#i think he's too nervous about all these new animals he's meeting to remember his rooster duties | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flokali · 3 months

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♢ I own you, I love you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub/con, male m.asturbation, violence, threats, corruption, unrealistic sound-isolation, delusional thoughts, possessive behavior (from childe), childe/tartaglia lore-spoilers, canon divergence (maybe?), misunderstanding/miscommunication, manipulative behavior (from ajax) , unreliable narrator (ajax), ask to tag more.

pairing: afab! fem! reader x childe

word count: 10.7k

a/n: after months... here it is;; i'm so sorry for taking so long (tt),, i'll make it up to you !! istg (huhuh)

— 18+

You had trouble falling asleep ever since the day Ajax went missing.

It was meant to be yet another normal day, one that would blend in with all the others – muddled with other memories of childhood. Instead, it became the day your life began to change in ways you hadn’t even fathomed possible.

It had heavily snowed the previous night, which left a brand new layer of pure white to cover the humble roads of Morepesok. Normally, after such a heavy storm, you and Ajax would go over to his house and play inside – making use of the fireplace his father had built and hot chocolate his mother would make to keep warm. You both would steal his father’s diary and read about his adventures across Teyvat, recreating the scenes in your minds with yourselves as the main characters, before sharing your dreams with one another.

You never had the courage back then to tell him your ideal adventure was a rather simple one, while you always dreamt of moving to a less snowy nation, one like Mondstatd or even Sumeru, you were content with peacefully traveling across Teyvat before settling down. You didn’t want to spend your life fighting monsters and exploring the world, you only really longed for a simple life, where you could work a safe job and create a new home for yourself and those you loved. It was fun to imagine yourself on a long, rewarding journey across the nation to complete a request, but you’d rather keep it as just that – a figment of your imagination.

Ajax, on the other hand, longed for the chance to become a warrior. While never too skilled with the blade, always too nervous to even kill an animal, his determination was enough to convince you he’d one day make a great adventurer like his father. He’d longed for the thrill of exploring every corner of Teyvat, roaming the land until there was nowhere in this world where he hadn’t been to. Meeting new people, learning about new cultures, fighting monsters and gaining the freedom that came with being an adventurer; Ajax’s dreams had been clear from a young age.

A part of you, albeit really, insignificantly small, always wished he’d never succeed, secretly hoping he’d leave those ambitions behind with age and become a fisherman or craftsman instead. You’d heard tales of men and women who’d joined the Adventurer’s Guild only to never come back, and even more about those who’d joined the Fatui’s ranks, and you didn’t like the idea of waking up one day to find out he’d passed in a foreign land. It was selfish, you knew that, but you hoped that maybe he’d choose a safer option, one where you two could live together, away from the cold winters of Snezhnaya and safe from the dangers of the world. Maybe you’d both move away from Morepesok, find a quaint town in Fontaine where you’d both settle down and continue being friends, or maybe more, with no worries for each other’s safety - only busy being happy and healthy.

While you were putting on your boots and coat, making sure to layer as many clothes as you could to avoid the freezing cold temperatures that came with such heavy snowfall, you remember feeling an odd sense of uneasiness, a queasy feeling settling down in your stomach making you feel sick and nauseous. At the time you had thought nothing of it, too focused on meeting up with your friend and the taste of his mother’s hot coco, but now, years later, you think it was the Tsaritsa’s way to warn you for what was to come.

You remember nearing his house, confused as to why he hadn’t met you halfway down the road like he always did. It was quiet, eerily so, only the sound of your boots and your labored breath as you battled your way through the snow. There were no kids out on the street, all the adults that would normally be on their way were missing, even the birds seemed hesitant to chirp.

Instead, you find his mother worriedly looking around the perimeters of their humble cabin, her normally neat appearance now disheveled. Her long, ginger hair was half-hazardly put up, her clothes were wrinkled, her coat wasn’t even buttoned up all the way, but she stood there, frantically looking around.Whenever you’d come over, you and Ajax would always bump into one another before racing home to see who’d get there first, but today there was his mother’s choked sobs where normally his laughter would ring.

“Auntie?” You asked, running the rest of the way as you saw her expression, the closer you got the clearer the worry in her face became and you felt yourself grow anxious.

“Sweetie,” she looks at you in surprise, not having seen you approaching - too preoccupied to hear your unsteady footsteps as you struggled to run towards her, you see her blue eyes frantically look behind you and you follow suit, “A-Ajax, he wouldn’t have been with you, right?”

“No…” You shake your head, the previous feeling in your stomach expanding across your body, your head felt fuzzy as you asked, “Isn’t he home?”

“I… I’m afraid not,” She looks distressed at your words, her eyes water as she ushers you inside while still trying to look around to see if she caught sight of her son’s bright ginger hair against the cold white that coated the roads, her hands are shaking as she holds yours and brings you into her home, “Come inside, come inside – it’s too cold out t-there, you’ll get sick.”

Behind you, you hear more people arrive, you’re almost certain you hear your parents as well, but you have no time to ask before the worried mother shakes her head at the curious adults that looked up at her – the atmosphere worsens at the realization he hadn’t snuck out to be with you, she tries to occupy herself by taking you inside so as to not give into hopelessness.

You’re confused, not too sure of what’s going on even as you see adults from around the village inside of the house, maps in their hands as they whisper about the boy’s possible whereabouts.

“Is Ajax… o-okay?” You ask, you start to feel afraid as you process their concerned faces, seeing all of these adults who’d always been smiling and assured look so worried and uncertain sent a chill down your spine.

Where was Ajax? Normally he’d be here, assuring you your imagination was running wild and that nothing was wrong, the empty space next you where he’d normally be felt awfully cold.

Nobody answers you, instead you’re taken to your friend’s room where his siblings were gathered. Their mom, who you've always called your auntie, kneels down in front of you, taking your smaller hands into hers and giving you a weak smile.

“Ajax will be fine, okay?” Her words are meant to comfort you but you feel like they’re more for herself in that moment, “He’s just… gone out for a while, but he’ll be back before you know it.”

You nod, not truly understanding what she meant but feeling as if that was the response she needed to hear.

She gives your forehead a small kiss, you feel a tear fall travel down her cheeks and into your hair but you say nothing as she leaves, noting how she desperately tried to conceal the tears in her eyes; You’d never seen her cry before and it’s only then, as you look at his siblings and the pained look in their faces, that you finally begin to grasp the severity of the situation.

He was missing. Your best friend was gone and no one had any idea where he had run off to.

That evening your parents came over and stayed the whole day with Ajax’s family, alongside the other townspeople who went and came as they searched for the young boy in the woods around the area. Normally, you had to fight tooth and nail to let them grant you permission to stay over but that night they’d been the ones to offer it first.

That night was the first and only time you had a sleepover without Ajax. You and his siblings huddled together in the living room, next to the fireplace as his mother looked over you all. You would wake up every so often to the sound of people coming and going as the search efforts seeped into the night and early morning.

The suffocating cycle repeated itself for three days. Three days, two nights, and one afternoon later, after countless hours crying to your parents in fear of losing your best friend; Ajax emerges from the woods in one piece, but he who returns is not the same boy.

The first thing that stood out was his disheveled hair, he was wearing the same clothes – which were in too good a condition for a kid who’d gotten lost in the woods by himself for three days –, and the hunting knife he’d stolen from his dad now dull as if it’d been used continuously for a long period of time. What shocked the men and women who’d found him was the blood on him – specks decorated his face and hands as he looked up at them from his position near the corpse of a bear, one easily three times his size, he’d somehow taken out.

They’d found him in a clearing close to his house, the smell of blood had been what had alerted the rescue party – they’d prepared for the worst case scenario where the blood came from Ajax’s body, instead they found him to be in good shape even after three days by himself in the wild – perhaps a little too good, for it seemed he’d somehow taken down a beast by himself with his hands and his father’s old hunting knife.

The news of his return quickly spreads, everyone gathered near his home as they awaited with bated breaths to see the young boy; you’re there as he’s reunited with his family, hugging your mother’s leg as tightly as you could.

Rumors spread about him having killed an animal, some claimed it had been a rabbit while others alleged it had been a beast the size of a horse, and you wondered if they had mistaken another kid for Ajax – he’d never had the guts to harm even a fly, you doubted he’d changed so much in the span of three days. But it seemed as if you’d been wrong.

He doesn’t shed a tear, he doesn’t say a word. Not even a squeak as his parents coddle him; nothing at all. The only sounds are hushed whispers as people discuss the absurd situation and gleeful congratulations from onlookers as they celebrate his arrival and well being while giving his family well wishes. Instead, his blue eyes find yours and you’re unnerved at the empty look in them. Where there’s once been a warm light, you found an empty void that seemingly sucked you in and refused to let you go. You felt goosebumps arise all over your body the longer he looked at you. Even as he’s embraced within his father’s arms, his family surrounding him as they cry from relief, it’s only when he makes eye contact with you that, the first time since arriving, he smiles.

You feel a chill travel down your spine as you realize Ajax hadn’t been the one to return that day. You unconsciously nestled closer into your mother’s coat, as if trying to hide from his unnerving gaze.

You did your best to ignore that unsettling feeling, opting to attribute it to the rumors you had heard instead of something your friend had done, you pushed it and as well as any doubts aside as you attempted to focus on the good news; he was here, home with his family and back next door to your own house, and that was all that really mattered.

Ever since then, he’d become more confident. His once timid personality completely disappeared and the days where you had been the stronger one, defending him from his older siblings’ teasing and the mocking from other kids, were now but hazy memories. The roles had switched quite suddenly, not that you minded it too much – there were times where it felt nice to be the one being protected rather than the protector, but it had been quite the surprise at first.

He’d become bolder and more protective, never afraid to throw a punch (and sometimes even more) if he felt like you had been disrespected. It came to a point where you’d sometimes grow suffocated by his mere presence; eventually it escalated to where he’d never let you hang out with anybody he didn’t approve of, afraid they’d hurt you and he wouldn’t be there to defend you, and he’d make sure to let it be known you were his friend first and foremost. Unknowingly, a set of rules had been implemented between the two of you. Rules that stated you were his responsibility to protect and care for, even if it meant it drove others away and left you two isolated from other kids your age.

There were times you missed the Ajax that’d gone into the woods, the freckled boy who was timid and polite – who’d rather be teased by his siblings than hurt even a bug the size of your pinky, you doubt that boy would have picked fights with kids twice his size because they’d made a joke or two that didn’t land too well. But you hesitated to dislike the new Ajax, after all, when it was only the two of you - it was as if that damned day had never occurred at all.

He was back to the sweet, delicate boy who’d blush at your jokes and avoid prolonged eye contact. Whose hand would grow warm from holding yours, who’d confess his feelings to you every night when he thought you’d fallen asleep.

A few years later, once you were both older – now settled into your teen years, he ended up joining the Fatui and leaving your humble seaside village to go to the capital to train as a soldier.

You cried the day he’d given you the news. As overbearing as he could be, the ginger had been your only friend that your parents consistently let you hang out with, you’d spent your whole lives together and the thought of being without him terrified you greatly.

You remember the look on his face, the way he desperately tried to look strong and not let a single tear get away, his hands that had once been soft were now calloused as he grabbed your own.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” He’d whispered, his lips near your ear as he enveloped you in a hug.

You don’t trust your voice not to break and so you nod, letting your nose burn from trying to contain your sobs and not worry him more than he already was.

“A-and I’ll write you letters, so you better not forget me,” he continues, and even if by now he’d long since grown taller than yourself – you’re amazed at how small and vulnerable he felt against your frame, “so please… wait for me.”

“Only if you always write to me first… ‘Cause I swear I’ll leave if you forget.” You try to lighten the mood, halfheartedly warning him as if you both didn’t know it’d take death itself for Ajax not to fulfill a promise from him to you. He tightens his arms around you and you feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you as you wonder how long it’ll be before you can both hug like this again.

“I promise.” He laughs softly, the sound warms your heart.

“Then I promise as well.”

Ever since the day Ajax went missing, you have had trouble falling asleep.

When you did manage to fall asleep, a task which took longer than you’d like to admit without external factors such as medicine, your dreams would be strange and cryptic, often times you’d wake up in the middle of the night with a racing heartbeat and a sense of urgency, as if you’d been in danger; you’d learned to hate the images your brain would concoct during your rest. Some nights, you’d dream about that day and what would have happened if Ajax had never been found, other times you’d open the door to soldiers grieving his death; whatever tragic scenario your mind decided to present you, it would always be so realistic you’d wake up with tears streaming down your cheeks and a devastated heart.

This time, however, your sleep had come easier than expected and there were no dreams or nightmares to haunt you. No earthly worries were present and, after such an unexpected day filled with reunions and world-shattering news, you wished to succumb to a never ending night; however, the fates had other plans for you.

As you’re forcibly awakened from your slumber you feel a familiar, pleasant hand gently caressing your head. It felt gentle, their touch delicate and sweet, as if they were afraid any more force would hurt you. If the owner of said limb wished to lure you into consciousness, their touch had the opposite effect as it almost seemed to beg you to go back to sleep and forget the world of the living.

You felt truly content as you laid there, the blanket that laid atop of you was heavy and cozy, a foreign feeling - nothing like the blankets you were used to, and the pillow smelt like an old friend, welcoming and nostalgic. It all felt like a perfect trap set out to catch you, if that were that case then you’d have to admit it was a little too good at its job as you resign yourself to cuddling closer to the fabrics that enveloped you.

If it hadn’t been for the gentle kiss pressed against your cheek, you probably would have never gotten up. You want to complain, already formulating a sentence of indignation and annoyance to throw at the perpetrator, but the warmth left behind by the gesture is cozy and fills you with a taste full of happiness and fulfillment you don’t want to sour. At the feeling of a pair of unknown, soft lips against your skin you become more alert, slowly your consciousness begins to enter the realm of the living once more while you grow aware of your surroundings. Your eyes open timidly, the leftover fatigue from such a deep rest keeping them heavy, it takes you a second or two to adjust to the light and another few to register the man that lovingly gazed down on you.

“Ajax…?” You call out, rubbing your eyes as you wonder if it really was him. You’re almost sure you’re dreaming, as embarrassing as it was to admit, it had been so long since you’d seen him in person you may have simply gone crazy and imagined the man to be here; You’re about to ask him what he was doing here, if he were real at all, but he beats you to the punch with a smile before answering you with a gleeful tone that reminds you of summers long gone.

