#and it's upsetting because she could have been much more
Note
could i request a mark smut 😣😣 where reader and mark just had an intense argument but in the end, they cant be mad at each other for long so they just fck it out of each other 🤐🤐🤐🤐
mad at you | l.mk
“then i try to leave, but baby i just can’t stay mad at you”
💿now playing: mad at you by why don’t we
❯ summary: Mark learns that you’ve made a ‘selfish’ decision that’s bound to put a strain on your relationship. Next thing you know, you're knee-deep in an argument that somehow ends with you sprawled out beneath him; because, let’s be honest, he’s never really been any good at staying mad at you.
❯ pairings: idol!mark x fem!reader
❯ genre: angst, smut, established relationship, make up sex
❯ words: 4.3k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, lots of arguing, swearing, reader is lowkey dramatic, makeup sex, unprotected sex (don't do this!), nipple play, dry humping, brief clit play, slight needy mark bc i can't help myself, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader and mark argue and resolve it by fucking.
an: i love writing angsty arguments (testament to my real relationships lol) so thank you so much for this request. it lowkey brought me out of writer’s block.
The honeymoon stage lasts approximately thirty months or two and a half years – which would make sense considering you and Mark were approaching your third year together and have argued more recently than you ever had.
But this time it’s different. You’ve never seen Mark like this, so angry that his face is bordering red and his jaw ticks so hard it might crack as the both of you drive in complete silence from your work dinner. He doesn’t even bother sneaking his usual glances at you when he pulls up at stoplights, the hand he likes to place on your thigh is gripping the wheel instead, and the only noise in the car is his rugged and frustrated exhales.
You could feign ignorance about why he's upset, but you know the reason all too well. And while a part of you acknowledges his right to be angry, another, more prideful part, resists the idea of apologising, especially when you think his reaction seems so disproportionate to your mistake.
So you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and body frozen, contributing to the cold silence settling between the two of you. You prepare yourself for the earful of a lecture you’re about to get when he pulls up outside your shared apartment.
He parks the car, slams the door shut, and strides towards your building without a backward glance. You scoff at his pettiness; he's never been so angry that he wouldn't at least wait for you to get out of the car with him. He doesn't even slow down when you trail behind. And when he nearly lets the elevator doors close without you, any chance he has of receiving an apology from you flies out the window, you think.
He does, however, show some decency by leaving the front door open for you as you both step out of the elevator and head towards your apartment – how chivalrous.
The chivalry doesn’t last long because the minute he hears you clasp the door shut, he’s glaring at you, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and you can't help but notice that he's rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt in frustration. If he weren't on the brink of yelling at you, you'd be tempted to make him do more than just roll up those sleeves — you'd want the fabric torn off and thrown on the floor in an instant.
“Paris, Y/N?!” Mark seethes, voice deep and uneven. “You signed a fucking contract to work in Paris?!?”
You pause, attempting to gather your thoughts, but the momentary silence doesn't offer much clarity. Eventually, you settle on, "It's just a six-month gig..." – a statement that seems to send him into a frenzy.
“Just six months?” He rubs his jaw repeatedly in disbelief, “That’s six months that we won’t get to see each other, did you even think about that huh?”
You scoff, “You’re one to talk, need I remind you that your job takes you away from me for months at a time.”
"That's not fair," he protests. "You knew exactly what you were getting into when you agreed to date me. I didn’t agree to not seeing my girlfriend for months because she’s gallivanting away in Paris without me."
Your eyes narrow and your nostrils flare, “So what? If you would have known, you wouldn’t have wanted to be my boyfriend?”
His eyes widen and he shakes his head. His hands fly to his hair and he tugs at the strands as he huffs out a breath.
“How the fuck did you get that conclusion from what I said?” He asks, voice sounding baffled. “The reason I’m so mad is because I like being your boyfriend, but I’m not going to see you for the next six months.”
“You’re being a hypocrite right now.”
He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Right, because I’m always the one being unreasonable.”
“Yes, you are,” you scorn, “This job is my dream, don’t you see how selfish you're being?”
“I’m selfish?” He gasps, “That’s rich considering you didn’t even consult me when making this decision, I had to find out from your smug little co-worker in front of everyone. You were thinking solely about yourself, Y/N.”
You're on the verge of screaming. How is he not seeing things from your perspective? He's usually so understanding, so open to hearing your side. But the razor-sharp look in his eyes tells you that there's no getting through to him. He's convinced you're wrong, and nothing will change his mind.
“It’s for my job, Mark,” you cross your arms and shrug.
“And how many times have I told you that you don’t need to work? How many times do I need to tell you I can look after the both of us?”
“And how many times have I told you that I don’t want that? I don’t want to have to always rely on you!” You snap.
Your teeth grit as the words spit out of your mouth. They seem to hit Mark, deep, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before sharpening again. He swallows thickly and blinks before running a hand through his hair.
“Then what are we doing, Y/N?” He asks deflated, “What are we if you don’t want to rely on me?”
You're not sure what compels you to say it – whether it's the way you're all worked up, the entire context of the argument, or some inner recognition that you're the one who's fucked up this time despite you both having stuff to apologise for. Still, you escalate the situation from zero to one hundred without a second thought.
“Oh, so you want to break up?”
He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, “When did I say that?!”
The fight only gets worse after that, the two of you blowing up after every sentence. You run around in circles, throwing accusations and insults at each other to the point the original premise of the argument is lost along the way of a thousand new arguments. It’s like every little thing you’ve both done to irk each other over the last month is brought up; and by the end of it, the two of you swear you’re done with each other.
Sure, you've had your fair share of arguments, but the biting finality of the word "done" as it leaves his lips sends a sharp pang through your stomach – it hurts like hell. You've reached your limit with this endless cycle of back-and-forth; you've had enough of him. Storming past him, you head towards your shared bedroom.
Mark sighs and reaches out for your arm, but you pull away. He doesn't like this, doesn't like the chilliness he feels from you. He doesn't want to end the argument like this; it's never gone this far without a resolution before.
“You can’t just storm away when we argue Y/N, it’s childish.”
“If you don’t like it then leave!” You slam the door shut after you and lock it.
Mark hates this more, not being able to talk this out because you’ve put a wall between the two of you. Then your words register in his mind and he’s the most hurt he’s ever felt. You want him to leave. Fuck that, he thinks. He’s not going to watch his relationship go down the drain over a petty argument.
He knocks on the door a few times, then jiggles the doorknob, calling out your name and pleading for you to let him in. But you remain unmoved, denying him even the satisfaction of hearing your voice telling him to go away. This only adds to his frustration. He's the one you've upset, and yet here he is, begging for you to open up so he can fix things.
After a few more tries he scoffs, your words echoing in his mind once more. Leave. It crosses his mind as he makes his way to the front door of the apartment. He swings it open, ready to clear his head and crash at Johnny's for the night. But just as he's about to step out, he catches sight of a picture of the two of you on the coffee table where he keeps his keys.
It’s from your honeymoon phase when it was easier for the two of you to say you’d never let anything come between you – when love seemed to blind you both. Mark picks up the photo, memories flooding back to the day it was taken. It was the day you met his parents and shared your aspirations of becoming a fashion designer. You reassured them that you had your own dreams and weren't just with their son for his wealth – though his parents wouldn't have minded either way; they would have been content with any girl that made their son happy. And you made Mark happy – you make Mark so fucking happy.
Which is why he can’t believe he’s even considering leaving you in this apartment on your own after a fight. He shuts the front door and makes his way to the couch. He's eager to resolve things with you now, but both of you are too caught up in emotions, spouting shit you'll likely regret in the morning. So he opts to grab a few sofa pillows and a blanket from the storage closet instead. He strips down from his dress shirt and pants, throwing them to the floor before lying back and resting his eyes with a heavy mind.
Regret doesn't hit you until 2:00 am the following morning, when you're met with the chill of an empty space beside you as you reach out to cuddle your boyfriend, only to find him absent. Sure you thought he was overreacting to the news, but you're also painfully aware that your own words were uncalled for. You shouldn’t have asked him to leave – you didn’t want him to.
As you heard the front door open and then close with a clink, a thick lump formed in your throat. The realisation that you had driven him away hit you hard, and you lost all motivation. You lay on your bed, makeup still intact, as you sniffled and sobbed quietly into your pillow. And even now, after tossing and turning from your mind running laps, you’d only managed to sleep for a few minutes.
You stretch your stiff legs and reluctantly leave your bed, unlocking your bedroom door with sleepy eyes. You're taken aback when you see Mark sleeping soundly on the sofa, his breath steady with his eyes closed. You thought he had left, but there he is, covered only by the blanket from the storage closet. It breaks your heart to see him like this; he's likely cold, and he'll probably have a stiff neck in the morning for practice. And you know it's all your fault.
The guilt eats away at you, and without hesitation, you rush to the bedroom to grab his pillows and an extra blanket. Realistically, you should wake him up and insist he sleeps in bed, but the fear of his lingering anger keeps you from doing so. Instead, you kneel in front of him, attempting to swap the sofa pillows for his own bed pillows.
However, your efforts prove futile because Mark is a light sleeper – a detail you foolishly overlooked in your worried state of mind. He blinks as he wakes up once, then twice, appearing confused to find you in front of him in the living room instead of beside him in bed.
“Baby?” He whispers, his eyes hazy as he tries to make sense of what you're doing. It doesn’t take him long once he spots the sofa cushion in your hand to put the pieces together.
You bite your lip and sigh, “I know you're mad at me, but I didn’t want you to wake up stiff in the morning.”
Mark's chest constricts. How could he possibly stay mad at you when you're so cute, fussing over him like this? He notices the smudge of black makeup beneath your eye, and his heart tightens once more – this time with sadness rather than affection.
His hand reaches out to touch your cheek, and you’re shocked at the touch. “You’ve been crying?” He asks and you bow your head.
"I thought you left..."
Mark wants to laugh at the irony. You asked him to leave, and yet here you are, upset at the idea of his departure. He swears if he weren't so in love with you, he'd rant about how much you mess with his head, pushing him to the edge only to pull him back again.
“Would never leave you, baby, you know that,” his voice is soft and comforting as the rough edge of his fingertips finds your jaw.
You can't control it; tears fall freely from your eyes. He's being incredibly considerate and gentle with you, even after you acted like a bitch. Honestly, you almost wish he'd just yell at you instead. But he doesn’t, his eyes widen and he immediately sits up straight letting the blanket fall to the floor as he pulls you up to sit on his lap.
He shushes you, his hands finding your waist where he rubs soothing soft circles into the fabric of your tank top, “Hey, why are you crying? I’m here…please don’t get upset, Y/N.”
His kindness only amplifies your guilt.
"I'm so sorry," you stifle in short sobs, your voice almost cracking. "I should've talked to you about the job offer before signing the contract... I-I didn't mean to act so selfishly. I just... I wasn't thinking."
Mark gives you a half-smile as he runs a hand through your hair. "It's okay, baby... You got caught up in your dream. I'm sorry for not realising that. I'm the one being selfish by always expecting you to put me first."
"No—"
He interrupts you to continue his apology. "You were right, you know. I always expect you to wait for me while I'm on tour. I never considered it from the other side, with me waiting for you... But I will. I'll wait because I know how much this job means to you."
Your face buries itself in the crook of his neck as you cry even harder, and he tuts gently while rubbing your back.
"Please don’t cry, Y/N," he murmurs softly. "I hate seeing you upset."
"Can’t help it," you muffle. "I hate that I upset you…"
Mark pulls you away from his neck, needing to look into your eyes as he speaks. "It's normal for couples to argue, baby. We just need to promise to communicate better, okay?"
His fingers stroke your cheeks again, and you lean into his touch. The warmth of his hand feels so comforting as if he was made to soothe your skin, the only person capable of bringing you relief. You bite your lip and nod against his palm, because you're more than willing to work on your communication if it means never feeling like this again.
"Now, give me a smile. You know, the pretty one I like," he says with a laugh. "If I'm not going to see you for the next six months, I don’t want one of our last moments together to be so... sad."
You smile at him and press your forehead against his with a whisper. "Me neither.”
You’re so close to each other that you’re practically sharing the same breath, if you had said that two hours ago you wouldn’t have believed yourself. But here you are, lips so close that your heavy breathing practically begs him to kiss you.
Mark feels it too, so when he does, it's like the softness of his lips is a bandage, mending the angry tension between the two of you. It patches up the last few hours that have transpired, and when he pulls away, it feels as if nothing even happened.
His hands grip your hips firmly, his fingers pressing down as he guides your body to grind against his clothed crotch. His lips find yours again, accompanied by a groan that escapes into your mouth. It's only when you feel him harden beneath you that you remember he was half-naked on the sofa – clearly after you locked him out of the bedroom.
Suddenly feeling suffocated by your own clothes, you pull away from him to strip off your tank top, tossing it over your head before discarding it somewhere in the living room. You yearn to meet his lips again – the only place you truly feel safe – but Mark wants to savour the way you look. Your clothed cunt eagerly grinding against his hard-on, hips chasing a high so eagerly that your bra strap has slid loosely down your arm.
You're a vision, Mark thinks, one that has him salivating and desperate to fuck you. He almost curses at himself for nearly ruining it all, for nearly walking out on the most beautiful person on the planet, the best sex he's ever had – and not only that but also the funniest, sweetest person he knows he'll ever meet.
He leans into your neck, his nose nuzzling into you as he whispers softly, "I'm sorry... so sorry, Y/N." His hand leaves your hips to cup your breast over your bra, massaging the mound with just enough pressure to elicit soft moans from your lips.
“‘s okay,” you whimper.
Your head falls back as his hand snakes around to unclasp it. He wastes no time brushing his intrusive fingers down your chest, wearing a filthy smirk because he knows just how sensitive you are there. The tip of his finger circles around your nipple until he’s right in the centre, feeling it harden under his touch. He pinches it, and you jolt forward on his cock, making his boxers tighten, and he groans.
He loves how responsive you were to him, watching you writhe over him as he touched you in torturous pleasure. Just the way you arch your back into his touch has pre-cum leaking out of his cock.
He leans in this time, sucking on your nipple and opening wide to get as much of the tender tissue of your breast in his mouth as possible. He holds your waist in place to keep you grinding on him to entice enough friction for him to feel good too.
And when he looks down to see where the two of you meet, he moans when he sees the wet patch leaking through your shorts onto his boxers.
“Fuck, so wet for me, baby. Just for me.”
You whimper, and his hand slips into the hem of your shorts. You’re glad you never wear panties to bed because his fingers find your clit immediately, relieving you of some of the neediness you’ve been feeling from grinding down on him. He rubs small circles as his mouth licks and sucks and nips at your bud.
“Mark…”
“Shhh baby,” he coos, “wanna make it up to you. Please let me make it up to you, let me make you feel good.”
You whimper with a nod of your head, humping into his hand, legs opening wider to give him easier access to the place you’re most sensitive. You let out mild pants, hips bucking more aggressively from the stimulation on both your nipple and clit.
And when Mark notices you getting close, he pulls off your tit to look up at your face. It’s his favourite part — watching your features contort when the bliss is at its highest. It makes his chest swell with pride knowing he’s the one making you cum, knowing his touch is enough to make you shake and moan. And if he wasn’t such a selfish lover, he’d think the sight is something everyone should see at least once.
As you come down from your orgasm, your eyes flutter open to meet him. Mark doesn’t know whether it’s from seeing your orgasm paired with the argument from earlier but he’s the hardest he’s ever been.
You notice it too, looking down and giggling. “Now it’s my turn to make it up to you.”
He lets out a soft huff, and a muscle in his jaw twitches with his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat before he nods. You free his cock from his boxers and shimmy yourself out of your shorts. You let out identical gasps when your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his cock.
Slowly, you sink onto him, fully feeling him inside of you. Your head falls forward, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you take in the size of him, the way he fills you just right — the way he always does.
The stretch as you take him in never gets old, eliciting the same whimpers and whines. You can feel his hands resting on your hips, then slipping to the bend of your waist, silently urging you to move as he presses you downwards.
