’s nothing quite like the smell of PVC that wafts from the new records when taking them out of their shipment boxes. It’s not unlike how some people are fond of the scent of gasoline while others find it to be awful. Although it’s displeasing to the average person, you’ve grown to love the smell of fresh vinyl.

While you’re gliding the knife through the tape of a second box, a van pulls into one of the parking spots out front. You wouldn’t have noticed if the headlights weren’t illuminating the dimly lit store. You put the blade aside and turn your music down a bit, having been given a lecture from your boss about maintaining a welcoming atmosphere.

Your focus returns to the boxes, placing the stacks of albums on the counter. A chime dings when the storefront door swings open, but you block it out after hearing it all afternoon.

Eddie saunters directly to the far side of the shop behind a cassette rack. His ears perk up at the noise flowing from the speakers. Your shared taste in music makes his belly do flips. He stands at the rack, fumbling with the plastic casings to make it appear that he’s browsing. In actuality, he’s sneaking glances while you’re placing the albums into slots in the jazz section a few feet away.

“Do you need help?” You ask, your tone is somewhat genuine.

The sound waves of your voice caress his eardrum, generating a nervous pang in his chest. “Me? Uh-” Eddie moves to address you but his sneaker kicks the rack, causing the tapes to fall and crash onto the carpeted floor. “Shit.” He huffs as he kneels down to collect them, hoping to god he didn’t break any. He doesn’t exactly have the funds to cover any damage.

You giggle. “Yeah, you. You’ve been here four times this week and haven’t bought anything.”

Busted. Eddie thought he was sliding under your radar never having caught your gaze. He convinced himself he was going undetected. He even made sure to show up during busy times so he’d blend in.

“I… uh-” His fingers fumble hastily to put the tapes back on the rack. Unfortunately for you, he’s putting them in the wrong places. Quick, think of something. “Um, Ride the Lightning? Metallica?”

Without another word, you point to the racks adjacent to the front counter. His hushed “thanks” goes unnoticed.

A minute or two passes before he approaches you. “Just this,” he confirms while placing the cassette case on the counter. He already owns it but he had to pick something.

Eddie can’t tear his eyes off you. The jingling of your silver jewelry tugs at his heartstrings while you punch numbers into the cash register. Having only adored you from afar, being this close has him mesmerized.

The register drawer sputters open. “$8.45” You state flatly.

It’s like talking to a brick wall. Eddie is lost somewhere in the confines of his mind, wading in the warmth of infatuation. The noisy clearing of your throat brings him back out of his daydream.

“Your total is $8.45.” You repeat with a hint of impatience.

“Oh! Yeah- uh.” His hands pat his pockets to locate his wallet which he seems to have forgotten. You cock your head in amusement while watching him scramble as if he’d forgotten he’d have to pay for the tape. When he pulls crumpled bills from his front pocket, coins fall to the floor. “Son of a bitch.” He mumbles, slapping the bills on the counter before picking up the scattered change.

This time, you laugh instead of giggle. It’s kind of adorable how clumsy he is.

Your laugh washes away the humiliation and Eddie lets out a chuckle of his own. When he pulls his head back up to face you, there’s a bright smile plastered on his face. If making a fool of himself was what made you laugh, consider him a court jester.

★My Masterlist

★Ko-fi ♡

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smolwritingchick · 5 months

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The Bangtan Gal Chapter 13- Boy In Luv

Chapter Summary: Jennie vows to do better in the next ISAC. Jungkook, V and Jennie bond over Linkin Park, BTS film Boy In Luv as Jen films special scenes with Jimin who flusters her and Suga who has great chemistry with her

Words: 3,000+

----

'Gayo Daejeon'

During Gayo Daejeon, Jennie was taking photographs with V outside while the members were preparing his birthday cake for him.

"Hey! Watch it!" She laughed while he put her in a headlock for the photo.

When they headed back inside, she led him to the guys who greeted him by singing Happy Birthday. Tae started dancing around as soon as they did, filled with joy.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Our beloved Taehyungie, happy birthday to you!" They sang and he blew out the candles.

Cheering for the birthday boy, the guys made their attack to start hitting on him as he tried to run away.

"Birthday punches~ get ready!" Jennie pounded her fists and ran after him to join the guys, successfully getting a couple of hits. After taking two birthday group photos, Tae happily continued cheering that it was his birthday.

"Happy birthday, buddy!" She ruffled his hair.

"Thanks, Ennie~!"

"Can we eat the cake?" Namjoon asked

"Have some," Tae replied as they got a knife to slice it into pieces.

"We still have a lot of birthday punches." Jungkook teased.

"That's right, we still have 24 hours, left," Namjoon added with a mischievous smile.

"Here." Tae fed Jen a piece.

"Now that's some good cake." She declared while he fed the rest of the members.

"Eat a piece, too!" She grabbed the knife and cut him a slice. Carrying it carefully, she fed him. "Good?"

"Very good."

After their celebration, Jen eagerly watched the show from backstage, especially when Ailee was on the screen as she was recorded for a Bangtan bomb, fangirling.

'Jennie eagerly watches Ailee's performances'

During Aliee's 4 minutes performance, she started dancing along.

"She's killing it! Do you see the perfection!?" She grabbed the camera and shook it.

Jennie was eager to do stuff like that. Collaborating with various artists and performing mind blowing performances with BTS. She was looking forward to the day. Later on in the show, she's filmed again when Ailee was performing U&I.

"Cut the beat now!" She sang with Ailee on the screen and started dancing around again. "Ahh, she's so amazing!"

After the clock struck 12, it was finally 2014, and Jen and the members started to celebrate and film a video message for their fans.

"Happy New Year! 2014!" She beamed at the camera while walking with her bandmates. "First I want to say that I love you, Mom, Dad, and my sisters back at home. I'm really happy with how much the guys and I have grown since debuting. It's so surreal how far we've come. I'm looking forward to what's to come! To our fans, thank you for giving us so much love. I hope you look forward to what else we have in store. Fighting!"

------

"Um, so this event happens every year?" Jen questioned, looking at her pink Team D outfit.

She stood backstage with the rest of the members of BTS while with Team D. Here she was at the ISAC, unaware of what was to come as her nerves started to get to her. She was a competitive person and hoped to make a good first impression on everyone since it was her first time.

"Yep! You'll be in the sprint relay." Hobi answered her.

"Sprinting...nice. This is like the Olympics."

"Something like that." He laughed.

While waiting patiently, she could hear the screams of the fans as they supported Teams A, B, and C. "Team D is here! The flag bearer is Baro." She heard the announcement as they walked out.

"Wow." She looked amazed as she walked with her team.

The arena was huge. All these people.

"Isn't it awesome!?" Jimin grinned as he walked next to her.

"Their cheers are deafening that's for sure!" She looked around in awe.

After the opening ceremony and matches, Jen prepares for the 60m women's dash. Exhaling, she stands in her position.

"This is Bangtan's Bangtan Girl, Jennie, appearing for the first time here at ISAC. She's set for her first dash." An announcer said.

"I heard she likes to run. Let's see how she competes with the rest of the ladies." Another announcer added.

"GO JENNIE! YOU GOT THIS! JENNIE~" Jimin screamed with J-Hope as she started laughing at their enthusiasm.

"Run like the wind!" Tae cheered while she waved at them and gave them a thumbs up.

"You got this!" Jungkook shouted

Jennie saw the BTS section with the BTS signs and she pointed to them before waving.

"JENNIE! JENNIE! JENNIE!" They scream and cheer.

She stretched out her arms and jumped up and down to get her blood flowing. All that was on her mind was winning. She got ready as she waited for the signal. Once the gun was shot, she dashed, leaving the rest of the competitors in a gap.

"Whoa~ she's fast!" The announcers look on.

Adrenaline was pumping through her veins as she continued to run. She was almost there to the finish line. Just a few more steps. But as soon as she was about to win, she ended up tripping on her sneakers. Falling on the ground with a grunt, she managed to surprise those around her. The rest of the competitors ran past her as the announcers shouted that she fell.

"Is she okay!?" Jungkook jumped up quickly about to run after her but Namjoon held him back, squeezing his shoulder. He looked just as concerned for her as the rest of the guys looked on with worry.

"Crap..." She murmured, rubbing her arm as she got back on her feet and finished running.

"So close, she had it won." An announcer said with a frown, as she walked back to her team with an upset expression on her face.

"Why did I have to fall?" She sighed and shook her head.

She was embarrassed for falling. Now she was going to be known as the girl who tripped and fell down before she was able to win the relay. That was not the impression she wanted during her debut here with her team. She felt like she let her team down. BTS down.

"Are you okay!?" Jungkook ran up to her with Jimin and V.

"Yeah...I'm fine. Just annoyed." She murmured.

"I'm glad you're okay! Don't worry about it. You still did good." Jimin reassured her.

"...I wanted to win..." She grumbled, thinking about what if she hadn't tripped.

Jungkook let out a short laugh. "Looks like you got a competitive streak, like me." He patted her shoulder, taking her away from her thoughts.

"You did well though, it's okay. It's our first ISAC. We'll do better next time." Namjoon patted her back.

"Next Idol Star Athletics Championship, I will do better. I promise." She guaranteed.

Later on, Jennie sat with the guys to watch Jimin's high jump challenge.

"Let's go Jimin!" She clapped.

"Fighting!" The guys yell.

As they watched him run, he managed to jump over the stick successfully and everyone cheered for him.

"Bangtan's Jimin is getting ready. He is from the Busan High School of Arts." An announcement was made as Jimin hit a goofy pose, making the crowd scream.

Jennie looked around in amazement. If they just breathe, they'll scream. It's really interesting to watch. Once Jimin ran and high jumped successfully, everyone happily cheered him on. But he ended up getting eliminated from the next round as they head backstage.

"I thought I could do pretty well in the high jump. It felt good as I was running and jumping at the start." Jimin mentioned to the camera.

"He did all he could, although we're a bit sorry to the fans." Namjoon grinned sheepishly.

"I should be the most sorry. I failed. I'm sorry guys." Jen frowned, crossing her arms.

"You tried your best. We gotta make sure you don't trip anymore. Did you hurt yourself?" Namjoon asked with concern.

"Thankfully not. My body doesn't hurt, anymore. But I really love ISAC! It's so fun! I need to step up my game. I'm making a promise...I want you guys to keep a lookout for my next performance because I'm coming back stronger."

---

On February 2nd before a show, Jennie was lounging on the couch, on her phone while Jimin and Hobi were eating lunch. Nearby, they see V and Jungkook rocking out to a familiar sounding rock song in Jennie's ears.

The two metal heads start playing the air guitar as soon as the song starts playing before lip syncing with angry faces.

"I've given up~" Jungkook lipsyncs with intensity, placing a foot on the chair and pointing around.

'I heard that song before...' She thought as she started watching them with amusement.

Before she knew it, Jimin and Hobi were jumping along to the song, enjoying the show, and making her laugh out loud. Getting off the couch, she decided to get a closer look at the show. Tae noticed her first and grinned, motioning her to come over.

"We're jamming out, join us! Play the guitar, Jennie! Come on~" He begged with an excited tone.

"All right, all right." She started moving her head along with the beat before rocking out with her air guitar, standing back to back with him as Jungkook continued lipsyncing.

Hobi laughed. "Watch Jungkook, Tae and Jennie create their subunit as a rock band. Tae on the drums, Jungkook singing, and Jennie on the guitar."

"That would be fun to watch." Jimin giggled

After the song ended, Jennie took a look at Jungkook's playlist on his phone.

"What are you listening to? It reminds me of home. I know I heard that song before." She murmured.

"Here." He put in an earbud and gave her one. Taking his phone, he decided to put on In The End by Linkin Park as the realization hit her face.

"Oh! Linkin Park! I remember this group and the song! Haha, I used to get teased for listening to them when I was in elementary school." She chuckled at the memories.

"Really? The people that teased you didn't have good taste in music."

"For real!"

"I tried so hard, and got so far! But in the end it doesn't even matter, I had to fall to lose it all, but in the end, it doesn't even matter~" She sang. "Ah...memories..."

"What about this song?" He put on another.

Once lying from you came on, she got hyped.

"OH~! This is my favorite song from Linkin Park! Let me kill it for a few seconds." She cleared her throat as he started to laugh at her enthusiasm. He nodded his head back and forth, waiting for her to lipsync the rap.

'97 Line Rocking Out!'

"When I pretend everything is what I wanted to be. I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see. When I pretend I can't forget about the criminal I am. Stealing second after second just cause I know I can but I can't pretend this is the way it'll stay, I'm just-" She paused.

"Trying to bend the truth." Jungkook lipsynced.

"I can't pretend I'm who you want to be, so I'm-"

"Lying from you~" He lipsynced extremely, as a vein popped out on his neck.

"No, no turning back now!" she nodded her head, playing the air guitar while V played the air drums.

"I wanna be pushed aside so let me go~"

"No, no turning back now!"

"Let me take back my life. I'd rather be all alone!"

"No turning back now!"

"Anywhere on my own, cause I can see~"

"No, no turning back now!"

"The very worst part of you is me!"

"Oh! Wait! I remember back in elementary school, I heard a remix of Linkin Park's Faint and Paramore's Crush Crush Crush song. Let me see if I can find it." She pulled the song up on her phone. "Wanna collab?"

"You bet! Play it!" Jungkook happily replied. "Let's do it!"

"Ugh, I forgot how fun lipsyncing is. I would always do this in my room." She played the song as the first beat started to come up. They both play the air guitar again while V plays the air drums.

"Crush, crush, crush, crush, two, three, four! Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone, just the one, two, I was just counting on. That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, let's be more than...this!" She lipsynced, jumping around.

As soon as he watched her start lipsyncing, Jungkook's smile got wider. Seeing her so into the music made him so happy inside.

The two of them stood in front of each other, rocking out as she started another air guitar, stomping her foot to the beat of the remix. Tae started headbanging around them while drumming.

While watching her rock out, Jungkook began to lipsync to the lyrics of Faint. "I am a little bit of loneliness, a little bit of disregard. Handful of complaints but I can't help the fact That everybody can see these scars. I am what I want you to want, what I want you to feel. But it's like no matter what I do, I can't convince you! To just believe this is real. So I, let go watching you, turn your back like you always do."

In love with the song so much, she couldn't help but lipsync along with him for the next part as they point to each other. "Face away and pretend that I'm not. But I'll be here cause you're all that I've got!"

"I can't feel the way I did before! Don't turn your back on me, I won't be ignored!" His lipsyncing intensified while she started headbanging, making her curls bounce all over the place. "Time won't heal this damage anymore! Don't turn your back on me I won't be ignored~"

"If you wanna play it like a game. Well come on, come on, lets play! Cause I rather waste my life pretending than have to forget you for one whole minute." She danced around the room with him, jumping up and down. "They taped over your mouth, scribbled out the truth with their lies, you little spies. They taped over your mouth, scribbled out the truth with their lies, you little spies. Crush, crush, crush, crush, crush, two, three, four! Nothing compares to a quiet evening alone, just the one two! I was just counting on. That never happens, I guess I'm dreaming again, let's be more than...this now!"

After they were finished with the song, Jungkook was bursting with energy while Jimin and Hobi applauded their performance.

"Encore! Encore!" Jimin shouted while Hobi continued to whoop and holler.

"That was so fun! We need to do this again! Like, soon!" Jungkook eagerly suggested.

"Yeah! We need to!" She replied, nodding in approval.

"What we need to do is think of a band name," Tae added.

"I'll start thinking of some names," Jungkook said, going back on his phone.

----

When it was finally time to film the Boy in Luv music video, Jennie was seated, getting her hair and makeup done, already in the school uniform. With her hair straightened with loose curls to give her hair some flow, she was approached by Tae and Hobi.

"Wow~ your hair looks longer," Tae said in amazement.

"Our munchkin is looking pretty as always." Hobi pinched her cheek.

"Off the face!" She laughed.

She met up with the guys in the middle of the classroom to begin filming.

"Bangtan, Bangtan, Bangtan!" They shout after putting their hands together in the middle. First, they filmed the dancing parts in their different outfits and then Jennie had a break and decided to watch the guys film in the hallway.

They were filming Yoongi's part and the guys were told to hold him back. Once the director said action, Yoongi began to get held back so much that he wasn't able to move at all.

"Cut!" The director announced. "Again!"

"What was that, guys?" She laughed.

Jennie covered her mouth to hold in her laughs as soon as Yoongi shoved Jimin away, making him crash into the wall when they filmed again. "Well damn! Don't hurt him!"

"He'll live," Yoongi replied, waving her concerns away.

After patiently waiting, it was finally her turn once the director called her out to walk in the hallway with Go Sohyun, the other girl in the Boy In Luv music video.

"Action!" The director yelled as the two of them were filmed walking together, chatting and laughing.

"I'll see you later!" Jen waved and walked into the classroom, looking around for an available seat.

Meanwhile, Jimin sat at his desk drawing in his book until he looked up, dropping his jaw a little. She walked over to an available seat that was right next to him and took out her books to prepare for class. Sneaking glances at her, Jimin began to smile to himself.

"And...cut! Good! I like your expressions, Jimin." The director pointed out as they migrated to the hallway.

Walking in the hallway, Jimin followed her with his hands in his pockets, while the song continued to play the chorus before it was time for her verse. Running a hand through her hair, she looked up at the camera.