“The one and only,” he laughs gently as the hand that laid atop your head began to ruffle your hair in a familiar gesture – reassuring you that he was, in fact, a real person and not a figment of your imagination you had come up with to deal with the loneliness, “… don’t tell me you forgot about earlier.”

He teases you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes as he awaits your answer; surely, you couldn’t have forgotten. It’d only been a couple of hours and he had been sure to be as thorough as possible so that he left a print on both your mind and body, there was no way you’d forget making love with your soulmate. Just the thought of it sent jolts of anger and frustration down his spine, not at you - never at you, but at himself as he wonders if maybe he’d underperformed and disappointed you to the point you’d try and act like nothing had happened. If that was the case, he was more than willing to go again just this instant to right any previous wrongs.

“Earlier?” You mumble, you wreck your brain trying to think of what he meant but it isn’t a full minute before you realize what he meant. If it hadn’t been for his words, maybe his coat laying on you and your sore body would have been enough to eventually jog your memory. You feel your cheeks grow hot as you remember what you two had done earlier, you’d been so tired by the end you’d fallen into a deep, dreamless slumber that momentarily left you empty-headed when you woke up, but now the memories are rushing in and you doubt you’ll be able to forget the feeling of Childe on top of you for a long time.

Your embarrassed gaze was enough for him to know you’d remembered the dance you’d both partaken in earlier that day, the way your eyes avoided his had his heart swooning and a warm, fuzzy feeling settling deep within his very soul.

He feels himself calm down the more he looks at your flustered face, his whole body light and intoxicated on your sweet expressions; his pants felt so tight as he watched you fiddle with his coat, he wonders if he’d be able to warm you up on the ride back to his place the same way he’d done so previously.

You were absolutely adorable to him, so very weak and fragile in comparison to him – if he wasn’t such a gentleman, he would have loved to destroy you until you were too scared to leave his side. Alas, he decided that you shouldn’t be the one to face the sharp end of his blade, instead, he’ll scar your psyche and those around you so violently you’ll have no want nor need for anything else other than him.

“So, ‘slept well, my love?” He asks, his tone sweet as to never betray his darker thoughts — you didn’t have to know about how deeply he wished to break you until you couldn’t function without him by your side. You nod while suppressing a yawn, blissfully unaware of the chaos that was unfolding due to the man in front of you, and he laughs, content with your naïveté; he missed you oh so very much, “That’s good.”

There’s a warm, almost euphoric feeling that invaded your senses as you both took the time to enjoy each other’s presence; it felt different from earlier, something had changed now that you both had finally indulged in each other’s bodies. It felt akin to drinking a warm cup of tea, comforting and pleasurable, a reminder of home and the feeling of familiarity after a long period of impersonal and foreign coldness.

“Let’s get going then,” he breaks the silence, finally standing up from his crouching position, he gives you one last pat in the head before he starts making his way through your room and inspecting your belongings – or what remained of your belongings, “the carriage will be here soon, it’s only an hour long ride away but I think it’s best we take as much as we can today and send someone to pick up what remains.”

That’s when you notice he’s fully dressed, other than for his cape that was laid on you, as if he was anxiously awaiting the time to leave. You’re confused; why was he so keen on leaving and so fastly – he’d barely been here a handful of hours. Did you misunderstand his intentions?

“What do you…?” You ask, you rub your eyes while you sit up, using the large coat as a cover once you feel chilly Snezhnayan air hit your sensitive skin. It’s then that you can finally look at the many bags and boxes that litter the floor, and the almost empty room you laid in. All of your belongings seemed to have been packed away, almost nothing remained other than old family portraits and gifts from your parents from across the years.

“Huh?” The sight of your room packed into boxes was enough to wake you up, you instinctively try to stand up but a firm hand keeps you in place; you look up and see Ajax looking down at you. Your eyes meet and a chill goes up your spine at the look in his, they look eerily empty. You barely feel the coat slip from your shoulders, too focused on the feeling of his fingers against your forearm and the fact he, as a soldier, could easily overpower you if he wished.

“You’re still sleepy, aren’t you?” He asks, the muscles on his arm flex slightly as he speaks to you - he sounds disappointed as he continues interrogating you, “Do you really not remember?”

You shake your head, trying to wrack your brain for any indications of what he could be referring to; you remember the news about your parents and what happened after, but moving out? You have no memory of such a thing being even discussed, lest he meant —

“You agreed to marry me,” he says, as if reading your mind, your arm is finally set free as he adjusts the gloves on his hands, “and as my wife, you’ll be living with me from now on; I assumed you wouldn’t want to stay… here for much longer, considering everything.”

“Marry you…?” You echo as you watch him parade around your room, sharp eyes taking in what was left of your belongings on display. You vaguely remember his proposal during the first half of your conversation, something about how it’d serve as an obstacle for the arranged marriage – after all, it’s not as if the wife of a Fatui Harbinger’s marriage could be easily questioned or objected to. You had agreed almost immediately, even if you had your doubts about the reasoning behind the arrangement, you’d rather marry someone you knew than a stranger.

You wished you’d thought things through better, waited a bit longer before giving your answer. Clearly Ajax had made up his mind but now, after the shock of the news began to wear off, you felt like you owed your parents and yourself a discussion. Even if you felt betrayed, like their decision degraded you to an object instead of their daughter, you wanted to head their side; if only to get closure for your own aching heart.

Instead of answering you, Ajax turns around to meet your eyes. His eyes had always had the ability to suck you in like a void, they’re never clear - always muddy, like there was a side of himself he hid from you; you could never find your reflection on them. It took you a while to get used to them, to their empty, numb look that sent chills down your spine all those years ago.

The room feels small as you both look at each other, you sit on the bed naked and he stands in front of the door as if he were trapping you in, it’s silent and intimate and it makes your skin crawl. His expression is one you can’t read, maybe all those years in the Fatui had taught him how to make his enemies cower thanks to his presence alone, because the harder you tried to understand what his gaze meant, the less you felt you knew about him.

“Yes, you said you’d marry me.” He states and, even if it wasn't phrased as such, it felt more like an order than a recalling of events.

“I know,” you mumble, “and I… I like you, Ajax, I really do, and I’d love to be with you, but… but I can’t run away from this without hearing them out, you know?”

“You said you loved me.” His expression changes into a frown; Had you lied to him?

He probably sounds childish, his sentences short and repetitive like that of a toddler throwing a tantrum, but the truth was he simply couldn’t believe that you’d even hesitate to marry him; his brain completely short-circuited as he tries to understand why on Earth you’d ever think of giving anybody a chance when you had him.

“I mean, I-I do,” your cheeks feel hot as you’re quick to answer, at least you think you love him, “but… mom and dad wouldn’t just do this without a reason and you know that. I can’t just leave and never see them again without their explanation, even if it’s bad… I need some sort of closure; I can’t accept they’d just do this to me for no reason.”

“As if that changed anything, they gave your hand away for Mora, my love” He retorts, completely bewildered at your words; they’d tried to give you away to some lowlife, they hadn’t consulted you, they were going to spring it up on you one day and expect you to get over it the next, “Does a reason even matter?”

“It does, at least I… I think it does,” you look down at yourself and notice droplets falling down against the coat, staining the heavy leather with your sorrow, you were crying and hadn’t even realized it, “I don’t want to hate them… I don’t want them to hate me.”

He goes quiet when he catches sight of your tears. He freezes, his chest tightens and he feels himself grow dizzy – it’s the same foreign feeling he got when he first heard of the engagement, he feels his knees buckle under his weight and himself sway with every step he takes in your direction. They were beautiful, your tears, so delicate and clear, they shone like crystals when the soft afternoon light came through the window just right; he wishes he could collect them in his palm and weave a necklace to keep with himself, a reminder of your fragile heart he desperately needed to protect.

You looked so vulnerable, naked and crying, covered only by his coat. It was an intoxicating sight, he wished he could take a photograph and engrave it on his eyelids so every time he blinked he’d see this scene play out. You broke so beautifully, it was haunting to hear your voice break into sobs and wails as you mourned the life you thought you had, but it sounded beautiful to his ears nonetheless. It makes him feel insane, it was taking too much self-control from his part not to jump on you.

He sits down once more next to you, shaking limbs trapping you in his arms as he rubbed your back softly. As you cried uncontrollably, he found his cheeks hurting from the large grin on his face; it couldn’t be helped, no matter how much he tried to will it away, the joy he felt as he saw you cry was too much for him to hide.

“It’s okay,” he makes no effort to quell your fears, instead he chooses vague words of comfort to let it fester in your heart, “you won’t need to see them ever again, you’ll have me instead.”

He feels you hiccup, too deep in your own despair to formulate words. Your shaking body clings to his, you felt so scared and alone; How were you supposed to accept such a cruel, unforgiving truth? What could you possibly do to ease the pain in your heart as you thought about your parents and siblings, who had so easily given you away to a stranger. They felt so far away from you, it felt as if your whole life had been a long dream, nothing but a fantasy you were unaware could break any second, leaving you afraid and confused as you awakened to a reality you could have never seen coming.

“Come, I’ll help you get dressed,” Ajax helps you up as he speaks, essentially forcing you to face reality and displace the fogginess in your mind, he’s gentle as he makes his way with you to your closet - you vaguely note that it was still full, unlike the rest of your room it seemed he hadn’t touched it save for a few drawers here and there -, “the sooner you get ready,” he keeps an arm around you while he goes through the rack of your clothes, making sure you stay close to him, “the sooner we can get out of here.”

You nod, your head hurts but you can’t seem to stop the tears.

Maybe he was right, maybe it was a bad idea for you to talk to them; there was truly no excuse, was there? You doubted anything they’d say would take the feeling of betrayal away, they had treated you like an object, completely forfeiting your own personhood and giving you away to a stranger for Mora. No matter how desperately you wanted to understand what they’d done and why they’d done it, the more your head and heart hurt – it was such a cruel, heartless thing to do, to throw away your own blood to whoever bid the highest for them.

You can’t even muster the strength to facilitate the Harbinger’s task of dressing you, your whole body felt heavy as he made sure to layer on your clothes, it was near impossible for you to even stand up by yourself without your legs swaying and your knees buckling under your weight. It’s only due to the ginger’s persistence and strength that you don’t collapse.

By the time you’re ready and boarding the carriage, you’re tired and too drunk in your own misery, to question why, even as it neared nighttime, your parents nor your siblings hadn’t come home yet. Not that you cared, at least not right now, seeing them was the last thing you wanted to do.

The ride home is peaceful, you’d fallen asleep early on and laid beside Childe as he caressed your sleeping cheek and gazed out the window. Your head laid on his lap, broad thighs becoming a make-shift pillow for the ride, a blanket covering your body to keep you warm while you both made your way to his residence in the capital through the cold night.

Bored, deep blue eyes mindlessly gaze at the scenery passing by, his thoughts too jumbled together for him to admire the scenery. His thoughts stray back to your mother’s horrified face as she walked in on you together in bed earlier, he chuckles to himself as he recalls the screech she let out; it felt nice to see her so uncomfortable, but it wasn’t nice enough he’d forgive her for what she’d tried to do to you; Separate you from him.

“Ajax?” She finally gasps out, her hand points at him in an accusatory manner, “What… what is going on?”

When did that boy come back? He’d been gone for years, the last she remembered him was as a young teenager going off to join the Fatui; what was he doing in bed with you? You hadn’t mentioned him once during all these years, she had thought you’d long since forgotten about him. So why on Earth was he laying in bed with you - naked? Had he pressured you to do so? You two had such a close relationship, there was no way you wouldn’t have mentioned him to her if you two were dating - her mind was racing with a million thoughts and all of them left her worried and confused. It’s clear she’s not doing well, her breaths are visibly unsteady, her chest rising and falling unevenly while she audibly gasped for air, she’s shaking so hard you can see her knees wobble as she tries to steady herself against the doorframe; this wasn’t something she could have ever seen in coming.

Ajax couldn’t care less, the whole spectacle was boring and wholly unnecessary; she wouldn’t get to see you ever again, she should be grateful he hadn’t simply taken you home with him the minute he saw you.

“I came back for my beloved,” he answers carelessly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, he makes a vague gesture towards your sleeping form as if to make the point clearer, “can’t have a wedding without a bride, after all.”

“Wedding? You and her… are getting married?”

“Yes, is it that hard to understand? Come on, ma’am, everyone could see that she and I were going to get married,” he scoffs, “you said so yourself multiple times.”

“But,” she looks visibly confused, “that was back when you two were together everyday, Ajax… you haven’t seen each other in years. You can’t seriously think that you’re getting married because you both said so when you were children.”

The audacity this woman had was near parody, clearly she knew nothing about you nor your life and it made him feel sick. She had the privilege to be a constant part of your life during all those years he was away and yet she clearly spent them doing Archons’ knows what, he was growing visibly angry the more she spoke.

“We’ve known each other long enough,” he shoots her a glare, “and I’ve known my whole life I’d marry her, whether we’ve been seeing each other everyday or not - we’re getting married and that’s final.”

“Did she agree to this?” Your mother asks, her voice rising until it was near a squeak.

“Of course she agreed to marry me!” He snaps, his tone venomous; Could she just shut the hell up already?

“Then why didn’t she mention it to her father nor myself?”

“Because we agreed to get married today,” he puts your sleeping body aside, slowly standing up and tying a loose blanket around his hips, “and neither of you were here.”

“Today?” She echos, “You came back today and asked her to marry you?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I did,” he shoots her a glance as he picks up his clothes, slowly putting them on as he goes on, “and she said yes, I think you get the point by now.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” she mumbled to herself, she made her way inside the room, careful as to not wake you up, “there’s no way she was serious about marrying you. You… you’re practically a stranger to all of us at this point, Ajax.”

His pants were on at this point, his blouse now balled into his fist as he tried to control his annoyance. This was starting to get pathetic on her end.

“I will have you know,” he interrupts her, turning around to make eye contact with the woman once more to make his point clear, “that not only have we been in constant communication since I left, she agreed quite happily to the proposal - I don’t understand what exactly is not clicking, ma’am.”