You lift your hips, slow and steady as you let the sensations wash over you, drawing a low groan from deep in his chest. His grip on your body tightens as you sink back down, blunt nails digging into your skin. The sounds he makes only drive you further into finding a teasing rhythm because his voice is just so pretty. The sounds are soon muffled to your disappointment when his mouth presses into your skin, so his tongue can slide along the top of your breast — making the disappointment fade away real quick.
You let out a breathy cry, hands rising from where they’ve been resting, flattening against his chest, to wrap around his shoulders. The slow pace you’d adopted was becoming not enough. And you could tell from the way Mark is rutting his hips up to meet you, he shares the same sentiment.
Your mouths collide as you pick up the pace, using his shoulders to leverage yourself as you bounce up and down on his cock. When he breaks from the kiss, an unrestrained groan slips past his lips, low and rough, followed by another, and you have to bite back a whimper of your own.
Mark can’t help the noises, he just loves the way you swivel your hips in a way that makes him see stars. He loves watching you work yourself on him for pleasure – he loves when you ride him.
And right when you squeeze around him, he rewards you with a loud, obscene groan, a sound that makes you dizzy and limp. Everything about Mark is intoxicating and downright addicting, and you were in no hurry to kick that addiction. In fact, you craved more of it – needed more.
You grab his hands and guide them across your body. He squeezes them at your hips, smoothing across your thighs, your stomach. His hands were everywhere, eyes dark and desperate, wordlessly begging for you to give him what he needed, the same thing he’d been kind enough to already give you.
So you rock yourself forward, providing a new type of friction that makes you whine helplessly into his skin. Blunt nails mark into the plush of your thighs, a futile attempt at grounding himself. The upward thrust of his hips and the strained catch of his breath tells you that he's growing impatient. You know the pace was slow, but damn it, it felt so fucking good to feel him like this, every inch of him sliding into you, hitting all the spots that makes your brain stop working. It also felt like a sick little way to get revenge...
“Faster,” you hear him say. “Please baby, need it faster.”
You could feel his hips bucking up to meet you. Then his thumb finds your clit, working in circles and making you squeeze around him with a shrill, gasping cry. It was his attempt at bargaining with you, doing anything to make you speed up and shamelessly fuck yourself on his cock. Maybe if he pleases you, you’ll let him cum.
“Please fuck me properly baby, need it,” he rasps, “You want me to forgive you right?”
And then you remember what led you here in the first place. You’d upset him and now you’re teasing him – you suppose it’s only fair if you pick up the pace a little more, fuck him messily and desperately enough to have him dizzying towards his climax.
And once you do, his thrusts grow sloppier, and your thighs start aching. It feels too fucking good so all that you can do is cling to him and let him take the lead, strong hands guiding you as he sucks against your neck. And even though you’re supposed to be the one making him cum, you find yourself buried in the crook of his neck, gasping as your walls clench and nails dig into the skin of his strong back.
The slight stinging sensation is enough to work Mark over the edge, and you feel him twitch inside of you, sending shock waves up your spine as he fucks his cum inside of you with a final powerful thrust. You roll your hips to help him along, taking all you can get from him and he moans his appreciation as you do.
You remain tangled up in one another as you come down from your respective highs with foreheads pressed close. You wrestle to find his hand, lacing your fingers with his as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. He kisses your nose, then your lips, with a tenderness that makes your heart feel like it’s being squeezed.
You don’t want to move just yet, so you release your hands and wrap them around his neck, nuzzling your nose against his before you speak.
"Mark?" You mumble, your voice tired and hazy. He hums in response.
"I’m sorry," you say softly.
You feel his smile against your mouth before he kisses your lips. "It’s okay, baby. I don’t even remember what we were fighting for."
#🏷frompaige#mark lee smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct smut#mark lee x reader#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct x reader#kpop smut#nct hard hours#nct oneshot
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visions — abby anderson.
summary: a love letter to trying (or the time when you met your favorite people in the world, an overly stressed med student and her overly adventurous one-year-old, in your apartment's hallway).
notes: constantly suffering from chronic baby fever so this is a present from me to you because i spend way too much time thinking about abby as a mom <3
୨・┈﹕✦﹕﹕✦﹕┈・୧
You’re stepping out of the elevator when you suddenly hear it— a series of light thumps on the floor, fast but determined like a tiny little elephant who really has somewhere to be right now. Another step and then you stop clumsily when a flash of golden hair comes rushing past you. You follow the sight with your eyes, tilting your head. A little girl is walking, no, stomping through the hallway. She’s no older than two years old, her thin shining hair in two short braids, blue jean overalls and red socks on her feet. She moves so confidently that you almost don’t think about it, almost have the instinct to look away as if to not accidentally appear nosy, but her tiny stature and wobbly sense of direction keep your attention.
You look around the hallway, expecting surely the sound of the little girl’s parent calling her name (something sweet and pretty and classic, you imagine; it’d suit her). You picture her name being followed by a tired sigh before her patents rush to catch up, maybe rolling their eyes in a way that pretends to be annoyed but unmistakingly holds a million times more affection. A perfect family, a tiny glimpse of a full life somehow existing right in your unimportant building.
The hallway is long and terribly empty. You look back at the little girl who is striding forward in less of a rush now, with no worries, like this is the same route she’s taken for years.
What are you supposed to say to get a kid’s attention when you don’t know their name? What’s something concise, yet nice, yet simple enough to be understood? Babysitting as a teen has prepared you for a lot, just maybe not all of it. It's been a little too long. You linger on it for just a second before spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Hi, princess,” It’s a little awkward, but you’re relieved when she immediately stops and spins around, like something about it sounded familiar— could be your sweet tone or the nickname, you’re not sure. The little girl tilts her head to the side, round cheek lightly squished against her shoulder. It's the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and it makes you giggle like a charmed kid. “Where did you come from?” you ask, but before you have the chance to reach her she pouts her lips, as if just now realizing that you’re not who she thought you were. And then she turns her back, like there's no time to waste, to return to her journey with renewed enthusiasm.
In a scarily fast moment, you realize that she’s going for the stairs. It would maybe be a slightly less terrifying idea if that stupid door actually worked— but it doesn't, it broke sometime last May and now it's awfully easy to open, no strength or shove required. Sometimes, if it's windy and quiet enough, you can faintly hear it swing back and forth from your apartment. The little girl reaches a hand out, not intimidated by the tall door more than three times her height. If you weren’t this terrified, you’d find it amazingly admirable.
You don’t register you’re running until you reach her, don’t register the sound of fast steps behind you or the scream of Rue! or anything else other than the heavy relief on your chest when you lift the baby by her armpits and hold her over your hip against your side. She’s fussing in your arms immediately, upset that she’s being interrupted, especially by a stranger. “I know, I’m sorry, baby. It’s okay, you’re okay,” you coo, though trying to be soothing when your heart is beating this fast is admittedly not the easiest task.
“Rue!” Someone repeats, and this time you do hear it. A woman is running down the hallway, hand coming down to mindlessly drop a tote bag bursting with groceries on the floor by the time she’s in front of you. The little girl reaches out her arms immediately, tiny fists opening and closing furiously and you sigh with relief as you carefully pass her over to the arms of the tall stranger. Her hair is blonde but darker than Rue’s, held back in a braid that looks both pretty and messy, like it was once pristine and then slept on. She’s wearing jeans and a half unbuttoned white shirt, a black tank top underneath. Her chest rises and falls and you notice that yours is no different. Adrenaline is a strange bond to share with a stranger, but it does make things less awkward, knowing you’re both here, feeling the same thing. You meet her expertly focused eyes for just a second before she turns to look at the little girl, searching for anything that could be wrong. “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. You’re okay, right? You’re okay,” the baby flashes a precious, wobbly smile at the sound of her voice, but she’s quickly distracted by the endlessly fascinating rainbow of groceries that lie on the floor. Her tiny head peeks over her mom’s shoulder to observe and it’s like you both can take a more soothing breath now, knowing she’s okay. “Thank you so much,” Abby says. You blink a couple times before you realize that she’s talking to you. “Sorry, I really don’t know how that happened. We were— we just got home from the store and I hadn't even put down all the bags yet and I thought— I was convinced that I shut the door, but…” her rambling drifts off and the stranger takes another breath, reddish embarrassment crawling up her neck.
You understand, suddenly, that she’s not only struggling with the stress of losing and finding her baby, but also the shame of having to face a stranger who might judge her for it. It feels insane to you, to think that she would be forced to prioritize that right now. “Oh, no, it’s okay!” you rush to respond. “I saw her immediately, and you were here in seconds! She wouldn't have gotten any further than that,” your smile is soft, but you speak with enough confidence to be reassuring (babysitting lessons, perhaps), “It was just a scare— don’t be too hard on yourself, please.”
Abby looks disarmed by your answer, her eyebrows raised in surprise. A short moment passes before she nods and smiles back, a small gesture without any less warmth. It’s the most relaxed you’ve seen her so far and it suits her beautifully, enough to make your face feel warm. Her blushing is much less forgiving though, more physically evident on her skin, spread over her cheekbones and the bridge of her pretty nose.
Rue giggles and it distracts you both, her hand waving excitedly at the colorful bird printed on a box of cereal as soon as she spots him. Abby looks at you for a second too long before she clears her throat, joking, “Sorry, she really loves that guy.”
You hum. “He is pretty cool, to be fair.”
Abby tilts her head, copying your sincere tone. “I don’t know, I always thought he’d be kind of a dick in person. He just looks like the type.”
Your startled laugh makes her smirk but she's frustratingly good at hiding it, free hand covering her mouth casually enough that you don’t notice. You look at the grabbing motion of the baby’s hands and pout with sympathy. “She loves him, though. We should probably get him off the floor.”
“Yeah, I should get that— I guess I just ran out with the bag, huh?” Abby huffs. She looks and sounds, physically, a lot less anxious now, less ashamed and more annoyed at herself.
“Would you like some help?”
“That’s okay, I got it,” she’s not sure that she does but she says it anyway, instinctively. Abby tries to lean down and Rue clutches her shirt, pulling enough to communicate that she is not ready to be put down yet. Abby straightens her back quickly enough to communicate that she is not ready to risk getting her any more upset for today. She meets your eyes for just a second. “Well, maybe some help.”
“Sure, just some,” you chuckle. “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it.”
People say that to Abby a lot— don’t worry about it! She hears it from her colleagues when she inevitably asks for the notes from the last class she ran a little late to, from a few of her kinder professors when she’s a day past some assignment’s deadline, from the guy at the grocery store that picks up the packets of M&M bags from the floor when Rue’s curious hands knock them over, from her dad when she asks if he’d be okay with babysitting for just a tiny bit longer. It always makes her stomach turn with guilt, some cases more intense than others, her lips usually pursed as she turns around and takes a breath. This time when you say it, she finds the guilt passing through her with ease, a short visit that makes her shoulders tense before it gets replaced by something else. She believes you, for some reason. Her brain is quiet except for thinking, for once, that there could really be nothing to worry about.
Your hands move casually as you pick everything up, resting on your knees like it’s not uncomfortable, like they might as well be your groceries. The idea is startling. Abby thinks, suddenly, that if someone were to walk into this scene, they wouldn’t read you as a kind stranger. Your ease would hint to something else, a friend, a lover, a picture of a family. Abby finds herself looking at your hands again, brought back to reality only by the slight tug of her hair. Rue plays with her braid distractedly, mumbling to herself about her froot loops friend— except she hasn’t quite learned to pronounce it yet, so it sounds more like oot oops.
Abby chuckles, brushing some of her loose baby hair behind her ears, mumbling back answers to her gibberish to keep her entertained even if Rue doesn’t seem to need it. She’s always endlessly thrilled to just be outside, perhaps the one trait she got from her grandpa rather than her mom. Other than her light snoring.
“She loves you a lot,” you comment, rising from your knees with the bag hanging on your shoulder. You don’t ask and Abby doesn’t think about it— you just start walking back to her apartment together. “Don’t you, Ru-Ru?” the baby giggles, her head turning to you, blue eyes sparkling. You laugh, “Oh, you like that name. It suits you, Ru-Ru.”
“That’s what my dad calls her,” Abby explains.
“He sounds like a man with taste,” you say. “What do you call her?”
“Princess.”
Your smile is wide and pleased. “That suits her even more, I fear.”
“I think so, too,” Abby agrees, a proud little glimmer in her eyes. She stops in front of her door, B06 engraved in silver. Is it always such a short walk from the elevator? She’s seriously thinking about it until, after realizing in an embarrassing second that she never introduced herself to the person kind enough to chase after her baby, help pick up her groceries and carry them home, Abby suddenly turns to you with widened blue eyes and pretty, reddened cheeks. You forgive her before she even says anything, and forget your traitorous reason before it gets a chance to warn you about how dangerous that thought is. “God, sorry, I never told you my name. I’m—”
“Abby, right?” you smile softly at her surprised face, chuckling before you explain, “One of our neighbors is an old friend of mine and she kinda threw this welcome party for me when I moved in. I promise we weren’t gossiping, but I think someone mentioned you.”
“Oh,” Abby nods casually, brushing it off as if she won’t be spending all night thinking about what your first impression of her might’ve been like. Rue fusses in her arms, a little grunt as she kicks her legs to be put down. “Sorry— I‘ll be right back,” Abby shares a quick look with you and you wave goodbye, not surprised to be missing Rue as soon as she turns around. You watch them walk inside together, a tiny hand waving back at you and making you smile as she excitedly makes her way to her playpen, shrieking bye-bye! Abby places a kiss on top of Rue’s blonde hair and makes her laugh with some noise that you don’t quite catch. She’s comfortable here, walking amongst colorful toys and biology books. She moves like an expert, pulling down her shirt where it rode up somewhere along the way. You make half an effort not to stare, but it’s half more than the effort Abby makes to not let it get to her head. The most confident she’s felt so far, she asks you, “Did that totally innocent welcome party of yours happen, like, two weeks ago? I think I heard some music.”
“It was extremely innocent,” you insist, eyebrows raised teasingly, “And no, sorry, not sure what that was— I moved here like a year ago.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
You grace her (or yourself) with a second of silence before you laugh at her awkward expression, the way she brushes a hand over her flushed face and huffs. “Fuck, that’s embarrassing. I’m kinda terrible at keeping up with this type of, uh, social stuff.”
“It’s not embarrassing, I promise. It’s a big world,” you reassure her. “Even bigger when you’re doing a million other stuff.”
You tell her your name and Abby, who is young like you but also highly knowledgeable on little specific human interaction cheat-codes that come with being a mom, nods her head and makes her eyes light up with what seems, to the naive eye, like recognition. “Oh, that’s right!”
You stare for a second before squinting your eyes. “Are you lying to me, Abby from B06?”
Abby grins, wondering when was the last time she found being caught this funny. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve never heard that name in my life.”
You laugh the loudest you have so far and a daydreamed life flashes in Abby’s head— in that big, dramatic way that it does only when you’ve been watching too many rom-coms every night, or when you’re getting too much dating advice from your friend who’s been married since eighteen, or maybe when you fall in love with a pretty stranger who seems to be able to read your mind. It’s an idealized vision of an idealized world, and Abby finds herself being completely okay to clutch it in her fists to keep, because it’s fucking lovely.
“Well, I forgive you,” you tell her, unaware (maybe?) of the chaos that you’ve induced inside of her. “You’re a busy girl.”
Abby tries to think of a good, smooth way to tell you that she could see herself saying your name everyday, placed adoringly after good morning and I miss you. All she comes up with is, “I got enough time to learn it.”