"He's so good looking and he wants me. He thinks I don't notice him watching as my face is stuck in the books." She glanced back at him. "I wonder how many times my name was written in his notebook. He told me 'I'll have you, just watch.' I called it a bluff. Let me just ignore him, he'll go away soon enough."

Jimin placed his hand against the wall, blocking her way. With her back against the wall, she looked up to meet his piercing gaze before he glanced at her lips, leaning in close.

"A-at le-least that's what I thought..." She trailed off while her verse continued playing in the background. Her face started to heat up since he was so close as she tried to back away from his intense gaze on her.

"PFFFHAHAHA!" She laughed nervously out loud, covering her mouth with her hands as the director said cut. Jimin laughed at her nervousness and backed away. "I'm sorry! The way you were looking at me, I got embarrassed. I'm not used to that."

'Shy Jennie Gets Flustered By Our Jiminie'

"You're so cute..." He teased as she fanned her heated face with her hands.

"Shush!" She hit him on the arm.

"Your face is getting flushed."

"Shut up, Jimin!"

His famous laughter filled her ears as she tried to pull herself together.

"Male fans of Jennie, I want to let you know that she's easy to get flustered! You'll have a great shot making her blush at fan meets!"

"Jimin! Cut it out!"

"Again!" The director called out. "Good acting, Jimin. Jennie follow his lead, this time."

Jennie exhaled and pulled herself together. "All right, let's do this." She backed up against the wall while Jimin placed his forearm over her head.

"Don't worry, Ennie! We'll do great," he grinned, easing her nerves.

"Action!"

"He wants to be my oppa." She lipsynced as he tucked hair behind her ear. Running a hand through his black hair, he grabbed it and placed it over his heart. "Shall I call him oppa? What should I do? Why is my face getting so hot from his intense stares?" She looked away while he grinned at her reaction, cocking his head to the side.

Pushing him away she started to walk away from him but she didn't get very far when he grabbed her by the hand, pulling her right into his arms.

"He always catches me when I try to flee. He's persistent. Is this what mom felt for dad?" she lipsynced as she held onto him, keeping eye contact.

"Cut! Good!" The director praised

"You didn't laugh this time!" Jimin let out a short laugh. "You did great!"

"Haha thank you, you too! I'm not used to being so close to guys like this. So bear with me."

"Oh really? Well, you weren't like that with Kookie." He teased.

"Because it was so sudden! And I was embarrassed afterward! We both were!" She fired back, thinking about the out of nowhere Rookie King Kiss she shared with her best friend.

"Is Jimin giving you a hard time?" Jin approached them, crossing his arms.

"Ah, I'm fine. I need to take a walk, I'm really embarrassed, right now." She let out a nervous chuckle.

"ARMYs, I have an announcement to make..." Jimin looked at the Bangtan Bomb camera. "JenMin is real!" He continued to tease.

"Jimin! Leave my child alone." Jin smacked him on the arm. He protectively hugged her, placing a hand on the back of her head, while staring back at Jimin. "Back away, you. Shoo! You've flustered her enough!"

'Mama Jin To The Rescue'

Later on, it was Jennie's turn to film with Yoongi in the hallway. "Yoongi, it's acting, don't worry about pushing me hard. I can take a hit. I'm not fragile. I'm The Bangtan Girl, remember?" She playfully punched him on the arm, making him crack a smile.

"I'll take your word for it," he replied.

When they began filming, he chased after her as she walked down the hallway before he roughly pushed her against the lockers, rapping all in her face. Shockingly, Jennie managed to keep her face straight as she acted annoyed with his advances.

Geoteuron bad bad girl,

sogeun deo bad bad girl

na gateun namjal nohchimyeon

Huhoehage doel geol.

Mesinjeo hwaginhaenohgo.

Nureuji anhneun neoui haengwi.

"il" jari eobseo jimgwa dongsie sokman

Shoving him back, she lipsynced back, "A bad bad boy on the outside, an even more bad bad boy on the inside. I don't want a boy, I want a man. Me regretting losing a guy like you? It's the other way around. Fall back a little bit." She waved him away but was pushed against the lockers, again as he looked at her up and down, getting in her face.

taji nebigeisyeonina salkka bwa

(ppareum ppareum ppareum) eopilharyeogo

gyesok nan (adung badung badung)

jinsim? (I got 'em) dwissim? (I got 'em)

naega yuilhage gajji mothan geon

neoui (areum areum daum)

"Cut! Good! Very good!" The director praised. "Great one take! You two did well!"

Both Yoongi and Jennie started laughing with each other as soon as the director said cut. Did they really just do that?

"You seem like you've done a lot of acting, Yoongi." Hobi said after watching them.

"Don't compliment me! Ah...I'm so embarrassed..." He sighed. "You all right, Smartie? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He turned to her.

"Nah, you good.." She reassured

Filming while walking down the hallway with Hobi's arm around his shoulder, Jimin discussed his plan to confess to Jennie with the rest of the guys.

Then they film Jen at her locker, putting her books away. V jogged into the picture, finally finding her as he sighed out of relief. Walking up to her, he tried to convince her to come with him for a second. Reluctantly, she decided to follow him as he eagerly grabbed her by the wrist to escort her down the hallway.

"Whoa! Slow down!" She exclaimed at his quick steps.

Finally, he let her into the classroom to see the guys waiting for her. "What is all this?" She questioned as she saw Jimin turning around, letting a sigh escape his lips.

Taking small strides toward her, while having a hand over his heart, he began to sing to her.

doegopa neoui oppa

neoreul hyanghan naui maeumeul wae molla

nareul moreun cheokhaedo chagaun cheokhaedo

"Neol mireonaejin mothagesseo." He lipsynced with a smile while the corners of her mouth turned up into a shy smile.

doegopa neoui oppa

neoui namjaga doel geoya dugo bwa

Lifting up her chin, he lipsynced, "Naui maeumi nege datorok. Jigeum dallyeogal geoya."

"Cut. Great work!" The director said while the guys cheered.

Namjoon laughed after watching them on camera. "She's so nervous."

"I'm not nervous! I'm adjusting to all the attention." She admitted as they continued to tease her.

While the guys filmed with Go Sohyun, Jennie was in front of the camera for the Bangtan Bomb.

"Although I'm 16, I have to admit, I think I would be an awkward girlfriend. I'm not used to this kind of stuff, so I get flustered a lot and get nervous. I'll get better with my acting for our music videos. I will work harder. I'll also try not to get nervous, next time. Now if you excuse me...my bag of Smarties is calling my name." She flashed two thumbs up.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x oc #bts 8th member #bts fluff #bts fanfic #the bangtan gal #bts female addition #bts female member #bangtan boys

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revenant-ao3 · 6 days

Text

The Hounds of Fate - Ch 6

Read on Ao3: here

Shoto hovers in the realm of wakefulness, woefully unaware of his surroundings as he’s dragged down an austere hallway. Trying to gain a sense of his situation is like looking at blurry, overexposed polaroids. Each moment passes by, a snapshot he can barely comprehend. A heavy metal door swings open. Blink. He’s in a new corridor. Blink. Voices hover over him.

“I hope you didn’t rough him up too severely. It’d be a shame to waste more time than necessary.”

The voice is masculine, unfamiliar, and far too pleasant given Shoto’s current state. It might be the electrocution or the head trauma, but it sounds a little like the man is speaking through a filter. It takes a moment for Shoto to decipher the words. By the time he grasps it, another voice, faintly familiar joins in.

“No more than what was needed.”

Who is that? Scars? No, it’s not hoarse enough. Sparky?

Shoto wants to look but each sliver of light that slips through his eyelids feels like an ice pick to the brain.

“This is what was needed?” says the first voice. It comes out exasperated and mildly inconvenienced like he’d been given the wrong drink at a restaurant.

Then, a cool hand touches Shoto’s face, gentle as can be.

It startles urgency into him. That brutal haze is pierced by an innate feeling of danger. Shoto doesn’t know exactly what’s going on or why he feels like death warmed over, but he knows no one should be touching him. Nobody aside from his sister has been so physically tender with him in a long, long time. Something’s wrong. His body jerks, aching muscles protesting at the command. He manifests a stream of ice without even thinking.

It earns him another round of shock therapy, though it’s milder this time by a large margin. More disorienting than purposefully agonizing. If his body had not already been thoroughly abused, it would do little to slow him. Unfortunately, his beaten muscles spasm with renewed vengeance, and stars dance behind his eyes. He can taste the current on his tongue.

Anger follows on the tails of the fear and pain that bite his ankles. Shoto isn’t sure if he’s growling but it feels an awful lot like he’s growling, borderline rabid as he lashes out like a cornered animal. Someone’s yelling. The electricity doesn’t falter. Every ounce of ice that leaves his body is replaced with lightning.

“He shouldn’t be able to—”

Shoto’s mind blanks out, missing the rest of the incredulous statement. His body gives in, convulsing from the combined backlash of the cold and unrelenting shocks.

“—warned you—”

He isn’t lucid for much longer.

---

Shoto flits through fits of awareness, each shorter than the last. And each time, he fights the hands that touch him, snarls at the voice that greets him. Spines of ice jut out like arrows on instinct and he’s shocked at every turn. He can’t even release a frosted gasp without electricity coursing through his body. Dazed, he can’t help but think it might kill him soon. Strangely enough, he’s not upset at the notion.

For a moment, somewhere lost in that electric haze, he feels a lick of fire burst from his face.

That dreadful, dreadful rage burns deeper in his gut.

---

The next round of consciousness hits him like a rough hangover – not that he’s accustomed to that feeling, but seeing a few people on the streets struggling after a wild night gives him a decent estimate of what it’s like. His head is throbbing, his mouth is dryer than his sense of humor, and he can barely breathe without it feeling like his body wants to shut down from intense muscle pain. Each minor inhale nearly causes him to convulse like his body’s grown too accustomed to the twitches to function otherwise.

Overall, he’s felt worse, though not by a large margin. This certainly isn’t making it into his Top Ten list of pleasant wake-up calls, that’s for sure.

He lays there for several minutes as he works on reorienting himself and taking marginally deeper breaths. His memories are foggy and his headache only exacerbates his efforts to backtrack. It's when he twitches his hand to rub his aching chest only to feel restraints around his wrists that it comes rushing to him in painful clarity.

The ambush – successful this time.

They got him.

Shoto knows he should be frightened, but he feels more annoyed and embarrassed than anything. Caught like a goddamn rookie. (The fact that he is years off of even being considered that level is pointedly ignored.)

Somewhere, he feels like his father is scoffing with a lecture for his incompetence at the ready. Perhaps the reality of the situation hasn’t settled in just yet, but he’s frustrated that he’s managed to give this little victory to Endeavor, even if the man is unaware of it. Laugh it up, you bastard. I’ll get out of here on my own.

He blinks and squints, forcing himself to work through the pain to observe his immediate surroundings.

White walls, white laminate flooring, white acoustical ceiling tiles, and not a hint of furniture beyond the tatami mat he’s lying on. He’d say the room is spartan but that’s being far too generous. The only other thing that catches his eye is a camera pointed in his direction up in the corner. The door, he observes, is solid metal with no visible handle. It’d be too easy if he was allowed to just walk out, he supposes. There’s no immediately visible threat or opportunity to exploit.

With that down, he moves on to cataloging himself.

The first and absolutely most concerning thing he notes is his bare face. No shitty, warped plastic rubs against his skin or causes his breath to condense unpleasantly on his lips. It rips the blinders off his eyes and forces him to see the situation for what it is. He’s known logically that things are most certainly Not Good, but there was a sense of safety his mask brought him, like a security blanket he’s imprinted on. With it gone, with the knowledge that anyone and everyone involved now knows his face – his shame – he feels the seeds of fear set its roots firmly in his gut.

There’s no way of knowing how many people have seen him. Was he processed somewhere? Examined? Someone moved him here. Is this a single entity or a team? The thought of more and more people recognizing him makes him sick.

He digs his blunted and cracked nails into his aching palms to ground himself. Focus. Evaluate the situation. Take control.

Ten seconds. That’s how long he allows himself to wallow in this miserable state, then he gets back to work. If these bastards think they can contain him or bring him to heel, they have another thing coming. He returns to his examination, only slightly stunted by the fog hovering in his brain.

Aside from his overtaxed muscles and the acute headache, he’s in working order. His vision has cleared and he has feeling in each limb. Granted, he could have still escaped without the use of his arms, but that would have been much more annoying. This? This is doable.

With a grunt and a roiling stomach, he forces himself into a sitting position. Once he's sure he isn't going to flop back down into a pathetic heap, he inspects his restraints with a frown. Stun cuffs. That might explain why he feels like an overused lightning rod.

Shoto remembers Endeavor going over restraint procedure a little over a year ago. These are ‘humane’, meant to disorient and prevent the captive from focusing on their quirk through the shocks it’d deliver if they tried. Given that he now has two pairs of cuffs on his wrists and, if he’s feeling it correctly, a set around his ankles, he supposes one just wasn’t effective enough. If he feels a tad bit smug at that, who can blame him? Anything to inconvenience his captors.

Still, he doesn’t remember how he got here or who put these on him. He can recall the moment of his capture and the moment he awoke in this room. Everything between point A and point B is blurry.

Having taken proper stock of his surroundings and well-being, he decides it’s time to act. The walls are sturdy, but likely not sturdy enough to contain his raw power. If, by some bizarre miracle they are, he knows the ceiling isn’t. The tiles are generic, little more than composite sawdust and glue. Tearing a hole into the next floor wouldn’t take much more than a basic attack.

Though that will likely alert my captors and I can’t afford to waste unnecessary energy, he muses and eyes the room up again before focusing on the the only exit. If I can finesse the door open I might be able to gain some ground before they realize anything is wrong.

Utter destruction will be his fallback if the door proves too difficult or costly to open he decides.

Gotta get these off first. Then I can bust out of here.

No matter which way he twists and turns his arms, he can’t see a latch, not that he expected to find one. They’d make for terrible restraints otherwise. He can try to overwhelm them, send out a burst of ice strong enough to coat them, and either fry the inner circuits or cause the metal to become brittle enough to break. However, that poses the same risk as breaking down the wall. It’d be a wasteful expenditure of his energy and he’ll harm himself in the process. Not exactly ideal when he’ll likely have to face down an unknown number of combatants.

Though, he doesn’t exactly know the voltage on these things. They’re something he has theoretical experience with through studying. It’s different to find himself strapped with a pair (or three). Getting electrocuted is something he’s come to loathe, but he doubts these things are packing the same sort of power as that villain’s quirk. It would hardly be humane then. Pain is something he has an oddly intimate relationship with. If the voltage is low enough, he can likely shrug it off and bust these things apart like toys. That would probably explain the extra sets, come to think of it.

Before he decides on the method, he’ll have to test the feedback. One set wouldn’t be too bad, but three? That’s questionable.

With a steadying breath, he bites back any shred of hesitation that tells him this is a bad idea and lets out an experimental little dusting of frost.

Electricity races all the way from his roots to his toes. He nearly cracks his head against the wall as he jerks back on instinct, like he can get away from the sensation. It’s painful and drives him into the realm of oversensitive, but, as expected, it’s not as bad as that villain’s quirk had been. This feels less like he’s been slapped into an electric chair and more like he fell onto a third rail. Still, not exactly a great feeling, certainly not one he’ll seek out for fun.

He’s pretty confident he can break them without passing out. But, it’s not a certainty. How long it’d take to actually shatter the cuffs is also an unknown. What state would he be left in after? One well enough to fight? The risk is too high to bet on while he still has other options to exhaust.

First, he has to get out of view of that camera; an unreasonable feat given the barren state of this room. So, he turns to face his back to the device and hunches in on himself, knees drawn to his chest like he’s just a distraught and hiding child. Acting has never been his strong suit, so he hopes it’s a believable display. Perhaps they’ll underestimate him given his now obvious age.

With some minor degree of privacy, he starts on his next plan.

The cuffs are sturdy and unyielding in the center, not allowing his hands to really bend far or meet in the middle. He can’t even touch his fingers together. He shifts a little so his arms slip around his knees and down until his hands press against the mat. Then, he tucks his right thumb under his foot and steps down. It’s awkward and slightly uncomfortable, but that might work in his favor this time.

Shoto takes a deep breath, holds it, and then jerks his arm back as subtly as he can manage with the force he needs. He hates that he’s almost grateful again for his father’s bullshit training because having dislocated this joint before makes it all the easier to do it again. (A child should not regularly have dislocated joints but that’s a fact that too many pros and adults were keen on ignoring.)

A familiar pain radiates up his arm as he feels his thumb pop out of its socket. It’s nearly insignificant compared to what he’s been through these past days. He hunches his shoulders close to his ears and releases his breath slowly as he grows accustomed to the throbbing. Hopefully, it just looks like he’s crying pathetically to any potential watcher.

Without wasting any more time, Shoto angles his thumb against his palm and forcefully wriggles one cuff off his injured hand. When the metal presses against the tender joint, it makes him shudder but he doesn’t slow. The second is no more pleasant to escape.

When his right hand is completely free, he heaves a sigh of relief before popping his thumb back into place without so much as a grunt. It’s a little stiff and uncomfortable. He’ll need to ice it and avoid overworking his hand for the foreseeable future, but he’s ambidextrous and doesn’t need his hands to utilize his quirk, so it’s a net positive in his opinion. (Any lasting and exacerbated damage to the joint is a problem for future-Shoto to deal with.)