“Of course she’d agree,” she exclaims, her hands flying up in desperation as she continues, “she has liked you all her life; but were you two dating until this point? What even was the relationship between you two; how am I supposed to support her getting engaged with a man we haven’t seen or heard from in years. Never once did she mention you, Ajax, she never spoke of a partner much less a marriage, all her life she’s made it clear that’s one of the least of her concerns and you want me to believe her mind changed in one day because you came and had sex with her? You’re insane if you think I’ll allow it.”

He feels himself freeze, most of what she’s said up until now feels like background noise the moment he finishes processing her words. You never mentioned him to your parents? He knew you hadn’t mentioned the letters, not all of them at least - he’s asked you not to, but never once in the almost eight years since he left had you mentioned him - not even as a potential suitor nor as a lover. That hag is lying, right? There’s no way you’d do this to him, right? You loved him, you said you did when he was fucking you just minutes ago, you wouldn’t lie to him, no.

“Listen to me, I don’t care if you want to get married to her - but there’s an order to how things are done,” your mother shoots your sleeping form a glance, “you could have at least let us know beforehand you’d be coming, you… you should have spoken to us; you know we would have given you our blessing if you’d waited a bit longer. This is the first time you’ve seen each other in years, emotions are running high - at least give her some more time to think this through, you already bedded her… don’t make this harder on her - she was beginning to move on, she’d been planning to move and now you’re telling me she’s throwing it all away? For a man she’s barely seen in years no less.”

“You’re… you’re wrong.” He mumbles under his breath, “You’re wrong, we both love each other.”

“Listen to me,” had your mother’s voice always been so grating to the ear, “she might have said yes to you now but how do you know she won’t regret it? When did you ask her? Today, the same day you come for the first time to see her? You think that under all the emotions that’ll come up seeing you again she’ll be thinking rationally? Was this even a conversation you both had previously, Ajax? How are you so sure she loves you like a wife and not just as a friend?”

His movements slow down, his hands feel heavy as he buttons up his shirt; can she just shut up? What did she think she was doing, lying to get him out of the way? Insinuating you’d ever regret him, what a joke - you needed him to survive.

“I’m saying this not just as a parent but as a wife, you can’t rush into these things, you can’t spring the question up suddenly and not take the time to consider it properly! You… you immediately had sex with her and you want me to believe this is out of love and not physical attraction? You couldn’t even wait for her father and I to get home. You’re telling me that both of you are completely sure of what you’re doing, you want me to believe that? I’m not letting my daughter make such a rash decision in a day -”

“So what if it was in only a day, huh? You’re just looking for any excuse to oppose us getting together,” he’s quick to interrupt her, “because you are trying to get her to marry some old fuck for some quick mora.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You think I don’t know, huh? You don’t care about her at all, do you? Lying to me that she’d never mention me, as if you didn’t know we were together all this time… acting like you care about her when there’s some fucking bitch downstairs you sold her off to.”

“What… What's this about selling my daughter?” “Don’t act stupid on me,” he doesn’t even bother buttoning the rest of his shirt before he’s pushing your mother out of the room and following her out the door, “I tried to be civil, but I’m getting really damn tired of you criticizing us and you keep on lying.”

She hits her back against the wall, she yelps in surprise but the Harbinger makes no acknowledgement of any discomfort he may be causing. Instead, gloved hands shoot up and take hold of her shoulders as he continues going at her; there’s a crazed look in his eyes as he keeps on speaking, getting progressively annoyed the longer the conversation went on.

“We – I, we never sold her off,” your mother pants, she looks up at him in confusion and fear, “who do you take us for?”

“I have the records,” he pushes her down, “there’s no use in lying to me, ma’am – I know everything I need to know.”

“You’re crazy,” she spits out, “you’re fucking crazy… I don’t what the fuck happened to you, but I’m sure as hell now that you are absolutely not getting anywhere near my daughter!”

“Shut up!” He picks her up and throws her against the wall, there’s a loud thud as her body slowly sinks into the ground, he corners her with his body, “Shut the fuck up, you hag.”

“Let go!” Tears are streaming down her eyes as she pleads,“Help, someone help! Please, upstairs… come upstairs now!”

“Listen here,” his eyes are wide open, his posture threatening as he leans over her shaking body, he’s rough in his handling of her and he knows it but chooses not to care, “she said she’d marry me, she said she loves me, she said so and so it is. There’s no debate, got it? If I want to fuck her two minutes after seeing her, I do so, and if I want to marry her after not seeing her for years, I do so. We don’t need a lying bitch getting in our way, you understand that, right? I don’t need you taking her away from me to give her to someone else. She was mine before I left, she was mine when I left, she’s mine right now, and she’ll be mine as long as I’m alive, so you either shut up and accept it or I’ll get rid of you and your fucking mistake of a family.”

“Get off of her!”

Oh, your father was here.

It’s strange to think that at some point, Ajax would have considered him something akin to a second father - especially now as his stomach filled itself with venomous rage at the mere sight of the older man.

“I said get off,” he runs towards the younger soldier, at an impressive speed for a man his age, his hands lunge forward as if to tackle him but it takes one hydro blade’s slash for him to stop dead in his tracks, “I… what do you want?”

Your father looks visibly worried as the ginger brands his weapon, the sight of an unfamiliar vision user threatening your spouse is one that would make anyone think twice before taking their next step.

“Do you seriously not recognize me?” Tartaglia laughs incredulously, “Come on, sir… I was only gone for a couple of years.”

“Ajax?” Your mother nods her head frantically as your father finally puts a name to the face of the strange man in his house, “What the hell are you doing, boy?”

“He’s going on about,” your mother gasps for air, “marrying her and - and, us selling her or something!” The awkward position she found herself in made it hard for her to comfortably speak, even so, she made sure to spit it out as quickly as possible. Her chest is heaving while she desperately tries to make your father understand the absurdity of the situation, the hydro blade in his hand was simply too close to her skin for her comfort - the power of Harbinger was nothing to scoff at and she wanted nothing more than to never find herself in this position ever again.

“We can talk this out,” your father’s hands shake as he tries to slowly approach the ginger, “there’s clearly been a misunderstanding…”

“There has been no misunderstanding, sir,” he laughs, “I know damn well what I saw and what I heard.”

“We would never -” “Yes, you would!” He nearly shouts, but he restrains himself - if only because you’re still sleeping nearby, his whole body shakes as he tries to control the volume of his voice, “And I’m getting really fucking tired of you acting like you wouldn’t, you know? Just admit it and maybe, just maybe, we can work things out.”

“We would never hurt our daughter like that, Ajax,” the older man tries to explain, “please, understand that… let my wife go and we can talk this out properly, please.”

“Talk it out?” Ajax looks at him incredulously, “There’s nothing to talk about if you won’t admit to your mistakes, sir.” “B-but we didn’t -”

“Shut up!” His blue eyes are wide open, the crazed look in them was enough to send a chill down a grown man’s body. Why couldn’t they just admit to trying to separate the both of you? Why were they so desperate to lie? He knows what he heard, he knows they were trying to ruin his chances to be with you. They were clearly trying to get in his way, they had to be conspiring against the two of you - there was no other reason as to why you’d been so hesitant to agree to his proposal, why you’d been scared to see the truth; they were brainwashing you into forgetting him, doubting him. They had to have known he’d come back, there was no way he wouldn’t have, it’d take death itself for him to give up on you.

He couldn’t take it anymore, he couldn’t stand to listen to your parents’ pathetic attempts at covering up their lies.

Your mother’s words die in her throat as he knocks her out with a single blow, it’s by sheer luck the impact against her skull hadn’t straight up killed her. Your father doesn’t even get to react, not even a pip can be mumbled, before Tartaglia is making his way towards him at rapid speeds, the young man’s strength was enough to tackle him down. The Fatui soldier makes sure to use as much strength as possible, all in an attempt to get his opponent to knock his head against something and pass out with as little fuss as possible.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold - not yet dead nor mortally injured but not awake, no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you.

It’s almost pathetic how quickly he’d taken both of them down, in just a few minutes the couple was knocked out cold, both lying motionless on the ground, their limbs sprawled awkwardly; not yet dead but no longer able to annoy Ajax or disturb you, much to the former’s delight.

Footsteps could be heard from the first floor as the guests downstairs started getting worried, standing up and roaming around calling your parents’ names - too polite to dare wander into the house but too anxious about their absence to stay completely still, the thick wooden floors muffled the sounds but not enough that the commotion upstairs couldn’t be heard. One of the many benefits of Snezhnayan architecture was the isolation you could achieve in a big enough house, he’ll keep it in mind when he picks a house to start a family with you in.

Due to your house’s size, Ajax wouldn’t have to worry too much about Andrei or his parents hearing too much, meaning he’d be able to keep the element of surprise.

The Vision user knew he’d have to avoid the dining room, the place where the guests currently found themselves, lest he lose control and kill his former subordinate the minute he laid eyes on him, however his reasoning was anything but noble; Tartaglia simply wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting him get away with his crimes just yet.

To him, death would be too soft a punishment, it would have to be a fate worse than, not just for Andrei but every single person who was involved in the scheme.

His gloved hands make their way to check their pulses, both weak but still there - good.

With a satisfied huff he makes his way down the hall and staircase, quick to dismiss his signature hydro blades as he purposely makes his presence known with loud, rhythmic footsteps any soldier who’d served under him would recognize.

Years of hanging out under this very roof meant Ajax knew exactly where your back entrance was, which meant that he could enjoy instilling a sense of dread into the people downstairs without risking being found.

With a lazy smirk, Ajax purposely lets a couple of framed pictures and paintings fall from the wall, his hand tracing the walls and making sure to create as much sound as possible. As he approaches the dining room, he can hear the confused, hushed whispers as someone tries to peek into the hallway but, by the time the young man finally reaches the door to look around, Ajax has long since exited the house as he makes his way to recall the soldiers he’d stationed around the neighborhood.

With a wave of his hand soldiers seemingly appeared from thin air, emerging from bushes and rounding dark corners, soon the Harbinger is surrounded by men awaiting his orders.

“Is the Galkin residency ready?” He asks, making direct eye contact with a shorter soldier.

“Yes, sir.” The man nods.

“Good,” he combs a hand through his hair as he looks at your childhood home, “there’s a knocked out couple on the second floor, the rest are in the dining room.”

“Yes, sir.” A chorus of voices respond, mechanically a group of the soldiers turn around and march into the house.

“Keep it down, will you? If they scream, knock them out,” he adds half-heartedly, “she’s sleeping, so don’t wake her up.”

The leader of the group nods enthusiastically, making sure to echo the sentiment to his men before making their way inside the house.

As their operation takes place, Tartaglia turns back around to address his remaining companions; “Make sure to make it look as realistic as possible, we need the charges to stick.”

“Yes, sir.”

He asks to see the boxes full of fabricated evidence one last time. There are at least six large boxes filled to the brim, but he focuses on one. The one that holds the most damning evidence for the most serious crime anyone could commit in the land of Cryo; Treason against the Tsaritsa. Cold, blue eyes look with a gleeful glint at the falsified letters, penned to look exactly like your family members’ handwriting, there’s more; photographs, bank records, falsified shipment records, and more.

He gives one final nod, officially sealing everyone’s fates. From this moment onwards, your family and the Galkin’s would be charged with treason against the Tsaritsa and conspiracy to overthrow the Fatui. Sure, many others, perhaps even innocent people, will unjustly be implicated but he’ll make sure to pin this on the worst people he can. He’ll get rid of two birds with one stone while he’s at it.

It takes only a couple of minutes before everyone is being pulled outside of the house and led into carriages. It’s a humiliating sight, the ones who were awake were panicked, some even crying, the ones who had to be subdued needed to be carried by two or more people as they were unceremoniously dragged away.

Ajax purposely hides away, making sure to make a mental note of who was being taken and their condition. Andrei and his father are the only Galkin family members out of the four present who hadn’t been knocked out. Your parents, your eldest sister, and younger brother are knocked out - your elder brother, and your other sister are the only ones awake. There are a couple of other people, their partners, and a few he didn’t recognize immediately. In total, there were 16 people taken from your home.

Tartaglia made a point to only reveal himself as they finally dragged Andrei out, the final person out the house. His hands were bound behind him, a confused look clear in his eyes as he desperately tried to understand what was going on. His green eyes finally make contact with Ajax’s, they widen.

“Sir? What is going on -” He’s cut off by a harsh shove from the soldier walking him, he stumbles.

Ajax almost feels bad at the sight, Andrei was a good man - if only he didn’t try to get with you. He was young, unlike the idea he’d planted into your head, Galkin had only recently turned 27 last month, and he’d been a promising soldier until he was honorably discharged after a failed mission took the lives of most of his troupe. However, if you found out about his closeness in age to yourself, you’d probably not have reacted as poorly - maybe you’d even think about giving the fucker a chance. After all, people like Andrei - honorable young men who sacrificed a part of himself for his nation - were always appealing to the masses. But never as appealing as Ajax was to you, he couldn’t be.

The Harbinger turns around on his heels, not even sparing another glance to the arrested individuals, before making his way inside your house.

It’s filled with strangers, their serious faces evident as they set up the scene - their movements calculated as they did their best to create the image of guilt. Even though there were easily five or more people in every room, the whole place felt eerily empty. In a way, he almost feels as if you two were the only people in the world - you, the sleeping beauty waiting for him to arrive.

There’s a spring in his step as he pushes the door to your room open, his eyes immediately find you buried within his coat. He’s not surprised you had managed to sleep through it all, you’d always been a heavy sleeper even during your youth.

He ushers a soldier in with a bunch of empty boxes, signaling for her to start packing your things up.

“Wake her up and you’re dead.” He adds while he makes his way towards you, a cheeky smile on his face as he makes himself comfortable next to you.

The soldier nods, making sure to be as quiet as humanly possible as to not anger the man in front of her - at this point, everyone in the house knew that he was not exaggerating when he said such things. When it came to you, the eleventh Fatui Harbinger knew no bounds. She turns around, making sure not to look too much at either of you in fear of upsetting him.

He patiently waits for the woman to finish packing all she could fit in the boxes. By now, he’s cuddling you in his arms, never allowing you the chance to so much as squirm away from him. It’s a suffocating, possessive hold he has on you, like he was scared if he let you go even for a second you’d leave him.

“Good, thank you.” He doesn’t even look at her - too focused gazing lovingly at your sleeping form. She says nothing but bows before leaving, desperate to leave the room as soon as possible.