—
You play with the hem of your shirt, pajamas made of mostly Abby’s clothes every night, a scent on them that’s not yours but it might as well be. It’s yours in all the ways that matter, in the same sense that she is. Abby walks out of the bathroom wearing her usual pajamas— a shirt that fits too loose and boxers that are a little too tight around her thighs. She doesn't seem to mind them, and you don’t seem to wanna complain. She knows by the way you look at her. You’re leaning back on your palms, your head tilted, the same shyness and sparkly adoration in your eyes that you’d get when you didn't know each other all that well. It’s not too often that she sees that nervousness anymore, but she still gets glimpses of it, a blink of something on your face or your tone or your breathing that says I have a crush on you and I’m hoping you can’t tell. She likes that nervousness the best right now, the way it’s timid and then settles into something like cockiness when you remember that she’s looking at you just the same, when you remember how much you like the way she copies the tilt of your head and teases you as if she's not also smiling like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world.
Abby loves every moment like this, loves getting home and helping prepare dinner and making Rue laugh before kissing her goodnight, loves doing the dishes with you and flirting and talking about the day. Today, she’s especially looking forward to the latter.
“So, how was it?” she asks, the back of her thighs resting against the dresser. She’s trying to play it cool and she's annoyingly good at it, even now.
“Hm?” you hum, leaning further back to rest on your elbows, your back almost fully touching the bed. Abby feels a little bad keeping you up, but she knows she’ll be tossing and turning all night if she has to wait until the morning to ask.
“The school meeting.”
“Oh,” you smile wide enough to look silly and beautiful, sweet enough to rot teeth. She feels like she could sink in it, your smile and the relief it brings to her well hidden nervousness. “I loved it so much, Abs.”
Abby is smooth when she walks closer, soft when she cups your cheek, but there's something anxious in her eyes if you know where to look. “Yeah?” she insists.
You nod your head and kiss the palm of her hand, your lips pressed together in that funny way of trying to hold back an excited giggle. Abby smiles and feels nostalgic for the time, many many months ago, when she’d bring a finger to her lips to shush you and then remind you in an expert whisper that Rue is sleeping in the other room. She doesn't have to teach you much at all anymore, and every moment that proves that to her feels like the most beautiful, unfamiliar peace.
“I’m so happy,” you announce, looking up at her. You’re tired enough that it feels almost like being drunk, which is maybe why a short giggle manages to escape. Abby finds it contagious, your joy moves through her as naturally and importantly as the pumping of her blood. “I’m so excited for all of it.”
It’s the second parents' meeting that you’ve attended at Rue’s school— but you spent that first one sitting quietly by her side, practically hiding behind her, too aware of yourself and of the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing. “Nobody knows,” Abby confessed on your way home, a hand on the steering wheel and another over your leg, her fingers tapping a comforting rhythm. “Parenting is beautiful, it just comes a lot less naturally than you’d think. That thing about a biological, primal wisdom or whatever— it’s a nice concept. But the best things I know came from me actively trying.”
Her words echoed in your head when you said yes to attending this school meeting alone, when you smiled and made the effort to look as calm as you could, kissed her cheek and said “of course!”. Being Rue’s parent doesn’t always come naturally, but it comes from the most genuine love, every single time. Of course you can go to her meeting when Abby can’t reschedule work, because of course you want to know about how Rue is doing in school. It’s an honor to be there for her, to speak for her when you know she needs you to. This is you actively trying.
“How were the other parents?” Abby asks, lying on her side now, her finger tracing unreadable patterns on your cheek. She craves physical contact more than she’d like to admit— but it works great, because you never ask her to admit it if she doesn't want to. The pads of her fingers say enough.
“They were cool, they were all very sweet to me. Well, Leo’s mom is a little passive aggressive but she’s that way with everyone,” you comment through a yawn, the side of your face comfortably pressed against your pillow. Abby hums, agreeing. “Sophie’s mom was the nicest, she sat next to me and invited me to join her and Jade’s mom for brunch.”
“Which Sophie?”
“The one that gave Rue a Valentine’s gift, that milk chocolate that she loves.”
“Oh, I like that Sophie.”
“Me too. I think I wouldn't mind joining a weekly brunch cult with her mom.”
Abby laughs in the way that she only does when she’s sleepy, where she sounds almost like her teenage self, shy and sweet. By the time it dies down, you’re almost asleep. But then, softly enough that you almost don’t hear it, she asks, “How do you think you would feel if she called you that?”
You make a questioning little sound that sounds like "what?" but not quite.
“If Rue called you mom.”
Your eyes open in a second, though not without effort. You look at Abby’s face, her pretty, relaxed features, and answer honestly. “I would probably cry. And then kiss her cheeks for as long as she let me.”
Abby chuckles. “Like when she fell off the swing and got the tiniest scratch on her knee?”
“Yeah, just— the joyful version of that, I guess. They would be the happiest tears ever spilled,” you explain, so sincere that Abby almost tells you. And you know her enough to read it on her face, the way she barely parted her lips and then pressed them back together quickly. Your head lifts from the pillow. “Wait, why? She told you something? Did she ask about that?”
Abby is great at keeping it cool, but less so once she’s been caught. Her nervous chuckle says it all. “I…”
“Abby, I swear to god, I will not let you sleep until you tell me.”
She more than believes you, but a flash memory of her pinky finger wrapped around Rue’s holds her back from spilling any more details. “Sorry, baby, I’m not allowed to say.”
“Oh my god,” you drop back onto your pillow, this time lying flat on your back. “You think she’s gonna say it?” you ask, and Abby is unsure if you’re asking her or the ceiling or a godly presence way above it. Or yourself, most likely. “It’s okay if she doesn't, maybe she was just curious. Maybe she needs time. I mean, obviously. She probably won’t say it, like, tomorrow, right?” you turn your head and look at her, so wrapped up in your inner monologue that you don’t process the amusement and adoration that’s all over your girlfriend’s face. “What if I react super weird and she doesn't say it again?”
Abby’s lips stretch into the softest smile, so in love that she almost forgets to answer and instead holds her hand on the back of your neck and pulls you close to press a kiss against your forehead. Your eyebrows are still furrowed worriedly when she pulls away, and she brushes her thumb over your cheek as she lets out the kindest hum, acknowledging your question. “You’re not gonna react weird, sweetheart.”
Momentarily flustered, you shake your head to remember the point that you’d been thinking about. “But I shouldn't cry, imagine how confusing that would be for her— what if she thinks she made me upset?”
“That won’t happen. She cried happy tears when you moved in, remember? She knows what they are,” she says. It’s one of the best memories you have, the nervous look on Abby’s face when she asked you, rambling, “It would be a big change, but not the worst, right? You’d just be a couple doors down the hall. It would be a lot of the same in a lot of ways, just with us.”
After that came the late nights at your apartment, dates hidden behind the excuse of packing, half empty boxes on the floor and Abby stuck to you like glue, a kiss or ten whenever she got too carried away with excitement. A couple weeks later came your clothes in her closet, your favorite blanket on the couch, and Rue’s eyes glimmering with happy tears as she hid her face on your neck and tried to understand her feelings. Then, after a few minutes of patiently rubbing her back, came her little frown of concentration and the way she attentively listened to you and Abby explain that her reaction was normal, that sometimes happiness feels like too much to hold in just a laugh or a dance. “Oh, okay,” she’d said, in this cute proud tone that she gets whenever she learns something new that makes sense to her. It was the sweetest thing. She’s the sweetest thing— and you can’t believe this is your life, that you get to take care of her and hang out and teach her new things to be proud of.
“You think she wants me to be her mom?”
Abby smiles. “You are her mom, baby.”
Rue doesn't say it the next day. You don’t overthink it— couldn't if you tried. It's a nice feeling to be so happy that you don't feel the need to think. She doesn't call you mom that morning, but she runs to the doorway where you’re putting on your shoes to get to work and wraps her arms so tight around your legs that you have to balance yourself with a hand against the wall. Her hair is messy from sleep, her yellow pajama shirt wrinkled, her eyes blinking lazily as she looks up at you and asks, “Back soon?”
“Soon as I can, princess,” you promise, leaning down to kiss her head. What is there to overthink? What more could you possibly need?
You can do this forever, have mornings like this and feel grateful in a way that you didn't know existed until now. You love the way it comes at random times, the way you’re still you, still grumpy when your coffee tastes watery, still a little bad at getting to the train station on time, still learning not to burn the first batch of pancakes. It’s a big change, but not the worst, right? It’s a lot of the same in a lot of ways, except Abby is there at the kitchen kissing your cheek, and a tiny head of blonde hair is peeking from the back of the couch, gummy smile and freckled cheeks, saying, “I like my pancakes like that, mom!”
#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson fic#abby x reader#abby anderson x female!reader#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson headcanons#mom!abby#doctor!abby
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would you be interested in a more Platonic type fic? Like being good friends with Robin?
alternatively if it has to be romantic: Law being forced on a disaster of a date only to meet a super helpful (comic) bookshop employee and she starts seeming cute when he finds out she has similar interests? (Boy probably went into cardiac arrest at first when someone caught him not being broody)
hope this isn’t too much!
and you’re doing awesome!
thank you so much for your request, anon!!!! im actually going to use both of your ideas, but i started with the Law one because that hit seriously close to home. ive been on some absolute TRAVESTIES of dates in the past, and i needed to write law suffering through a similar fate or i'd die!!!!! I hope you enjoy, and pretty soon I'll post your platonic Robin request as well! I love writing platonic stories just as much as romantic ones <3
An Out.
Law x Fem Reader
Law made the mistake of letting his friends talk him into a first date… and now he desperately needs an out. Fast.
Warnings: an absolute disaster of a first date for our wonderful nerdy man. modern au, implied college setting, some mild slight suggestive language but nothing more than that
Trafalgar Law tried in vain to recount the series of events that led up to this very moment.
There was the dusty apartment floor discussion about how the med-student hadn’t gotten laid yet, which was followed by a raunchy comment about a girl in someone’s class, it was revealed that this girl was single (‘and ready to mingle’), and her number was forcibly input into Law’s phone.
For the week that followed, he was inundated with flirty texts from this girl he had never met in person. He was forced to send her a picture of himself, mostly to get her to stop blowing up his texts every hour, and that was the next mistake in the line-up of unfortunate events.
Turned out she had a thing for facial hair.
Then, instead of getting pestered with general flirty messages, it was general flirty messages that were ramped up to a nine. ‘I’d rip your clothes off if you give me the opportunity,’ kind of nine.
Law knew he was a virgin, but at least he wasn’t this desperate, nor did he have any inclination to be. If anything, the texts he received from this stranger were making him want sex even less.
And yet… he was still pushed into this.
A date around downtown with this girl. She clung to his arm, tried to loop her fingers into his, and yet had absolutely no interest in anything he had to say. At all.
First red flag: she mentioned her ex. Three times. In four minutes. Everything was about what he did wrong to upset her, no self-awareness to be found. Second red flag: the clinginess. Law hated public affection, but any attempts to urge her to give him space resulted in a childish pout and her arms caged around his, almost pulling him to the ground. Third red flag: she couldn’t give two shits about Law, in any sense of the word. She wouldn’t stop talking about herself. Her looks, her clothes, her favorite music, her favorite shows to binge watch, her distaste for the area of the city they were in, her distaste for the lunch Law had [regretfully] paid for, her distaste for the speckled jeans he decided to wear…
He could feel the premature wrinkles forming in between his eyebrows the longer the date went on. He was starting to wonder if he’d have to throw out the shirt he was wearing later. It already reeked of the too-strong, powdery-scented perfume she bathed herself in.
“Where do you wanna go?” she suddenly asked, still tugging on his arm.
“I kinda want to stop by the bookstore before we leave,” he suggested, his feet already carrying him, and by extension, her, along the sidewalk to a small bookshop that had just recently opened.
“The bookstore? What kinda guy brings a girl to a bookstore on a first date?!” she demanded, showing off yet another childish pout. It wasn’t a good look on her.
‘A guy who knows this girl’s not getting a second date,’ he wished he could say. Instead, all the snarky remarks stayed locked inside his weary brain, bouncing around like a caged lion desperate to escape.
The girl didn’t make any motions to ditch him to his nerdy reprieve, and instead followed on his heels as he pulled open the bookshop’s door, the familiar, calming scent of new books, fresh paper, and ink filling his nose.
“It smells gross in here,” the girl huffed.
Aaaand there went Law’s fleeting moment of peace. Out the window. Down fifteen stories and splattered on the pavement. He needed to violently restrain the eyeroll that begged to appear. His ocular nerves ached to be a dick in the pettiest way possible. He inwardly hoped that by dragging this girl to the most unassuming bookshop would encourage her to leave, call a friend or get a cab to take her back to her home, but alas, she stayed glued to Law’s side like a lost dog.
She followed behind him as he blindly perused shelves of new and pre-owned books, Law’s feet subconsciously guiding him to the back of the store where he knew the comic books would be located.
If anything would turn this girl off for good, it had to be his love for all things superhero. His comic book collection would dry her up like a dessert in a drought. Or at least, it fucking better.
His eyes lit up as he approached the expansive comic shelf, immediately spotting the latest print of Sora: Warrior of the Sea- Volume 10. It had finally been officially localized, and he had been saving some of his spending money for this very moment. He eagerly grabbed the book from the shelf, thumbing through the pages.
“How old even are you?” jeered the girl by his side. “Comic books are, like, little kid shit.”
“I’m five years old,” barked Law, refusing to look toward her as he continued to analyze the pages of his favorite series.
To the average onlooker, they both probably looked like complete jackasses towards one another. And while Law was at least brave enough to admit that his behavior was certainly petty, he felt like he was warranted a Get Out Of Jerk Free card for all the painful hours of suffering through this atomic catastrophe of a date had put him through.
“Whatever, I’m going to find a bathroom,” the girl finally groaned, releasing his arm and trudging through the aisles of books toward the checkout counter to ask an employee where the bathrooms were located.
Law watched her go out of his peripheral vision, refusing to exhale a sigh of profound relief until she was completely out of his line of sight. With shoulders that finally relaxed, free from the overbearing tension, he turned his focus back to the comic in his hands, continuing to thumb through the colorful pages of artwork. He flipped the book around to examine the price, smiling at how reasonable it was. He filled his arms with a few other comics from a series he had been meaning to pick up, and retreated toward the cash registers to buy his books. The sooner he got his treat for this ordeal, the sooner he could get out of here, call this girl a taxi home, and spend the rest of his life as a willingly single comic book mega-nerd.
But reality wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily.
Not when the girl sitting behind the register thumbing through another copy of Sora Volume 10 was an absolute bombshell.
When she looked up at Law, her eyes quickly went wide. She placed the book under the register counter and eagerly leaned forward, her hands supporting her over the counter. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.
Law cocked an eyebrow, confused. “Yeah, why?”
“That girl you’re with is making you miserable. You walked through the door looking like you wanted someone to grant you a mercy killing,” she huffed. Her eyes were clearly concerned. “Are you dating her?”
Law felt his guard dropping without even realizing it the longer he was in the presence of this cashier. “My friends set me up on a date with her, but I’m having the absolute worst time of my life.”
The new girl’s own eyebrows angled downward in concern. “Do you want an out?”
“A what?”
“An out,” she repeated. “An excuse to get her to leave you alone.” Time was running out. At any moment, she could leave the bathroom.
Law frantically looked back and forth between the cashier and the small, short hallway that led to the single restroom. With pleading, golden eyes, he silently mumbled, “Yes, please.”
The cashier kept her eyes on the bathroom door as she began unloading Law’s hands, spreading his books out on the counter to make it look like she was busy ringing out his purchase. Law watched with an analytical gaze as she fumbled with his items, clearly buying time until the bathroom door opened.
He didn’t have time to ask what she was plotting.
The second the door cracked open, the man’s shirt collar was violently clenched in the cashier’s hands as she pulled him over the counter, smushing her lips into his. Law’s fingers flexed in thin air as he froze, brain completely fried as he was frozen in this sudden kiss.
His first kiss.
“What the fuck?!” the girl screeched, exiting the bathroom in a frenzy as she booked it toward the heated exchange happening over the cash register.