Shoto presses a fingertip against the inseam of the cuffs and shoots ice inside. His punishment is swift as electricity arcs through him, though it’s certainly not as bad with half the cuffs off of him. He bites back a noise and tries to keep his body in check. The dosage lessens when the pair he iced sparks and the frame cracks as ice seeps out of its insides. He repeats the process with the second set.

By now, the feedback is almost laughable. He can understand how it’d affect most others, many of whom haven’t faced rigorous endurance training since they could walk or learned to fight through pain in the height of battle. This is a warm-up in comparison for him.

With both arms free, he swiftly and discreetly destroys the set on his ankles. He tests his quirk by covering his aching thumb in a thin sheen of frost to numb the pain. It’s borderline euphoric to use his quirk without feeling like an abused spark plug. Knowing he’s free to do as he wishes, he sends a thin, nearly imperceptible line of ice across the base trim of the wall. It races around the room and creeps up the wall under the camera, freezing the device. It sparks as it dies.

Here’s to hoping they think it’s a technical difficulty on their end.

He hates placing so much of his escape on faith and assumptions. But, there’s little else he can do other than wait around for some knight in tight spandex to bust in and save him (doubtful). No thank you, he’d rather choke on lightning again.

Getting to his feet is more of an affair than he’d like. There’s stiffness in his joints and a burn in his muscles like he’s run drills for days on end. It nearly makes him lightheaded. Shoto places a hand on the wall to stabilize himself while his senses reorient themselves. How annoying.

After a breath, he pushes off the wall, standing tall and looking almost entirely unaffected by what’s transpired. He’ll not allow these thugs to think they’ve so much as hindered him. They’ll become specks in his already ugly history and nothing more. Shoto tells himself this as he walks toward the door with aching limbs.

When he presses an ear to the cool metal, he can’t hear a thing beyond. It’s anyone’s guess what waits for him. Shoto runs his hand across the frame of the door, mapping out the hinges and working his way over to where he thinks the latch bolt is. It’s hard to get an accurate read due to the seamless design, but doors rarely differ in structure, so he can hazard a pretty strong guess.

He settles his palm over the minuscule crack between the door and the frame and lets ice creep in between. It’s small at first before more and more pushes in like a thickening wedge. There’s a low groan and creak as the frame slowly but steadily begins to bend under the unending intrusion. It doesn’t need to be a lot, just enough to free the door from its locked position.

While his muscles protest further physical exertion, he’s pleasantly surprised to feel little in the way of quirk fatigue. It’s there, on the frayed edges of his nerves, but it’s almost as if he’s slept through it all and is suffering through the tail-end. A worrying detail as it implies an extended stay in this place, but it’s also a boon. He’s free to more-or-less go to town on his captors – barring extensive hand-to-hand combat, of course. (Not that he planned on entertaining them long enough for it to get to that point. He’s going to turn this place into an iceberg at his earliest convenience.)

Shoto pushes a shoulder against the straining door and continues to wedge more ice into the sparse opening. It spreads further up and down the gap, pressing in like an industrial-grade jack. With a crack and metallic groan, the door jars slightly.

That’s all he needs.

He presses his left hand to the ice and quickly melts it as he rams his shoulder into the door before it can click back in place. It swings open with ease.

Shoto darts into the hall, mist rolling off his body as he surveys the area.

One person patrols further down the way but is striding in his direction swiftly, obviously drawn by the noise of the door. The woman seems shocked to see him exit the room. Her pale eyes widen and she moves to grab a radio on her hip.

Can’t let that happen.

Shoto sends ice careening her direction like a bullet. Before she can get the radio to her lips, she’s engulfed.

“Hey—!”

The device clatters uselessly to the ground.

He narrows his eyes as he stalks closer and picks up the radio. This might be useful.

“You won’t be doing that,” he says coldly and clips the radio onto his collar. Then, he fixes her with a glare. “Where am I? How do I get out of here?”

“C’mon kid, y-you don’t gotta—”

“Answer or I’ll leave you to get frostbite.”

He tries to put in as much vitriol in the threat as he can. Easy enough now that he’s sufficiently pissed and aching all over. These thugs are fortunate he wants to be a hero. If he fell lower on the morality spectrum, he’d take his pound of flesh in recompense. Instead, he’ll settle for thoroughly and soundly beating them.

It must be a convincing enough act because the woman grows wan. (Shoto doesn’t know, doesn’t see the hate in his own eyes. The way his lurid face and wild hair paints a distinctly malignant picture. He looks more savage than those that lurk in these halls.)

“This is the k-kennels. Sub-level 3. Gotta g-go up.”

Shoto glances quickly down the hall. It’s just as stark and impersonal as the room was. No signs, no posters, no other people, no windows. Nothing but blank walls and a line of similar handleless doors. It’s like an obnoxious marriage of esotericism and ultra-minimalism; hard to comprehend and empty to the point of discomfort. He would have had to scour each floor to figure out if it was the right one to get out.

The other doors are cause for major concern. If he was locked behind one, it’s not a far leap of logic to assume others are as well.

“And these other rooms?” he asks, just as coolly.

“O-other people. Boss M-Murmur sends them here for b-breaking before the shows.”

On the positive, he has a name. Murmur.

On the negative, he really does not like what conclusions he’s drawing. Breaking? Shows? It sounds like he’s training animals, not torturing people.

“‘Shows’? Explain,” he demands because he needs to know the severity of the situation.

“‘S where he s-sells ‘em,” she stutters out, breath frosting with each word.

So, he and Eraserhead were right. Not much of a victory when he’s in the midst of this shitshow, but he’ll be sure to tell the hero when he gets out. They can take a moment to gloat in awkward silence after cracking some heads. That’ll be a nice reunion.

He allows himself one more question. That’s all the time he can afford to waste.

“And what of your numbers? How much resistance can I expect?”

Her lips thin but she doesn’t resist selling out her allies. No honor among thieves.

“Boss h-hires outside muscle. D-don’t know how many there are. At least two a f-few floors up.”

With that, he decides her usefulness has run its course. He summons a thick piece of ice in his hand and uses it as a baton. She barely has time to see him swing before it cracks against her head with unforgiving force. Her face goes slack as she falls unconscious.

Despite his earlier threat, he really isn't a monster. No matter how much she deserves it, he won’t leave her in this hunk of ice. Though, he won’t leave her free either. After swiftly melting her prison, he throws her into his former room. The door slams shut and is coated in ice a moment later. We’ll see how she likes a kennel of her own.

Shoto then turns and makes for the end of the hall. As he passes the other doors, his steps falter. Guilt begins to gnaw at him.

How many other victims are here? How many would he be willing to abandon? It’s not logical to release a bunch of people without knowing their status, especially given his own physically questionable state. How can he protect them all? And how much time would that waste?

But still…

He reaches a hand toward the closest door, ready to blow it off its hinges, but hesitates.

It would be smarter to get out and bring proper reinforcements. Freeing people who may be physically or mentally compromised would be counterproductive. It’d put everyone in danger. He has one shot at this, so he has to be wise about this, not compassionate.

That doesn’t make the decision feel any better as he steps away from the door. It’s a bitter choice to swallow as he passes more potential victims on his way to freedom. I’ll be back, he swears to these faceless people, and I’ll bring help. You’ll be free soon.

Shoto’s steps feel particularly weighted, his chest unfortunately tight, as he reaches the door at the end. No time for second-guessing. Keep moving. Keep acting.

He rests his left hand on the handle, stance shifting to a defensive posture. Then, he throws the door open, frost billowing from his right side as he prepares to fight—

No one.

The door leads to a stairwell shockingly devoid of life. No matter how intently he listens, he can’t hear even the faintest stirring. It’s concerning. More than concerning. He’d have expected a closer eye to be kept on him after the trouble they went through to catch him in the first place. One guard is hardly appropriate security. Why kidnap people if you’re not going to monitor them properly?

Unless it’s a trap.

That, he feels, is the most likely scenario. This group has already shown their fondness for ambushes. What’s one more? It might also explain why his confiscated radio has been suspiciously silent. There’s been no check-in after her botched attempt at a warning.

He climbs the stairs as swiftly and quietly as he can manage. His footsteps still echo with sharp taps through the empty space. After reaching each landing, he counts until he gets to the door he believes is the ground floor. If that woman was honest, he should be close now.

His nerves jump and anticipation rises like a wellspring in his gut. Not far now. Just a few more doors and he’s home-free. As with the previous door, he prepares himself before opening it. If anywhere has signs of life, it’ll be this floor. Anyone entering or exiting the facility will likely pass through here. Through-traffic is more or less unavoidable.

He throws the door open in the same manner as before, stance prepared to strike. His escape comes to a screeching halt. Standing in the middle of the hall are three men and a woman, all clearly waiting for him. It's less of an ambush and more of a blockade. Shit.

Shoto would ice them but two very important details stop him.

One: Scars is there, expression darkly amused and entirely too relaxed, hands already smoking in preparation to act.

Two: One of the other men has a gun pressed firmly to the woman’s head.

Shoto won’t be able to freeze the gun before the bullet finds its way snugly into her brain. He’s fast, but he’s definitely not faster than a speeding bullet, especially one so close to its target.

So, he halts. He doesn’t know what will set this stranger off or what will get this woman killed. Shoto values his freedom, but he won’t kill her to get it.

A voice rings in the back of his head that sounds oddly like Eraserhead, telling him to compartmentalize and prioritize.

The man with the gun is smiling at him so calmly and politely that it unsettles Shoto. He is, in plain terms, bland; average in everything, right down to his neatly pressed khakis and neighborly expression. If it weren’t for his given situation, Shoto doubts he’d even remember the man’s face if given a lineup. He could work at a PTA bake sale and Shoto wouldn’t bat an eye. It’s unnerving.

“Told you he’d get out,” Scars says blithely. There’s an intensity in his stare that contradicts his lax posture. His smile is vicious as he watches Shoto with so much focus, it’s like he’s the only other person in the building.

“Aren’t you just impressive?” the gunman asks, pleasant as a lark, like he doesn’t have a woman hostage.

Shoto schools his expression into one of pointed disinterest and refrains from answering. Instead, he looks at the hostage. She's young, barely twenty. Her expression is slack, nearly deadened and her eyes are glassy. Is she drugged? That complicates things.

When he looks at the second man, yellowish wolf-like eyes and sharp teeth bared in a sneer greet him. It’s the tracker from the alley, the one Shoto threatened. No wonder nobody tried to stop him. They always knew where he was. Damn it.

With the animosity burning in his stare, Shoto’s pretty sure there’s no love lost between them. Suits him just fine. There’s a degree of sick satisfaction that wells in him when he notices the man flinch back slightly once Shoto levels his full, baleful attention on him. He hasn’t forgotten. Good.

“I think we should talk,” the gunman says.

It drags Shoto's gaze back to him.

Fine, not like there’s much of a choice. Besides, I might get information. Maybe an opening.

Shoto tilts his head, the closest approximation to assent he’s willing to give the man. Even that little concession earns him a too-pleased smile. He immediately wants to retract the motion.

“Please, take a seat,” the man says and nods to the floor, like Shoto’s stupid enough to get in such a vulnerable position.

Well, I am tired...

He’s moving before he even realizes it, leaning against the wall and sliding down. Comprehension dawns on him and shocks him into a stop mid-motion. His muscles scream in protest as he jerks back upright. Every line of his body is tense as he stares warily at the unassuming man.

“What the hell is your quirk?” he asks incredulously.

The man chuckles, clearly amused by the shock on Shoto’s usually stoic face.

“A minor suggestion quirk, nothing so impressive. Not like yours.”

There are several things he dislikes about what was just said. First and foremost, a suggestion quirk? Like brainwashing? That is really not good.

And he hates the way the man spoke about his quirk. It's covetous. That pleasant expression tips into something rapacious as he looks Shoto over. It makes his nerves twist. He can’t let that man near him, he just knows it.

Shoto moves into a more defensible stance as he glances at the other two men. The tracker is simple enough to handle but Scars is a different story. It’s too dangerous to engage him here when there are more people underground. Then there’s the gun. That’s his biggest concern.

Maybe if I…

There’s a move he can do that might just work but it takes concentration. Enough that he isn’t entirely confident he can manage it right now. He’s weighing the risk when the gunman tsks.

“I wouldn’t do anything rash.”

He shifts the gun a little as a reminder.

Shoto grimaces and relaxes his posture, if only to ease that finger further away from the trigger.

“Let her go,” he says as commanding as he can manage.

The man huffs a chuckle.

“If you insist.” He says it lightly like he’s entertaining a child.

It’s shocking how readily he agrees. Alarm bells ring in Shoto’s head immediately.

“Be a dear and hold this for me,” he says as he picks up one of the woman’s hands and transfers control of the weapon to her. “If he attacks or uses his quirk at all, kill yourself.”

The command startles Shoto. It's unfathomable, monstrous. He glances from the man to the woman who holds the muzzle to her head, expression barely cognizant. While Shoto broke control, he isn’t sure this woman is in any state of mind to resist.

Shoto wants to hit him so badly. His thumb aches as he tightens his fists. The glare he sends the man could level a city. Scars whistles at the expression, his own face lighting up in twisted amusement. The tracker growls low in his throat but steps back in the same instance. All the while, the man just smiles at him serenely.

“Now, that conversation…” he says as he claps his hands together.

“What do you want?” Shoto bites out, tension keeping his aching muscles taut.

“For you to behave.”

Shoto barely refrains from rolling his eyes. Get in line. Endeavor would probably hire this man if he succeeds in wrangling Shoto in completely, past transgressions be damned. (Forced compliance hardly counts, in his opinion. He still plans on turning the man into an ice sculpture once the hostage is secure.)

When the man looks him over again like he’s appraising Shoto, it makes the teen’s skin crawl. There’s an unsettling emptiness in those brown eyes. An absence of humanity. It’s hidden so well behind his genial appearance.

“Dabi did tell me you were a bit of a handful. Even still, this is a surprise. I didn’t expect you to escape so quickly.”

He talks to Shoto as if they’re friends. A little chuckle at the end like he’s retelling a funny story. The desire to hit him reinforces itself.

Scars’ smile widens slightly, gaze sharpening.

Dabi, I take it. The name is a little on the nose, given his physical state, but it’d certainly track with his quirk. Shoto would say he’s in no room to judge the creativity of other’s names, but he’s still harboring a grudge against Dabi, so he’ll offer the villain no such grace.

Seeing that Shoto isn’t being charitable enough to talk to him, the man continues on, sighing like he’s the one being inconvenienced here.

“I’m a fair man. I’m willing to compromise.”

That draws Shoto’s attention back to him, albeit begrudgingly. Fair? Really? He’d point out the woman about to commit unwilling suicide, but he sincerely doubts this asshole is capable of that level of self-reflection.

The man takes his bitter stare as interest and continues.

“You want to help this creature. I want you to be obedient. I think there’s a way we can reach an agreement.”

Anger burns through him. The casual dehumanization of this poor woman makes him sick with disgust and rage. His expression cracks, shifts, and curls into proper rancor. He has to take caution to keep from letting his quirk seep out in his anger, unsure just how little will be needed to trigger that latent command. Would the appearance of frost be all it takes?

“Unlikely.”

His voice comes out deceptively flat despite his expression. It does little to dissuade the man’s perpetually pleased demeanor. Why the gods decided to create such a punchable man is beyond Shoto’s comprehension.

“Return to your kennel and wait. If you mind your manners, this one will remain safe, sound, and unsold.”

What a horrifically vague bargain. It hinges on his manners? Those are pitiable on the best of days, even Shoto can admit that, but this man’s standards may be wildly different from the norm.

A chill trickles down his spine when he realizes he’s turning, ready to go straight back to that room. He stops before he’s even turned fully, eyes falling to slits as he glares back at the man. How’s he supposed to combat this quirk when he can’t even tell it’s being used? There’s been no indicator, no sensation in his brain, only the execution of the command that Shoto realizes isn’t his own will. It’s only that revelation that lets him stop himself.

The man’s smile ticks, though Shoto isn’t sure if it’s in amusement or slow-growing irritation. He’s hoping for the latter.

“Or, fight back,” he suggests nonchalantly, gesturing to the woman in a distinctly unsubtle threat. “Escape and live with the knowledge that you sacrificed her.”

Shoto’s irate expression darkens. His lips twist into a grimace before he locks it all down. There’s no other option for him, not one he would ever be okay with doing. Leaving those on the lower level so he can get help is one thing. Being directly responsible for this woman’s death or sale is unforgivable. His features fall distant and blank as he looks at the man as if he’s looking through him; like he’s insignificant.

“She’ll be okay if I remain complacent?”

His voice sounds hollow even to himself. It brightens the man’s smile to a revolting degree. It takes all he can not to erupt. He holds himself together the only way he knows how: sheer spite and bitter, biting cold. If only that were enough to petrify this bastard the way it does that tracker.

“Of course,” he assures, so saccharine it’s slimy. Shoto wouldn’t bet a single yen on his sincerity, but there’s little he can do to combat that.

“And how do I know you’re being honest?” he asks, trying to maintain even the faintest grasp of control of the situation. (He was never in control but he refuses to admit that, stubborn to the very end.)