The minute she closes the door he pulls himself away from you, making sure to not wake you up with any sudden movements - a concern he seemingly hadn’t had before when he’d been tormenting your parents.

He’d done his best to conceal himself but the truth was that the minute he saw you again, he felt himself growing hard again. Your naked body was hidden enough he didn’t feel the need to kick the soldier from before out, but he knew - he knew that beneath it you were still dirty with him, you were bruised from his handling of you, your neck filled with his kisses and bites. Just knowing that was enough for him to get dizzy, as if all the blood that was meant to flow to his brain had been redirected to his dick. His white pants were tented up, it almost hurts from how erect it was - just the memory of you taking him inside had a wet patch forming in his underwear.

“Look at what you do, baby,” he moans, his voice breathy as he pulls his zipper down, slowly freeing his hard-on, “ah… hah, I want to be inside you again.”

Just the cold air hitting his bare cock is enough to send a jolt of electricity down his spine, he just wants to feel you again, it’s all he wants - to be inside you again and to fuck you until all you can think of his your future husband’s cock. He takes your hand, so much smoother than his battle-worn one, and cautiously shoves two of your fingers into his mouth as a make-shift gag.

He keeps one hand there while the other one slowly caresses his slit, his touch almost a ghost on his skin as he makes sure to tease it until a glob of pre starts to form from how sensitive he already was. He takes a small amount of pre-cum and uses it as lube, making sure to spread it slowly across his tip and down his shaft with long strokes.

He’s trying his best not to bite down on your fingers but it was so hard not to, instead he occupies himself by sucking on them in sync with his hand.

“Mhm!” He accidentally touches his vein, the thick bump was extra sensitive against the cold air and your scent, his whole body twitches.

He can’t stop his hand from gaining speed and force, the longer he’s here with you the more his hand moves. It just not enough, his hips thrust upwards as he gives into himself, fucking into his balled up hand. His tongue laps at your fingers, his lips wrap tightly around them as he tries not to bite into your flesh; he can’t stop his hand from tightening against his cock.

He continues like this for a while, humping into the air like a bitch in heat, making sure to not cum - he didn’t want this to end too soon, he wanted to continue feeling like this next to you. In your room, a place that smelt so much like you it was overstimulating him, the taste of your lips against his tongue was intoxicating - he didn’t want today to end.

“Hah, mhm…” He chokes against his moan; it’s starting to get too much for him.

It’s then that he makes the mistake of looking over to you. Just the sight is enough for him to cum, it takes just a few strokes for him to finally spill.

“F-Fuck!” He can’t stop the moan that leaves his lips, he takes your fingers out of mouth in fear of hurting you but he refuses to let it go, gripping tightly while he lets himself ride the wave of pleasure he feels.

It takes him a second or two until he finally calms down, his dick growing sensitive as he slows down his strokes until he finally stops. His chest feels heavy as he pants, his heart beating painfully loud - he wonders if maybe you could hear it even in your sleep, a part of him hopes so. His whole body is on fire but he thinks this is the best he’s ever felt, just being near you was enough to make him feel like a God.

“I… I love you,” he pants, his fingers almost leave a dent in your hands from how tightly he’s gripping it, “hah… I love you so, so much…”

Almost a little too much.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere ajax #yandere tartaglia #yandere childe #yandere x reader #yandere gi #yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere boy x reader #male yandere #๋࣭ ancient scrolls #yandere genshin imagines

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bloodmoonmuses · 3 months

Text

stray cats, cold spaghetti | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, meet cute, friends to lovers (this is unedited, so forgive any typos! happy valentine's day!)

warnings: mentions of food!

summary: your cat introduces you to your new friend, mark. he's a bit more similar to an actual cat than you initially realized.

You didn’t understand the attachment people had to their pets until this stupid cat showed up. She was a stray, with mangled fur and callous eyes, who popped up some months ago. You had checked for any postings about missing pets, and even asked a few of your neighbors, but no one claimed the ratty thing. It’s not that you disliked animals entirely- you’re not a sociopath. You just aired more on the side of nonchalance.

The cat could sense this, ever since the first time you two crossed paths. You remember that night so vividly. You couldn’t sleep. You laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, hoping slumber would whisk you away sooner than later. Just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard whining. Visceral, pained whining. At first, you tried to ignore it, but when you heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a young child, you figured it’d be better to survey the situation just in case. When you opened your door to a begging cat, you sighed. Damn the neighbors for feeding this thing. Now she thinks she owns the place.

“I bet you’re hungry, huh.” The cat bore into you with bright green eyes, tilting its head as if to say, “Duh!”

So you re-entered your home, Googled “What human food can cats eat?”, and came back with canned tuna and half a carrot. The brat looked right past the carrot and inhaled the tuna, this being its first real meal of the day. In between scarfing down food, the gray cat looked at you inquisitively. “Any more where that came from?” her eyes said. She sidled up next to your leg, purring and rubbing her head against it.

“That’s all I got,” you had confessed.

You named her June, since that’s the month she came into your life. Now, you’re best friends. June is actually pretty chill. She likes watching movies with you and, strangely, likes going on walks. After getting her groomed, she’s kinda cute too. You hated to admit it, but you love June. You imagine this is how people felt about their kids- without the initial reluctance of course. June comes and goes as she pleases as if she’s still a stray, but always comes back by dinner time.

When June isn’t back at her usual time one day in October, you get a bit nervous. She never does this. Before breaking out into a full out panic, you remember she’s got a collar and a tracker from the vet now. No biggie. Opening the app that’s connected to June’s tracker, you meander down the path you usually walk with her when it’s warmer out. When you’re a few blocks from your place, you see her, relief flooding your system. Then you realize there’s a man petting her.

“Junie! June!” You run up to her, taking her into your arms. You snuggle her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her head. You’re so caught up in your reunion with June that you forget about the stranger standing in front of you. Oh yeah. You should probably say something. His hair is somewhere in between auburn and brown, making his face look incredibly warm. You hold June a bit tighter.

“Cute cat,” the stranger says. His voice is a bit hoarse. “Thought she was a stray before I saw the collar.” Um, okay? June’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s clearly cared for.

“Yeah, she’s mine. Do you, like, follow strays around in your free time?” you ask with a bite to your tone.

“Do you let your pet wander around like a stray in your free time?” Fair, you think, but still rude.

“She’s a free spirit,” you contest.

“So you let her wander.”

“This is the first time she hasn’t come home for dinner. Our relationship is built mostly on my ability to provide her food- which works for me.” You’re not sure why you’re explaining your relationship with your cat. Who cares what this guy thinks?

June jumps out of your arms, back to the ground, and walks up to the stranger’s legs. He bends down to resume petting her. From his crouched stance, he looks into your eyes. The eye contact makes you shiver.

“She’s sweet,” he says. “What’s her name?”

“June. She’s a charmer- and incredibly manipulative. She probably thought she could swindle you out of some food.”

“Do I look easy to take advantage of?” He asks.

You assess him. Oversized hoodie, baggy pants, sneakers covered in scuffs... Maybe he’s a dancer. Or skateboards. You’d be into that, you think. Skater boys weren’t really your thing, but they could be- as long as it’s him. If anything, the guy just looks… cozy, all bundled up like this. There’s a tinge of red on the tip of his nose from the nippy air. He’s smirking to himself at his (flirtatious) question, making his cheek look plump. You want to pinch it.

You want to make him as warm as his eyes make you feel.

You realize you’ve probably been staring. Geez, what was his question? Oh yeah. “Yeah. Like a pushover,” you say. “In the best way, of course.”

“Ouch.”

“Only a real sap would fall victim to June’s powers. She can sense lackeys. No offense.”

“I’m gonna choose to believe that means you think I’m a nice guy.”

“Nice enough.”

“I’ll take it.” The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, June having finally grown bored of her new friend. The guy stands from his crouching position and sways a bit as he awaits your next move.

“Well, like I said, this little lady was late for dinner. So if it’s okay with you,” you pick up June, then continue your thought, “We’ll be heading out.”

As you turn to walk back home, the stranger says, “I… didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

Right. You introduced June, but not yourself. Go figure. “Oh. I’m ___.”

“Cool. I’m Mark.” He looks like a ‘Mark’-boyish and chipper.

“Nice to meet you, Mark. Well, have a nice night.” You start to walk again, but Mark interjects yet again.

“The sun’s setting,” he blurts it out like he’s trying to rid his mouth of the words as quickly as possible. “Can I walk you home?” Then he amends, “I live nearby, so I know it gets kinda dark in this neighborhood. Not many street lights.”

You think about it. You’re not getting any serial killer vibes, plus he’s already passed the June test. (And if you're being honest, he's very cute.) “Um, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walk in silence, save for June’s purring. When you make it to your apartment building, you stop. Your gut is twisting, mind fixating on the warmth radiating off Mark’s body. Your fingertips are whirring with electricity. You have a bad idea.

“Would you maybe… wanna come in for dinner?” Mark turns to look at you. “I never really learned how to cook for one person, so I always have a bunch of leftovers.”

It’s a lie, but not entirely. You like to cook enough food for the entire week. Mark doesn't need to know this, you conclude.

Mark nods to himself. “Uh, sure. I could eat.”

As soon as you place June down in your apartment, she sprints to her food bowl. Silly girl.

“Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company,” you say. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“Love it,” Mark responds. (You’d later find out this was a lie.)

“Perfect.”

That’s how you and Mark became friends- similarly to how June came into your life. You fed him. In all honesty, he wasn’t that fond of your spaghetti. He just liked the way you smiled each time he took a bite. The two of you continued to get to know one another while making food. Neither of you are great cooks, so you usually team up. It’s become a love language of sorts, sending recipes back and forth to try. You look forward to eating with Mark more than anything these days.

You’re more than aware of your underlying feelings for Mark, but you’ve managed to temper them. You don’t want to scare him off, but the tension is relentless. You’re making tiramisu and your shoulders touch. You’re piping flowers on a cupcake while Mark pulls tendrils of hair away from your face. You’re whisking meringue into stiff peaks while Mark hums to June in the living room. It’s heart achingly domestic.

Oftentimes you imagine Mark as your husband. In your daydreams the two of you are wearing matching aprons, flour dusting his nose. He kisses you, a fit of giggles attacking your system. You’re absolutely smitten and unabashedly so.

In reality, today is Valentine’s Day. Mark suggests he comes over and makes pizza. You don’t think Mark realizes what day it is until you suggest making your pizzas heart shaped. He says he forgot to buy his friend Jaehyun a birthday gift.

“This is, like, kinda romantic.” If being covered in pizza sauce and flour is romantic, then yes. This was very romantic. You have a nice spread here- fresh basil, mozzarella, alfredo sauce, vodka sauce, roma tomatoes… It smells so nice. Mark keeps sneaking chunks of cheese into his mouth. He looks like a little mouse. June is fast asleep on the couch. You’ve finally perfected the heart shape of your dough, and begin to spread alfredo sauce on your pizza.

“Your parameters for romance are very strange, Mark Lee.”

“If you close your eyes, it’s like we’re in Italy.” When he says things like this, they only fuel your daydreams. You blame the flush of your face on the preheating oven.

“Venice, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Mark’s pizza looks more like an anatomical heart than the kind you’d doodle in a notebook. He scoffs when you tell him this, feigning offense.

“Should I remind you of how your cinnamon rolls came out a few weeks ago?” They were awful. At a certain point, you had given up and rolled them into balls.

“My cinnamon rolls/balls were innovative and transcendent.”

“I don’t even know how you messed them up,” Mark says as he puts the pizzas in the oven, “We bought pre-made dough.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the pizzas are done baking, the two of you sit at the dinner table. It’s a different feel for the two of you, seeing as you usually eat together on the couch. You take a bite of your pizza, savoring the taste.

“Not bad. Wanna taste?” Mark nods. Instinctively, the two of you swap plates, trying each others’ creations.

“I think you’re better at making savory foods.”

“I agree.”

You and Mark continue to eat your pizzas, taking gulps of your respective drinks in between bites. Beer for Mark, white wine for you. Jazz plays softly from your shitty phone speaker, and June’s snores fill in the gaps of silence. After a bit, Mark’s face goes red from the alcohol. You liked seeing him tipsy. He gets all wavy and fluid, unconsciously swaying side to side like a daisy in the wind. Your face feels fuzzy from the wine and you find yourself biting your tongue.

You’ve had to be more conscious of your alcohol intake around Mark lately. It felt as if at any moment, your love for him would simply become unbearable. Recently, it’s been hard to just look at him- even while sober. Tonight, apparently, you threw caution to the wind.

“Mark?” you say.

“Hmm….” He’s drifting away, lethargic from the food and beer. You repeat his name again, this time getting his full attention. When his glassy eyes meet yours, the force behind them knocks the wind out of you.

“Yes?” says Mark. He takes another sip of beer.

You can’t do this, you think, backtracking entirely. The lie escapes as a garbled mess of words: “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You take a nervous gulp of your wine.

Mark slams his fist on the table, in a drunken stupor. The sound startles you, but there’s no malice behind his motion. In fact, he’s laughing to himself. “Bullshit.”

“I really did lose my train of thought. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“I know you’re lying. Like you lied about that cold ass spaghetti you used to lure me in!” he says, referencing the night you met. The spaghetti wasn’t that cold…

“I really did make too much spaghetti that night! Plus, you kept June safe. It was the least I could do!”

Mark begins to gather your plates and cups, walking over to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As he stands, he says, “I won’t force you to say it, but I know you’re lying.”

Then he moves to run the faucet. The rushing water fills the silence like TV static, buzzing and itching in your ears. Your throat is burning. You want to talk to him openly, honestly- but something’s stopping you. Mark washes the dishes wordlessly. With his back turned to you, his words hang heavy in the air. Mark never pries but simultaneously knows you so intimately. You love being known by him. You love knowing him.

You simply love him.

“Why’d you walk me home that night?” Your voice barely pierces the air. The question practically squeaks out of you.

“What?” Mark turns off the facet and dries his hands on a towel, turning to look at you.

“The night we met. Why’d you walk me home?”

He contemplates the question for a moment, closing his eyes to visualize the night. Then he says, “Wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

The moment is delicate and fragile. You’re scared that if not nimble enough, if not cradled with the utmost gentleness, it will shatter. You proceed with caution.