The new girl pulled herself away from Law’s face, but only enough where she could display her best rendition of a weary, tired war-torn wife waiting on a cliffside for her husband to return. “Baby, please just take me back! My life isn’t complete without you!” Her voice was cracking as she fake-wailed, her grip on Law’s shirt never faltering, not even once. The few customers who also occupied the store turned to stare at the commotion, frazzled and befuddled. “Nothing in life is as good as it was with you! I’m in shambles! You were the best sex I’ve ever had!”
It took a few moments for Law to catch on to the ruse. As soon as he put the puzzle pieces together in his mind, however, he was grabbing the wrists of the cashier and bringing his lips back to hers, closing his eyes and trailing his arms up to grasp her face. Completely disregarding the fact that they were still separated by the heavy check-out counter between their torsos.
“You were dating someone?!” snapped the original girl. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”
Law pulled away from the cashier’s lips, his own skin immediately feeling fifteen degrees colder from the loss of her contact. “I wasn’t. Until now.”
The new girl put her arm around Law’s shoulders from across the check-out counter, her deft fingers caressing his skin through his shirt. “I’m sorry, but I’m taking him back, I can’t stand to be without him any longer! The sight of him with another woman…” she made a show of clenching her chest, “makes me sick!” She was damn good at this, in a way that almost made Law concerned. The fact that she was pulling all of this out of nowhere, and the fact that her first course of action was this drastic, made Law’s heart flutter in his chest.
“Ugh, whatever. This place sucks ass anyway. I’m going home.” She finally shouldered her bag and marched out of the shop, her feet stomping across the hardwood floor until the sound of the front door slamming closed finally made the cashier release her arm from Law’s shoulders.
And once again, the man was feeling oddly cold without the contact. He glanced at her as she started ringing up his items for real. “You’re… a good actor,” he blurted.
The girl hid her face in her arm with shame, an awkward laugh bubbling from her throat. “I’m so sorry, I was trying to think of what to do to help you but when the door opened I panicked.” Her eyes were focused on her work. “I’ve been on some absolutely awful dates myself, so I understand. Sometimes I’ve wished I could have Prince Charming swoop me out of the movie theater where a guy made fun of me for my interests the entire run-time.”
His jaw went slack. “Are you serious?”
“Deadass,” she replied, quick as a whip. “Insisted on holding my hand the entire time. I think he was convinced that I had taken him to see a horror movie because I wanted to act scared in front of him, but his hand was so clammy and sticky the whole time. And not in the endearing ‘Aww he’s shy!’ kind of way.”
Law wished at that moment that he had more charisma. He was sure one of his friends would be able to pull a witty, flirty quip from their asses like it was nothing, but Law’s personal dictionary of flattery was nonexistent as it was. He balked while he listened to the cashier who just took his breath away lamenting about her own poor experiences with dating, and he was sure that her example in this moment was only one of many. Instead of continuing the conversation, his mind blanked. He stated, more like whispered, “That was my first kiss.”
The girl’s hands stopped scanning his books halfway through. Her wide eyes darted up to Law’s, her jaw slack. “It… It was?”
“Yeah.”
Her hands flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide with shock. “Oh my god… oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She dropped her head onto the counter, covering her despair with both of her arms now. “First kisses are supposed to be special and I just took your’s away from you…”
Law shocked himself by smiling at the weary display in front of him. “If it makes you feel any better, that was far better than the date I was on. But I’m sure you already knew that.”
She picked her head up, a trembling hand grabbing one of his last books to scan. Her eyes nervously darted back and forth as she silently worked, once in a while sucking her bottom lip in with her teeth before releasing the flesh. She was clearly lost in an intense inner turmoil.
“It’s really alright,” Law muttered, now growing shy himself. He was just now realizing the gravity of what had happened… and how truly adorable this girl was.
She tapped a few buttons on her cash register before finally making eye contact with him again. “You are a pretty good kisser… you’re really sure you’ve never done that before?”
He affirmatively shook his head. “Never. I’ve never been… popular with the dating scene,” he muttered. “Hence this awful set-up date.”
The cashier’s eyes went wide again momentarily. “That’s kind of surprising to me… I would think someone like you would get any girl you wanted.”
Law backpedaled. “What does that mean?”
She pulled his total up on the small screen that faced him. She was turning away from him as if to hide her face, her entire expression teeming with a child-like embarrassment. “Well, you’re crazy hot, for starters. And you like Sora, clearly.”
Law felt a smirk emerge on his lips. “Is Sora one of your only qualifiers for a decent partner?” He began to rekindle some of the confidence he had lost throughout the day. The longer he spent in this girl’s presence, the more he felt the tension in his body leaving.
She grinned, the stress in her shoulders from her own actions finally releasing. “Only guys with fluffy black hair and golden eyes that read Sora, if you want my honest answer.”
Now this was flirting. Law had to admit, he was pretty pleased with this sudden turn of events. The atmosphere this girl radiated was immensely calming, allowing him to chip through his reinforced walls just enough to feel like a somewhat normal person. He started to wonder if she could break through his barriers even more.
“What’s your name?” he finally asked, taking out his credit card and swiping it through the machine to finally cash out his order.
The girl excitedly revealed her name. “And your’s?”
“Trafalgar Law,” he replied. “I go to North Blue University for med school in the next town over.”
“No shit, so do I! I’m getting a worker's license there,” she added, her expression shifting from one of moderate happiness to one of excitement. “I doubt we’ve had any of the same classes, but we should hang out sometime! Get coffee, maybe talk about Sora…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes growing soft. “Unless you’ve been completely turned off to dating after what you’ve clearly just been through.”
Law took a few moments to ponder over her words, watching as the receipts for his purchase slowly emerged from the thermal printer. “I think I can make an exception this time.”
The smile that broke out on the girl’s face may as well have blinded him. She was truly dazzling, even in her ratty-looking employee apron and an oversized T-shirt accounting for her work attire.
Law placed his new assortment of books into his own bag, the girl snatching his receipts from the printer and stashing one of the copies in the drawer below the counter. When he looked back up, she was holding out his second receipt, folded in half. She gave him a fond smile when he took it.
“I hope you’re able to relax later today, and enjoy your books!” she called, waving to Law as he exited the store.
Once outside again, the air felt clearer now that he was alone. The day was still young, hardly a cloud in the sky and a pleasant breeze coasting through the city. He looped his bag over his shoulder and opened the receipt, peering at what was written on the backside.
Call me for Sora… and for just me ;) <3
1125-354-9854
#x reader#reader insert#fem reader#one piece x reader#law x reader#op x reader#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar d water law x reader#trafalgar d water law#trafalgar law#law oneshot#request fics
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Hello there! hope your day is going good and if not I hope it gets better.
I was wondering if I could request a scenario (you can do headcanon format) Where Mc is in a life or death because a lower demon is about to kill them and Mc actually kills the lower demon with their own magic. how would the undatables react/comfort Mc after they killed someone because their life was in danger.
Thank you in advance if you do decide to write and make sure to stay hydrated!
hi there! i can do that :)
hope you're having a great day too <3 just drank water with a liquid iv in it so hopefully im super hydrated now haha. i've had a bit of a sore throat for the past few days now so i've been really chugging water better than i usually have which says a lot! love me my 30 oz water bottle that goes everywhere with me
enjoy!
Undatables react to Mc killing a lower demon while defending themself
Diavolo
he's very proud of you but quickly goes on high alert
you've never seen him more serious
he's doing all sorts of things such as upping security measures and looking into the background of the now deceased demon to ensure your safety and to make sure there wasn't anything more behind the attack
he makes sure to give you a huge hug and lets you know exactly how he feels <3
Barbatos
if you hadn't killed them, he would've finished the job for you
since there's no work there for him to do, he'll be taking a visit to see that demon's relatives in the near future
in the meantime, he'll help you unwind and try to take your mind off it
perhaps a tea party with all your favorite treats and little d's there, if you'd like :)
Simeon
he won't ask questions and he'll heal you no matter what
even if you didn't get very hurt, he insists you stay under his care for a little bit
you'll get the best bedside care and soup ever
let him dote on you, it'll make him feel better too knowing you're safe in his arms <3
Luke
he's immediately freaking out
what do you mean a lower demon tried to kill you!!!
100% in tears and refuses to let you out of death grip hug he has on you
the next day, he gifts you an amulet with an angelic blessing on it and asks you to carry it everywhere with you. doesn't care if that means the brothers can't get anywhere near you now. better for him that way anyways haha
Solomon
he's very impressed!
gah they grow up so fast. it felt like just yesterday he gave you the nickname of his apprentice
deep underneath his gushing, he's worried but he knows that you're capable
even goes as far as to give a few little tips for the future. love at it's finest haha
Mephisto
he's furious with himself that he even let you get in that situation
he almost feels as if he's failed you, but he tries to hold up a facade of nonchalantness
it won't take much coaxing to break down this barrier and see how upset he actually is
if you notice him being extra loving in the next week or so, try not to comment on it but accept his affections
Thirteen
she's with you as much as she can be, but she knows it's just impossible to be by your side all the time
she's angry at herself and the now dead lower demon because that window of time when she's away is never very large
but, she knows you are more than strong enough to take care of yourself if it wasn't already apparent before
she'll make excuse after excuse to be with you until she eventually just spills the beans. she really cares about you <33
Raphael
he's gonna check you at least three times over to make sure you're alright
but right after he almost scolds you, in a loving way
he tells you he should've been the one to do it and that he should've been by your side
he was just very nervous he could've lost you, but is so proud of how you stood up for yourself <3
#obey me#obey me!#obey me x reader#obey me thirteen#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me simeon#obey me luke#obey me raphael#obey me mephisto#obey me solomon#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date
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Hello my fellow Criminal Minds fan! 😊
May I please request headcanons for Spencer falling for a female agent who’s cynical about love and relationships due to being hurt in the past?
a/n: thank you sm for the request! i'd be happy to write this for you! :-)
Falling in Love Again | Spencer Reid Headcannons
pairing: spencer reid x f!reader
content: mentions of reader having been cheated on in the past, uhhhh that's really it haha
word count: 1,478 (sorry she's so long)
Spencer Reid had always been excited about falling in love, the thought of being so close to another person- to share so much with someone was such a wonderful thing to him.
Especially after watching his mom and dad growing up, and the way his father treated her-Spencer was dead set on never becoming anything like him, he looked forward to treating a woman right and spending the rest of his life with her.
But, for as excited as he was he was probably 20 times more nervous about the whole falling in love thing.
So when you came around, and he started to experience that warm, creeping feeling in his chest- he felt a little bit like his world was going to end.
Spencer had never made a move on anyone before, sure he did make out with Lila Archer that one time but he didn't exactly initiate it.
Spencer decided just to channel all of his romantic interest in becoming friends with you, at least he got to spend time with you, that's what really mattered to him. Maybe one day it would turn into something more.
Well.. he hoped until he couldn't help but overhear...
"I went on my first date in months last night, and all this guy did was talk about himself the entire time- didn't let me get a word out, I mean, can you believe it?" Emily says, exasperated
You look up at her as she stands in front of your desk, "Oh, trust me Emily, I can believe it." You shake your head
"I mean," She throws her hands up, "What is it with men? What's wrong with them."
"Everything," You smirk, "They're men. I can't remember I had a good experience with one of them- never maybe?" You laugh. "I've given up on dating."
Your words sunk into Spencer's brain, leaving him with a heavy feeling all around he felt awful- not just about the fact that his chances with you seemed to reduce to zero right there in that moment, but because of how upset you seemed under your sarcastic exterior, he could tell you'd really been hurt before.
A few weeks later you're out for drinks with Emily, Penelope, Morgan, Spencer, and JJ. Amidst the loud, drunken conversations and music at the bar- you can hear the faint chiming sounds of your ring tone, Who would be calling this late?
As you take your phone from your pocket, your stomach drops when you see the number flashing on the screen. The mere sight of those 10 digits making you want to throw your phone to the ground and stomp on it until nothing remains.
"Ooooh, who's that calling." Morgan smirks
You look him dead in the eyes and respond flatly, "My ex."
Morgan's smile doesn't fade instead his smirk seems to deepen, "You two got a little thang goin on?"
"No," You shove your phone back in your pocket, "More like he's trying to get back in my pants after cheating on me- twice."
"Ooh!" Morgan responds, wincing, "So he's a dog."
"A pig is more like it." You scoff, "Who does he think he is. I can't even imagine giving my time to another man again, and even if I could- what makes him so confident I'd give him the time of day."
That familiar heavy pain hits Spencer again.
He's staring at you, and it's like the rest of the bar doesn't even exist. Only you, as you bite your lip, trying to hide any emotion in your face.
Spencer has become good at reading your emotions, maybe it's because he spends so much time with you- maybe it's because of how often he finds himself staring at your face. As much as you try to seem nonchalant, he could tell how upset you are.
Spencer would spend more time than he wanted to admit fantasizing about treating you well, about giving you the love you never seemed to have.
Every time you made a snarky comment about love, or how men had treated you in the past Spencer would want so desperately bad to just tell you about how well he would treat you, how he would never ever hurt you, how he would spend his entire life taking care of you.
The words were practically scratching up his throat, begging to be let out. But still, he would just swallow them down, and give you a sympathetic look, he couldn't muster up being able to do anything more.
At the very least, Spencer's plan of becoming friends with you was working.
The two of you would become very good friends.
Spencer would learn everything he could about you, he would want to know as much as possible.
Not in a weird creepy way- but in a he just thinks you're so amazing he can't get enough of you sort of way.
Every time you and Spencer hung out he wouldn't be able to ignore that nagging feeling, the thought of putting an arm around you and pulling you close, of holding your hand in his, or placing a delicate kiss on your cheek.
The thoughts would eat away at Spencer, and he would only fall more, and more in love with you.
Still, he would lose more hope every time you divulged information about your prior encounters with love. He couldn't blame you for feeling so cynical it, not after what you'd been through.
Spencer would think about his mom, about all the wives Rossi had been through, about Hotch and Hailey, about you- he would wonder why love had to be so painful for some people. He was sure he would never hurt somebody he loved.
One day you're over Spencer's apartment, watching a rom-com, and you make a snide remark, "Oh, real love isn't like that." You scoff and roll your eyes.
Spencer doesn't know what it is, but something in him makes him respond, "It could be." He says meekly
You look up at him, caught off guard at his disagreement, "Hm?" you hum
Spencer wasn't able to take it any more, he hated hearing your cynical nature. He would need you to know how you deserved the entire world.
"Love- It can be like the movies." He affirms his stance.
"Not in my experience."
"I would give you love like that." Spencer would tremble as he makes his confession, so unsure of what would happen next.
He would be terrified of your reaction, scared he was about to mess everything up, ruin any future the two of you had together, and even worse, lose your friendship.
"W-what do you mean, Spence."
"I mean, you always talk about how you've been hurt before, and it just-" He takes a deep breath in, contemplating what he's going to say next, "I love you, y/n," He looks down at his lap, then back up at you, "I would never hurt you."
Despite the obvious passion in Spencer's voice, you were still hesitant about it, but everything inside of you told you to give Spencer a chance.
Spencer would insist on taking things slow, you were his first real relationship and he wouldn't want to rush things, for both his and yours sake. He wouldn't pressure you to put a label on things, or even say you're "dating"- those would come on your own time.
Spencer was determined to make you believe in love again, and he would do everything in his power to make sure you knew without a doubt how he felt about you.
Spencer would often get to work before you to surprise you with coffee and a breakfast sandwich, or a donut on your desk in the mornings.
He would insist on having a date night at least once a week, even if the two of you were on a case, ordering room service or finding a local pizza restaurant way late at night was sufficient, as long as the two of you got to spend time together.
Spencer would be hesitant about PDA or really moving too quickly into being too affectionate, still, he would frequently hold your hand, squeezing it tight when he could tell you were stressed or upset- either by a case or by life in general, he just wanted to give you that extra reassurance that he was there for you.
Spencer would really put the work in, he'd exert more effort than you had ever seen from any past relationship into even the tiniest things.
Spencer wouldn't mind though, anything he could do to reassure you that he loves and cares about you, he would do it.
Every little act of love and gratitude would be worth it to him.