The man huffs lightly and shifts his weight at Shoto’s continuous pushback. Maybe he’s unused to resistance. Maybe he really is getting aggravated. Good.

Though, he’s wary of how far he can push it. It’s selfish and so, so fucking stupid to risk her well-being just to indulge his petty habits. Seeing the man shift impatiently isn’t rewarding enough to compensate for the moment it goes too far. Pulling in the reigns and lowering his shoulders to show his passivity is a more momentous task than squaring up against Endeavor in their training hall, but he manages. His teeth grind as he exercises his tenuous restraint.

“You’re in no position to demand assurance, Shoto,” the man says, voice somehow both pleasant and snippy. It rubs Shoto’s aching nerves the wrong way.

“Don’t call me that,” he says through gritted teeth, repulsed by the way his name drips from the other’s lips.

The false familiarity that man is trying to establish does little to ingratiate himself into Shoto’s goodwill. In fact, it does the opposite. Perhaps it’s how his quirk works? The closer he is to the person, the easier his influence? If so, Shoto will have no issue maintaining that distance. It’s only through threats of death that he’s kept himself from harpooning the bastard.

“Of course,” he says, expression back to placid and voice cordial. “We’ll get to that stage soon enough.”

No, we won’t. He’d definitely rather have the heroes bust in and perform an obnoxious and over-reported rescue on him than exchange a single word more with his captor. But, he keeps that to himself. No need to antagonize this guy any further until that woman is safely away from the situation.

“You may call me Murmur,” the man says and holds out his hand for Shoto to shake.

It takes a truly divine level of restraint to keep from grabbing his hand and turning him into the world’s ugliest ice centerpiece. This asshole, Murmur, must know it from the audacity in his grin. This is the bastard in charge. Great.

Since he can’t freeze the man to the spot without the woman reacting in a truly terrible way, Shoto does his best to relay his opinion through sight. He glances at the offending hand and looks away in disinterest, leaving the man hanging.

He gets a sigh for his efforts and the hand disappears from his peripheral only to move up and touch his shoulder in a facsimile of affection. Every inch of his skin crawls and he tenses instantaneously, but his expression remains distant.

“You’re injured. Exhausted. All that impressive work has drained you. Don’t you think it’s wise to get some rest?” Murmur says softly and with so much care, it would almost be believable if his eyes weren’t utterly soulless.

Even still, Shoto feels the idea worm into his head. The ache in his muscles renews with magnified vigor and he realizes just how tired he is. I am exhausted.

“Stop it,” he nearly hisses.

Shoto is just about ready to punch himself like it’ll launch the manifestation of that thought clear out of his head. It’s horrifying how naturally it came to him like it was his own volition. What's worse is that he can't find it in himself to disagree with the thought, because he genuinely is tired. But now he can't trust that that's not another piece of manipulation. How is he meant to tell what’s his own thoughts and will and what’s Murumurs?

“Willful, aren’t you?” Murmur says with a light chuckle and draws back his hand. Then, he glances over to the woman. “Darling—”

Her glazed eyes are rimmed with tears and her arm shakes. Shoto sucks in a breath and takes a resigned step backward, gaze downcast. There’s a painful, poisonous feeling in his chest now, something like defeat and rage and unending self-immolation.

“I’m going.”

It falls out, flat and unfeeling, nearly robotic. Shoto separates himself mentally from the situation as he takes another step back toward the door. He can bide his time and come up with a better escape plan now that he has more information. He’ll just have to be careful for the other victims’ sake. It’s unknown how many are here and how many Murmur is willing to sacrifice to get to Shoto. If the avaricious way Murmur stares at him is any indicator, it’s an unsettling amount.

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”

Fuck you.

Shoto does little more than give him a dirty, frigid side glare, as dismissive and belittling as he can manage, before he turns away fully.

“Leave it to me. I can handle him,” Dabi (at least Shoto is still working under the assumption that Scars is Dabi) says suddenly. His raspy voice is pitched low and lilted in amusement. It grates against Shoto’s raw ego.

He tosses that same glare back at the scarred man. Then he smoothes it out to flat disinterest. Handle me? I distinctly remember things ending a different way our last encounter.

“How’s the arm?” he asks, blandly, catty undertones barely concealed. His gaze flicks down to the freshly-stapled purplish flesh, just as grotesque and painful looking as last time.

That earns him a vicious, snarling grin. Said hand lights up incandescent blue as Dabi raises a flaming fist and tilts his head.

“Fuckin’ peachy. Want a closer look?”

Shoto lets his gaze roll back up to stare at Dabi and tries to mentally communicate how gross he thinks the man is through his vacant expression.

“You’re pungent enough from this distance.”

Shoto feels like putting tape over his own mouth if only to shut himself up. Egging on a fight right now is the exact opposite of what he should be doing, even if he’d like nothing more than to go at all three men in this hall like there’s no tomorrow. Don’t be an idiot. The mental voice chiding him once more takes on Eraserhead’s dry tone.

It’s just so hard to reign in his temper and attitude. Usually, he never does. In fact, he tends to amp it up to piss off certain (Endeavor) individuals. Exercising this type of restraint is much more difficult when surrounded by multiple aggravating people, an aggravating headache, and an extremely stressful situation. He takes a deep, calming breath and resists taking the bait as Dabi strides threateningly close, flames even brighter.

Murmur’s expression takes on a tone of concern as he looks between the two. Not combative, huh? Good to know.

“Ah, I suggest—”

“Finish that sentence and they’ll be vacuuming you off the floor,” Dabi says, finally breaking their staring contest and looking at his temporary boss.

It’s a little jarring to realize this is the first time Dabi has looked away from him since he entered the hall. He must have really pissed the man off the last time they met. It’s also an interesting thing to notice that Dabi doesn’t seem particularly beholden to or trustful of Murmur. Is he afraid Murmur will try to manipulate him? No loyalties here. Might be a point I can exploit.

“Naturally,” Murmur says coolly, tone distinctly different from how he speaks to Shoto. He motions for the woman to follow him. Even as she walks, her shaking arm never lowers the weapon. Damn it. Then, he nods at the two, expression dipping back into that mixture of tender-greed as he looks at Shoto.

“I’ll be down to see you soon, dear one.”

Dabi scoffs while Shoto’s lips curl in disgust. That sentiment leaves him feeling gross and mildly nauseated.

“Stop being fucking weird,” is Dabi’s parting words before he shoves Shoto roughly through the doorway and out of Murmur's line of sight.

The walk down the first flight of stairs is quiet, something Shoto’s grateful for. Dabi has the unique talent of annoying him. Maybe it has something to do with the tone the villain tends to take or the way he stares like Shoto’s missing out on some big, hilarious secret. Either way, it makes antagonizing the fiery man all the more appealing. (Maybe it’s also his repressed desire to lash out at another smug, obnoxious, asshole-ish fire-user.)

By the time they’re halfway to the second landing, Dabi seems to have had his fill of not counter-antagonizing Shoto.

“Dumbass.”

The sudden and slightly expected insult causes Shoto to shoot a confused-yet-annoyed expression at the other man.

“Excuse me?”

Dabi gives him that I-know-something-you-don’t look again and Shoto’s fist itches to acquint itself with the man’s face.

“You really think you saved that waste of space? Murmur already has someone else lined up to take her place,” he says, lips stretched in an unsettling, lazy smile.

His blasé attitude and lack of empathy aggravates Shoto. How anyone can see this situation and think any of it’s funny is appalling. Just wait, we’ll see how much you smile when I get out of here.

“What else was I supposed to do?” he asks coldly.

Even though it was meant to be rhetorical, Dabi still rolls his eyes and answers.

“Let the sorry bitch die. Better fate than what these sickos have in mind,” he says casually and without a single care. His bright, blazing stare lands back on Shoto and his expression shifts back to grotesquely amused. “Then again, mercy isn’t your thing, is it?”

The way he says it, like Shoto’s no better than him, makes Shoto burn with indignation.

“You’re in no position to make judgment calls about me. You’re helping these traffickers,” he spits out, annoyed that this bastard has the gall to equate anything he’s done to what Shoto’s done to survive.

“Sure I am,” Dabi says, but the way he says it gives Shoto pause. It’s almost sarcastic like helping this group is the last thing he’s doing. Shut up, you literally kidnapped me.

Something in Dabi’s expression shifts. He’s still smiling, but it falls flat and jagged, the picture of vindictiveness.

“Endeavor’s little masterpiece knows all. Especially how to get his way. Got that special brand of Todoroki sadism in you, don’t you?”

When Dabi speaks, it’s darkly amused and so resentful.

Shoto’s eyes widen marginally. Something lodges in his chest. No. No, I’m not like him at all.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he finally manages to force out.

They’re nearing the door to sub-level three’s hall now. It hasn’t occurred to Shoto just how slow they’re going. This lackadaisical pace his captor takes draws out their conversation. No, Shoto is too busy choking back this unwanted comparison.

Dabi huffs a scratchy laugh.

“Threatened to kill Laelaps. Ripped the skin off my arm. Threatened to torture me for information. And what happened to the dumbass guarding you? How’d you get this?” Dabi asks as he flicks the radio still clipped to Shoto’s collar. His expression is smug, all too pleased with pointing out Shoto’s vicious streak.

It’s like a slap to the face. He did that. He did all of that. In the moment, it felt appropriate because he knows how far he’ll go, but to hear it put so plainly from another’s mouth? It’s almost monstrous sounding. My God, he’s right. I’m… I...

“So heroic. Just like daddy taught you, right?”

He says it with such certainty, it’s unsettling. Shoto shakes off the horror for a moment to stare at him, more cowed by this conversation than anything Murmur could do.

“Who are you?” he asks, hollow and distant as he tries to settle this new uncertainty in his head. I’m turning out just like him.

“The Ghost of Christmas Past,” Dabi says sarcastically, and it only confuses Shoto.

Those rushing, painful accusations are momentarily silenced as he knits his brows together in thought. Christmas isn’t something Endeavor cared to celebrate, and so Shoto never did by proxy. If this is a reference to something, it’s gone firmly over his head.

“What does Christmas have to do with anything?” he asks.

Dabi stares at him blankly for a moment, assessing how serious Shoto’s being, before he rolls his eyes in the same manner Shoto imagines Eraserhead does behind his goggles sometimes.

“Fucking hell, you’re dense.”

And Shoto would be more offended if he wasn’t still grappling with himself. He’s quite sharp, thank you very much. He just...has issues with pop culture.

The two are silent for the time being as they walk down the hall. Shoto can still feel the intense heat rolling off Dabi’s body, even without the fire. It makes him wonder if that’s his natural body temperature or if he’s preparing himself for Shoto to fight.

No need to worry, he thinks bitterly. I can’t risk it right now without sentencing that woman to death or worse.

They halt in front of his cell – or kennel, as they call it. (Shoto despises that term. He’s not an animal. None of them are.) Dabi looks over the icy door and scoffs.

“Told them the cuffs weren’t enough. Shoulda tranq’d you.”

And Shoto is glad they didn’t do that. Being constantly drugged is not something he wants to become familiar with. That poor woman seemed too well-acquainted with that method of control and it looked dreadful. At least he can function at full mental capacity with the cuffs.

The ice melts in record time as Dabi presses a hand to the door. The steam curls around his palm before he even makes contact. It gives credence to the idea that he naturally runs unbearably hot.

Shoto eyes him up and imagines bashing him over the head with a sturdy piece of ice, but resists the temptation. He doesn’t want to give Murmur a reason to hurt that woman or – god forbid – sell her. Still, the mental image of knocking Dabi out is at least slightly mollifying.

(Until Dabi’s voice rings in his head, poisoning his satisfaction with taunts of Todoroki Sadism.)

He can’t see how Dabi opens the door. Card? Fingerprint? Does Dabi even have fingerprints left? It swings open and reveals the woman on the ground, cradling her head. Shoto’s tempted to ask her if it hurts. Mockingly, of course. He resists and stares at the blank wall he’s going to become unfortunately familiar with.

“Quit laying down on the job,” Dabi says and kicks her leg. There is no gentleness to the action, like the way Eraserhead would nudge Shoto. It’s entirely impersonal and unkind.

She squints up at Dabi, pinched features pained and glaring. Then, she notices Shoto to his right and leaps unsteadily to her feet, anger rolling off her in waves.

“You little bastard!”

The way she steps forward, all aggression, would be threatening if Shoto wasn’t dead certain he could handle her again.

“Oh, please, do attack him. I wanna see if he actually kills you this time,” Dabi says with a laugh and steps out of the way, hands motioning to Shoto like he’s genuinely encouraging this action. The way his hazy blue eyes stare at Shoto makes him think Dabi really is curious to see if it happens.

She notices it too. Her steps falter and that false bravado flags as she reassesses the situation. Her glare grows uncertain, wary. This is a fight she's no longer interested in taking.

It makes that mocking voice pipe back up in his head. Endeavor is no stranger to excessive force but he isn't a murderer. To think that anyone, villains of all people, thinks Shoto's willing to kill someone is disheartening. How has it gotten this bad?

“I’m not killing anyone,” he says firmly, to Dabi, to the woman, and to himself. As he speaks, he shoots Dabi a sideways glare before staring at the wall again, entirely dismissing the woman’s presence.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Dabi says, and Shoto doesn’t like that tone.

What the fuck do you know?

He grinds his teeth and pointedly ignores the man.

“Get out of here. You clearly can’t handle this,” Dabi says to the woman and shoos her away with a particularly rude gesture. She huffs but leaves without a fight.

A nearly scorching hand shoves against his back and Shoto has to correct himself before he trips over his own feet as he stumbles into the room. Dabi takes the radio from his shirt and tucks it into his pocket. Shoto glares at him and Dabi just smirks in return.

Don’t punch him. Don’t punch him.

It’s harder to resist when Dabi leans a little closer, face in perfect swinging distance, to whisper to him.

“When you get done toying with these assholes and actually escape, keep an eye open. I’ll be waiting.”

It’s confusing and definitely not what Shoto was expecting him to say, but there’s no mistaking the threat in his voice. He’ll have to sleep with one eye open or risk becoming an unidentifiable pile of ash, that's a known quantity. But, that doesn’t make the threat any less odd. Dabi is positive Shoto’s going to escape and by the sounds of it, he isn't going to try to stop it a second time around. Shoto's not sure if he should take it as a compliment. Being that he thinks this guy’s a dick, he’s going to say no, it’s not a compliment.

Still, why bother with all this runaround? What’s his endgame?

And Shoto’s sure there’s an endgame here. In all his encounters with this group, Dabi is not only one of the only legitimate threats, but he’s also one of the smarter ones. At first, Shoto thought he was just a thug-for-hire, but that doesn’t appear to be the case. He has an ulterior motive, Shoto’s sure of it.

Dabi seems to delight in Shoto’s confusion. He laughs, malicious and grating, as he backs out of the room. His silhouette darkens the doorway for a final breath.

“See you around, Shoto.”

His name slithers out of Dabi’s mouth like a taunt. It’s so different from the way Murmur said it. One grasped for the familiarity and the other throws it in his face like it's a given. Shoto jerks, fists clenched. Before he can make the irrationally stupid decision to lunge at the man, the door slams shut, leaving him locked in the room with nothing but his thoughts and the hurricane in his chest.

Shoto leans against the wall and slides down, gaze a million miles away.

He wishes Soba was here.

(He wishes Eraserhead was here.)

#shoto todoroki #shouto todoroki #dabi #touya todoroki #fanfic #my writing #hounds of fate

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maria-rayro · 1 year

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au charlie x du'met + reader

You are an aspiring director, who has been looking for a suitable set for the filming of your horror movie for quite some time. You do not have much money and are limited in resources in general, but suddenly you receive a wonderful offer from a friendly stranger. The Du'Met's family offers you and your small crew to shoot everything on their beautiful little island, in a hotel that replicates the interiors of the famous Murder Castle, H.H. Holmes's hotel. How can you say no to something like that?

You and your crew arrive there for the weekend. You are greeted by a charming grown man in glasses, who feels a little awkward in your presence and at the same time seems eager to talk to you all the time. He seems to accidentally mention that he used to be a director too, but when you try to find out more about it, he goes off topic. You decide not to interrogate - you never know what kind of sad story there might be, right?

When you arrive on the island, you give your crew instructions, and they go to their rooms. You're about to go to yours when suddenly Charles stops you and awkwardly suggests that you join him and his husband for dinner. The team, Charlie explained, would be dining separately, but the Du'Met's would like to spend some time with the director. You couldn't refuse him, especially since you couldn't wait to see his mysterious husband, about whom Charles spoke with a kind of almost adoration and awe.

You use the time before dinner to tidy yourself up, then go down to the dining room just in time. Charlie is already sitting at the table, and before you enter the room, you manage to eavesdrop on his words. "No, she's not like me. I freaked out at dinner and had a fight with the whole crew. She's… obviously has more composure. And her relationship with the team looks nice," his tone sounds almost sad.

You hear a second voice that seems to belong to Granthem. "Of course she's not like you. There's no one like you." You smile a little. Their marriage seems to be going well.

You walk into the room and smile affably. Charles awkwardly introduces you to his husband and offers you a seat; Granthem gallantly pulls back a chair for you. Then he pours you some wine and sits down quietly, letting Charles do the talking. The man asks you mostly about your work, and you really want to ask him about his past as a director, but you hold back.