“Mark?” At the sound of his name, Mark returns to his seat at the dining table.

“I think… I love you.” Mark chuckles. “Don’t laugh!”

“You think?” he says, now breaking out into a full-bodied laugh.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“I love you too.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...I think.”

“Very funny, asshole.”

Mark reaches over the table and places a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Okay, I think I’m a little more sure now,” he says.

“Need some more reassurance?” you ask. Mark nods.

You lean in to kiss him this time, and just before your lips touch, you hear whining. You pull back to look down, seeing June curled up beneath your chair. Her timing is always impeccable. The two of you giggle, sealing the moment with a fervent kiss. You melt into his touch, the elation coursing through your veins. When you come up for air, you meet Mark’s eyes.

“What?” he says. “I’m a better kisser than you thought?”

“I was just wondering… you’re still gonna wash the dishes, right?”

#bloodmoonmuses #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader

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girlboypersonthingy · 2 months

Note

OMG BESTIEE can I pleaseee request Angel Dust x gn! reader headcanons about how they’re getting to know each other/open up? Like at first Angel was kind of indifferent to reader, didn’t really think much of them, but they ended up bonding and connecting really well and Angel just can’t stop looking at them like this 😍 and can’t help but be soft and sweet with them pretty much all the time. Mans is also so tempted to kiss them, often staring at their lips, but he wants to respect their boundaries too so he just tries to focus on being around them 24/7. THANKS SO MUCH BESTIEE I LOVE YOUR WORK🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

YAASSS BESTIE I LOVE ME SOME SPIDER TWINK 🩷🩷🩷 I love the idea of Angel being so horny and flirty and raunchy all the time but being softened and wooed by someone so much more innocent and romantic than him. Cuuttteeeee 🥹 enjoy, nonnie~

TW: Angel being a p*rn star, suggestive jokes, lots of swearing

Bonding with Angel Dust Headcanons 💖🕸️

Boy meets so many new people every day, he probably doesn’t even remember your name after you two meet. Like…he fucks guys and doesn’t even know their name first. He’s totally gonna forget your name for a while after you join him at the hotel.

“Good morning, Angel.” You mutter softly as you pass him in the hall one morning, your eye bags particularly prominent today.

“Heya! Good morning….uh toots!” Hes a bit taken aback, having not seen you until you spoke up. And he scrambled to find a simple pet name to call you bc he can’t for the life of him remember your name!

And this becomes a morning routine for you considering you lived in the same block of rooms as him and you pass each other around the same time every single day.

“Good morning, Angie.” You yawn as you pass him yet again.

“Morning, hun.” He forces a small, sleepy smile at you as he passes by, continuing his walk to the front of the hotel.

Angel comes to expect to see you every morning now, lowkey falling in love with your groggy, raspy morning voice and your bed head and your glossy, squinted eyes.

Slowly, Angel starts to become more friendly towards you, finally remembering and using your name to greet you.

He’ll totally start teasing you about your bed head and laugh when you try to smooth your hair out frantically.

There’s one morning when Angel walks into the hall and looks down both ways, confused as to why he didn’t see you yet.

Boy, does he flip his lid when he realizes he’s been standing in front of his door waiting for you to meet him in the hall for like 20 minutes.

It catches him off guard that…maybe he really likes you. Maybe he’s even…caught feelings?

Angel would probably panic a bit bc feelings? No, he’s used to one night stands and fucking for cash. Hes a party animal, a porn demon for fucks sake! How could he have feelings for you?

But nonetheless, Angel decides to go knock on your door. Maybe you just slept in today…?

Would totally find himself nervous asf bc 1) he just started to ponder the idea of having a little crush on you and 2) he’s never been in your room or even seen inside before.

Comes to find you’re sick that day! And gets sad bc he can’t start his day without his daily dose of you~

He would also totally not tend to you while you’re sick bc boy is scared you’ll see his true feelings for you. He wants to keep that under wraps for now. So he’d tell Charlie and Vaggie bc he wants someone to care for you still and obvi Charlie puts everything on hold to baby you and nurse you back to health. She’s too sweet, my teeth hurt.

Gradually, you two find yourselves together more often than not.

Sitting next to each other at the bar or during one of Charlie’s circle time, team building exercise things.

Finding each other in your rooms just to say hi and check in with each other and maybe even hang out

Angel isn’t shy about his line of work, as we all know. So you’re very much aware he’s a porn star. Hell! He’s even shown you one of his pornos before, bragging and gloating as you watch awkwardly, face tomato red bc fuck he’s so hot and now that you’ve actually seen him naked, you can not stop thinking about what his soft silky body would feel like against your own skin

He loves that you’re accepting of him tho, that you never judge him or give him any looks of disgust or contempt.

It might embarrass you to see him so…vulnerable but you’d never look at him in a negative light. You’ve just never watched a porno while sitting next to the porn star themselves.

Angel eventually gets comfy enough to start invading your privacy just a bit, asking you about your sex life, any relationships you’re in, what your life before was like, how you died and why you ended up here bc he thinks you’re too sweet and pure to be here

If you’re one to immediately open up, he listens but will accidentally interrupt you from time to time to tell you about his own life and try to relate to you.

If you’re not ready or willing to open up to him just yet, that’s cool! He’s gonna spill his guts to you anyways…and he hopes that him opening up to you first will make you want to do the same to him.

He tells you all about his past life, how he died, his regrets, the people he misses most, his shitty situationship with Valentino, about his bestie Cherri Bomb.

Once Angel realizes you’re trustworthy and a great listener, he comes to you often when he’s upset, in need of advice or just looking for a shoulder to cry on.

He doesn’t open up to others too often and will strongly uphold his cocky demeanor and his flamboyant attitude around the rest of the group at the hotel.

But you’re different…you always seem to find each other on your best and worst days to share your emotions with the other.

When Angel has had a particularly rough night on set, his body sore and his mind foggy and exhausted, he’ll barge in your room without knocking, flop down on your bed and shove his face in your pillows. He’ll probably shed a few tears into the fabric on your bed, silently and without letting his body shake. He doesn’t want you to know he’s crying, but you can tell. When he’s abnormally quiet like this, he’s usually crying and holding his breath as to not let any sobs sound from his mouth.

He’d inhale deeply, trying to calm himself by manually breathing but it’s not the air that soothes him, it’s the scent of you on the pillow case that fills his nose and puts him at ease.

He’d then pour his heart out to you, truly appreciating the fact that you’re such a good listener and you look at him with such soft expressions of empathy.

Angel is always willing to switch and be your shoulder to cry on if needed, but really loves when you have some good news or something interesting to tell him bc he loves when you burst through his door with a giant, dorky grin, yelling “BITCH GUESS WHAT?! I HAVE SOME PIPING HOT TEA FOR YA!” Before gossiping to him between laughs and dramatic faces.

I think once he’s come to terms with his romantic feelings for you, he’d start to get a bit more touchy. But not sexual touches…he actually really really enjoys touching when it’s parts of him that aren’t normally touched by others. Does that make sense?

He gets manhandled, fucked, roughed up and pushed around nearly every day so he’s used to being touched on his hips and torso, he’s become accustomed to hands firmly gripping his ass and his throat, he’s used to bitting and being bruised by the end of the day.

So when you gently caress his cheek or run a hand through his white, bouncy hair or link your pinky with one of his or gently rub his back as you pass by him, he nearly loses all composure.

You treat him so well, he’s really starting to fall in love with you and the innocent way you show your affection for him.

You can’t help but notice how his gaze has changed recently, how his face contorts completely when you’re around. Instead of his usual 😎😏💋 attitude it’s more like 😳☺️❤️‍🔥

What used to be cheerful smiles and playful nudges has turned to shy giggles and playing with each other’s fingers mindlessly as you sit together, not at all focused on the task at hand.

On several occasions, you’ve caught him staring at your lips as you talk to him. While it made you a bit self conscious at first, you slowly start to catch his hints.

Him staring at your lips, his smile becoming soft and sappy when you hold his hand for even just a second, the way he perks up and watches as you enter a room, the way he always wants to pair up with you or sit beside you during group time but closer than normal, the way you noticed a few clothing items of your were missing and one day you noticed one of your shirts sloppily tucked under his pillows.

He totally had a crush on you…and you did not plan on letting this go.

You confront him about the shirt hidden in his pillows as soon as you see it and his response is surprising. You’ve never seen this side of Angel Dust.

He’s bright red from his neck all the way to his ears, he can’t seem to focus his eyes on you, all his hands are frantically trying to find something to fiddle with on his clothing, he’s a stuttering mess, unable to form any full sentences.

He’s not used to all this sappy shit. But he’s loving it. Plz don’t stop.

Now’s your chance to tease him back, just like he always does to you. Go ahead, flirt with him, tease him about using your shirt as a pillow case, tell him your feelings too, that’ll help calm him a bit, to know that you like him back.

“Wow, who would’ve thought? Famous little sex demon Angel Dust has a crush on lil ol’ me? Aww, am I making you soft, babe?” You tease, watching him malfunction bc he’s never been flirted with so innocently. Like you’re not telling him in excruciating detail all the dirty, naughty things you want to do to him. Instead, you’re calling him sweet names and confessing your feelings as well and even poking fun at how cute he looks all flustered.

“Q-quite the opposite, actually.” He replied jokingly, still not letting his eyes meet your gaze.

You can’t help but laugh at his dirty response. Of course he would…💖

After some talking, maybe some boundary setting and talk of expectations in a relationship together, Angel might consider having a steady relationship with you.

He would love nothing more than a kind, caring, stable partner to come home to every night. Will you…plz be that for him? Baby boy needs cuddles and words of affirmation every day okay? Take care of him~

#hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin anthony #hazbin Angel #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel hazbin hotel #angel x reader #angel dust x reader #Hazbin Angel x reader #angel hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x y/n

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laiiaaa · 9 months

Text

LOVE WILL TEAR US APART — CARMEN BERZATTO (part 1)

summary You come back to Chicago for the first time since Christmas five years ago. Seeing Carmen might just split you wide open.

length 5.4k

contents angst, childhood friends to not friends not lovers but a secret third thing, very deeply requited love and everyone knows it except them, family troubles/fighting (giving y’all the Berzatto special), takes place the year of Mikey’s passing so everything is still fresh n rly painful, reader has the nickname ‘Birdie’, there's some fluff dw, happy endings are overrated we die like men

note this was originally going to be 1 part but seeing as the doc is reaching 13k words…here’s just the beginning :)

Wind comes from the pale gray sky and bites at your cheeks and the tip of your nose. Fingers go stiff, a chill runs from the nape of your neck down your spine. Maybe you should’ve worn more than just your jacket; Chicago’s always been a little colder than New York, anyway. You tend to forget the little things.

The windows of the Berzatto house glow yellow with company, and you can hear the bustle just by standing at the door, frosted glass animated by guests. You can picture it like it was yesterday: white yellow lights around every corner, the table set in full with porcelain and silver, hollow presents under the tree, too much talking to hear yourself think. You can still go home to at least save yourself the trouble. Can’t lose if you don’t try, right?

For once, it’s Richie who greets you—not like Mikey’s around to do it anymore, to pull you into a bear hug and tell you how much you’ve grown up, to ease you into the chaos he struggles to navigate himself. Struggled, you have to remind yourself. Past tense.

“Birdie!” he calls out to you, opening the door wide before you can knock, half-expecting you to walk yourself in before meeting you on the porch instead with a big smile.

You look up at him as he plants his warm hands on your shoulders. He’s taller than you remember, but five years time leaves a lot in the ruins. “Hey, Richie.” You lean into the hug and into his chest to at least try to catch your breath, to try and slow down your heart’s racing.

He rubs your back ever so slightly. “It’s good t’see you, kid. ‘S been a while, I missed you ‘n that smile ‘f yours.” He gives you two pats and pulls back to hold you by your arms as he gives you a good look. His brows twitch, subtle enough to nearly miss it, with a sympathetic curve to his mouth. “You doin’ alright?”

Since Mikey died is what he means to add to the end of the question. Maybe it’s Since you up an’ left us. Or Now that you’re finally free.

You stick with the first one and just nod. “I’m okay.” Your eyes flit back to his face before landing on the front door, unease pooling in your gut. “A little nervous to be back in so long.” You let your voice go quiet, and you look at your hands and with wet eyes while your fingers fidget like a tall child. “And I…I miss him, y’know?…I should’ve—” you’re getting choked up now, throat growing tight— “I should’ve been here, or—”

His brows really furrow this time, head tilting to the side before he looks to the sky to bite back any real sadness that could come through in his voice, to keep you from seeing it. Bringing you into a hug again, he mutters, “Shhh, don’t beat yourself up about it, sweetheart. I know you miss him, I know.” A gentle kiss to the top of your head. “We all do.”

Growing up across the street from the Berzattos led them to be a second family to you—and, by extension, Richie, for how inseparable he and Mikey were. Much of your memories as a kid were the two older boys, already teens by the time you came into the picture: Mikey and Richie taking you out to ice cream, Mikey and Richie pushing you on the swings down at the playground, Mikey and Richie teaching you to ride a bike. They might as well have been your older brothers by blood. They always cherished and doted on you, and while it changed in manner as you grew older—from piggy back rides to intimidating prom dates—it was always there. They always cared. Richie still does. Maybe double as much to make up for what’s been lost.

You don’t cry so much into his chest. A few tears fall, sure, but you use the time to just breathe, to close your eyes, to stall. Sniffling, you pull away, wipe your eyes, and straighten your clothes, smoothing creases. “Okay,” you huff. “I’m okay. I’m ready.”

A knowing look. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m good.” Another sniffle. “Promise.”

Richie turns to face the house with you, opening the door while the other hand stays hovering by your shoulder. With the smallest shift in the hinges, noise spills out the door. Small talk in the living room, clinking of glass against tabletops, boisterous laughter, timers ringing in the kitchen, Donna’s voice rolling in. It’s more than you remember. Heavier. Hotter. Richie motions to take your coat and you happily oblige, left to pick at the hems of your sleeves rather than buttons and pockets.

“So,” Richie starts, and with the way he says it you’d think you look like you’re about to pass out, “How’s New York treatin’ ya lately? You a hot-shot lawyer yet?”