He would savor and cherish every hug, every shared glance, every peck on the forehead, on the cheek, on the lips.
It was all worth it to him, every second of it- all he wanted to do was make you smile, to make you fall in love again.
#spencer reid#spencer reid headcannons#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n
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I'm here in my agony to say that discussion between Haein and Hyunwoo after he moved his stuff into the nursery will kill me with how painful it is.
They're both in so much pain it's visible there but they're unable to talk to each other about it.
'How could you move your stuff without telling me?' She's so hurt. Her tone is accusatory. She's hurt that she just emptied her unborn child's nursery and her husband decides to move away from her as well.
'You never told me you were emptying this room either.' He's pained that they've lost a much awaited child and she didn't bother consulting him before removing everything. He didn't get his closure. He's angry and upset and so hurt but he doesn't know that he needs to get through a very strongly wrought shield around her heart to have her acknowledge his pain.
'What are you getting at? Are you blaming me for the miscarriage?'
I never imagined Haein would think Hyunwoo would want to blame her. I want to cry that in her grief she failed to have enough faith in him and his love. She's hurt by his decision to move out so she takes it out on him. She's a classical study of saying something to completely annihilate the other when you're the one who's hurt.
Also, (this pained me more than anything) notice the extreme softness and absence of anger in his voice as he responds to her.
'What are you saying? I never thought that way.'
His anger and pain seeps back in when he confesses to her, 'I'm just as sad as you -'
'Don't lie. I know you want to say that it's my fault!' I wanted to yell at her to stop. I'm so sad that she let her past trauma catch up. Is that all she's thought about since she got the news of the miscarriage? That Hyunwoo would blame her? Her fears, her pain, her assumptions they all won. And they played a part in driving them apart.
'Forget it. I can't talk any sense into you.'
I think this is the most realistic line I've heard in a Kdrama. Because people do tend to in their anger and pain just give up. Hyunwoo couldn't deal with her accusing him of something he never did, he couldn't deal with her inability to listen and acknowledge his pain as well. So he walked away - it was just simpler, easier to do.
It's also reminding me of how he told her that if they lived in a closed space they would have been forced to confront each other. They were bound to hear the other cry and console the other then. When I think about the absolutely painful, lonely, cold two years that followed this, it makes me so sad.
I didn't know a minute long scene could send me in a spiral of sadness. As sad as a miscarriage is I've had immense clarity that it never implied that they could never have children. Not to dismiss their pain it's all very valid, but if they worked towards getting closure sooner they could have been so much stronger and probably could have had a child sooner. It makes me sad how the pain rendered them incapable to mend and work towards their relationship.
#it's a minute long but it's been an hour and I'm still in pain#i never expected this confrontation to have happend#god help these two smoll cute beans#they've been through so much#ans they've come so far#queen of tears#baek hyun woo#hong hae in#kim ji won#kim soo hyun#baekhong#baby 1031#you were so loved
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Omega Pt. 12 {Natasha}
Summary : Accepting the fact that she's not the Alpha you wanted anymore
Pairing : Alpha ! Natasha Romanoff x Omega! Reader
Warning : Nothing
Word : 1,154
{OMEGA PT. 11} {OMEGA PT. 12} {OMEGA PT. 13}
No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.
As the days go by, you're recovering well. You don't need Natasha to be anywhere near you, but also not too far, because it still makes some changes to your body. So Natasha stays close by, but not too close.
And to be honest, you're relieved that there's improvement, and the fact that Natasha does not necessarily need to be close to you—that's a huge relief to you.
Sure, you let her carry your pups once in a while, but as much as possible, you avoid talking to her, making eye contact, or just interacting with her, and this hurts Natasha because she tried to have a small talk, but you just give her one short answer.
But Natasha didn't back down; she was constantly checking on you, reading your body language, and looking out for you. She waited patiently until you fully recovered, and that's what saddened her.
Sure, she's grateful and happy that you're cleared and your daughter is improving and will soon be cleared to the med bay too, but it means that she has little chance to interact with you or take care of you, and she knows that it will be easier to avoid her knowing you could be in your room with the pups while she's somewhere around.
And jealousy was fueled when a newbie and unmated Alpha arrived in the compound; he's Tony's new assistant since Pepper has her own business now, and it grows pretty fast and pretty good.
But the thing is that unmated Alpha is now all over you; when you're in the living room with the pups, he will be there; in the kitchen, he will also be there; in the medbay, he will too; and the anger and jealousy fuel more when he starts to look after her pups too, making a march to him and taking the pup in his arm.
“Romanoff” Natasha stops on her track and looks back at you; her face is neutral, and she sees him close to you more than she likes.
“I’m going to feed him.” You show the two bottles on the table, so she walks forward.
“I’ll feed him,” she said, going to the living room to feed her son, and that's when Wanda came in the kitchen with your daughter in her arms. They were on the balcony, getting some air.
“She's hungry too,” Wanda said, so you quickly make another bottle for your daughter and go to the living room, joining Natasha to feed the other two.
As much as Natasha wants to attack and give the other Alpha a lesson not to touch what's hers, she can't because she knows that it will only add fuel to the fire within you.
She also caught you both nearly kissing a month after his arrival, and it suddenly occurred to her that you're slowly choosing him. Even after her efforts, she tried talking to you, giving you meals, helping you with the pups, and going out to buy the necessities and wants of the three of you. frustrated and want to rip his head off.
But she keeps calm, and now here she is knocking on your door, wanting to talk to you, so she's now in front of your door, knocking nervously.
You're giggling when there's a knock on your door, so you put the toy down while shouting ‘a minute’ then kiss your pups and go open your door with a big smile on your face that quickly fades away when you see Natasha is the one who's knocking on your door.
“Ro-romanoff” Natasha saw how you quickly change emotion, giving her a cold shoulder, and it hurts her.
“How can I help you? ”You step back a little to maintain the distance you've been keeping since Dr. Cho cleared you in the medbay.
“Do you want some time with the pups? ”Natasha shakes her head while playing with her fingers.
“I do, but I wanted to talk to you first.” She saw how you were tense, so she took a step back, not wanting to upset you more, even though it hurts her.
"Please,” Natasha quickly added when she saw the hesitation in your eyes, and of course, being your soft-hearted self, you sigh and nod, letting her in.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” Natasha started quickly looking at you, who's taking a cup of water for her while she went to sit down on the couch.
“I haven't said it to you properly, so I’m sorry for the chaos I cause in your life.” Natasha stopped, biting her bottom lips to stop the tears from falling, so she looked down in her lap to prevent you from seeing her this vulnerable, but you smiled a little, then handed her a cup of water.
"Water,” she looked up, confused, but she realized that you're handling her a glass of water, so she took it and rested it on her lap with both hands.
"Sorry, I don't have tea, coffee, or even juice here,” she said, shaking her head and smiling at you, so you sat besides her.
“It’s ok. Y/N, I didn't mean to put you in that position. I don't know if you still want to have me, but I just wanted you to know that I’m deeply sorry for my actions.” Natasha sniffed, wiping her tear.
“I know how fucked up I am being your Alpha; I should have been there, protecting you and the pups, but I failed.” You put down yours and Natasha's glass on the coffee table and took her hand in yours.
“Nat-” Nat shook her head, squeezing your hand a few times before she let go, retreating her hand from yours.
“I understand if you wanted him, but I wanted you to know that I do love you and the pups, that I wanted a family with you, to live and be with you, I wanted a house for us, just the 5 of us, I do..I do want that with you.” She looked up at you and gave you a sad smile, and even if you didn't want to admit it, it still hurts you.
“But I wanted you to be happy, and I saw it: how your day brightened, how big your smile was, and how happy you were with him.” You took her hand again and held it firmly. Sure, you're angry at her because you wanted to just attack her or something, but she still has your heart.
“Stop right there; it wasn't what you were thinking," you said, smiling and taking her hand out of yours so she could hold it in both of her hands.
“It's ok if you want to be with him; I’ll be happy if I see you happy, even if it's not in my arms.”
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanova#natasha x reader#natasha x y/n#black widow#black widow 2021#marvel black widow#natalia alianovna romanova#natasha x you#natalia romanova#alpha natasha#omega reader#omegaverse#natasha romanov#mcu marvel avengers#mcu#avengers#marvel mcu
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Aunt!Yelena x niece!reader headcanons
masterlist
a/n: here’s the second one !! writing auntie Yelena has to be one of my favourite things ever :))
You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work
|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|
Auntie Yelena who was more than ecstatic to meet you when she first heard about you. She was totally overjoyed when she found out that Natasha was adopting a baby girl
Auntie Yelena who spoiled you with gifts ever since you were a baby. Natasha had once tried telling her to stop because her house simply couldn’t take much more stuff, but after she saw the joy it brought Yelena she had given up trying to stop her
Auntie Yelena who always stole you out of Natasha’s arms when she came over. She always wanted to hold you. After Natasha would put you down for a nap Yelena would sneak into your room and hold you while you slept. Natasha caught her once but decided not to say anything. She adored watching her sister love her daughter so much
Auntie Yelena who took you with her when she went to adopt a dog at the shelter. She valued your opinion more than anyone else's
Auntie Yelena who, when she came over, always brought you a gift from whatever place she had been to then. She was always travelling, and her favourite thing was bringing something with her for you
Auntie Yelena who ‘accidentally’ taught you multiple curse words, enjoying Natasha’s face when you blurted one out. Obviously you didn’t know what they meant. All you knew was that your auntie Yelena would laugh when you said ‘fuck,’ and you took great pride in being able to make your auntie ‘Lena laugh
Auntie Yelena who, when you got older, would take you on little road trips around the city. She would simply show up in front of the house and demand Natasha to lend you to her for a couple of hours
Auntie Yelena who made the best hot chocolates for you when you felt down, and who would make the best mac and cheese when you were sad
Auntie Yelena who didn’t hesitate to drop anything and everything when you called her while upset, and who would fly or drive to you in a heartbeat if you needed her
Auntie Yelena who loved that you loved her so much. Ever since you were a baby you always wanted to sit in her lap and play with her, and when you grew up you still wanted to hang out with her whenever you could
Auntie Yelena who scolded Alexei when he made fun of you once, claiming he was fat and mean and had no right insulting you with whatever he insulted you with
Auntie Yelena who broke your trust only once, and that was when she called Natasha while you were being bullied in school. Natasha had comforted you while Yelena went on a little house visit and nearly made the poor girl piss herself from fear
Auntie Yelena who was the sweetest person you had ever met, yet made people fear her with a simple glare
Auntie Yelena who, despite your age, took you to build a bear when you turned 16. She helped you pick out a soft, adorable bear and when you got to the dressing bit she had basically forced you to give it a small black widow outfit
Auntie Yelena who always supported whatever hobby you started, making sure you had plenty of supplies in stock. If you ran out of something she would know before you did, making sure you were restocked before you started another project and missed something
Auntie Yelena who, in the end, loved you more than she loved herself
Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216
#black widow#marvel#natasha x reader#mcu#natasha romanoff#avengers#natasha x reader platonic#natasha x daughter#marvel reader insert#yelena belova x reader#yelena#yelena x reader#yelena belova#yelena belova headcanons#aunt!yelena#auntie yelena#natasha#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff x daughter#natasha romanoff x reader platonic#natasha romanoff x reader#mcu headcanons
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I love the Agatha Christie question!
Who are your HP/Twilight faves in the Christie universe? (Who’s the opportunist who knows too much and dies for it? Who’s the conman killer who courts the girl to avoid suspicion? Who’s just trying to take a holiday and gets caught-up in a murder? Who are the dynamic mystery-solving duo who realize they are in love by the end of the novel? etc.).
I mean, that is kind of what The Man Who Would Be King (and secret fic) (both cowritten with @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin) have already become. We have our murder victim, Alphard, a very rich man with a colorful family, and possibly his sister, we have our unlikely detectives in Voldemort, Lily Potter, and Alphard himself. It may not be the center of the story but it's a large part of it.
In other words my answer for Harry Potter would somehow spoil all my present and future fics so I won't.
As for the Twilight version...
I vote we do it wealthy dysfunctional family style, it's most natural.
A patriarch is poisoned
Carlisle Cullen, a very wealthy man with powerful enemies, nonetheless dear to those around him and blessed with more friends than most, is found dead in his office one morning. Cause of death? Murder.
The police, caught on the detail that Dr. Cullen was a vampire and vampires are real, what the fuck is this on the doctor's autopsy table and is he going to wake up again and drink all our blood?, are little use in the investigation. Scotland Yard is soon brought in, and using Chief Swan's connections with the family they get a better picture of Dr. Cullen's life.
His family wasn't looking to inherit him anytime soon, as he was immortal. None of them were having money troubles however, all were independently wealthy.
He had made enemies of a thousand-year-old clan of powerful vampires, who on hearing that his murder is being investigated like this get very upset. Supposedly the victim lived with them in his youth (and inspector Craddock cries when he learns the timeline for this murder goes back to the 1600s. Are they going to have to bring historians in on this murder??), he might have known something
Oh what's that? The victim had a whole network of friends across the globe, who are all killers, and he knew everyone's secrets? ... do we have the budget to investigate this?
The victim was also living next to a tribe of magical shapeshifting wolves evolved specifically to kill his kind. They liked him best and had a line in their treaty that "he dies last". Not sure what to do with this information
Rosalie Hale missing person case from 1933 solved: Carlisle Cullen adopted her. Was she recognised, did someone piece it together, and was Carlisle killed in retribution?
The victim lived a fake life of fake papers. Could be important, except it's the most normal thing about this case.
The police wonder how this man didn't get murdered sooner, and are stretched so thin the investigation is going slowly.
So, Renesmee gets to be our plucky detective du jour, as she decides to see if she can help. Surely there is no harm in her poking around, and she's well liked around the vampire world so there might be answers she can get that human police can't, partly because policemen keep getting eaten.
She slowly narrows it down to the horrible realization that it was someone in the family, and she learns terrible things.
Jasper Hale wasn't Jasper Hale at all! He was a friend of Jasper's in the newborn army who wanted a new life, and who in the wake of Jasper's suden and unexpected death assumed his identity. He had Peter bite his entire face so he'd be scarred like Jasper had been, and vouch for this blond vampire most definitely being Jasper Hale.
Peter later had to die because he Knew Too Much, and so did Charlotte, regrettably. Fake Jasper did however not kill Carlisle.
Edward seems a prime suspect, he is an angry and resentful young man who acts out. Everyone thinks he did it, and that Bella should certainly marry Jacob, the safer option. Much upheaval is had, however, once Renesmee is able to clear Edward's name and he meaningfully links arms with Bella. They sail off into the sunset with their inheritance.
Rosalie is a beautiful, cold, intimidating woman, the femme fatale sort who's surely conniving. It's a bit of a mystery why she married that poor fool Emmett, but it's clear to all she doesn't love him. No clear motive from her, other than the money she would inherit, but she's just so suspicious. Her alibi is ambiguous, she claims she was with Esme and Emmett but what if Esme and Emmett are lying to protect their daughter and wife? Superintendent Battle wonders about that.
Renesmee is at a loss.
And then she realizes that it's not Rosalie who acts like she doesn't love Emmett, it's Emmett who acts like he doesn't love her! And Esme's grieving widow act is just that, it's an act!
Renesmee realizes that Emmett and Esme are lovers, and killed Carlisle together. Esme committed it while Emmett tricked Rosalie into giving her an alibi. Renesmee realizes this once she has a "But Rosalie couldn't have seen Esme from that angle!" moment.
The plan was too pin Rosalie for the murder, see her hanged, and then in due time the mourning widowers would marry, happily entitled to all the money they couldn't have touched if they'd divorced. Also Rosalie was Catholic so she wouldn't have agreed to a divorce.
The two lovers are confronted, and Esme pulls out a tiny pearl-studded gun from her shoe, says "We tried, my love. I regret nothing" before shooting first Emmett, then herself.