The evening goes on, dinner tastes just fine. You take advantage of the silence and decide to ask Charles something. "Tell me, Charlie. Don't you afraid to live here? I mean, it's a copy of Holmes' Murder Castle, after all. Don't you have any fear that your husband will one day go crazy and try to kill you?" you joke, sipping some wine.

Charlie coughs awkwardly, looking up at Granthem. His husband just silently stares at him back. Charles swallows and smiles a bit, shifting his gaze on you. "I like to think that in this case I will be able to beg him for mercy. So far I've been pretty good at it" he calmly says and puts a piece of meat poked on a fork into his mouth.

You raise an eyebrow and then turn your gaze to Du'Met, who looks a bit smug and smirks faintly, looking at his husband. You begin to realize that perhaps these frank and handsome men decided to invite you (and only you) to have a dinner with them for a reason. You've never been the type of people who get embarrased and blush when they get other people's attention, and you've also always been fine with trying new things. And this couple... well, they seem like people who would like to gain some new interesting experience. That's why you smile a little bit, looking at Granthem. "Is it that kind of party?"

Charlie doesn't even seem to understand what you're asking them about in the first place. He only gets it when he sees how Granthem stares at him. The older man looks somewhat amused for the first time tonight and looks at his flushed husband with interest. It is as if he has been waiting for some time for him to respond, but at some point he realizes that the man is expecting the same from him. The position of power in this relationship seems quite obvious to you now.

Granthem finally turns his gaze to you, and a mischievous light flashes into his eyes - or is it just the glare of the candles that stand on the table? "It could be."

You smile slightly as you continue to cut a piece of meat on your plate, looking at Granthem, and then shift your gaze to Charles. The man looks at his husband only, as if trying to read his mind, looking a bit tense. Then, however, it's as if he accepts his inability to look inside the man's head and sighs, picking up his glass and drinking the rest of his wine.

Looks like you're going to have an interesting night, huh?

#charlie lonnit #granthem du'met #du'met x charlie #tdim #the devil in me #du'lie #du'met x charlie x reader #yes i made it just because i've remembered that scene from hannibal #is it that kind of party?

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everythingsinred · 1 year

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Mikan (pt. 2)

Hi again, friends. Yesterday we were introduced to our main character, specifically what makes her tick and then the first two chapters of the story. Today, we'll complete Mikan's first day at Alice Academy and reach the peak of the "enemies" part of NatsuMikan's enemies-to-lovers relationship.

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Chapter Three

Mikan formally meets the other representative, Yuu, who is sweet and willing to answer any questi

ons she has.

She thanks him, but suddenly Narumi’s test doesn’t seem so easy anymore because everyone around is kinda weird. How is she supposed to get along with kids who fly or have super-hearing? Hotaru and the others aren’t alarmed by the alices, like they’re no big deal, but Mikan only found out about them today! She’s overwhelmed and awe-struck and somehow she’s the one who looks weird as a result. Mikan being the odd one out is something I’ll explore in deeper detail later, but it’s important that she feels like a stranger in a strange world. Our Alice in Wonderland is stunned by what she sees, new to everything that Class B has grown up with.

Go easy on her, Hotaru. It's her first day!

Mikan is struck out of her reverie by Hotaru, who crushes her spirits instantly by telling her that she doesn’t want to be associated with her. She’s trying to get an award, after all, and Mikan is a magnet for trouble.

Instant whiplash, going from being shown rare affection by the person she came here for to being immediately abandoned and dismissed. Mikan came here to start their friendship from the beginning, and here’s Hotaru telling her they’re as good as strangers. Mikan might sum this up as “weird” behavior, but what she means is that it’s hurtful and inconsistent. She came here for Hotaru, after all! She tries to focus on Narumi’s test instead, hoping that this moment will pass, but it’s a bizarre conundrum to be in.

Mikan is introduced to the class by the substitute, but the kids refuse to hear him out, instead bullying him and throwing things at him. Mikan is gradually less and less confident in her ability to fit in with everyone. First, this school is full of unpleasant people, like Natsume. Second, it’s also full of freaks, and third, she’s the only one who seems freaked out by the freaks, which makes her look like the freak. Fourth, Hotaru has just shunned her. Fifth, the class is apparently more powerful than the teacher, which means that things are bound to get rough. It seems like the world is stacked against her.

She’s assigned a seat in the back and she makes her trek there. She passes Nonoko, who kindly greets her and gives Mikan a much-needed spark of energy. Not everyone here seems to be a violent, rude weirdo.

Meetcute number 3! Oh... nevermind...

By the time she takes her seat, she is back in fine spirits, determined to pass Narumi’s test. She cheerfully greets her new deskmate, but just her luck: it’s Natsume.

Mikan’s spirits are crushed once again. The absolute worst part of her day has come back to mock her. She’s already on shaky ground and he just has her falling all over again, which might be why she reacts so strongly despite her test to get along with classmates. Obviously, what he did would inspire rage in anybody, but her mood wasn’t that positive to begin with.

She jumps back and starts yelling at him. Their energy doesn’t match for most of the conversation: he speaks in flat monotone and she’s screaming (that’s pretty much the case for all their arguments). His apathy only pisses her off more. There’s nothing worse than trying to call out somebody who honestly doesn’t care. She forgets all about Narumi’s test and argues with him until she’s forced into the air by a new classmate, Mochu.

She’s getting farther and farther away from passing Narumi’s test.

The kids in class call Natsume “Natsume-san,” and he’s the ultimate boss. Nobody insults Natsume, nobody talks back to him, nobody disrespects him, without being bullied by his lackeys. He and his best friend even have a devoted fan club, headed by the biggest bully around, Sumire. Mikan was thrown unawares into an unfair hierarchy. She upset the balance but she didn’t even know there was a balance to begin with. Just one more reason that the world is out to get her.

Alice didn’t have a blast in Wonderland either.

The only person standing up for Mikan is Yuu, who is shy and whose word doesn’t seem to carry very much weight. He’s definitely not influential like Natsume or loud like Sumire. He just gets ignored.

So much for befriending her classmates.

Mikan just can’t win. She’s eventually let down, but then she’s accosted with the question of her alice. When she doesn’t answer, Koko reads her mind and reveals that she can’t answer. She doesn’t know what her alice is and that only irritates her classmates more. Sumire ends up going on a tirade about the superiority of alices to non-alices, and Mikan is hurt, because nobody challenges her. Hotaru is still ignoring her, and Mikan can’t help but feel like that’s maybe how she’s been viewed this whole time, even by her best friend. She’s an outcast again, because she’s not special like the rest of the class. This isn’t a topic that reappears the way it does in the anime. Mikan doesn’t fixate on this once she discovers her alice. But the basic premise of it, that she’s not as special and that she can’t do anything useful like these new, strange people around her can--that’s what gets to her. Even after Mikan finds out her alice, she feels too useless. Feeling like Hotaru always viewed her as inferior, as someone beneath her, only makes her feel worse.

But Mikan doesn’t linger on that. Narumi told her she was an alice, so she must be! She continues to fight until she is suddenly faced with the real danger of physical violence. Hotaru has no choice but to finally intervene, saving Mikan from getting socked in the face.

It’s finally revealed that Hotaru was trying to behave in order to win the best student award, which comes with prizes like meal vouchers and a weeklong trip home. Mikan is overjoyed that Hotaru rescued her and that she was doing her best to visit her too. For a few chapters, we have only seen Mikan’s side of things. Their friendship has seemed tragically one-sided, so finding out that Hotaru missed her too, so much so that she put in this effort to win the award and see her again, helps us understand that glimmer that Mikan likes so much about her.

Mikan tolerates the coldness because moments like this make it worth it.

Mikan is not a masochist. She doesn’t like being hit. She didn’t like that passing moment of hurt, of being a stranger in Hotaru’s world. She doesn’t like the insults or feeling not good enough. She loves Hotaru because of moments like this, because sometimes her best friend will let a little bit of fondness slip through the cracks to reassure her that their friendship is not one-sided. Mikan isn’t a masochist, she just understands Hotaru better than other people.

(This is important because Hotaru was only wishy-washy for, like, fifteen minutes. From now on, Mikan knows that Hotaru is her friend and is on her side. Natsume will be wishy-washy for about a hundred chapters.)

This joy of finally restarting their friendship just like Mikan wanted is cut short by Natsume, who has just found out about her tentative enrollment. He wants to make a deal: if she can make it through the Northern Woods safely, he’ll accept her as an Alice. She accepts eagerly, ready to prove herself. Mikan doesn’t back down easily. She sticks to her guns. If Narumi told her she’d be able to properly enroll after fitting in with her classmates, then she’ll agree to anything in order to achieve that.

Having forced Hotaru to accompany her and with Yuu gladly at her side, Mikan is ready to enter the Northern Woods. Yuu wants her to be careful. Natsume gave her a difficult task and the Northern Woods is full of “weird things,” like, say, a teddy bear that chops wood.

What matters here is that Mikan has no idea what she's signed herself up for (she continues to go through life like this for a long time).

Chapter Four

Mikan is fascinated by the moving teddy bear and doesn’t pay much attention to Yuu’s warnings. As a result she gets slugged and Mr. Bear beats the shit out of her. Hotaru saves them and it’s only when they’re making their escape in a little giraffe car that Mikan finally learns what Hotaru’s alice is: the alice of invention. Mikan is very impressed, so Hotaru points out that Yuu has a cool alice too: Illusion.

Mikan is a child who wants to be an adult without realizing the consequences; Natsume is a child who is already an adult in every way except for agency. There's the root of a solid thought there but...

Hotaru coldly scolds Mikan for involving her and Yuu in a game like this, when she herself has no idea what her alice is and can’t protect herself. Mikan approached Bear, after all, ignoring Yuu’s warnings and the fact that Natsume wouldn’t have sent her to a safe place for her test. She’s careless and it could get all three of them hurt. Though Hotaru says it in a mean way, there is some truth to her words: Mikan agreed to the game hastily and then involved her only two friends even though she had no idea what she was setting them up for.

Mikan stole her grandpa’s money but felt like she was making a sacrifice. She accepted a dangerous challenge from Natsume without considering the consequences and put her two only friends in danger as a result. She’s rash and careless, but these qualities have the potential to hurt the people around her, like right now. She doesn’t even know what her alice is, so how is she supposed to be of any use on this trip?

She'll carry this throughout the manga, even after she finds out her alice.

Mikan feels guilty about this, and she also begins to have another complex: insecurity about her alice, or currently lack thereof.

Mikan is impressed by every alice she sees, and she will continue to be impressed by others’ alices. She lacks a spark because she’s ordinary. Sumire’s earlier unchallenged tirade is still in Mikan’s head, combined with the knowledge that she put two people in danger just so they could protect her, so she is haunted by her ordinariness, but also her uselessness.

Of course, Hotaru and Yuu assure her that they want her to win too. But that insecurity will follow her for a while throughout the manga. Mikan’s biggest desire in the manga is to be strong enough to sacrifice something, to be able to protect people. She wants to be like Hotaru, to be able to make grand gestures for the people she cares about, even if it hurts her, but so far she’s only forced others to make sacrifices for her, even if she didn’t do it knowingly.

But she immediately changes the subject to ask about Natsume (she never stops being intrigued by him, even when she hates him), and it’s time for one more session of scaring Mikan. Though Yuu is hesitant to gossip, Hotaru jumps right in: Natsume is incredibly powerful, hates the academy, only has one friend, and is frequently gossiped about. He’s even rumored to be a murderer, which is not a rumor that is shared lightly. Mikan has started beef with somebody who has maybe killed before.

Mikan can’t help but feel like she’s messed up in a huge way. Troublemaker and repeated escapist is one thing. But pissing off a potential murderer is not something she can brush off. She’s been warned all day about him, that she should stay away from black cats, that he could hurt her in a serious way. She comments on his eyes--that although her first impression was that his eyes were fiery, his stare is in fact cold. He seems emotionless, calculated, cruel. Not a great impression that he’s leaving, that’s for sure.

"Oh no I pissed off a guy who could kill me!"

This relates to my earlier point of Misaki being the only person to explain things to her: people either withhold information, keeping her in the dark about important subjects, or they don’t know much to begin with. That’s why Mikan’s knowledge about Natsume is only a little bit about fact and a lot bit about speculation and rumor.

Mikan is only pulled from her concerns by more pressing matters: Giant Piyo has just woken up in the woods and he’s scared and hungry.

They run for their lives but the truth is that Hotaru’s alice can’t save them now. There’s only one option, and that’s to ask for help from Ruka, who has the animal pheromone alice. Unfortunately, Ruka is Natsume’s best friend and would never willingly help them. So the only thing they can do is trick him into coming to the Northern Woods.

Chapter Five

Now that they have Ruka trapped, they just have to ask him to get rid of Piyo for them. Mikan is friendly about it, but Ruka is tied up and was just tricked, so he’s not keen on cooperating until Hotaru threatens to use a tranquilizer on Piyo instead.

So Ruka finally complies, but only if they promise not to watch. Of course, they all do anyway. Yuu comments that Ruka is mysterious too, like Natsume, because nobody has seen him use his alice. They only talk to each other, so nobody else knows much about him. Mikan wonders about what Ruka’s “true self” must look like, and her questions are answered when Ruka embraces Piyo. When someone shows you who they really are, believe them. Ruka acts cold and standoffish, but the truth is that he’s a soft boy who loves animals.

Piyo is eventually taken away by his keepers and Ruka is devastated that the three of them watched even though they promised not to. Hotaru blackmails him into sticking around so he accompanies them, albeit in a sour mood.

Her ability to deduce is fantastic. That's why she's so stubborn. That's the only thing that can keep her from becoming too powerful.

Mikan teases him, but the truth is that she much prefers his “true self” to the facade he puts up. She asks him why he puts it up in the first place and wonders out loud if it’s because he’s trying to be like Natsume. She hit the nail on the head, but that just annoys her.

Mikan shows off her intuition and empathy here, but only for a moment. She’s able to connect the dots and see that Ruka is pretending to be someone he’s not, and even assumes correctly that it’s because he’s trying to emulate Natsume. She understands a lot about him from what little she’s been shown, and that understanding comes with compassion. She thinks he’s a great guy with a kind heart, even if he’s been hiding it. But her empathy doesn’t extend to Natsume. Once she learns that Ruka is doing it for Natsume, she speaks dismissively, calling Natsume lame and manipulative. It makes sense that she doesn’t have the same compassion for him, after everything he’s done to her and all she’s heard about him, but it’s interesting that her empathy has its limits.

Ruka won’t take that, so he shuts her down, yelling at her that she could never understand how Natsume feels, having an alice he doesn’t even want.

Mikan apologizes for her comments but wonders what Ruka means by that.

I can't say I'm the world's biggest Natsume apologist because that's Ruka's title.

Mikan seeks connection and wants to understand people. She wanted to understand Ruka, to see his “true self,” and now that she has, she understands him better (and has just learned that he’s fiercely protective of his jerk friend as well). She wanted to understand how Hotaru could leave her like she had, and now that she knows, she has a better grasp at what makes Hotaru tick. She needed reassurance that Narumi was the kind teacher she had assumed at first and after Misaki talked with her, she is certain that she was right from the start.

But any desire to connect with Natsume was squashed when he attacked her and then followed that up with letting the whole class bully her. It’s hard to want to connect with somebody so unpleasant, who has been nothing but mean to you. But Ruka is the first person to insist that there is a hidden depth to Natsume. He is the first person to defend him instead of spreading rumors and calling him dangerous (or being superficially worshipful of him like Mochu or Sumire). This gives Mikan an extra insight to Natsume’s character, but that just serves to make him more confusing. A sweet guy like Ruka thinks he’s great, that there’s something more to him, for one. Additionally, Natsume seems to be going through something, struggling with his alice.

On top of that, she still doesn’t know what her own alice is.

(Parallels from the beginning. Aren’t we blessed?)

Then Natsume shows up, furious and unreasonable (see my Natsume essay for a breakdown of his berserk button). He tells Mikan that she’s lost the game. She’s confused and startled, because this all seems to have come out of nowhere. Then he slams her against a tree, and this is the scariest he’s been all day, and he’s been scary from the start. His eyes are still cold, despite his rage, and Mikan is scared. He won’t listen no matter what even Ruka says. He only escalates when Hotaru tries to distract him with a smoke bomb. He traps her friends in rings of fire and demands that she tell him her alice if she doesn’t want them to die.

What would we call this "uselessness complex"? Imposter syndrome? Inferiority complex? IDK I studied fictional people in college, not psychology.

The rumors she’s heard today all take shape. Avoid black cats. He’s a murderer. It all feels real now. It’s more than just general bad vibes; this guy is really dangerous.

Mikan, helpless, pleads with him to put out the fire. She doesn’t know what her alice is--she probably doesn’t even have one--and even if she’d had one she would’ve used it by now. She feels guilty, because her friends are only in this situation because of her. Not only did she rope them into accompanying her to the Northern Woods, but she’s powerless now, unable to help them, even though they’ve been helping her all day. This is her chance to prove herself. She’s the only one who can save them, but she has no powers, no abilities.

Mikan is useless, unable to do anything meaningful. All she can do is yell at Natsume to cut it out. She pleads with herself, with her own alice, that if she ever had one, now is the time to come out. Natsume is distracted for a moment so Mikan makes her move. She tackles him to the ground, and just as he’s about to retaliate with his alice, something else knocks them both back.