You laugh softly, partly to be nice and partly to stave off the awkwardness you feel, like you’re being watched by the rest of the family. “I just passed the bar this year, Richie, I’m barely an associate—”

“Right, right, right—all that stuff goes over my head. Whatever, you’re a genius in my book.”

You smile sheepishly. “Yeah, well the people I work with are just—they’re incredible, how smart they are. I’m a baby compared to them.”

He waves it off as if to say Fuck ‘em. “How’s the livin’ situation, then? You affordin’ it okay, eatin’ good, all that?” He looks a little more stern, more brotherly when he asks it.

“I’m fine.” You look up at him and smile to let him know you’re honest, that you aren’t just saying it to get him off your back. “I really like it out there. I made decent enough money as a paralegal, and I have a roommate with a cushy job in finance. We’re pretty close, but we don’t see each other often with our hours ‘n stuff. Not the best,” you shrug, “But I’m doing pretty well, all things considered.”

He pauses, looks you over to see you’re genuine. “Alright,” he sighs, pulling you into his side and squeezing you tight because he knows you hate it. “I believe ya.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, fuck you.” You’re laughing a little harder for the first time since arriving in Chicago, and it reminds you that it can be close to normal, coming home. “Where’s Nat? I haven’t talked to her since I got off the plane.”

“She’s upstairs resting.” He lets go and starts drifting to the kitchen absentmindedly—why, you’re not sure. “The baby’s got her in a mood, kickin’ ‘n all that, the little fucker—but Pete ‘n Carm ‘r down here somewhere—”

Your heart stops, and for a moment you can’t hear anything but your own thoughts, fragments of his voice and his laughter from memory. Your chest goes tight, your throat runs dry. You knew from Nat and Richie that he’d come back to Chicago a while ago, after Mikey’s funeral, but never in a million years did you think he’d come to Christmas dinner. Richie doesn’t seem as shocked as you think he should be. “Carmen? He’s here?” You nearly whisper it, afraid to be heard if he’s nearby.

He stops walking. “In the kitchen, yeah, why? You talk to ‘im in a while? Figured he’d’ah told ya, me ‘n Nat had to convince ‘im. A real jagoff about it, by the way.” His tone doesn’t say anything more than his words do. Maybe he’s forgotten about everything, or he’s trying to spare you. Maybe he never knew all that much to begin with.

“No,” you answer, quiet with an ache in your chest you haven’t felt in years. “We don’t…we haven’t really talked since the last time I was here…” And I don’t want to change that at the moment is what you don’t say, bile in your throat at the thought of peeling back scabbed wounds.

Before Richie can comment, a loud voice comes to you from the front room: “Is that my little Birdie?”

Cicero. You missed him, honestly.

He huffs himself out of his seat in the living room and welcomes you in the foyer, bringing your attention away from Richie like you’d been hoping to. “Oh, I missed you,” he says, giving a brief kiss to your cheek.

You hug him in return, but really you’re just hoping to get away from the kitchen. “Missed you too.”

Resting his hands on your shoulders, he smiles and looks at your face. “You’ve only gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you. Like an angel.” He doesn’t let you protest, he only peeks behind you to look at Richie, who leans against the wall with his arms crossed. “Ain’t she beautiful, Richie?”

“Yeah,” he deadpans, unamused. “A real treat she is.”

Cicero looks back to you and speaks lowly. “Ignore that son ‘f a bitch. He’s just jealous ‘cause you’re my favorite.” He winks, gestures to the living room, and takes a few steps while he brings his voice back to a normal volume. “C’mon, tell this ol’ geezer about New York—can’t even remember the last time I was there, musta been ‘83—”

If the rest of the night is like this, you think, Carmen might not be so much of an issue. He could be nothing at all, like he always wanted to be.

He promises himself that he’ll say something by the end of the night. He has to, he thinks, and if not to avoid being an asshole, then to avoid getting reamed by Richie. Carmen realizes he has the upper hand, too, whether he likes it or not: he at least expected you to be here. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying to hear your name.

The first time is when he’s cutting onions as Richie opens the door, and he gets lucky enough to hear nothing else but the door shutting afterward. An afterthought, a mirage maybe.

In between that and the second, his name slips by your lips. You whisper it, of course, because you hate him—you hate him for the way he treated you, and for the way he didn’t, and for the fact that he wasn’t man enough to ever speak to you about any of it, or speak to you at all. And despite the fact you try to hide it when you say it, he hears you; he doesn’t think anything could keep him from doing that much. Especially not when it sounds just like you did years ago on those half-broken steps to the back porch, after everything went to shit and there was a hole in the fucking house and you couldn’t stop crying if you tried. He was there for you like he always was: letting you lean your head on his shoulder as you wept, one arm holding you tight to keep you grounded while the other hand nursed a cigarette to keep himself sane. And his name sounded just like it does tonight when you turned to look at him with bleary eyes so many years ago, whispering Carmen? so sweet he wanted to taste the lip gloss that flavored it. That night he did, for a fleeting moment. Before he ruined it.

So of course, he hears you say his name, and he knows it’s you. He doesn’t think anything could keep him from knowing you.

The second time he hears your name it’s like a confirmation. A confirmation that it’s real, you’re real, and you’re here, and it isn’t his mind playing tricks on him like it does when it’s late at night and he’s walking the streets and thinks he sees a girl that looks like you. The rest of the dialogue after the fact goes blurry, the timers going off turn into a monotone buzz, all he hears is chopchopchop against the cutting board until Uncle Jimmy calls you beautiful. He’s sure you are, but he doesn’t want to see it and believe it even more. Your heels click against the hardwood a few times, and he’s not sure where Ma went, but Richie’s standing behind him saying something he can’t decipher and he wants to tell him to Fuck off but he can’t, not now, not tonight.

“Cousin!” Richie snaps, pushing his shoulder. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

He sighs and looks over his shoulder but stays gripping the knife. “No, sorry, say it again—‘m listenin’.”

“Right. So when’s the last time you talked t’her?”

His hand squeezes a little harder, the knife suffers for it. “Talk t’who?”

A quick bang of a hand to the counter top leaves the onions rattled. “Don’t play stupid with me right now, Cousin—” a harsh finger points in Carmen’s face— “or I swear t’God I will fuck you up once this dinner’s over.”

He pauses. He looks past Richie into the foyer where you once stood but quickly goes back to work. Chop. “Look, I dunno, it—it’s just been a while, I dunno the exact fuckin’ date, alright?” Oh, but how vividly he does.

“Yeah? How’s five years to the fuckin’ day sound? Pretty damn accurate, or what?”

No response. Chop.

“You’re a real piece’ah fuckin’ work, y’know that, right?” Richie sounds about as angry as he’s ever been, but it’s different this time: it’s quiet, it’s controlled, it crawls up Carmen’s spine.

“It’s not—it’s not like I meant to, to, uh—”

“ ‘To, to, uh’ what?” he mocks. “To pull the shit you did then go fuckin’ AWOL on ‘er?”

Another beat of silence. Laughter trails in from the living room, and he starts to wonder if it’s you who made it ring. He shakes his head, scrunches his nose. “H—…” Rethinking whether he wants the answer to his question, he puts the knife down and leans into his hands before looking over Richie’s shoulder again. “How, uh…how is she?” It’s muttered, ashamed, the way he asks it, brows furrowed with regret and slithers of hope. “ ‘S she doin’ alright?” He heard bits and pieces of the conversation from just a minute ago, but part of him needs this: to hear it crystal clear, to have it branded beneath his 773 tattoo you traced with an anxious finger, to have the pain be inadmissible such that he can’t forget it.

Without needing to look him in the eye Richie knows to soften his approach. Carmen’s eyes are wet, he’s got that solemn air to him that he gets when he’s thinking about something that forms lumps in his throat, he swipes his hand by his mouth like the words were bitter to say out loud.

He turns over his shoulder like he’ll get caught and looks down at the chef. “She’s good, Carm,” he sighs, nodding his head slowly and with raised brows. “Real good…Like Cicero said, she—she’s beautiful, ‘n she’s gotta career lined up for ‘er. But—” he hesitates when Carmen looks up— “The look on ‘er face, man, it—it changed when she found out you’re here.”

Something indescribable flows through his veins. “Wh—what d’ya mean?” He shakes his head in denial. “Like, like, it—what’d she look like?” He waits expectantly, and part of him hopes something hard and fast’ll put him out of his misery.

Richie swallows. He smooths a hand over his hair, lets it fall to the nape of his neck while his eyes dance elsewhere. “Listen, she…she just looked like—” He kisses his teeth, unsure of how to phrase it, weary of the first thing to come to mind and whether the subject was worth mentioning at all. He should lay it to rest.

But Carmen is ever the stubborn boy at heart. “Cousin.” Fingers drum against granite. “Looked like what?”

“...Like I’d just stabbed ‘er in the gut.”

The rest of the family is enthralled by you, though whether it’s because they haven’t seen you in five years and miss you, or because it finally gives them an excuse to make Lee let someone else talk, you’re not sure. But by the time they let you get a breath in it feels like three hours have gone by, though when you peek at your watch, it’s barely been thirty minutes. You’d forgotten how exhausting the family is when they’re all together. Your head hurts. It’s too hot. You could use a nap.

Cicero looks at you a little softer from his chair. “Would you like a drink, hon? I should've asked ya before we sat you down for an interrogation.”

“Oh, well,” you start, pausing to let it seem like you aren’t dying for that opportunity, “I’ll have one. Is there wine?”

“Of course there is. I’ll grab a glass for ya—” he begins rising from his chair, but you stop him.

“It’s alright,” you insist. “I don’t mind getting it—in the kitchen?”

He nods, and you’re on your way. You pass by Richie and the Faks in the foyer and try to hide the deep breaths you’re focusing on, eyes shut and shoulders shrugging as Richie eyes the kitchen before you enter like you’ll be walking into a war zone.

It’s exactly what you’d expect: Donna with a glass in hand, Carmen assisting, an ashtray full nearby. Natalie has joined them, so you must have missed her on her way downstairs, and Pete hovers beside her as she speaks to him with a worried look on her face, disjointed from the other two Berzattos.

You’ve nearly psyched yourself up enough to interrupt when Donna notices you, almost instantly placing her glass on the counter. “Oh, Birdie, I—” She looks happy, you think, but with her it’s never been easy to tell. “C’mere, honey.” She opens her arms to you and gifts you a hug, patting your back as she says, “It’s been so long, my beautiful Bird—” she pulls away to get a better look at you and plants a kiss to your cheek, just like Cicero— “Oh gosh, you’re so beautiful, all grown up.” She smells thickly of tobacco.

“Thank you,” you laugh, dazed by so much affection from her, “Cicero said the same, it’s just been a while.”

“Well—” she picks up her glass promptly after her hands leave you— “It’s true, you’re practically glowing. He knows what he’s talking about.” She takes a hefty sip like she can’t get enough, and quickly looks to her son. “Isn’t that right, Carmen?”

From where he stands nudged into the corner, focused on the countertop with nothing to do but wring his hands, his attention perks up to his mother. “What was that, Ma?”

You can’t ignore the fact that she hasn’t acknowledged Natalie nor Pete since you arrived; you’re stuck, looped in with Donna and Carmen and somehow obligated to stay there until you’ve been dismissed. You know how she is. Carmen won’t look at you, either.

“Look at Birdie,” Donna coos, and she gestures to present you to him. Your stomach turns. “She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” She smiles coolly, looks to Natalie only for a brief moment to rub salt in the wound.

Carmen, reluctantly, looks at you. His golden brown curls are disheveled as always, made messier by anxious runs of his fingers every few minutes. His mouth seems caught in a persistent pout that he won’t let up, and if it were years ago, you’d stay by his side until he broke you just to keep someone in his corner. Beneath his eyes rest dark circles, and he wears a forest green sweater you’ve never seen before. There’s a split second of eye contact that has your breath caught in your throat. You haven’t been able to look at him in what feels like a lifetime, let alone hear his voice—not even over the phone. It’s different than you remember, a little huskier, more fatigued. You wish you couldn’t care.

He gives a shallow nod and a shrug to Donna’s question. “Yeah.” His eyes meet yours accidentally again before looking back to his mother, apathy bordering on distaste. “She looks nice.”

You look nice. You don’t know what you thought he would say. Part of you wished he would’ve said exactly as Donna did, or that he’d use the word beautiful, or stunning, or pretty, even. But he’s never been one for words—his consolation offerings were limited to a shared cigarette and sitting beside you, and you’ve always resented that part of him since your last Christmas together. If he’d been better with words, it would’ve been just that; there wouldn’t have been the hand on your back turning into an arm wrapped around your shoulder, he never would’ve pressed his lips to your temple for the first time since you were in kindergarten, you would’ve never been close enough to smell tobacco on his breath. You never would’ve known what American Spirits taste like off of anxious lips or what it feels like to be worth everything and then nothing at all.

Donna kisses her teeth and gives you a sympathetic look as she cups her hand to your neck. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t listen to him. He’s just in a mood today.” She sips her wine again, which quickly turns into the rest of the glass.

That’s not a mood, you think. That’s just Carmen.

By the Berzatto standards, dinner preparation blows over without a hitch. The house smells divine, nothing is broken, no one has stormed out. Ma sits down with only five glasses of wine in her system. No one mentions the gaping hole in the seating arrangement at one head of the table—not even Lee.

Carmen feels the weight of it on his shoulders, and he thinks you feel it too. You sit for a few minutes as everyone settles with your head in your hands, eyes closed as you breathe. Every time you open your eyes they shoot to Mikey’s seat, only for your hands to cover them again with a sniffle. Richie keeps a good eye on you, even though they’re getting glassy from watching you, and he rests a soothing hand on your back before leaning down and whispering something Carmen doesn’t catch. You shake your head, perking back up again as you dab at your eyes with your sleeves, looking to Richie and mouthing the words I’m okay with a smile plastered on. Carmen’s skeptical.

Uncle Jimmy insists on saying grace as a way to honor both you and Carmen being in Chicago for the holiday, and instinctively he looks to you, looking for something to hold onto to let things feel normal with you, but you keep your eyes closed. Since you walked into the kitchen nearly an hour ago he hasn’t been able to get his mind off of the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the locket pendant hanging close to your chest. Mikey gifted it to you, he remembers, when you earned your undergraduate degree—presented in a black velvet box when you saw him after the ceremony, you cried. Carmen wasn’t there; he was in Copenhagen, doing other things. He can’t quite remember what.