#agatha christie#twilight#twilight renaissance#twilight meta#my fic#the carnivorous muffin#the carnivorous muffin fic#the man who would be king#secret fic#renesmee cullen#cullens#jasper hale#rosalie hale#emmett cullen#esme cullen#carlisle cullen
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i love you & it’s ruining my life.
masterlists & more | read on ao3
description; jennifer has been acting off lately and when you get the chance to confront her, you learn that she sees you as more than a friend.
warnings; curse words, some jealousy and yelling.
a/n; emily is briefly mentioned, this piece hopefully cured my writers block 🙏
word count; 719
— THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD!
It was like her eyes were burning a hole in your back. You could feel her gaze on you, Jennifer has been avoiding you for days, she was clearly upset and on edge, so you just let her be, but she wasn’t making it easy. Her continuous stares and snarky comments have been getting on your nerves, that combined with all the confusion you felt towards her at the moment resulted in anger.
Jennifer has been an amazing friend ever since you joined the team and when you felt her drift away slowly you did your best to figure out what happened, however she didn’t want to talk about it and everyone advised that you figure it out on your own, which was going nowhere. She just continued to distance herself more and more, day by day, until you were so sick of it you forced an answer out of her.
When Emily filled the two of you on what she and Reid learned, it was your only moment when the two of you were alone.
“What’s your problem, hm?” You turned to her, she stood slightly behind you, was silent the whole time you and Emily talked, not like she spoke much before that.
“I don’t have a problem, now can we get back go our job?”
You scoff at her words. “You stop talking to me, we stop hanging out and any of my efforts to save our friendship are met with… nothing… At least you could talk to the team. I don’t understand why you’re cutting away from me, but being a bitch to Emily is useless.” You sighed, unsure what to do if you’re shut down once again. How many times can you confront her, before it’s too much?
“If you have an issue with me, I’d like to know what is it.” You stood straight in front of her, looking her dead in the eyes. Her face was stoic, calm, but her eyes, her gaze showed it all. She was clearly upset.
“I don’t have an issue! Fuck…” Jennifer mumbles the last word under her breath as she runs her hand through her blonde hair.
“You want to act like friends? Alright… Friends are honest. So, what’s going on between you and Emily, huh? You got close all of a sudden, are you two like a thing now?”
Her voice is bitter. JJ could feel the rage building up inside her stomach and chest, she felt so angry and so fucking jealous.
“I- Is this what this is about? Me having other friends? For fucks sake!” You shut your eyes for a moment, it all felt like a bad dream, but it wasn’t.
“Friends? I ser the way you look at her and the way she looks at you, I’m not stupid or blind!”
You went silent, she was jealous, clearly. The Jennifer you knew was never like this, she was kindhearted and sweet and caring, not jealous and enraged like the version of her you were seeing right now, in front of you. Her words struck you, she wasn’t jealous about you and Emily being friends, she was jealous, because she thought there was more between you and Emily. She just stared back at you, her eyes mad, as she slowly realised how crystal clear she made it what exactly bothered her, she didn’t want Emily falling for you or you liking her back.
“Jennifer…” Your voice was now more steady and calm, you carefully looked her up and down, trying to figure out how upset she still was. You approached her slowly, she rose hands slowly as you tried to hug her, but she broke quickly, her mask shattered with one simple hug and she wrapped her arms around you as well.
Her heart was going crazy against your chest, you could feel it pounding and you could feel her breath against your neck, it was still uneasy.
As the two of you pulled away and your eyes met hers, her beautiful ocean blue eyes, you just thought one thing to yourself; “fuck it”.
So you grabbed her face gently and locked your lips with hers, you could feel her strawberry lips balm and her hand on your hip.
It was unethical, but that didn’t matter now, not to you or her.
#criminal minds#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds angst#criminal minds hurt/comfort#angst#hurt/comfort#jennifer jareau#jennifer jareau x reader#jennifer jareau x you#gn!reader#jennifer jareau x gn!reader#jemnifer jareau angst#jennifer jareau hurt/comfort#aj cook
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Homesick - Ch. 1
plot : childhood best friends Gracie and John are separated when join joins the war. Both are dealing with their own problems…will they cope with such distance between them. Most importantly, will the friendship (or more than..) stand the test of the war?
Dara speaks : hi hi! I’m overjoyed to finally be releasing this first chapter 🥹 I just could not keep these two to myself anymore 🫶 pls comment if you enjoy…any constructive criticism is welcome also. My asks box is wide open for any and all thoughts you have after reading this chapter so please send them my way !! The idea for this series came to me while listening to my favorite song ever homesick by dua lipa…give it a listen if you have not it’s too good!
warning : will be historically inaccurate at times for the sake of storytelling. Mentions of anxiety.
Gracie and John grew up together. Their parents often say that it was not often throughout their lives that one was seen without the other. Once they reached hugh school, things certainly changed although they still remained very close.
Gracie has been an exceptional student for all her young life and had future hopes of become a nurse. John and Gracie spoke often of their future plans and although there was a chance they may end up hours and hours from each other they knew they would be alright.
“So John,” Gracie spoke up, John sitting opposite her at the dinner table at her home. “I was thinking of doing some traveling before I head to Washington in the fall…where is it that you confirmed again?.”
“Gracie-.”
“Don’t worry though it’ll be way before college so we’ll have time to work and-.”
“I’m joining the air corps,” he blurted out, setting his knife and fork down.”
“You’re…what. John you’re going off to the war and you didn’t mention it.”
“No Gracie because I knew how worried you’d be-.”
“Damn right John.” She shot back, a hurt expression clouding her face. The girl was lost for words. “I’m coming with you-.”
“Like hell you are,” he scoffed. “Quit talking crap Gracie.”
“John! I was going to be a nurse anyway at least this way I’d be helping.” She pleaded.
“Gracie..you don’t want to see what some of the nurses do in the war,” John said softly. “You have so much going for you, go to college and have fun-.”
“While you’re getting shot down out of your fucking plane John!.” She shouted back at him, tears brimming in her eyes.
“Grace I’ll be ‘aright. I’m not letting you throw your future away for me…for this stupid war.” He insisted.
“John you’re my best friend. I can’t let you go out there.” She stood from the table and began pacing the small dining room. “If I do, I’d bet money that there’ll be a letter landing on my lap in Washington in a few months because you’ll-.”
“Gracie,” he yelled, strolling to where she was in front of him and laying both hands firmly on her shoulders. “Please…you’re breaking my heart. You gotta let me go.” He choked out, getting the slightest bit emotional seeing her eyes filled with tears.
Gracie felt like the life she’d planned had been ripped from beneath her. Some may say, she indeed had the world at her feet, everything was in her favor. Her family were wealthy, she had friends and she was headed to one of the top nursing programs in the country. Gracie never in a million years expected to hear that news from John. She was so crushed, so angry that this war was going to take away her favorite person from her and maybe never give him back. Gracie knew that boy better than she knew herself, so she knew that there was no changing his mind.
Although she was deeply upset, she knew John and had every belief he was doing this for the right reasons. Gracie knew that John had a big heart and truly just wanted to do what he could in such a horrific situation.
She wished she could be mature and think clearly about the situation. At the end of the day, Gracie was 18 years old and about to potentially loose her best friend to this war. So, she certainly was not thinking clearly.
As much as Gracie tried to persuade him, John’s decision was made. One week later he and Gracie stood at the Wisconsin harbor to say their goodbyes.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered quietly into this ear, both her arms wrapped around his neck. “I can’t loose you Johnny…you’re my other half.”
Gracie couldn’t believe John was finally leaving her. She wasn’t sure she could live without him. Unfortunately for her, she was about to find out.
“It’ll be alright Gracie, I promise you. Just trust me alright?,” he muttered to her softly, he hands rubbed her back slowly.
John knew no matter what he told her, she’d worry. He knew that they were two halves of the same coin, and they balanced each other out perfectly. John brought out her wild side and Gracie kept John’s feet on the ground when he got overexcited. They certainly brought out the best in each other.
He might have been going off to war, but the only thing he was worried about was how Gracie would cope when he was gone. She’d always been an anxious girl, and it has only worsened in her late teens. In recent years, her friends and family realized that it was only John who seemed to truly help her. They would watch the nerves and worry melt off her face and her body relax when John and Gracie were in company togther. When she was with him, it was as if all the voices in her head were quieted and she felt herself again. John could only hope a constant stream of encouraging letters would keep his Grace happy.
As they broke apart John kept his hands on her shoulders. The two kept their eyes locked for a few moments, the words that were not said danced in the air between them. The moment neither of them ever thought would come had finally arrived.
Gracie watched as John turned and slowly began to walk away from her, and into the unknown. Right before boarding the boat, he turned to her once more as she called out to him.
“John?,” she asked. “Yeah Gracie?,” he called back, a small smile forming on this lips. “
“Please take care of yourself Johnny….and I’ll be waiting for my letters.” John could see her eyes lighting up as she shouted out to him.
“I will Grace, I promise I will. You’ll have plenty of letters don’t you worry.”
Gracie watched as her best friend boarded the boat. Moments later he appeared on the top deck, finding himself a spot next to the railing and stood waving to Gracie. A smile graced her lips as she watched him waving to her, and she would laugh when every so often he would do a salute. John noticed these laughs, and did them twice as much when he noticed she enjoyed them.
Gracie’s heart broke as she watched the boat sail away slowly. She stood and waved the John until she couldn’t see him anymore. Once the boat had sailed far enough, she let some tears finally fall down her cheeks.
#buck and bucky#bucky egan#john egan#mota#rosie rosenthal#mota x reader#mota spoilers#john egan x reader#john egan x oc#Gracie and John#austin butler#callum turner#nate mann#john brady
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hihi!! i love your work, i was wondering if i could request hazbin hotel characters x male or GN socially awkward reader who stutters a lot? preferably the characters angel dust, husk, vox, and velvette please, thank you in advance!
you don't have to do it if you don't want to ofc, take your time and stay safe :D
Aaaaaaaaa this is such a cute prompt! I would be glad to Nonnie!! Also love that Velvette is in here too. Love her but she's not quite as popular as some other characters so I was super excited to see your request!
Did I Stutter?
Ft. Angel Dust, Husk, Vox, and Velvette x male!reader
Angel Dust
Is genuinely trying his best to be kind to his boyfriend, really.
And he succeeds most of the time, but there was definitely a learning curve at the beginning of the relationship.
The awkwardness Angel didn't mind at all. Just thought you were that smitten with him that you got tongue-tied and acted a little awkward because he was just that hot.
However as the relationship progressed and you continued to stutter and are still a little awkward he brings it up.
Once he realizes that's just how you are he's a little dismayed that it wasn't him that made you do it. But doesn't mind it once he gets over that.
He's one of the more patient ones, for sure. When you have trouble getting something out he doesn't make a big deal of it or draw attention to your stutter, he just keeps his face normal and neutral as he patiently waits for you to finish, like you aren't struggling for words.
It actually helps a lot because you don't feel the pressure to get it right and get it right fast that you feel with others.
Although he does have a habit sometimes of intentionally riling you up or being extra seductive with you to worsen your stutter because he thinks it's cute when you stutter his name with wide eyes like that.
"Ya know we've been together awhile now, right? Ya don't have to be so nervous around me all the time. I mean the stutter is cute and it's adorable when ya trip over your words, and I know I'm hot, but I'm starting ta wonder if you're ever going to get used to me." Angel Dust laughs as the two of you walk through Pentagram City, Angel walking beside you. He has one of his hands holding yours, and the other wrapped protectively around your shoulders as you make your way through the streets.
A rare day off and all he wants is to spend it with you to recharge himself.
You huff a moment, trying to think of how to explain it. You hadn't realized he thought it was a nervous habit and not just...what you do.
"T-This is....h-how I normally talk." You eventually get out, speaking slowly to try and reduce the rate at which you stutter.
At that Angel Dust stops and frowns and you're worried that perhaps this quirk of yours is too much for him to deal with now that he knows it isn't temporary. But he just pouts and looks at you as he starts walking again.
"It isn't because I'm super hot? Ugh. How disappointin." He huffs, throwing his head back and looking up at the sky a moment.
"Ya lucky you're so cute. I'll pretend not to be sad that you weren't swooning over me this whole time." Angel Dust looks back down at him.
But in a rare show of courage, his boyfriend clears his throat and forces out something a little bolder than usual.
"W-Who said I w-wasn't?" A coy grin on his face just made Angel stop a moment again, eyes wide as he processed what he had said.
"Ya can't just surprise me with that kind of smooth shit when I'm not expecting it." He grumbles, but from how affectionately Angel grips his hand just a little tighter it's clear he's not actually upset.
He'll just get him back later tonight. He may not be the cause of the stutter, but he knows how to make it worse when he gets a little to close to him, hands running over his body as he whispers to him.
Husk
Another one who is also very understanding.
Literally never once brings it up.
When he figures out that's just how you talk, he shrugs it off.
But he does think it's cute when you stutter on his name when you're trying to get his attention.
But he'll keep that to himself.
When you're struggling he actually makes it really easy on you, busying himself with menial work behind the bar: Organizing bottles, messing around with a new cocktail he had an idea for, cleaning glasses. Whatever he can find so he isn't looking at you, but still waits patiently for you to speak. Him not staring at you, waiting for you to get the words out was actually really helpful.
He also doesn't mind the social awkward aspect. He's not exactly a social butterfly himself, or a people person.
Besides, he's served plenty of awkward people who relax a bit when they have some liquid courage. So those types of people never bothered him.
"A-A-And do you k-know what that, that, t-that- UGH." Husk's boyfriend shouts in frustration eventually. Husk looks over as you lay your head down on the bartop in frustration.
Husk just grabs a glass and pulls out a few bottles, busying himself with making...some sort of new concoction.
"Take your time." Is all he says, the only acknowledgement he gave that he recognized you were struggling.
He's purposefully not looking at you, letting you take a moment to calm and collect yourself without feeling the pressure.
You take a deep breath and try again, speaking slower this time so your upset doesn't make it worse.
"W-Wanna know....what that a-asshole said?" You eventually get out as he pushes the finished drink towards you to try.
"Oh I'm real curious." Husk says plainly, and to others around he might sound only as interested as a bartender normally is in their patrons sob stories. But you can hear in his undertone he does actually want to know.
"H-He said, w-with that cheap o-o-outfit, he's surpr-prised I, I, I...can even afford a drink!" You throw your hands up as you finally finish lamenting about the jerk you met last night when you decided to go clubbing with Angel Dust and Cherri.
Husk frowns a moment at the insult, not liking that he wasn't there to correct the guy. But he can at least settle for making you laugh as you take the first few sips.
He leans forward then, his elbows on the bartop as he lays his head in one hand and looks at you.
"You don't need to afford any drinks. You're fucking the bartender. You get 'em free." He smirks, holding back a laugh as he watches you almost immediately spit out that first sip, and watches you laugh for the first time since you sat down here in such a foul mood.
Vox
Surprisingly, genuinely the most empathetic about the whole thing.
When you first started dating him, he tried to help you. Lots of famous orators had stutters and they overcame them!
But he realizes eventually you don't want him to be so focused on fixing it, just help you get through it when it gets frustrating.
Once you get past that miscommunication, it's a lot smoother.
If you're struggling exceptionally bad he just pulls out his phone and hands it to you in a non-chalant manner so as not to draw attention to you, to let you type what you want to try and get across to him.
Genuinely scrubs social media down there of any shit-talking he sees people might do about 'Vox's stuttering mess of a boyfriend'. He controls pretty much all of it anyway. So it isn't the hardest thing.
He doesn't want you to see what some stranger who isn't worth anything is saying about you if it might make you feel bad.
The reason he is the most empathetic is because he does also have a tendency to stutter too, technically. When he glitches out, he can often stutter or repeat words and it's always intensely frustrating to him because it shows someone how he's feeling an intense enough emotion to glitch out like that.
Always does his best to retain as much control as he can when he glitches because of this, but when it's just the two of you he doesn't...really mind if you hear his computer equivalent of stuttering.