I'll later have a lot of pretty thoughts about how it's always Natsume but not right this second.

A huge wave of an alice, and it wasn’t Natsume’s.

Narumi knocks him out, having arrived on the scene just in time to witness the end of the fight. Yuu and Hotaru are finally free and Mikan embraces them, happy to see them both safe. The test is over, Narumi announces, and Mikan is concerned, because she’s caused all this. She’s sure she’ll be kicked out, until Narumi congratulates her on passing. She has a wonderful alice: the nullification alice.

She can stay at school, with Hotaru. She can be a fully fledged Alice Academy student.

She thinks she’s useless and feels guilty for involving her friends, only to come out and prove that she is capable of something amazing. She was ultimately able to protect herself, and against Natsume’s powerful alice, even if she wasn’t even aware of it. Mikan’s alice suits her very well. Not everyone has an alice they want or like, as we have already seen, but even though Mikan has a complicated relationship with her alice, it complements her kind and sociable personality. She values other people and her alice has the power to protect the people closest to her.

She’s overjoyed, until Hotaru teases her for having an alice as selfish as its owner, something that can only be used on herself. But Narumi assures her that that’s up to her: an alice can be a poison or a medicine, depending on its user.

I remember being shocked and disappointed the first time I watched Gakuen Alice, to find out that her alice was nullification and not something more fun or tangible like water or something (I was a stupid child then). But imagine if I’d gotten what I’d wanted back then, what a boring story that would make! Mikan’s arc is about becoming the person she wants to be, about recognizing her talents and worth, about realizing that she can be of use, can be helpful, that she can save somebody with her alice. A girl like Mikan suits the nullification alice: plain and unimpressive on the outside but with so much potential on the inside.

Mikan’s nullification alice isn’t flashy or immediately impressive like her classmates’. She can’t create or attack with it. All she can do is protect, and because it’s untrained, she has a long way to go to refine it. But her alice isn’t all about protecting herself. Narumi muses that maybe there’s somebody in need of her alice, who could benefit from it, and it’s pretty clear foreshadowing that Natsume is in the same panel when he says this.

SUBTLE NUDGE. (It's always Natsume.)

Mikan’s alice is important, especially in regards to her relationship with Natsume. Her alice stops offensive attacks. He has an alice he doesn’t even want. The potential here is clear from the start. Furthermore, her alice is revealed to the audience through her nullifying his attack. Mikan’s relationship with her alice is narratively intertwined with Natsume and his relationship with his own alice. Her alice is set up to have the potential to help somebody--particularly Natsume--in a huge way, and it will.

But Natsume is the last thing on her mind right now. Mikan can finally stay with Hotaru. She’s a real Alice now.

Conclusion

Mikan has just been through an ordeal, but came out the end of it with an alice of her very own! Just like this arc solidified some of Natsume's most important traits, Mikan's are also cemented (the worst ones, anyway). Yesterday we met a girl crippled by toxic positivity. Now we see she thinks she's useless too. Very fun for her!

Anyway, I do think this is the peak of her hatred for him because he hurt her and all her friends. I get that. But it will only cool from now on. Surprisingly, it only gets better from here.

Tomorrow, we'll watch Mikan adjust to Academy life and her struggle with the rules, as well as with fitting in. I'm not sure what my schedule will look like in the long run, but for now expect me to post on weekdays with weekend breaks, similar to my Natsume essay schedule. I will probably need the breaks lmao.

Thank you for reading, friends! I hope it was enjoyable!

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#gakuen alice #alice academy #ga #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #hyuuga natsume #natsume hyuuga #my meta #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: mikan #ill rec another mikan song: fake happy by paramore (tho thatll be more relevant later)#i also listened to 'ratujemo ti i ja' by sars while editing which is a very. enemies to lovers vibes song #it is in serbian tho lol #im off to do an interview appointment thing now. <3 hope yall enjoyed and stay tuned for tomorrow

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sl-newsie · 9 months

Text

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter) Descendants 2- Ch. 1: Letting Go

It’s been 2 months since I’ve left Auradon Prep. Part of me says it’s saddening to be left alone with 2 cats in the middle of the woods. But on the other hand it’s been so liberating! I’ve finally mastered the difficult draughts and elixirs in mother’s spellbook, as well as being able to move objects with my mind.

The empathy path between me and Carlos has helped keep me updated on how things are back at school, letting me know that my true love has been feeling content and happy. Which is… nice? Is it selfish of me to be jealous that Carlos is doing fine without me? Does he miss me as much as I miss him?

“Magica! I have returned!”

I keep stirring my moonlight elixir and pay the black cat little attention. “Greetings, Binx. Sorry if I’m a bit vague but I’m feeling dragged down today. Did you bring the ginger root I require?”

He hops up on a nearby stack of books. “Um… actually I brought something better-”

“Knock knock, trixie!”

My jaw drops. “No!” I open the door to find the 4 VKs standing on my doorstep and a wide grin sets on my face. “Goodness gracious! Hey, guys! Come on in!”

They’re just as I remember them! It seems longer than 2 months since I’ve seen them, and in the short time I can already see they’ve changed a bit. Most noticeable is that Carlos has grown his hair out a bit.

Evie looks ecstatic as she examines my newly-colored hair. “I must say, your new look is stunning! Why purple?”

“Yeah, well… I kinda got inspiration from Mal. This year purple is the new pink!”

They all give me one big hug and then start taking a look around my small dwelling.

“Wow. You’ve really gotten hooked on this witch stuff,” Jay gawks when he sees my overflowing shelves of books and potion vials. “Hey Binx- think fast!” He tosses the black cat a ball of twine, which Binx bats away at like a madman- er, madcat.

“Sorry I didn’t tidy up, but in my defense it isn’t often I get visitors. Once in a while FG drops by to see how I’m doing, but other than that the only conversation I get is with Binx.”

“That sounds lonely,” Carlos frowns.

I shrug. “It took some getting used to but I actually enjoy it. So, why the pop-in?”

“We wanted to stop by to invite you to Ben and my Cotillion next week,” Mal says as she examines my herbs. Meanwhile Evie keeps taking sneak peaks in my closet and mentally judging the wrinkled clothes.

“Is that… like a dance or something? Also yes, Evie, I know my clothes aren’t the best. But when you live in the woods you lower your expectations!”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Fine. But when you come to cotillion I’m making you a proper gown!”

I frown. “Who says I’m going?”

“We do, because we miss you!” Carlos pulls me in for a hug and my heart does a flip.

“Aw, you’re too kind, Freckles. Oh! Evie, how’s the fashion business going?”

The blue-haired VK’s eyes light up. “I’m already booked with dress orders! Doug’s been helping me set up a real designer business!”

Ooh, I bet Doug’s loved that! I really hope they stay together.

“So what should I do for Cotillion? I’m a weird scary witch, remember? I haven’t spent 2 months alone in the woods for nothing!”

“You’ll be an honorary guest on behalf of Ben and me.” Mal takes my hand and gives me a stern look. “If people have a problem with that, they take it up with us.”

“We actually came here for another reason…” Jay eyes Mal, who snickers.

“We need your help to brew a catastrophe draught for a school prank. I’ve got a spell from my book that’ll heighten its power, then we’re-”

“We’re going to dip some apples in it and give them to the other students!” Jay laughs. “It’s gonna be hilarious!”

Evie smiles. “And we know your mom’s spell book would have the best recipe, since your aunt’s into crazy potions and all.”

My mouth twists into a lopsided grin. “Gonna make ‘em all dance, huh? Sounds familiar.”

Carlos nudges me playfully. “Thought we’d take a page out of your book. So will ya help us out?”

I look around at the VKs’ hopeful faces and smirk. “And waste a moment to make Audrey look like a complete fool? Definitely!”

“Um, actually she’s been away visiting family for summer vacation.”

I rethink. “Then we’ll make Chad look like a complete fool! Let’s get started.”

After emptying my moonlight elixir I start scurrying around and preparing the proper ingredients for the catastrophe draught while the others pull out a bag of apples and find the spell in Mal’s book.

“Think FG will suspect I’m involved?”

Jay shakes his head and keeps playing catch with Binx. “Nah. You’re all she talks about in goodness class. Always going on about how ‘evil triumphs over good!’ and your whole spiel about ‘don’t let your heritage define your future.’ All that nice stuff.”

“Let’s give Auradon a taste of evil…” Mal says smugly as she tosses some apples into my cauldron.

“Well, this’ll do the trick! With my mom’s magic brew and your spellbook bewitchment this’ll turn the whole school into a gang of hooligans! I wish I could see it.”

Out of the corner of my eye I see Jay give Carlos a nudge.

“You could come back, you know.” The freckled VK gets closer and I try to ignore my racing heartbeat. Don’t get your hopes up, Magica.

I keep stirring the draught and shake my head. “I’m sorry, Carlos. But it’s best if I stay in hiding until I can make my appearance at the cotillion.”

By now the brew starts glowing an aqua green and is ready for Mal’s spell.

“Wicked ways beneath the skin, let all who taste it now join in!”

We pluck the apples from the draught and they turn a bright red, causing Mal to nod in approval.

“Perfect.” She gathers them into a bag and turns to head off for the door, motioning for the others to follow.

“You’ll be at cotillion, right?” Evie asks in a hopeful voice.

At first I’m against it, but the thought of spending another two months alone here makes me cave.

“Oh, alright! Count me in!”

Jay gives me a thumbs-up and Carlos tugs me in for one last hug.

“See you soon, trixie!”

“Maybe try to stop by before cotillion?” Carlos asks after planting a quick kiss on my lips.

My smile falters but I keep a steady head. “I… might pop in for a visit.”

The VKs give a wave before shutting the door and leaving me with a very worn-out Binx.

“Had fun? You could have informed me you were bringing guests, Binx.”

“And spoil that face you had when you opened the door? Never!”

I finish cleaning up my workstation and sweep the dirt from the floor outside. “It’s just that I’d like more of a warning. There’s some magic I’ve learned that I’m not exactly fond of sharing at the moment.”

The truth is, I’ve been practicing more magic from mother’s book than I’ve let on to Fairy Godmother. She sent some approved spellbooks and potion manuals, but doesn’t know about my spellbook. I’ve found and used many useful spells, none of the dark ones. Just enough knowledge to know when to draw the line. In doing so, my usual pink magic has turned into a deep purple. I feel that if I reveal just how much I’ve read into then I’ll be grounded to learning only pocket spells again. I am no mere child to be monitored- I am a Sanderson witch.

Carlos’ POV

We get back to school and head off to start handing out the bewitched apples. I find Dude waiting for me in the gardens with an expectant look on his face.

“Sorry, bud. She’s not coming. At least for now.”

It really tore me up when I had to leave Magica alone again, but at least this time I have an idea of when I’ll see her again.

Before I pass around my helping of apples, Jay nudges me over to a corner.

“Real quick before the fun begins, I gotta say something about trixie. Sorry to say this Carlos, but you might wanna start thinking about finding another girlfriend? One who’s… actually around?”

He thinks I- what?

My jaw drops. “How can you say that? You know I love her, Carlos! Magica’s one of the only people I completely trust. Just ask Dude!”

My canine friend joins my side and gives a loud bark as he hops up and down at the sound of Magica’s name.

But Jay’s still looking doubtful. “She says she wants to be left alone. I’d say that’s a fair turning point for any relationship you guys have.”

She- she- But she only wanted to be alone because she thought she was dangerous! Because she doesn’t like people… Isolation, being excluded… Is that a sign that she doesn’t want to be in my life? After all, every time I’ve asked her to hang out with us she’s refused and acted distant. If that’s truly what she wants…

“But you know how much she’s had to go through! If I consider this then it’ll tear her apart.”

Jay takes out an apple and tosses it between his hands. “I know, I know. But some good things aren’t meant to be. She’d say something if she wanted to be with you. Sometimes you need to let things go.”

He goes off to start spreading mischief and leaves me with Dude, who lets out a whine.

“I know, buddy. I miss her too.”

Maybe it is time to start letting things go...

#carlos de vil x reader #carlos de vil #descendants carlos #evie descendants #mal descendants #jay descendants #disney descendants #descendants #disney #ben descendants #audrey descendants #uma descendants #harry hook descendants #binx hocus pocus #hocus pocus #sarah sanderson #winifred sanderson #mary sanderson

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has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong · 2 years

Note

How do ya think masters parents would react to master bring home Mori to introduce him to them?

Hello anon, thank you for the request. This one is pretty interesting! I'm going to give the Master a pair of nice parents for this request XD

Mori Meeting Master's Parents (For the FIRST TIME!!)

- It was time. Hearts unanimously beating in your chests (for different reasons), the two of you rock up to your parents' estate- hand in hand. - Though you were anxious to see how your parents would respond to your new partner (Despite Mori being a rather decent guy, he definitely did come with some behaviours that modern-day humans could possibly struggle to understand); you had faith. No matter how they'd regard him, you'd stick wholeheartedly to your decision of choosing him until the very end. - As for Mori...well, this guy was prepared on an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT level of prepared. Donned in his finest suit of armor plated over a pristine, sparkling clean hakama (which you couldn't help but find kind of hot), his spear; and a massive assortment of teas poised by his side- this side of him looked entirely different to the blood-drenched Mori that you had grown so accustomed to seeing upon the battlefield. - "E-er, Mori...You've really gone all-out..." Worried that anxiety is what propelled him to dress so formally for the event, you attempt to reassure him; only to be responded to with a grin unlike any other; him beaming from ear-to-ear with blissful joy. - He's extremely excited to meet your parents. In fact, the reason why he has decided to go the extra mile for the visit was as a way of paying respect to your family. To Mori, you were an esteemed Lord; resulting in him wishing to regard your family with as much honor as he possibly can! - Such words put you at ease, as you prowl towards your parents' den with a regained sense of pride within your heart. - Once your parents finally open the door with anticipation; they almost leap out of their skin at the sight of Mori Nagayoshi! With his colossal height, traditional clothing and weaponry; he comes as a bit of a fright to your parents at first. - Of all the people you'd bring home...they never expected that they'd be like this! Both parents are almost in awe at how dynamic Mori looks. But then again, it was just like you to attract such interesting people. - "Kid...happen to know who that samurai hanging behind you is? I almost mistook him for a statue from the museum!!" Whilst one parent starts to banter with you both, the other one struggles to compose themselves; eyes as wide as a flailing fish. - They're even more surprised when Mori hands them the assorted teas as a gift, mouths hanging with shock at the sheer quality and range of tea; as well as the delicate wrapping paper. This instantly gives Mori some 'Parental Brownie Points'. - Finally, as you all sit down; you introduce Mori to your parents, confessing how much you care for him and how you'd like him to become a part of the family from now on. As your parents listen with rapt attention, Mori is awed by your courageous words. - You really cared for him, to the extent that you'd even face your fears to introduce him to your family...this means a great deal to Mori. Heart rushing with emotion, it literally takes all of his willpower to stop himself from hugging you right then and there! -Vowing to repay your belief in him, Mori gets a little carried away with his self introduction to your parents; even going as far as declaring, "From now on, your enemies are as good as my own! If you've got someone to kill, I'm your guy." Placing his weapon down, he bows gracefully before your parents; putting his all into his greeting! - Wide-eyed, your parents turn to you briefly in shock. Did Mori just threaten to kill people on their behalf?!! Desperate to soothe the awkward atmosphere, you simply say, "That's just his way of saying he cares!" - That's all it takes to break the ice, your parents clapping with enthusiasm at Mori's introduction; as he blushes slightly at their warm-heartedness. Sure, Mori seemed a little bit different to what they were used to; and said some pretty wild things at times, but...he was the partner you chose. And for your parents, that was enough!

END

#asks #fate series #fgo #fate grand order #mori nagayoshi #fgo headcanons #gilgablog #gilgawriting #MORI MEETS DA FAMILY!!!!

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starie-art · 5 years

Photo

If Bakugou chooses “kacchan” as his hero name, that will bring me endless amounts of joy.

#boku no hero academia #mha #bakugou katsuki #kacchan #especially since I hc older bakugo being built like a tank using his childhood nickname is both hilarious and heartwarming #and aw look at him greeting new people he has grown so much #i love him so much

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atelliernana · 2 years

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April Fool

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Reblogs and Likes are greatly appreciated!

Bakugo Katsuki walks through the hallway of Yueei in a calm cadence that would have made freshman Bakugo laugh. In the years that follow the war, the aspiring young hero has not only grown in skills but also in maturity - physically and emotionally. It took a year to restore Musutafu to its pre-war glory and another year to convince the people that society has changed for the better. Heroes are once again heroes and the entire hero and support course students are once again students.

As a Third year student, Bakugo has amassed a couple (a plethora really) of fans of both civilians and fellow students alike. The fear that once filled the eyes of the people has now turned into awe and admiration. Everyone has felt the sincerity of Bakugo's intent to be a hero. He's not here to show off his brawns, he's here because he wants to save people - civilians and enemies alike. And while he is not a as soft as his contemporaries like his green-haired rival, people now recognized his capacity to become the next Number One.

Although still young at age, time had been too fast and too slow for Bakugo so much so that it made the war feel like an eternity and a moment all at the same time. Its been 2 years since the war and another winter has come and gone. The cold that has once freezed him has now replaced by the warm breeze of the spring.