Grace gives way to a more quiet bustle of the dinner, where talking is more or less limited to passing plates and taking first bites, making sure everyone has said hello to everyone. He sits almost silent, taking a measly bite every few moments to avoid an excuse to talk. He notices you don’t navigate this dinner like you have the countless ones before: you’re engaged tonight, laughing with Richie beside you and looping Sugar and Pete into your banter; you’re no longer the teen you once were, who would sit at the end of the table with him to stay quiet and barely munch on dinner, the two youngest with Mikey to your sides, pestering the both of you to Eat, ‘fore Ma tells you to. And it’s not a bad thing, either. You always had that way about you like Mikey did, where you could make conversation with anyone, make them fall in love with you, make them think you’re their best friend. He’s always thought you were his, anyway. You look happier than he’s ever seen you. Ever since he could remember, he had a feeling you’d outshine him.

It’s like Ma said—you’re glowing.

It’s nearing fifteen minutes since the food being served when Sugar nudges him on his right. “You alright, Bear?” She keeps it quiet, under the radar. “You haven’t eaten much.”

He nods and takes a bite to cover his tracks. “Yeah, yeah—just not that hungry, ‘s all.” He hasn’t eaten today. It’s the nerves, really, of seeing everyone—of seeing Ma, seeing you. Brings him back to New York, where his morning ritual included huddling over the toilet and rinsing his mouth until he couldn’t taste stomach acid anymore. He’s hoping that with being in the kitchen all day, she doesn’t pry. “Thanks, Sug.”

She furrows her brows but drops the subject with a bit of a pout. “…Okay.”

“So,” Stevie starts, at the opposite corner of the table, leaning over his plate to smile at you from down the table. “Birdie—can I call you Birdie? Is that okay?”

You smile that smile you always do when you’re caught off-guard before shrugging lightheartedly and taking a bite. “Uh, sure. I mean, everyone here does.”

Richie makes eyes at you, weirded out, and Carmen tries to follow, but you only link with the older of the two. He’s shut out.

“Great. I’ve been wondering—why does everyone call you that? I mean, I know Sugar here’s got an origin story, so what’s yours?”

“Oh, this is such a sweet one,” Ma chimes in, hands over her heart. “They was so adorable, her ‘n Carmen.” The words have warmth blossoming in his chest and rising to his neck.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I’m probably not the best person to tell you; I was really little.” You try to stifle a smile at the thought, and Carmen knows it’s the same thought as his: Mikey loved that story. “Richie’s probably man for the job.” You look up to the man on your left and pat him on the back to startle him. “Aren’t ya, Rich?”

“Uh, yeah, fuck that.” He nods to Carmen. “He can tell ya, Stevie, he was the one dancin’ with ‘er like an idiot, not me.” He shoves three bites’ worth of food into his mouth so he won’t have to talk anymore.

Sugar cuts in, “He was also five, he had nothin’ to do with picking that name.”

“Yeah?” he taunts, mouth still full because he can’t help but put up a fight, “Then you were eleven, missy, so you can tell it. You remember.”

The room starts spinning, there’s back and forth between Sugar and Richie, and Neil’s roped into it, and then Michelle’s convincing them to calm down, but Richie’s still going at it, starting to tell the story, but Ma says it’s not right, and Sugar cuts in again, and the room is still spinning and his head won’t stop pounding and there isn’t enough water in the world to clear his throat.

“Alright, alright!” It’s Uncle Jimmy now, almost shouting, waving his hands to simmer the room. Carmen would thank him if he could speak. “I’ll tell the damn story, you all settle down, eh?” He clears his throat, sips on his drink. “Our Birdie here, when she was real young, now she was a singer. All the time, some tune. Didn’t even have t’be a real song, she’d be hummin’ it anyway.”

You’re sheepish as Uncle Jimmy praises you, grinning to yourself and rolling your eyes at the embarrassment. Cute, Carmen thinks. He smiles and takes a bite of his food.

“An’ remember,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “This was late ‘90s, we didn’t have none’ah that YouTube, Spotify music bullshit, whatever’s popular with you people now—so anyway. We had this boombox for the longest time—”

“Yeah,” Richie interrupts, “Was a real piece a shit, that’s for damn sure.”

Cicero points to Richie while looking at Steve. “Correct. So one Christmas, many, many years ago—”

“Don’t make it sound so cryptic,” you giggle, and Carmen has a tiny fire lit in his chest, eyes trapped on your smile. He remembers that night—not so vividly, but enough.

“Right, right. I apologize, sweetheart.” Uncle Jimmy turns back to Stevie. “One Christmas the weather was especially bad—snow storm, crazy winds, Christmas lights flyin’ everywhere—and the power goes out. An’ our boombox ain’t workin’, got jammed or somethin’.” He shrugs, makes a face that’s unassuming. “So whatta ya do for the music, then? Everyone knows you need holiday music, eh?”

With you, Carmen laughs for the first time tonight. He likes it that way, uninterrupted by the noise of the other guests, who are all listening fondly and eating their meals. It’s like that special Christmas all over again. You’re so pretty when you’re laughing, part of him is a little jealous that anyone else gets to see you like this.

“So Mikey comes up with a great idea. We already got a singer, right? So we just need ‘er to do the holiday songs. So we get ‘er, ‘n we ask her to sing for us all—me, Donna, Mikey, Richie, Sugar, ‘n Carmen, that was it ‘cause ‘ah the storm—but she won’t do it.”

“They were tryin’ to force me, Stevie!” You smile up the table and back at Uncle Jimmy. Carmen beams back at you even though you’re not looking. Richie is.

“An’ she’s cryin’,” Uncle Jimmy continues, “An’ she’s all nervous, she can’t do it, whatever. Then our little Carmy Bear over there—” he shoots him a look with a smug and pointing finger, and Carmen flushes, grinning at his plate to hide from you— “Now he’s her knight in shinin’ armor.”

Everyone smiles at that—you, Richie, Sug, Ma, and Carmen, and everyone else—because that’s the truth. At least it was, for a while. You and Carmen keep your smiles downcast, hidden from the other, and Richie and Sugar make eyes at one another, looking between the two of you.

“He gets ‘er outta her hidin’ spot behind the couch where she was cryin’ an’ he brings ‘er a wooden spoon for a microphone, and he whispers somethin’ to ‘er—to this day I dunno what, coulda been anythin’ for all I care—and all of a sudden she wants to sing again. She sings Rudolph, Jingle Bells, Frosty the Snowman, all the stuff the kids knew, an’ she does it all with this wooden spoon, with our little Bear holdin’ ‘er hand the whole time.”

“An’ he didn’t even do anythin’!” Richie points out. “Just stood there, swingin’ ‘er arm like a jagoff—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Uncle Jimmy waves off, “But he did it for ‘er. And so,” he says, a finality in his tone, looking back at Stevie across the table, “Birdie is born. Our little Christmas song bird protected by the Big Bear. An’ the rest is history.”

Stevie smiles and nods his head. “That was sweet. Really, really sweet.”

“Oh,” Ma laments, “I just love that story. They were such babies then, so cute. It was always Birdie ‘n Carmy doin’ this, Carmy ‘n Birdie doin’ that. Always on their little adventures together. He took her everywhere.”

Carmen smiles to himself, head down as he eats his food. He doesn’t think of his childhood often, more so the teenage years if anything, when he was failing school. Hearing back such a memory brings up a sense of nostalgia—not necessarily for being a kid again, or doing those stupid things, but for how easy it was.

Ma is right: it was you and him together for the ride, up until it wasn’t. He never cared as much after reaching high school. You were in different buildings, and he saw you around but didn’t spend as much time with you anymore. He outgrew you, it seemed. Even in his early twenties when that fire rekindled, he devoted himself to his work. You were still close, closer than you were with anyone else in the family, and nothing would ever change that. But life ran its course.

And it ran pretty damn fast.

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spacebaby1 · 3 months

Note

Hey, I like your content and also I’m autistic fan of anime

So can you do Law meets female autistic reader?🥺🙏🏽

From one autistic girly to another autistic person; Yes, I'd love to write that! Hope you like it.❤️🫶🏻

One would've never thought that you were a pirate let alone the crew member of one of the notorious pirate ever; the heart pirates. Yet here you were under the weighted blanket that Law had no idea where you got from since you were always running away finding new things that catch your interest in any new island they land at. Its been a very chilly week and you couldn't stand the cold weather so you decided to lock yourself in your room and under your comfy blanket. "Yes, Captain?" He heard you question from under the blanket and a soft smile found it way on his lips, "how'd you know I'm standing here?" He asked. Still under the blanket you replied, "I heard your footsteps," you lifted the blanket a bit too look at him, "do I need to do something?" You asked that question with pleading face that showed you didn't want to do anything at all. He shook his head and placed his palm on your head, "it's cold outside, you can rest." You nodded and went back under your blanket.

Law left the room and went to stand on the deck for a while as he remembered the first time he met you. They were in a new island because for once and for everyone's shock Law was hurt beyond repair and none of the crew members could help even with the amount of medical training they had so they needed to find a doctor but they kept getting doors shut in their faces because they are pirates and no one wanted to be involved with pirates.

You were sitting on the house porch when you noticed Shachi and Penguin literally struggling to help their Captain walk since they too, were hurt. You placed your book that you were reading down and rushed towards them to find out what's wrong, "uh, what's wrong?" You asked standing near them your hands in fist as you noticed the amount of blood on their captain's shoulder. "W-we need a doctor, he's hurt! Can you help us?" Shachi pleaded and you nodded leading them to your house.

Your father was a skilled doctor but unfortunately he was away for work and luckily he thought you more than enough about medical care. After Shachi and Penguin laid their Captain on the bed and sighed in relief when you told them that you can help him but they need to relax. You quickly rushed to the kitchen and looked around trying to not get overwhelmed. Taking a deep breath you grabbed the needed herbs. Law wasn't fully conscious at this point but he was still crying in low voice and groaning in pain which made you want to cover your ears and hide because that's a sound you didn't want to hear, it made you nervous seeing someone cry like that. But he needed help and you needed to heal him or he will lose more blood; Shachi and Penguin were standing near and waiting for you to give them orders for anything! But you quietly worked your way on removing his shirt trying hard to not think about the blood that was now inside your nails making you hold back the goosebumps.

Law was about to pish your hands away when you got near his wound but Shachi was quick to hold him back, "please Captain she's trying to help!" You went back to work on the wound and noticed how he was wearing a hat that was making you distracted so you slowly took the hat off and handed it to Penguin without a word. It took you a while to clean the dried blood and stop the bleeding; the whole room floor was covered in blood soaked clothes. You managed to find the torn muscle that was causing the bleeding; it was so tinny that you weren't surprised how no one would've noticed it. After cleaning his wound you placed the herbs you gathered earlier and immediately Law calmed down because of how the herbs healed and numbed the pain away. You let Law rest after that and thr three of you left the room.

You were wrapping Shachi's wound on his leg when he spoke, "you are a skilled doctor, thank you for helping Captain." You shrugged, "I'm not a doctor, I'm a writer." You gave them the most genuine smile and they exchanged looks better Penguin spoke this time, "t-then how did you do-"

"My father is a doctor. He taught me a few things, and your captain will be fine. Are you two hungry? I made some pastries earlier, a bit too much of them, would you like some?" They sighed with a nod because they didn't realise how hungry they were. After serving them the food, you went to your fathers room and gathered clean clothes, making your way to the room to find Law fast asleep, breathing soundly. You took the hat of the floor and noticed how bloody it was before taking it to the washing room and then coming back with a wet cloth and water.

You took his shirt off and cleaned the rest of the blood off his arms, chest and rest of the body making sure to shut your eyes or look away on some parts of his body; maybe he wouldn't want you to look at him. But his tattoos caught your attention as you looked at them for a long time and wondered if he felt a lot of pain getting them, were they painful? Or do some people actually don't feel pain? You thought as you were completely zoned out before shacking your head and dressing him up in clean clothes.

Shachi and penguin helped cleaning the room even when you told them it's fine and that you can do it but they wanted to help as their gratitude for helping Law. Three days went by and Law hasn't woken up and on the forth days night you were sitting by the bed and reading your book with calming voices playing in your headphones, it's when Law slowly opened his eyes adjusting to the room and he looked to his right than to his left and that's when he saw you focused on your book, and gently nodding your head. You looked up from the book for a second and flinched when you saw him awake. Quickly you got up from the chair and went to the living-room to call Shachi and penguin who were playing random games you gave them.

They came in running and literally crying over their Captain's while you stood behind the doorframe watching them, Law sighed at how his two crew members were acting but was happy to see them again and told them to inform the rest of the crew and get ready to sail again in the morning. That night you helped him take a bath while looking away as you wahed his back, chest, "Why are you looking away? Are you scared of the tattoos?" He asked in annoyed voice to which you shook your head. "No, I think your tattoos are very funny looking but they really look good on you. I fell like if anyone else had these tattoo I would find it weird but they really look good on you especially the one in the middle of your chest. It's a funny smile face but I like it and they are black like your hair, you have nice hair, very nice hair." You said that with blank face and he blinked at the amount of information you dumped on him in seconds as you tried to smile at him, "I thought you might not want me to look at you naked, I don't want anyone to look at me when I'm naked. But I changed you clothes, I didn't look though. Promise." You went to wash his hair before mumbling to yourself, "Nice hair."

You helped him get dressed and lay on the bed, "you shouldn’t move around so much-" you were interrupted by a knock on the door; it was your father, he was a very gentle elderly man and was happy to see that you helped one in need. He talked with Law for a long while that night until you told them that Law needs to rest because he needs to heal.

The next morning most of the crew came around to help Law as you watched them get ready to leave Law thanked you over and over just like Shachi and penguin did. You gasped as you ran inside the house and then ran back outside telling them to stop as you father chuckled. They weren't far when they saw you running with something in your hand. You placed Law's hat on his head, "y-your hat, you almost forgot." You smiled wide at him. "Please, join my crew." Law had never begged anyone to join his crew before. And the rest was history.

Law smiled at the memories before he made his way towards his room but not before stopping by yours and to check on you one last time only to find you cuddled up to your stuffed toy fast asleep. "Sleep well, my Angel." He whispered before closing the door.