"S-S-Stupid FUCKING Val!" Vox yells as he throws some stupid object on his desk against the wall, narrowly missing you when you walk in to see him. His normal bright blue face is a bright and angry red and Vox is immediately simmering down, eyes wide when he realizes he almost nailed you with it. What had he even thrown? His eyes glance down and he sees it was a stapler and he winces. Yeah, with his strength and throwing that, that could have done a lot of damage if it had connected.
"S-Sh----iiit! I-I'm sorry!"
But Vox's boyfriend doesn't even seem bothered, just jogging over to him quickly and holding his hands, using his thumbs to rub circles on Vox's palms. Clearly trying to calm him down and...damnit it's working. The red begins to fade to blue once again as Vox lets out a deep sigh.
"W-What happened?" You ask him curiously, looking up at him.
"Fucking VAL happened, of course. Ripped apart one of my best news anchors because he found out they were fucking one of his favorites and he doesn't like to share. Now I gotta find someone else who is just as good or I'll be running the 6 o'clock segment until I do." Vox grumbles. He could just slap someone in there of course, but he hadn't built VoxTek into what it was today by accepting second best.
You tug him down, him eventually getting the message and leaning down to be within your reach more. You lean forward and gently place an affectionate kiss on his screen.
"H-How about....I or-or-order food to-to go? W-We'll sit here and...look at c-candidates." You suggest and Vox's face softens again, glad that although Val had ruined his nice relaxing dinner date with you, that he at least still got to spend time with you. Val couldn't ruin his night at least, it seems.
Vox smiles again, his normal exuberant and charismatic showman personality back on full display as he feels better with a plan in place.
"Hey I could always say screw it and let you have a whack at it." He teases, not even feeling bad about the cute look of panic in your eyes as you immediately shake your head no. He can't help but laugh and quickly shakes his own head.
"Kidding! Kidding! I want to still have a boyfriend by the end of tonight." He chuckles, earning him a gentle hit to his shoulder from you at his joke.
Velvette
Admittedly...the least kind about it...at first anyway.
She has little patience or time for things in general. So a stutter was actually a little aggravating to her at first. Until she realized one day she kinda thought it sounded a little cute coming from you.
It was something unique about you, and hey, fashion is all about being unique.
She almost certainly did make fun of you in the beginning before she developed feelings, and whenever Val or Vox bring it up to tease her about it, she winces.
Yeah....not something she's proud of now that she actually likes you and is dating you.
But once she gets past that hump, she's pretty accomodating...sometimes a little too much even.
But her heart is in the right place.
The easiest way she accomodates you is having a lot of conversations over text. Which isn't even an adjustment for her.
Plus it means she can re-read all your sweet words to cheer her up when Val fucks up her best model again. She thinks the world would be more peaceful is someone just fucking castrated him or something...
One of the ways she tries to be helpful and sweet to you but actually makes it worse is when you're trying to talk in a group of people, and when you start to have trouble, sometimes someone just starts to talk over you to move the conversation along.
And then she frowns, cocking her hips to the side with her hands on them.
"Uh? Excuse me. He wasn't done talking, yeah?" She shuts them up, giving you back the floor as your cheeks flush.
But now all the attention is on you and it makes it worse.
But her heart is in the right place, like I said.
She also doesn't care about the social awkwardness.
In her words "Doesn't matter how you are in real life, no one has to know if you don't post it online."
Plus, you're with her. She's plenty adept enough to navigate any social situations you have trouble with.
She's a bit tired of Vox talking over you while you all sat around and had cocktails with dinner. She knows it's in his nature, but that doesn't piss her off any less whenever she sees you sigh and give up on trying to say whatever it is you were trying to say.
"Oy, Box Brain! I know you love the sound of hearing yourself talk, but how about you let someone else get a word in edgewise, yeah?" She's not even trying to hide her annoyance and Vox just rolls his eyes.
"Don't you fucking roll your eyes at me! I'll start fucking up the signal of all your broadcasts if you don't shut the fuck up and let someone else talk!" She's getting just a bit more heated now, narrowing her eyes. You grimace and lean over, placing a hand on her arm to try and show that it's really okay. You loved that she fought so passionately for you...but not everything needed to be a battle.
Vox leans forward himself now, while Valentino just leans back, blowing out smoke and enjoying the show with an amused grin on his face. You certainly couldn't count on him to break this up.
"You wouldn't dare." Vox says with narrowed eyes himself, face closer to hers, and she snaps back at him without thinking.
"Did I fucking stutter?!"
Valentino is the first one to register the hilarity of what slipped out of Velvette's mouth, and he's almost spilling his cocktail from laughing so hard. It's only when he starts laughing that she realizes what she said and feels embaressment wash over her as she turns to you with wide eyes.
"Babes, I didn't mean-"
But you stop her before she can finish, smiling assuringly at her and rubbing her arm.
"I-It's okay....You gotta a-admit...It was pr-pretty funny." You laugh a bit yourself, and only when she sees you laugh does the tension leave her shoulders. She still feels embaressed...but at least you weren't upset.
"Hey, stop fucking laughing you two. It wasn't that funny." Velvette grumbles, hiding her face behind her cocktail as she takes a sip, feeling you press a kiss to her cheek to try and make her feel better as Vox and Valentino continue to enjoy Velvette's mistake.
#hazbin hotel#angel dust hazbin hotel#vox#vox x reader#angel dust#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin hotel husk#husk x reader#hazbin hotel velvette#velvette x reader#Velvette
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I often feel the need to point out that Lucy Gray did not leave because Coriolanus was a killer…she literally brought that topic up in a moment of relief that there would be no more killing (hopefully) to achieve peace in their lives. She was upset because he lied, as there was ONE thing she held above love: trust. She wanted to trust him—wanted the truth—and he screwed it up out of fear of her reaction. She wrote and performed live a song for him about how much she loved him AFTER HE KILLED THE GIRL THAT HAD BEEN MAKING HER LIFE A LIVING HELL! And with her, Billy Taupe gone, too. She realized killing was necessary, for they were both survivors. Their downfall was the lie, and that’s what haunts me about their story—to think what could have been had he just admitted his faults to her.
#speaking my truth#she loved him!#she already saw the demons inside of him!#she just wanted him to accept them and divulge them to her rather than lying#girly was a bit rabid herself#lmao#snowbaird#tbosas#lucy gray baird#coriolanus snow#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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I decided to make this poll because I've been listening to the excellent Little Women videos from @littlewomenpodcast, whose opinions and arguments I nearly always find to be spot-on. (And who so generously quotes some of my analysis now and then.) But I'll admit I was taken aback by one remark she and others have occasionally made about Jo and Amy. Namely that as a teenager, Jo bullies Amy, and that Amy burning Jo's manuscript is just the moment when she finally snaps after having been picked on by her sister all her life.
After hearing this, I had to go back and reread all of Jo and Amy's interactions in Part I, because I had never thought of their conflict that way, and I'm still not sure if I do.
I always saw their sibling rivalry as mutual, with both at fault. They're both strong-willed, attention-seeking, quick-tempered girls, they arguably both have different forms of internalized misogyny (Jo by disdaining femininity, Amy by disdaining tomboyishness), and they get on each other's nerves. Jo mocks Amy's childish attempts to be ladylike (and even an only child like myself knows that between siblings, teasing is normal and doesn't equal bullying), while Amy annoys Jo by correcting her manners, and neither is generally better or worse than the other.
Now of course this is their relationship in general: I'm not talking about "Jo Meets Apollyon." In that specific case, Jo does provoke Amy by refusing to take her to the play just because she, Jo, doesn't want to babysit, leaving Amy in tears. And while Amy burning her manuscript is an inexcusable, out-of-proportion response, it's even more wrong of Jo to physically attack Amy when she learns what she did, and almost horrific that she doesn't warn her about the thin ice the next day. But even then, Alcott doesn't describe Jo as always insulting and excluding Amy, and she makes it clear that Amy has played other pranks on Jo before the manuscript-burning. She writes that they've always been prone to "lively skirmishes" because of their mutual tempers – she doesn't blame Jo alone.
Still, maybe it can't be mutual, because Jo is a teenager while Amy is a child. The fact that I have no siblings puts me at a disadvantage, because not only do I not personally know the difference between normal sibling rivalry and bullying, I don't know how much of a difference certain age gaps create. Maybe the fact that Jo is three years older than Amy makes her more of a bully than if they were only a year apart in age. (Still, three years isn't that big of a gap. I don't remember feeling much more mature at fifteen than I was at twelve, just more hormonal.) Also, Alcott does write that Jo had less self-control than Amy despite being older, and in their typical scenes of light bickering, when Jo laughs at Amy's malapropisms and Amy corrects Jo's manners, Jo does always laugh at Amy first, and then Amy scolds her in response. There's also the moment in "Experiments" when Jo hears Beth crying and thinks to herself that if Amy was the one who upset her (she wasn't – Beth's bird died), she'll shake her. We could argue that this just shows how protective Jo is of Beth, but at the same time, she's thinking about physically attacking her little sister again.
In the end, I'm tempted to think this issue is open to interpretation. We can either view the two sisters as having a mutual rivalry and mutually provoking each other (apart from isolated incidents when either one or the other is more to blame), or view Jo as more of a bully and Amy as more of the victim.
I'd like to see what other people think, though.
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Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 23
chapter 40:
1. HE RETURNS THE FUCKING HAT
2. ☹️☹️ i want a dramatic pouting face. i’m so angry. reg wanted a stair seat for james in his house too, but now there’s no point. i- fhshdksjjsjdj MURDER TO RIDDLE
3. “Of course it is, because they're a great, big tragedy. That's what they are; that's what they've always been; that's all they'll ever get to be. There's no changing that now, no matter what they do, no matter how hard they try.” ☹️☹️☹️☹️🙁🙁🙁🙁 this is awful
4. they finally get each other, for sex, for kisses, of their own damn choice and will, and then in three days, one of their four family members will be back in that damn arena
5. “When Pandora arrives, she takes one look at Sirius and promptly bursts into tears.” NOOO MY BABY GIRL
6. “James had appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair a fucking mess and his shirt on inside-out, so Sirius had an idea of what he'd just walked in on even before James beamed at him and announced, "I just had sex with your brother. Four times."
He'd sounded so proud, too.”
😭😭😭 i love you so much james
7. “This morning, James had looked him dead in the eyes and said with no shame whatsoever, "I'm going to go spend all day having sex with your brother and pretending that everything isn't shit. We'll see you later, yeah?"
To that, Sirius could only sigh and reply, "Yeah."”
😭😭😭 i love james so much
8. “There's a beat, and then—the irony. Because of course. Not just once, not twice, but three fucking times, like he's fucking destined for it. He'd laugh, if he could breathe.
"Regulus Black."”
i am once again holding back tears on public transportation. i’m so angry
9. “Sirius hears his little brother's name, and he's sixteen again.”
i’m no longer holding back tears. i am fully crying
10. and once again, he volunteers. becuase its instinct. its love. promises be damned, there’s no stronger instinct to sirius than to protect his brother
11. “No, it comes down to mother and son now.” sobbing. sobbing so hard. this line fucking hurts more than you could ever know
12. 😧 regulus volunteered. regulus volunteered. it’s brother against brother. i. i. shit
13. “”It's already done, baby," Regulus whispers.
"You promised," James whimpers.
Regulus gives him a sad smile. "I lied."”
sobbing. deep sobbing. i am still on public transport
14. i hate that dora doesn’t understand the gravity of this situation. she just loves her cousin. and also, i love andy
15. authors notes are cruel. first one:
“well. sirius 🤝 regulus: being fUCKING LIARS.”
16. i can’t even begin to describe how upset I am. brothers pitted against each other, james and reg once again torn apart, james thinking he only gets one of his people back, either his other half, or the love of his life. and james being mad at regulus. their broken relationship. all of it. the angst is ANGSTY. zar. dude. why.
#marauders#regulus black#james potter#fanfic#jegulus#sirius black#effie potter#euphemia potter#sunseeker#starchaser#sirius and regulus#pandora rosier#pandora lovegood#crimson rivers
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𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙋𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃 // Nate Jacobs.
Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Dark. SFW, but discretion advised.
Cliffhanger or series? Haven't decided. Repost because of reasons.
You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.
Desc.: You're needed. Now.
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It's not like you even knew Nate.
You knew of him, sure, quarterback and shit, but still, it was unlikely your paths would ever cross.
Until they did.
Until he started following you on Instagram.
That shit... was so unbelievably odd that you almost blocked him because you thought it was a fake account. But then you saw the mutuals. Holy shit. This was legit.
The fact that his account was private didn't surprise you. Yours was public because you had nothing to post and his was private because he had everything to hide.
You sent him a request. No biggie. I mean, he had to accept, right? He was the one who followed you first - it was only fair. And if it took too long, then you could always unsend it, yeah? Yeah.
It didn't take too long. It barely took three minutes.
Okay. Cool. Weird but cool.
The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you. An average social media interaction. Good.
--------
Come Friday evening, you decided that watching Maddy cheer was a little less important than your deadline and building your portfolio.
She absolutely supported you (rolled her eyes and said 'whatever, nerd. You still love me, right?') but was a little upset about it (pouted and called you a cunt).
Three hours went by, and you surprised yourself with the amount of work you were getting done. This is great. Friday evening well spent. Work a bit more, and then-
Nate Jacobs tagged you in a Close Friends story.
Close Friends? Tagged? NATE JACOBS?
Okay, one : no fucking way were you on his Close Friends.
Two : there were virtually zero pictures of the two of you, so tagging you was moot.
Three : there was supposed to be a game starting about fifteen minutes from now, Blackhawks versus whatever pretentious team they were going to beat, so why the fuck was he even online?
(Oh, yeah, the Blackhawks were absolutely fucking awesome.)
The story was only text. Text and nothing more.
Y/N, accept my message request. Now. I am not fucking around.
What message request? WHAT the fuck was going on?
You frowned, immediately scrolling over to messages. Shit. There was a request.
A picture, along with six other messages.
This was so strange. It was especially strange that he found the time to text you, when he was supposed to be practicing throwing the old pigskin around for the victory of his school. But text you he did. As if him following you wasn't enough to give you whiplash. "Yo."
"You're not here." No shit, Sherlock.
"You should be."
What the hell was that supposed to mean? This was the most excruciatingly awkward interaction you'd ever had.
"You should be here. Come."
Did he think he was super macho with all this mysterious, vague, one-word bullshit he was spewing? You know what, you'd actually bet your entire school tuition he did. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of asking why.
"U don't just send requests to random people. Don't act like you don't know me. Don't ignore my texts."
"I'm fucking losing it. Come now or else."
WHAT. THE. FUCK.
This was the most random thing to ever happen to you. Nate Jacobs, some random jock you never even said one word to, was texting you as if you had been best friends since two years old and you had always been all rah-rah-go-team for him.
You were almost scared to open the picture. Instagram asked you if you were sure. Once, twice. You should have listened. But you didn't, and you were about to face the consequences.
Red. That was the first thing you saw, and the first thing that had ever grossed you out enough to physically throw your phone away.
So much red.
Above the red, concealed almost cruelly, was a black box with white text in it. For a moment, your eyes were overwhelmed, so overwhelmed with the monstrosity in front of you that you couldn't even begin to comprehend what the words meant. You picked your phone back up, squinting your eyes and blocking out the rest.
He must have noticed you accepted his request, because you saw 'Typing...' pop up way too fast for him not to have been waiting.
"I'll cut deeper if you don't show up."
Nate Jacobs was a cruel and manipulative bastard of a man who you would happily let die.
But not like this.
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You glanced at the screen and then back at the road, from time to time. There was no indication that he was typing. The 'online' sign still stayed. Okay. So he either just threw his phone away while still on your chat or he was about to-
Nate Jacobs started an audio call.
Clearly tonight wasn't going to be the night you stayed in and finished all your assignments, like you'd decided.
"Pick up or I'll fucking kill you."
Yup, that sounded about right.
You laughed, incredulously. The genuine threat wasn't lost on you, but what else does one do in this situation besides laugh at the absurdity of it all?