Blooming cherry blossoms paint the streets in a coy blush as if the entire city is a maiden in love. Spring is here and with it is warmth that transcends past his physical body.

For the arrival of spring gifted him a love so beautiful. What was once a cold frozen heart has been thawed into a warm beating red. So full of life and vigor as if it had never been broken before.

You've captivated him since your match on the Sophomore stage of the Sports Festival. The once meek individual who hid behind their taller classmates has now bloomed into a fiery fighter who spares no one mercy. What a shock it is to see you in the classroom usually behind books and quietly laughing along with classmates and during training with your intense gaze and monstrous strength. A true gap moe.

Its been months now since his planned confession. The timing was never right and whenever he planned to corner you alone some extra would suddenly popped out of anywhere to take you away. And between classes and internship, you both have barely enough time to breath.

But this time its different. Bakugo Katsuki is feeling confident today. Not that he's never confident in the daily, today is just extra special as it is a day set in his lucky month. Not only is April his birth month but its often associated with hope and new beginnings.

So accompanied with the belief that everything will go in his merry way, Bakugo Katsuki walks the hallways of Yueei with the confidence of a young emperor meeting his new empress.

As Bakugo Katsuki turns the corner leading to the school garden cherry blossom trees greet him. At the center of the pathway, just in front of the legendary Sakura Tree -believed to be all powerful enough to grant successful relationships to those who confess in front of it- stands you with your kind eyes and wishful smile.

Perhaps the legend is true, the old Sakura Tree does grant successful relationships because here you are 5 years later bowing to your wedding guests and saying your final message before departing for the night.

You looked so beautiful in your traditional wedding kimono. Time has come and gone yet you're beauty seem to never pass.Your eyes still holds the same kindness and still alight with a blazing fire. Your love that once was a burning red has become as golden as daylight. He has loved you then and he still loves you now and perhaps he'll love you till the end of time.

And as you both stand in front of the same Sakura tree from your youth - still in full bloom despite its age - Bakugo Katsuki gazes at you with the same fondness as he did years ago. He'd known it from the moment he confessed, there's no doubt that he belongs to you for every winter and every spring and all the moments in between.

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allyouneedisbuck · 3 years

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the warmth of your love

summary -> there are more ways to say i love you than just i love you. you and bucky share a few.

words -> 2.2k

warnings -> pining, friends to lovers, back to my fluffy bucky roots, female!reader

notes -> i wrote a harry s. piece similar to this years ago & it’s so interesting to see how my writing has changed since then. based off of this list. items from the list are italicized!

— ➶ —

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

They’re simple words that Bucky has become accustomed to.

Steve Rogers departure has left a hole in the world and a gap in Bucky’s chest that aches. They were best friends, brothers, and Bucky wasn’t sure how to navigate this world without him.

Bucky has grown used to the pity filled eyes of the Avengers, or at least what’s left of them, and the apologetic tone of voice.

The way the words came from your mouth though was different. Your eyes full of kindness and a small smile on your face that offered comfort.

“Th..Thank you.” Bucky says quietly. The two of you have only known each other for a couple years now, but Bucky finds comfort in you more than he does people he’s known since Steve and Sam had saved him. “It means a lot.”

Your hand squeezes his right forearm gently. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

He knows the words hold true; That if he called, you’d be over with dinner or movies to help him. It makes Bucky feel warm in a way he hasn’t in almost a century.

“I know.” His left hand covers yours. “I appreciate it.” You both share a smile, small and private, before the moment is over.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

There’s a knock on his door that makes Bucky jump. He’s been working on his reactions, logically he knows not everybody is out to get him, but it’s something ingrained in his mind.

He’s working on being better about it, he is, but it’s almost ten at night and Bucky doesn’t really have many friends left.

His hand wraps around the hilt of his knife as he creeps towards his apartment door. There’s another knock and Bucky moves to look through the peephole.

It’s you. Covered dishes in your hand and scarf wrapped tightly around your neck. Bucky’s lips quark up at the sight, fall was starting and fall in New York was a bitter cold. His hand falls from his knife as he moves to unlock the door.

“What are you doing here?” He asks incredulously as you step inside. Bucky’s eyes find his makeshift bed on the living room floor and he shifts in embarrassment.

You gently place the glass dish on his counter and shrug your coat off. “I was in the neighborhood.” It’s an obvious lie, if the meal for two is anything to go by, but Bucky doesn’t dispute it. “Thought you might be hungry.”

You move around his kitchen like you belong there, pulling out plates and utensils. Bucky watches with his mouth parted in awe. “You didn’t have to-“

“-I wanted to.” You move over, making room for Bucky to stand beside you, and hold out a fork for him. “Now, come on. It’s a new recipe.”

Bucky holds a finger up. “Let me get you a drink. I have some wine.” He shuffles through his cabinets until he comes across a bottle of white wine, a housewarming gift from Sam.

“Now it’s a date.” You giggle and Bucky can feel his cheeks heat, not at the insinuation of it being a date but the fact that he so desperately wishes it was.

“Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

Bucky knows you’re not his girlfriend. It’s a painful observation he makes every time you bring something over or offer to go out. The way your hands brush but never intertwine and how you give him a hug and press a kiss to his cheek instead of his lips.

Bucky knew you weren’t his girlfriend, but he didn’t know you were dating.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” Your voice is choked up and you struggle to get the words out, “I just, I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Bucky’s mind has slipped into panic mode as he jumps up from his couch. He moves around his apartment, hastily pulling on pants and socks while holding the phone to his ear and listening for any signs of pain. “Where are you?”

You sniffle. “I’m fine! I’m not hurt! Well, not physically anyway. I had a date tonight and he stood me up.” You suck in a deep breath and Bucky freezes.

A date?

“So, my pride is injured.” You joke, but Bucky’s stuck frozen in the middle of his living room with one shoe on and a broken heart.

He knows, okay, he knows you never told him you had feelings for him. That you didn’t owe him anything, but he thought maybe…

“…But physically I’m okay.” You’re still talking and Bucky is only half listening. “Can I come over? I’m, like, five blocks away. Bad Moon bar. I can walk to your place. I just need a friend.”

The word rings in Bucky’s ears, but he forces himself to speak. “Stay there. I’ll come get you.” Bucky moves to pull his second shoe on and pulls on a coat.

He hears your sigh of relief. “Thank you so much. I’ll be outside.” Bucky swallows thickly when you hang the phone up.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

You have another date. This time with a man who asked what your favorite flower is and has decided to take you out to dinner instead of a bar.

Bucky’s chest hurts, but he stays silent. He’s unwilling to break this friendship up by telling you how he feels, especially when it seems clear to him that you do not feel the same way.

“Okay! Okay!” You come barreling down your hallway and into the living room. Bucky looks up from his phone and his mouth almost falls open in shock.

You look lovely in the dress that flows to your feet. It fits around your curves and Bucky can’t stop his eyes from trailing over you in awe.

“Wow.” He murmurs. Your eyes shift and you glance down at your hands fiddling in the front of your stomach. “You look…”

You cut him off before he can get anymore words out, “I look ridiculous! I knew it. I look far too dressed up.” You spin on your heel, but Bucky shoots up to stop you.

“No! You look…” He trails off nervously. Bucky looks at you, really looks at you, someone warm and full of light and understands what this feeling he has around you is. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“Happy Birthday.” & “I made this for you.”

Bucky walks into his apartment and is immediately hit with the smell of vanilla. He can hear your voice, reading ingredients to yourself, from his entryway and smiles to himself.

“I knew there was a reason Sam kept me out all day.” Bucky laughs when you jump and drop the whisk in your hand. “What’re you doing here, sweetheart?”

Your shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. “It’s your birthday!” You smile brightly as Bucky presses a greeting kiss to your cheek.

“I’ve had too many of them, no need to bring attention to it.” Bucky dips a finger in the whipped frosting in your hands and laughs when you smack it away.

“We have to celebrate!” You exclaim with an affronted look. “No ifs ands or buts! Happy birthday, Bucky!”

The bowl of frosting is dropped on the counter as you move to wrap your arms tightly around Bucky’s waist. He settles in your arms as his own come up to wrap around you.

The poems and stories talk about being in the arms of the one you love as rapid heartbeats and butterflies but all Bucky feels is calm. It’s like the worries of his day to day life just slip away when he’s with you.

It’s good, so wonderfully good to have an anchor like that. He didn’t need the butterflies that made him feel sick or the rapid heartbeat that worsened his anxiety. He just needed the warmth.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Bucky presses another kiss to the top of your head. You pull away to look up at him excitedly. “What’s that look for?”

You pull away completely and move around to pull your bag off of one of his kitchen stools. “I made this for you.” Your voice is quiet and nervous as you push a wrapped box towards him.

It’s a small book, one with no title to indicate what’s on the inside, but Bucky can tell it’s something personal from the way you’re rocking back and forth nervously on your feet.

When he opens it to the first page, tears almost spring to his eyes. His lungs burn with effort to not cry as he flips through picture after picture. Him, you and him, him with Sam and Steve and all of you together.

Each photo has a small note next to it too. Hearts and smiley faces decorate the edges. Bucky looks up at you with his mouth open in awe.

“This is… Nobody has ever done something this special for me before.” He admits quietly. “I love it.”

A sigh of relief escapes you as Bucky moves to pull you into his arms again. “Happy Birthday, Buck.” You murmur into his chest.

It’s the best birthday Bucky’s had since he was a child.

“You can tell me anything.”

You’re nervous.

It’s obvious in the way your eyes shift to Bucky before back to the sidewalk in front of you.

Your nervousness is making Bucky nervous. His fingers twitching every so often and he finds himself shifting around as if he expects something to hop out from behind one of the trees.

“Are you okay?” Bucky finally asks when he notices your hands tangled together in front of your stomach. “You’re being fidgety.”

You look up with wide, shocked eyes like you had forgotten Bucky was there entirely, too caught up in your own thoughts. “I’m okay!” You say quickly.

Bucky feels his eyes narrow and he forces you to a stop beside him with a gentle hand on your elbow. “Are you sure?”

“Yep! Just busy overthinking.” You laugh awkwardly as you glance down at the hand still wrapped around your elbow. Bucky drops it quickly, but your hand reaches out to intertwine your fingers with his. “I just… I’ve been wanting to ask you.. No. Tell you something.”

Bucky squeezes your hand gently. “You can tell me anything.” He says quietly. You look at him with wet eyes and Bucky feels himself panic. “No judgement, not from me, not ever.”

“Promise?” You ask quietly. Your voice sounds so unlike you, so nervous and uncomfortable that Bucky isn’t sure what he can do to make it better.

So he nods. “Promise. I’m the last person to judge, sweetheart.”

“I love you.”

It’s right out of those romantic comedies that Bucky pretends to dislike. The way you stand in front of him, wrapped up in a winter coat and scarf, with trembling hands and admit to Bucky how you feel.

“I’ve felt like this for a long time. A really long time now, I don’t think I could even tell you when because it just happened.” You ramble when you’re nervous, a habit Bucky thinks is adorable. “And I knew you were going through a lot, so I never said anything. I love being your friend, I do, but I had to tell you. It’s tearing me up having this secret because I hate secrets.”

Bucky says your name in an attempt to cut you off, but you don’t seem to hear him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I-“

Your lips press shut when Bucky’s hands come up to cup your cheeks. “Will you shut up for just one second?” He asks sweetly.

You nod with wide eyes. “I feel warm around you,” Bucky starts off, “I don’t feel butterflies or sweaty palms. I used too, sometimes when you look at me a certain way I still do, but most of the time I just feel warm. I… I feel like I can breathe again. I feel calm. You make me calm.”

“What?” You ask softly. It’s obvious you’re trying to not get your hopes up as Bucky talks.

“I love you too.” Bucky says clearly. Your hand comes up to rest over his on your cheek as you press into the pressure. “You make it easy for me to breathe again.”

Bucky feels the sigh of relief you let out. “You make it easy for me too.” You say quietly, your tone much lighter than before.

“Can I kiss you?”

When you nod, Bucky can feel his entire face brighten. He’s sure there’s a nervous blush there as you tilt your head up towards him and leans to meet you halfway.

It’s just as warm as you are, the way you kiss. Slow and pushing all of your emotions into it. Your lips are cold, but Bucky’s sure his are too.

It’s everything he’s wanted with you. Despite the snowflakes beginning to fall around you and the wind nipping at his skin, all Bucky feels is warmth.

Bonus -> “Can I have this dance?”

A winter wedding seemed fitting when you had suggested it. Something small, intimate and warm. Just a few of your closest friends and family to bear witness.

You’ve been wandering around the venue for the past hour, saying hi to family and catching up with people you’ve been too busy to hang out with the past couple of months. Bucky’s sick of not having you by his side.

His arm wraps your waist from behind and he presses a kiss to your cheek, immediately cutting off what you were saying to Pepper.

A slow song starts, Bucky won’t admit until later that he told the DJ to start it once Bucky reached your side.

“Mrs. Barnes, can I have this dance?”

— ➶ —

me: has ten pieces in the drafts that need to be worked on

also me: just writes this fluffy disaster

#bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #james bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes comfort

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #tony stark & reader #steve rogers angst #angst #implied cheating #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel x reader

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

Pain in My Heart // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise or Daphne are trying to matchmake Reader with one of their brothers (you can pick which one) but Reader actually hits it off with another brother who's in love at first sight (again, your choice!!). - @libraryoffandomsuniverse

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this has taken!! I hope I have done your request justice. I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve come up so I hope you like!! Thank you for requesting! Title: Pain in My Heart - Otis Redding

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Romantic)

Warnings: pining, mutual pining, awful flirting (I can't write it for the life in me), unrequited love (?), a pride and prejudice moment, love confessions, fluff, very very light angst.

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a lot that Daphne and Eloise Bridgerton had in common. It was thought by their mother that due to their closeness in age, they would get along swimmingly. However, by the time that Eloise could speak for herself, it became increasingly clear that there were to be no two people different than that of Eloise and Daphne.

However, whilst the two did not share the same tastes in music or literature, they were united in the hope that they would see their elder brothers happily in love.

It is on a Wednesday in the middle of February when Daphne decides that it is time for her eldest brother, Anthony, to find a wife.

Her decision is made when Anthony stalks into the family drawing room. The only sign of his anger being the blazing of his eyes. Dramatically, he throws himself onto the closest couch, his legs stretching across the pale blue fabric as he laments the meddling of mothers.

Daphne barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. She could tell that Eloise was having a hard time not telling her brother how easy he had it in comparison to rights of women and marriage.

Thankfully, however, Anthony is saved from such a lecture by the announcement of a beloved friend. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had known the Bridgerton family for as long as she had been alive. The same age as Daphne, the two had fallen into an easy friendship that grew more cherished the more time passed.

Upon her announcement, Anthony sits up with keen interest. An action not missed by both Daphne and Eloise – they share a look, one only understood by sisters with masses of brothers.

“Dear (Y/N),” Daphne greets, standing from her chair to greet her lifelong friend, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been very well though it has only been a couple of days since you saw me last.”

Daphne laughs; a light and airy sound. “I can still miss you in that time. Come, sit by me and we can catch up.”

The two women are soon joined by Eloise who places her book down on the table, spine up so she does not lose her page. From where they sit, neither Anthony nor Benedict can hear what the women seem to be whispering about though it seems to be of a serious issue with grave looks on their faces.

Benedict decides that he doesn’t like the look of frustration on her face; the furrow of her brows. If it wouldn’t raise questions of his sanity, he would press his thumb to the furrow, smoothing out her brow so not a trace of the worry remained.

“(Y/N),” Anthony calls, interrupting the conversation currently taking place between the three women, “Would you be attending Lord and Lady Hopton’s ball later on this week? Lord Hopton has done nothing but discuss the expense being put into the event.”

(Y/N) swallows her small sip of tea, placing the cup and saucer down on the table before answering the eldest Bridgerton. “I do plan on attending,” She smiles, fiddling with her gloved fingers.

A pleased smile breaks out across Anthony’s face as he nods. Turning away from her, Anthony walks back to the pale blue couch that only mere moments ago he had thrown himself across in vexation at his dear mother. Now, he sits down gently, making sure every ounce of his nobility is on show.

Benedict cannot help but roll his eyes at the antics of his elder brother. As if on a covert mission for the crown, Benedict’s gaze slides back to her – runs over her figure, taking in the way her dress sits on her form and the way her smile lights up her whole face. He’s a fool in love, he realises, but he would rather be a fool in love with her than a fool in love with anyone else.

It’s as if he finally understands what the poets write about; how the artists never paint more than their muse. As Benedict peers down at the sketchbook in his hands, he comes to realise that he has been drawing her for months. He has found his muse and it’s close to breaking him when he sees the plotting glance shared between Daphne and Eloise.

(Y/N) sits at the table, utterly unaware of the plan being concocted between his sisters. He has the urge to scream, to yell but he keeps quiet. Benedict becomes the very definition of decorum; smiling politely at her when their eyes meet from across the room. The very moment sends his heart skipping a beat before picking up a rhythm he isn’t certain is compatible with life. He has to stop himself from reaching up to grab his chest to ensure his heart doesn’t beat right out of it.

All too soon the moment is over, and she returns to laughing with his younger sisters, but even she knows that something has changed between them. (Y/N) wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight; the very notion belonging only to fairytales, but she, herself, could not deny the thrill that overtook her body when she met the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.