Better safe than sorry. You swiped up.
"Y/N, please just come."
It felt so weird to hear him say your name. It felt even weirder to hear him say 'please'.
"Why?"
"You need to be here." His voice was unwavering.
"Look, Jacobs, I'm sorry, but I have projects and assignments to work on. Not to mention, my portfolio-"
You wanted to see how far you could take it. He couldn't hear your car's sounds, and he couldn't possibly track your location, so according to him, you were still sitting at home, petulantly.
If he was joking, he'd just cuss you out drunkenly. If he wasn't, he'd... keep begging.
"Jesus fuck, Y/N, just come!"
"I can't. I'm sorry."
Keeping your calm was the best thing you'd ever done for yourself, the greatest form of self-care you could give yourself, because Nate Jacobs sensing nervousness was like sharks smelling blood in the water. Quick and bad.
"I have important shit, too, you know? Scouts are here, Y/N, please!"
"Look-"
"Coach, I know, just five more minutes - FUCK, Y/N, you gotta come.", he pleaded, his tone becoming far too pathetic to brush off.
"Why?"
"Why? Whaddayamean why?", he huffed out, frustrated, as if you were supposed to know this already.
2 + 2. What galaxy we live in. The colour of the sky. Why you were needed at the game. According to this asshole, all these things were common knowledge.
"I will cut deeper."
"Stop bullshitting, Jacobs."
You hoped to god that your voice didn't betray your bewilderment. This better be a sick fucking joke.
"I'm cutting."
"Stop."
"Coach says the five minutes are up, but I won't play without you here."
A video. SHIT. FUCK.
"What the fuck is your problem?!"
Actually, no. This better not just be a joke, because if the entire school was in on this shit, you would end up cutting him.
The grunts of pain and sharp inhales from his side of the call got more and more grotesque as you pulled into the school parking lot.
The school had an unsettling vibrancy to it after hours, and this was only exacerbated by the fact that you were supposedly the cause for a boy to slice through his own skin. It shouldn't have seemed this vibrant, this overwhelming, this vivid, this.... bright, but it did. The world moved at an eerily quick pace, like a carnival ride on LSD.
As you ran across the parking lot and gripped the gate to the stadium and basically swung right past it, you finally realized how fucking loud a crowd could be.
It was like they knew that their QB might be bleeding out because of you, because they seemed to scream loud enough to torture you for eternity.
Immediately manhandled by Chris McKay -another jock you had absolutely no connection to, but who seemed to have a very personal grudge against you-, you were pushed out of the locker rooms as quickly as you came in. Fuck's sake.
"Let me go , McKay!"
"Coach is trying to calm him down, and if he sees you, we got no idea what he might do, okay? OKAY?", he ordered, sternly, through clenched teeth as he shook your shoulders.
He was earnestly trying to be calm and gentle, but his fingers gripping harder and harder into your arms did jackshit to help his case.
"Okay."
He nodded, sighing in some emotion that seemed oddly like relief.
What, did he expect more of a fight? Did he expect you to be all 'no, I gotta see him now?'
You had no clue who the hell this bastard was, let alone what he wanted. No way were you going to kick and shout for him.
"What the fuck is his problem?", you asked, sighing against McKay's chest, exhausted.
He shrugged, rubbing his forehead in exasperation. "He's stressed about the game."
"So he cuts himself in my name? We don't even know each other, dude!"
"Okay, he isn't exactly the one you go to for rationality, alright?"
"Yo, the fuck's going on, man? The game was supposed to start-"
The other team's captain.
"Yeah, we're just, uh, dealing with a situation over here.", assured McKay, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from going ballistic at Nate. Or you. Most likely Nate. But even more likely you. "Tell your coach we're so sorry, and we'll be out in a minute, tops."
The other guy scoffed, grumbling as he stomped away, glaring more at you than McKay. What, did everyone know now?
"He thinks we're trying to hook up before the game.", explained McKay, patiently, almost embarrassed. "It's a thing some athletes do, 'for luck'."
Jocks were the weirdest fucking aliens to ever exist.
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Crimson traced paths through the blinding white of the bandages wrapped tightly like dependent vines around his palm. Noticing the lack of uniformity of white, Coach tsked. "We need more. McKay!"
"Yes, Coach?"
"One more, then you can send her in."
"She came?" Nate's voice, though feeble and exhausted - and now, hopeful - was heard through the tiny gap in the door that McKay made sure would remain tiny as he passed the last bandage to him, and you didn't want to admit it, but it broke your heart.
Ew. Nate Jacobs was breaking your heart?
Coach finished wrapping Nate up, and McKay guided you in, with both measured aggression and protectiveness.
Nate's eyes lifted and brightened up immensely, a feat you'd only thought possible by a lone spark igniting and breach every inch of a dry leaf.
"You came."
"Son, I don't know what the hell you were thinking-"
"No, no, Coach, she's here, we can play."
Everyone stopped breathing at that moment. What the hell did the self-wounding quarterback asshole just say?
"What'd you just say, Jacobs?"
"We can play. Y/N's here. This isn't my good palm, anyway, so it's fine. Let's go."
And just like that, Nate was back. The amount of theses that could be written on this sheer anomaly of a man, the amount of studies that could be conducted, the amount of shock anyone else in this situation would go through- all unheard of.
No one else could handle it, though, besides all the people right there in the room. The best friend : self-taught and well-versed in handling him, the Coach : the authority figure that could calm him down with a bunch of fatherly words and....
And you : no one knew what the fuck you brought to the table. But something told you no one else would have survived in your shoes.
"Alright... then...?" Even Coach was absolutely speechless.
Nate nodded briskly, shooting up with a sudden burst of energy as he smiled at you.
Smiled.
Ladies and gentlemen : Nate Jacobs was on crack, confirmed.
He drew you in against his chest with an extremely unprecedented jerk, and you locked eyes with McKay behind him as he did so.
Not crack. Probably fent.
Your questioning gaze- which obviously said 'what in the everloving fuck is he doing?' - was met with a shrug and a look which suggested he barely even recognized his best friend right now.
"Okay, let's go WIN this motherfucker!", shouted Nate, patting your shoulder and loudly clapping his hands together before sprinting out of the locker rooms into the cheering football field.
It was dressed entirely in Blackhawk colours and bathed in a fluorescent, sickeningly pale light that you had to now spend an hour and a half in. Ugh.
Whiplash or not, you were about to throw up.
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You know those moments after a surreal event? When you just... sit. Stare into space and... ruminate.
You were having one of those in your car. The game had ended, really well, too, with the Blackhawks winning by a landslide. Your windshield had never held such secrets before. You stared through it.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Bang.
You turned. Nate Jacobs' fist fell on your window more times than you thought was necessary. 'Unlock the door, Y/N.'
You shook your head. Not a fucking chance in hell.
"'Y/N, don't be difficult, unlock the fucking door."
Something in you told you that that would be the worst mistake of your entire life.
"I'm sorry, I just want to talk, yeah?"
You had no idea if he deliberately made it a point to rest his bandaged palm on the window in full display to manipulate you, or if it was just a coincidence.
Just a coincidence, right?
You sighed, nodding your head in the direction of the passenger's seat as you unlocked it. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He slid in, grinning as he shut the door.
"You catch the touchdown?"
"Yeah. I did."
"What'd you think? Smoothest match yet?"
"Sure."
His grin gave way to a lour as he scoffed. "Why are you so cold? Our school won."
"Why am I so cold? Why am I so cold? You asshole, you just cut yourself to make me show up!"
"Because you didn't show up when I asked nicely!"
"You're a psychopath." The effect of this word on him was oddly intriguing. He seemed to both be offended by it and seemed to get off on it.
"Can I just explain?", he sighed, sucking on his teeth for a moment as he watched other students, cheering, whistling, hooting and drinking, through your windshield.
You gestured at him to continue. He wasn't worthy enough of your words.
"You know athletes have...", he trailed off, searching desperately for the right word of vindication.
"Small dicks?"
"Okay, deserved.", he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Look, we have, like... superstitions, sometimes. For luck."
"Like the hooking up thing."
"How do you know about that?"
"McKay told me."
He scoffed, shaking his head as if his friend had divulged the biggest secret, as if he had broken some moral code.
"Alright, fine, whatever. But, uh, I pretend like it's not something I do, but I kinda have them too."
If he was about to say what he was going to, you were about to press into the wound just to watch him bleed again. How dare he.
"My, um, my first game, I bumped into you on my way to the locker rooms.", he admitted, clearing his throat as if to clear space for whatever he was going to say - because it was so obviously the solution to String Theory, like he was making it out to be.
But oh, shit. He actually was going to say it.
"And we won. The next game, I did the same again, by accident. Y'know, just, this time, I fist-bumped you."
"When the fuck did you-"
"You were drunk, and you were cheering all of us on with your friends. You went for McKay's fist, but I did it instead. Uh, yeah, anyway. So, from the... maybe fourth? Yeah, the fourth game, I made it a point to at least brush my arm past you. Haven't lost a game since."
Your touch was his good luck charm? Was he clinically insane? Or was he just a massive loser?
"What's next? Our rising signs are aligned?"
"It's not a fucking joke, Y/N!", he snapped, his fist clenching.
"Really? Because it's pretty fucking hilarious."
"You know how hard it was for me to even admit I had superstitions, let alone about some random nobody girl I've never even talked to?"
No, no, he was not trying to make you feel bad, no goddamn way.
"You know how hard it was for me to see some random nobody guy bleeding out because of me?"
"It wasn't that deep." The pun was intended. It was so evidently intended that you wanted to slap the smirk off his lips.
"Yeah, okay, get out."
"Okay. You better show up to the next one, babygirl, or I'll have to take more drastic measures."
The audacious son of a bitch ruffled your hair and winked before he left.
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"C'mon, Y/N, don't be a cunt. Just do it. High five me. Fist bump me. Hug me. Whatever. Just do it, I've got a game to get to. And... everyone's watching."
The very next weekend, there was another game. Last game of the season. And you were supposed to be there, of course, because Nate's 'entire life depended on it.' And what's worse? He'd dragged you there, from your internship.
That's right. He'd basically come to your place of work, interrupted a conversation with your boss, and tugged you along with him because of his borderline insane obsession with having to touch you for luck.
He could have gotten away with it, too, if his 'good luck charm' theory hadn't involved you having to make contact with him right before the game.
And now you were out there on the field. Backing away from him. Refusing.
"Y/N, please."
"Fine."
You slapped him across the face, as hard as you possibly could.
The entire football field gasped.
He'd fucked up your week with the picture of the blade carving into his skin, and now, he was fucking up your career by costing you your internship. And what's worse, he didn't even care.
"Go. Play now."
He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes to suppress his rage before he opened them again. "That's not how it works. It has to be mutual. Like a fist bump. Or bumping into each other."
"Oh, okay.", you shrugged, grabbing his wrist before using it to uppercut him. "NOW go. PLAY."
You didn't know if you were being 'whoo'd or 'boo'd by the crowd, but at this point, the only thing you could hear was the red hot fury in your boiling blood.
He bit his lip as you let go of his hand, and before he jogged out onto the field, you could have sworn he said something that, if you'd heard it right, could cut through your entire soul and ruin your self-perception for years - something absolutely, shatteringly degrading.
You hoped you'd heard wrong.
Taking your seat in the stands, you scrolled on your phone, ignoring the entire fucking game. As expected, text from your team leader.
Gone. Internship gone. LoR gone. Nate Jacobs? About to be gone.
-------
He won.
He. Fucking. Won.
And that smirk that he gave you before blowing you a kiss that immediately morphed into flipping you the bird made you want to genuinely ask him to recreate that video once again.
You hated yourself for it, but yes.
You wanted him dead.
All the trauma he'd given you the past week couldn't be left unpunished.
Oh, to knock him off his pedestal. OH, to be the one to make him scream in pain instead of arrogant mirth.
"Whoo! Nate FUCKING Jacobs, baby!", he cheered in your ear as you gritted your teeth, walking back to your car. "And, of course, you."
You threw your bags into your car, ignoring him as you get in, starting the engine. He thumped on the hood of the car. "Come on, you can't still be mad! Your boss was looking down your shirt, anyway!"
"Oh, and I'm supposed to believe you did this out of the goodness of your heart?", you scoffed.
"That's right, baby, chivalry ain't dead."
"No, but you're about to be. Get the fuck out of my way."
"Hey, I need a ride. Gimme a lift."
"No chance in hell, Jacobs."
"Stop wounding me. Let me in."
"Or what?"
"I'll break your window.", he shrugged, casually. Normal things. The sun will rise tomorrow. Seasons will change. He'll break your window.
"I wouldn't be letting you in if I didn't think you were psychotic enough to actually do that."
He chuckled, sitting as he rested his duffel bag on his lap. A couple moments later, he looked up at you. "What? What are you waiting for?"
"Tell me where to go."
"You don't know where I live?"
"Okay, let me explain this to you, slowly. I didn't know jackshit about you till, like, a week ago. I didn't know your age or what kind of car you drove, or even what classes we shared, much less where the hell you live!"
"All this shit just proves that you don't observe people around you. You only care about yourself."
"If I only cared about myself, you'd have bled out last week."
He sighed playfully, resting his feet on your dashboard because he very evidently knew you would have a neurotic breakdown. "I, for one, know your age, the kind of car you drive, all the classes you have, plus your favourite colour and food."
"The first two are moot.", you replied, ignoring his silent mockery of the word 'moot'. "Next, you know I'm in all of Maddy's classes. And the rest you can find on my account. Account stalker."
"Account stalker. God, sweetheart, you're such a child. You don't want your account stalked, don't have a public one."
"I barely even post anything!"
"Oh, yeah, what about last month?"
He was looking at your profile last month? "I'd gone to France. It was a photo dump."
"It was unnecessary."
"Okay, you know what this is?"
He raised a brow.
"This is post-game audacity, is what I call it. You won. You're Mr. Big Shot, so you think you can just-"
And that's when Nate Jacobs kissed you.
To call it the worst fucking moment of your life would be a massive understatement. "Drive."
"You did not just fucking kiss me."
"You want me to do it again?"
"NO."
"Then drive."
This motherfucking bastard of a man!
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"You wanna come in?"
No way in hell were you going into Nate Jacobs' house. Especially when there was a party going strong.
"I'm good."
He rolled his eyes, his arm leaning on the top of the window as he leaned in. "I don't bite. Initially."
"Ooh, you don't bite initially, oh, please let me come in right now! Shut up and get in, Jacobs."
"You've earned the right to call me Nate. Congrats. Begin using it."
"Why? We're never talking after this."
He scoff-snickered. "Oh. OH, so that's how it is.", he nodded, amused.
"Yeah, yeah, that's how it is."
He guffawed, banging on the hood of your car. "This ain't funny anymore. Come in."
"What? No."
"Is there really only one way to ask you to do something?"
"No, Jacobs, don't you dar-"
But he didn't listen. When did he ever? His fingers emerged from his pocket with his knife in tow. NOT AGAIN. This was the most cunning, calculating, manipulative, Machiavellian-
"I'm cutting. This time, my wrist."
"You're so fucking dumb, y'know that? You're psychopathic."
The grin on his face showed that you were wrong. He wasn't offended. He was 100% getting off on it.
Drops of blood reached the floor, and you realized you couldn't just drive off and leave this guy here - he'd probably still be cutting just to prove a point.
"I hope you die.", you mumbled, getting out of your car and slamming the door.
"I'm trying, dude!", he laughed, pointing at his wrist. Oh, this sick bastard.
"Not dressing that wound?"
"C'mon, blood is sexy. Badass."
Nate Jacobs was about to see how 'badass' blood could really get.
And when you were done beating the everloving shit out of him, you kissed him. Because he deserved to know how infuriating that shit was, too.
The next day at school, it was normal. You didn't acknowledge him, and he didn't acknowledge you.He didn't seem to care about the fact that you hit him so hard he almost had a concussion. An average social media interaction. Good.
How it should be.
But then he texted you.
Fuck.
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