-----------

Lord and Lady Hopton owned one of the last remaining Tudor residences in London. Many had fallen during the reformation, but in some strange stroke of luck, the Hopton’s home had remained largely undamaged. From there, it passed down the male line as all properties and titles were wont to do in such a society.

The current Lord and Lady prided themselves on the tracking of their lineage, dedicating themselves to the conservation of their home. It was rare for them to throw a ball such as this one, but with the favourable weather, Lady Hopton was able to convince her husband it would be well enough for the courtyard to be used to entertain their nearest and dearest.

There was no set theme; an idea many were grateful for. As much as (Y/N) loved the dress up, the competitive nature between eligible ladies wasn’t something she was in the mood for.

The atmosphere is much more relaxed as (Y/N) takes a turn about the room, smiling politely at the women she has grown up with in London society. They would be civil towards each other, but there was no real friendships forged. (Y/N) was quite content with the Bridgerton brood.

Though they had arrived together, (Y/N) found herself wandering from the comforting presence of the family. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her, and she thinks of Daphne’s suggestion from the other day; the eldest Bridgerton girl had all but suggested that (Y/N) marry Anthony.

Whilst the suggestion was flattering, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the moment she shared with Benedict. She thinks of the moment often; remembers the way his stare felt, as if he was staring into her very soul and he liked what he found. She thinks of the way her body responded; the shiver sent through her and how she realised that she liked the way he looked at her. As if she hung the moon and stars in the sky for him, and him alone.

(Y/N) loses herself in the crowd. She wanders and wanders, watching new love form and old love strengthen as she catches sight of couples beginning their night. (Y/N) continues her ruminating until she bumps into something hard. Another body.

(Y/N) cringes when she finds herself face to face with the chest of Benedict Bridgerton. “Benedict!” She gasps, “I’m sorry.”

He steadies her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “You have nothing to apologise for. You looked to be deep in thought, I’m only sorry for interrupting you.”

(Y/N) feels her skin begin to flush. I was thinking of you, she wants to cry at the man, but she only just manages to refrain herself.

Benedict laughs before he can stop himself. “If you’re reacting like that, I have to know what you were thinking of.”

“Nothing for nosies,” She responds, a coy smile crossing her painted lips.

Benedict gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, (Y/N).”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” (Y/N) laughs, patting Benedict’s arm in mock pity.

“I don’t know,” Benedict expresses, his eyes running over her face and outfit. “I think I’m going to need someone to nurse me back to health.”

(Y/N) feels her skin once again begin to heat at the insinuation in his words. She had encountered banter before with the Bridgerton brothers, but she had never encountered such overt flirting. Benedict’s eyes glittered with mirth; his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – this was him. This was Benedict in his element; he was an artist, a gentleman, and a man that could render her speechless with a simple line of speech.

She finds it hard to respond for a moment; finds it hard to string two thoughts together in his intoxicating presence. She flounders for a second, watching Benedict continue to smile widely as if he had nothing better to do than waste time with her.

Eventually, she collects herself enough. She peers up at the man from under her lashes, fluttering them to the best of her ability as she whispers, “Such requests may make the recovery period a lot longer and a lot harder.”

Leaving the man speechless, (Y/N) pats his arm once more before taking her leave. Feeling hot and bothered by her encounter with Benedict, (Y/N) ambles over to drinks table. Daphne and Eloise stand there nursing their own drinks; they smile widely at their friend as she approaches the table.

“Have you given thought to what I suggested the other day?” Daphne asks; watching her best friend over the rim of her lemonade glass.

“Courting Anthony?” (Y/N) clarifies, reaching for her glass of the tepid drink. She frowns absentmindedly; it was one of the main issues with balls, they never could keep the drinks cold enough to be refreshing throughout the night. They almost always turned sour.

“The very suggestion,” (Y/N)’s dearest friend states with a smile.

“It wouldn’t work,” (Y/N) protests, urging her friends to see the truth. “We aren’t suited for each other.”

“Anthony disagrees,” Daphne chimes, looking and feeling all to superior in the conversation. “He confided to me only yesterday that he wants to court you.”

The ground is close to swallowing her whole; the walls becoming far too close for her liking. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. “That wouldn’t be fair to him,” She croaks, feeling all too close to tears.

“Why not?” Daphne demands, making her vexation known by placing her hands on her hips.

“Daphne,” Eloise interrupts, glancing warily between the two women. “(Y/N) isn’t in love with Anthony. She’s in love with someone else.”

The fight leaves her beloved friend in an instant; she brings a hand to her mouth to cover the shock of Eloise’s words. “I didn’t know,” She whispers, “I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” (Y/N) appeases, “I’m rather new to this.”

“Do we know who it is?” Daphne asks, unable to keep the excitement off her face as she thinks of the handful of men worthy enough to love her dear friend.

(Y/N) sighs, deciding whether to come clean and tell her longest friend that she has found herself hopelessly in love with her brother. She hadn’t even expected it. “It’s Benedict,” She eventually confesses, feeling pressured by the investigative gaze of Daphne Bridgerton.

“Benedict?” Daphne asks, confused, “As in my other brother?”

“The very same,” (Y/N) comments lightly… too lightly as if ready to be on the defence for her feelings for Benedict.

Daphne blinks once, twice before her face breaks with the most beautiful smile. “Oh (Y/N)!” She cries, “This is wonderful!”

“He might not love me back,” (Y/N) whispers, doing her best to keep a light spin on the situation but the idea that Benedict may not return her feelings hurts far more than it should.

“And Anthony still wants to court you,” Eloise reminds her, her voice close to pity.

“Speaking of the devil,” Daphne murmurs with a smile on her face, “Anthony is heading this way.”

“He is?” (Y/N) asks, pivoting on the spot to the find the eldest Bridgerton making his way through the crowd. He smiles at his sisters, briefly checking their glasses to ensure they were sticking strictly to the lemonade offered. When he is suited with what he finds, he turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand. “Would you care to dance?” He asks her with a confident smile.

She nods her consent, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the floor. Anthony leads her expertly across the floor; lessons as a child and years in the London society forging him to be an impressive dancer. He makes her laugh as they continue dance, and whilst (Y/N) has a good time with the eldest Bridgerton, she cannot see herself falling for the man like she can see her entire future with Benedict.

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

The ball had wound down naturally; families and lovers beginning to make their way home through the early morning London streets. (Y/N) travels with the Bridgertons, having arrived with them in the first place. Daphne focuses on the streets of London, doing her best not to fall asleep before getting home to her bed.

“How are you getting home?” Daphne asks, not removing her gaze from the darkened streets of the capital city.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to have to wait for another carriage,” (Y/N) complains, holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn that had slipped out. The tiredness was clinging to her bones now; she wanted nothing more to crawl into her own bed, sink into the pillows and fall into a dreamworld where Benedict climbs into the other side of the bed.

“Stay with us,” Eloise invites, meeting Anthony’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t be an imposition?” (Y/N) asks smally; the last thing she wanted was to be burden on her friends.

“You never could be,” Anthony smiles, “You’re always welcome to stay the night.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” She whispers, reaching for his hand in the dark and squeezing.

Silence falls for the rest of the ride; the weariness of each of them punctuating the air, creating a warmer atmosphere that leaves (Y/N) blinking away sleep. Eloise does her best to remain awake, but her head soon winds up on Anthony’s shoulder to which the man looks the surprised. He recovers quickly, adjusting his younger sister to make her more comfortable.

The Bridgerton siblings and (Y/N) all sigh in blessed relief when the carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. The door opening lets in a cold blast of air, making her shiver as she reaches for the handle to help herself down.

“Here,” Benedict’s voice sounds in the dark light of night, “Let me help you.”

His hand reaches for hers; it clasps hers gently as he helps her down from the carriage. All too soon, his hand falls from hers and (Y/N) is left feeling bereft from the absence of his touch. “Thank you,” She whispers, taking a risk and glancing up at the blue eyes already fixed steadily on her.

“You’re welcome,” He murmurs. Benedict glances back to the carriage to find the rest of his family descending on them. “Goodnight,” He whispers, ducking his head in a bow and leaving her on the steps of Bridgerton House.

(Y/N) watches the man depart in somewhat of a daze. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel his hand in hers. She could feel every fingerprint, every crease, every line in his palm. She could feel it all; she wanted to feel more. She wanted everything with that man; would happily offer up her everything for a single glimpse at what it could be like to wake up in his arms and be happy.

Sighing heavily, she touches a hand to her forehead, pausing in the grand entryway of the Bridgerton family home. She felt so keenly for the man that she knew she would suffer the worst fate to man should he not return her feelings: heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” Anthony calls from the door, his arm around Eloise’s waist. “Would you meet me in my study? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” She allows, smiling at the sight before her. Anthony whispers something to his sister to which Eloise offers her goodnights and begins to climb the stairs to her room, Anthony following behind her with a worried look on his face that only a beloved brother could master.

Anthony’s study smelled of wood polish; the mahogany desk sitting by the windows being the main feature of the room. It’s dark wood providing the much of the fragrance in the room; it’s a comforting scent. (Y/N) smiles when she realises that it’s comforting as it reminds her of the Viscount; the scent of his spicy cologne intermingled with the wood, becoming one and the same.

“Thank you for waiting,” Anthony whispers, closing the door behind him, “I know how tired you are, but I really wanted to speak to you.”

“Whatever’s the matter?”

Suddenly, Anthony no longer holds the prowess of a Viscount but rather, looks like the eighteen year old boy handed a peerage all too soon. He runs a hand through his hair out of nerves, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Eventually, he comes to a slow stop, resting his hands on the back of his father’s ageing chair. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

“It’s been on my mind more and more these days,” She answers honestly. It’s all she has thought of since her eyes met Benedict’s across the room and she got a glimpse into what her mornings, afternoons, evenings with the man could be like.

“I think we could be good together,” Anthony argues, offering up a slice of his heart for the taking, “I think we work well together.”

“Anthony, may I be honest with you for a moment?”

“I’d hope for nothing more.”

She takes a deep breath; steeling her nerves before smiling at the Viscount. “With all due respect, I don’t think you do love me.”

Anthony moves to interrupt her; a flash of anger and upset in his eyes. He quietens when she holds up a single hand; begging him to let her continue. “Anthony, I think you were looking for someone to stop your mother from pestering you about marriage. I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment.”

Anthony frowns; he takes in (Y/N)’s words, letting them roll around his mind as he thinks back to the first day when he realised he could truly love the woman sitting in front of him. Violet Bridgerton had been on him from the moment he walked through the front door; producing yet another list of eligible women in London that he could find a potential match in. He had taken the list from his beloved mother and in the privacy of his study, he had ripped the list to tiny pieces making sure that none of the names were legible.

On some level, he has always loved her. (Y/N) had been in his life from the very day she was born; mother being friends, Violet able to offer (Y/N)’s advice as she was her firstborn. At this point, Violet was a seasoned expert on motherhood. Anthony had always known of the girl that was best friends with Daphne; he had watched her grow up. On some level, he has always had some feeling for her.

He knows know, though, that those feelings could never broach romance. There was too deep an affection between them.

“You’re right,” Anthony states, “It wouldn’t be a love match.”

“It wouldn’t,” She affirms, taking a seat in front of the large, wooden desk. Silhouettes of his parents and siblings decorate the space; it brings a fond smile to her face. Anthony presented a strong front, but in private, he was as much the adoring son and brother.

“But you think you have found your love match,” Anthony declares, wanting to clear the air.

“I’m not sure,” She laughs mirthlessly. “I have no clue as to whether he feels the same.”

“He’d be an idiot, not to,” Anthony compliments, “Do I know the lucky man?”

(Y/N) looks sheepish as she stares at the Viscount. She had already confessed to Daphne and Eloise – what harm could one more person do?

“It’s Benedict.”

“You love him,” Anthony whispers; not an accusation, not an ounce of anger in his voice. A simple fact stated for the room.

(Y/N) nods. “I do. I love him with all that I am and all that I know I could be.”

A sad, bittersweet smile crosses Anthony’s face; he won’t speak of how the words hurt him. He reaches for her hand and clasps it tightly between both of his.

“Go to him,” He whispers, “You have my blessing.”

(Y/N) stands. Her intention is to leave the room and find the Bridgerton who had so readily taken root within her heart, but first she crosses to where Anthony stands behind his desk. He watches her with curious eyes as the silk of her glove brushes his cheek; his eye flutter closed when he feels the featherlight press of her lips and the whisper of her gratitude.

Anthony keeps his eyes closed when she pulls away from him; he keeps them closed until he hears the tell-tale click of the door. It is only then that Anthony allows himself to open his eyes and peer into the heartbreak now cracking open his chest. Not for the love he though he felt, but for the utter want racing through his body. He wants a love like that; he was going to find a love like that.

They would be happy together; he thinks to himself as he breathes in the floral scent of her perfume. They would be happy together, perfectly suited to the point that Anthony craves such intimacy. One day; he promises, one day he would hold such a treasure within his hands.

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

Bridgerton House remained warm and inviting even after the family had long retired for bed. The sconces lining the walls still lit; their warm light easy on anyone’s eyes should they need to traverse the hallways for whatever reason.

The path to Benedict’s room isn’t one she has taken often. Thinking on it, (Y/N) realises that save for being shown the door on her first ever visit to the London home, she has not stepped foot close to the room since. Until tonight, that is.

Her skirts swish delicately underfoot as (Y/N) makes her way to his room. She doesn’t dare utter a single breath for the fear of being caught; all around her slumber her closest friends. If she were caught by a member of staff, her reputation balanced on being ruined.

Her hand trembles as she clenches it into a fist, raises it to the plain white door and knocks twice. She waits on the threshold, twisting her fingers into her skirts – a nervous habit she’s had since she was a child. She was thankful that she no longer bit her nails down to the bed.

“Come in,” calls his quiet voice and her nerves only heighten. Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door that could reveal her future.

“(Y/N),” Benedict gasps, the deep v of his shirt falling open, revealing far more of his bare chest than (Y/N) had expected to see tonight.

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispers, hovering between the doorway and his room. She does her best to not stare at the defined muscles on display but loses the battle. Her eyes run over the parts of his muscular torso and the strong forearms shown with the sleeves of white shirt rolled up. She didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to the forearms of a person, but here was Benedict proving her wrong.

“What if you get caught?” He whisper-asks, worry lacing his tone as he glances at something behind her. She turns on instinct only to find an empty hallway and three lit sconces.

“Anthony knows where I am,” She retorts, stepping further into Benedict’s room.

“Anthony?”

“He gave me his blessing.”

“To enter my room… unattended… late at night?”

“Essentially, yes,” She smiles, thinking back to her conversation with the Viscount.

“Why were you talking to Anthony?” Benedict asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the simmering jealousy he feels that the picture of (Y/N) alone with Anthony in his study. He clears his throat to chase away the hollow ache of envy; he doesn’t want to picture the conversation. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

“He asked me to court him.”

“Oh,” Benedict responds, feeling his heart begin to crack in his chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him I couldn’t. We wouldn’t suit each other and one other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“I don’t love him. I love someone else.”

“You do? Do I know them?”

(Y/N) laughs, stretching her arms out as she gestures to Benedict’s bedroom. “I’m stood in your room in the middle of the night, Benedict, with full knowledge that if I were to be caught by any of the staff, I would be ruined. What does that tell you?”

Benedict frowns, refusing to let himself fall into the hope growing in his chest. He feels like Icarus; too close to the sun, too close to thing he wants most in this world.

“Stop this pain in my heart,” She commands weakly. “Stop this pain and tell me if you feel the same. If you don’t, I understand but I’d ask you not to tell anyone of this midnight visit.”

His mouth runs dry, and he finds it hard to answer. He’s falling, falling, falling for the woman stood across from him and he cannot find the words to accurately describe the depth of his feelings for her. That day in the drawing room – he’s known her for years, always been aware of her, but that day, it was as if he was finally seeing her for the pure beauty that she inhabits. She could rival Aphrodite herself.

Upset shutters across (Y/N)’s face as she nods twice, trying her best to keep the burn of tears at bay. “It’s okay, Benedict,” She whispers, turning for the door, “Thank you for listening.”

At the last moment, Benedict reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t go,” He pleads, “Don’t leave me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you left me.”

“I don’t understand,” She whispers; confusion lacing her voice. Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the man before her, “You didn’t say anything. You stayed silent; I took that as my cue to leave.”

Benedict shakes his head. “Don’t go,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through the loose strands of hair framing her face. He almost preens as she leans into his touch. “I feel the same, I love you just the same,” Benedict confesses; feeling the weight leave his chest.

“You do?” She asks; her voice small but hopeful.

“I do,” Benedict smiles, brushing her cheek with his finger, “I think I always have, but I didn’t realise until recently.”

(Y/N) sniffles as tears threaten to make an appearance. She laughs wetly, unable to stop the giggle from leaving her mouth as Benedict wipes away the tears. “I hope those are happy tears,” He murmurs wryly.

“They are,” She answers, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. “They definitely are.”

“Good,” He answers.

Their faces are so close now it would only take a fraction of a movement to press their lips together; to seal the promise of their union. “Kiss me, Benedict,” She whispers; need lacing her voice as she stares into his famously blue eyes.

Benedict doesn’t need to be told twice; it isn’t often he gets to kiss a goddess.

********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @magicalxdaydream @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz

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#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction

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