#one peice #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #law trafalgar #trafalgar one piece #angst #corazon and law #one piece law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law trafalgar x you #law trafalgar x autistic reader #autistic reader #law trafalgar x y/n #law trafalgar x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader

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xetswan · 10 months

Text

Youngest Shadow- Meet Again

Six | Seven | Eight |

Meeting the parents… Okay.. Yeah, I can do this. They aren’t really their parents. Also not like I just started talking to them or anything. I take a deep breath just as someone starts knocking on my door. I look to see it’s Bella standing in my doorway, I smile as she enters my room. “What’s up?” I tilt my head. “Woww, you actually dressed up.” She pokes my side, I jerk away from her, rolling my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you too.” I compliment, going over to my mirror I just had put up with the help of Charlie.

I just bought new jewelry for my piercings, to make them less noticeable as well. “You nervous?” She comes up behind me, I give her a look through the mirror, not even turning around to do so. “Stupid question, Bells.” I stand up straight, fixing my hair as I do so.

“[Name], that boy’s here.” Charlie calls, my body tenses up. My smirks, “shut up.” I tell her, leaving her in my room and I go to the front door. “Bye, dad. I’ll see you later!” I shout out, I’m already out of the door, Jasper there to greet me at the bottom of the stairs.

“Where’s Alice?” I ask, he takes my arm, leading me to his car. “We thought it would be best to have your dad think you’re just dating me so you don’t have to deal with anything awkward unless you chose to.” He explains, opening the car door for me, letting me get in then shutting it to go to the other side. He gets in quite quickly as if he was already missing my touch.

Once on the road he puts his hand in between us, giving me the choice to take it. I’d be stupid not to, my hand meets his. I watch him smile in the corner of my eye. Now thinking about it him and Alice always need to hold or touch me in some sort of way. These past three days have been filled of them either putting an arm around my waist, a hand holding mine, one of them clinging to my arm or a hand simply on my shoulder and knee.

The ride through the trees was beautiful, it’s something I could never get over. The peeping through of animals that stared, the animals that were just living their lives.

“We’re here.” Jasper mumbles, letting go of me but before we could even unbuckle my door opened. It was Alice there with a grin, she helped me out and shut the door. “You look beautiful.” She kisses my cheek that has already warmed up from the attention I got from Jasper. She clinged to my arm as Jasper went up to the house opening the door for us.

Four of them stood in front of me. “[Name], how wonderful it is to see you.” A lady engulfs me into a hug, confused but still hugging her back she lets go, taking my face in her hands. “It’s been so long.” She whispers, I smile awkwardly, not knowing what she’s talking about.

“Esme, she doesn’t remember.” Alice reminds her, Esme’s face drops as it clicks in her head. “It’s nice to see you again, [Name].” Dr. Cullen or Carlisle smiles, I nod. “It’s nice when my sister is not hurt at a hospital.” I joke, he chuckles agreeing with me. “Certainly.” I figured he probably meant the same thing as Esme about seeing me again. Realizing they have all met me before in my past life before this one.

I glance over to Emmett and Rosalie, remembering their names from when Jessica and Angela has explained who they were to Bella. Rosalie has a soft smile upon her lips as Emmett grinned. “Were we friends..?” I questioned, they all chuckle but I wasn’t joking. “Very good ones.” Rosalie tells me and I let out a breath of relief. Her man squeezes her to his side. “Oh yeah, we’ve made quite the memories. You were a wild one.” He laughs loudly, I look back at Alice and Jasper who looked almost pissed by his words but quickly hide it once they saw my face.

“Well, we’re going to talk to her for a little ourselves before Edward and Bella get here.” Alice excuses the three of us, I wave to them and they happily do the same back. Rosalie had an expression on her face once Bella’s name was mentioned. She seemed pained? Disgusted? I mentally shrug, most likely going to find that out later.

“What was that about?” I ask them once we were out on a balcony. They act confused but I knew they know what I am talking about. “Your faces when Emmett said something about my past life. Why can’t anyone tell me anything?” I cross my arms. I was a little upset, I don’t understand why they refuse to tell me about myself.

“[Name], it’s something you have to figure out and know on your own. It will come.” Alice places her hand on my shoulder. I roll my eyes. “Okay, another question.” I state, they both make eye contact with me and I continue. “Why are none of you affected by my blood? Okay I get you two but everyone else also seemed perfectly fine.”

“Carlisle is because he’s been around and a vegetarian way longer than us.” Alice tells me, “The others is because you’re different, we haven’t figured it out but we don’t know.” Jasper frowns, I could tell they wish they knew so they could tell me. Also probably because I ask so many things.

I hear two car doors shut and I look over to see Edward and Bella are here. They don’t notice us or at least Bella doesn’t so I turn back to the other two.

“So, we have to warn you of something.” Alice starts and I notice Jasper has tensed up. “Jasper does well around you obviously but your sister not so much.” I nod, understanding. Jasper holds onto my arm and I look at him sympathetically.

“We want to also give her a small welcoming gift. We have one for you but that’s later.” Alice winks, Jasper then suddenly picks me up and I gasp as they jump down from the balcony. I hide my face in his neck. He chuckles, carefully placing me back down. Alice goes around picking random wild flowers, I watch as she will turn and ask if each one is pretty enough.

Each time we would tell her they are perfect.

I think of all the questions building inside of my head as I lean against a tree, patiently letting Alice do her thing and drag Jasper with her.

And the one question that seems to never go away: Why me?

Out of all of this, why me? Out of everyone, why me? Something I don’t think even they can answer. Or anyone, really. “[Name], let’s go back.” Alice happily says, showing me her flowers too. I smile, nodding, letting Jasper pick me back up and I squeeze my eyes shut as they jump over the rail. Jasper letting me down but holding my hand immediately after.

“Hi, Bella!”

Alice bounces forward towards my sister, kissing her cheek and handing her the flowers. “I’m Alice. You do smell good!” She seemed to be teasing. “Alice.” Edward starts. “It’s alright, Bella and I are going to be great friends.” She tells the taller vampire.

Bella extends out her hand. “And you’re Jasper, right?” He grips my hand a tiny bit tighter and I squeeze it back. “Pleasure to meet you.” He steps behind me.

“You won’t hurt her, Jasper.” Alice gently encourages him, Edward ends up taking her hand instead. “I’ll give you a tour of the house.”

“I’ll see you soon.” Alice speaks up, Edward shoots her a look, both Bella and I notice before her guides her further up the house. Jasper seems disappointed in himself then his eyes go to my face and I smile causing him to do the same.

Alice slides her arm to my waist, giving me a short hug. As awkward as that whole thing was I was glad my sister found someone. The two end up leaving my side, Jasper and Alice tell me they have to talk about something.

Moments later we hear them laughing outside. “She’s brought him to life.” I overhear Esme talking. “He’s been alone too long… but how can it end well?” Carlisle responds. “Alice has been wrong before.” Esme enterjects.

“Not often.”

“How about [Name], she only remembers everything when she comes to a near death experience that in the end does end up-”

My eyes widen, the words that come out of Esme’s mouth cause my breathing to hitch. Near death… What?

Everything looks blurry and I clench at my chest as I try to catch my breath. I hear someone yelling at me but it sounds disoriented. I hold onto whatever is closest to me and end up knocking a glass thing over, breaking it. Luckily someone walks me away from it. I look up. “Hey, hey, calm down.” It’s Alice and Rosalie holding me as I glance over to see Carlisle and Emmett picking up the glass. “I’m sorry.” I exaspperate. “You’re okay, don’t worry. I need you to breathe.” Alice holds my face in her hands almost like Esme did before but this is more comforting knowing it’s my Alice.

She places a hand on my heart. Then Jasper gently push the two girls away and suddenly my fear went away and I can actually take a deep breath without it hurting. Alice pulls me into her arms as everything calms down.

“I want to go home.” I sigh. “We can do that.” She assures me. “I’m sorry,” I apologize to everyone in the room.

404 notes · View notes

lewkwoodnco · 7 months

Text

"Slut!" - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: been having a lottt of thoughts about this song. it wasn't what I expected like for a lot of ppl but this is immediately my favourite?? like idk man those hints of her rep era beginning mixed with the emotional vulnerability of being in love mannn im going to be annoying abt this for a wholeee month. Reader is a Fittes agent, wc 5.4k!!

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 3.5 | Ch 4 | Ch 5

On paper, her employers had always commended her for her drive for excellence. What was usually glossed over was how it arose from an unhealthy obsession with perfection, not that it mattered. And yet, glowing articles about successful cases were rare and far between. She had led as many successful cases as some of her male colleagues, but those headlines were seemingly too dull for her sex. After all, who wanted to read about a woman showing up the men in her field? So the tabloids started to play dirty, spinning convoluted rumoured love stories from any and every photo of her in the vicinity of a man.

She remembered how devastating the first article was. Instead of publishing one of the many photos of her standing with her team, there was a shadowed, grainy photograph of her talking to their supervisor. She tried to tell anyone who asked her that no, they weren't kissing, not that it would have mattered if it did, but no one seemed much interested in listening. The shame burnt into the side of her face like a scarlet letter. A slut.

Eventually, she decided to just keep everyone at arm's length. Maybe if she kept her head down long enough they'd run out of knives to throw at her. And for a good two years, it somewhat worked, or at least helped. But then she met Lockwood.

She didn't think much of him at first - if anything, she resented his suave, silver tongue and how the press went nuts for his charismatic smiles. He tried to dazzle her with one when they first met, and she nearly scoffed.

"Anthony Lockwood, Lockwood and Co. And you are...?"

"Disgusted."

She tried talking to Barnes, throwing in some less-than-complimentary opinions on Lockwood, but he just waved her off. Eventually, she came around, but only because he was undeniably skilled, and it would have been unprofessional to freeze him out forever.

She remembered the first time he made her smile. Their supervisor was having them sign their case report, so she wasn't even looking at him. He whispered some inane remark which caught her completely off-guard, but it was enough to make her damage the tip of the fountain pen as she choked on a laugh. Her supervisor looked unimpressed, grumbling about the pen, but Lockwood's face had taken on an animated spark.

"Oh, good. I was beginning to wonder if you knew how to smile."

The smile is a foreign feeling on her face. Lockwood gently takes the report from her and starts talking in smooth tones that flow right over her head. She shakes herself and tries to pull herself together, trying to soothe the nervous flutter of her heart. She can only bear catching glimpses of his words and she struggles to string together coherent responses.

But then she hears the vans pulling up. Vans filled with news agencies and their bulky cameras. She's paralysed by a flash of fear and she jumps apart from Lockwood as if burnt, tripping over her words as she forces out some lame excuse of needing to check on her team. Lockwood looks mildly concerned, but she pushes it to the back of her mind.

They meet again a week or two later. She's sitting outside a conference room, waiting for Barnes to finish a meeting, and she realises with a start that the man in the room she's facing is Lockwood. To be fair, she hadn't seen him in an indoor setting before, and he seemed nearly unrecognisable with his typically crisp shirt dusty and wrinkled, with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. She watches him laugh over something with one of his associates as they leave the room, and she drinks in the sight like a man starved. There is something so desperately appealing about the vitality in his face and jaunty movements.

As the smile fades, she recognises the exhaustion on his face; the kind that made her want to do nothing more than stumble home and crawl under the covers. But then he sees her, and he gives her a teasing smile that stokes her spirits. His associate gives her a tired wave and walks out.

"Waiting for me?"

She rolls her eyes and nods towards the conference room. "Waiting for Barnes. Going home?"

He jerks his head noncommittally before sitting down next to her. He looks oddly bare without his coat, and it feels almost too intimate to have him sitting this close to her. She sits up, alarmed.

"What, you need to see him too?"

"You look like you could use some company."

"Lockwood, it could be hours before he's done. Besides, you look like death. Go home, get some rest."

"Joke's on you, I always look like death."

She shakes her head but smiles despite herself. "You're incorrigible."

"Thank you."

They sit in silence for a while, long enough until her breathing evens out. She wonders if he's aware of the way his fingers drum restlessly on his thigh, or the ash coating the side of his face, or how both of those things make him utterly irresistible.

"How do you do it? Stay so young, I mean."

He considers his answer carefully. She takes in the sight of a Lockwood without a ready quip at the tip of his tongue. "I suppose it helps that I'm not singly obsessed with the dead, though it does get close sometimes. Who do you live with?"

"Oh, my family lives outside of London." Thank god. She couldn't imagine the looks on their faces if they heard half of what London's tabloids had to say about her.

"You live alone?"

"Yeah. But it's not so bad. There's a cat that wanders in the street below my flat at night." He doesn't look completely convinced, but he lets it slide.

"Really, I owe it all to my friends - oh, you'd love them. You should come over sometime."

"That's sweet of you."

"Our weekends are generally empty."

"Oh...I couldn't. I don't know where you live."

"35 Portland Row."

"Lockwood," she admonishes. "Don't you think this is something you should run by your friends first?"

"I've done worse."

"I'm practically a stranger."

"Then how else are we supposed to get to know you?"

Her mind tears her away from Lockwood's silhouette, to troubling piles of tabloids dragging her to filth. After months of them, she isn't sure where she ends and where the fabrication begins. She barely manages a whisper.

"I think you'd regret getting to know me."

She doesn't realise how tightly her fist is clenched until he brushes her wrist, and the tension flows out of her. His eyes are liquid and his touch is golden and she's paralysed with dizziness. In that moment, it was enough to be young and in love.

"Only one way to find out."

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

She takes him up on his invitation sooner than either of them expected. They had just finished a job at a house just a street over from Portland Row, and her team was walking with Lockwood & Co. on their way to the main street. She pauses as George fiddles with the frozen door while the rest of her team walk on, tiredly waving them good night. But just as she turns to leave, she slips on a patch of ice, falling into a pile of snow while Lockwood lunges for her.

"Dear god, you must be freezing. Come in and warm up."

"It's alright, I can catch a cab home-"

"Y/N, I am not above pushing you back into the snow."

Her laugh morphs into a violent shiver, just as Lucy walks over concernedly.

"Everything okay? Lockwood's not bullying you, is he?" She cracks a small smile, but Lockwood just impatiently ignores Lucy.

"Stay for breakfast. Spend the day. Lucy would love the company. Luce, tell her."

"It would be nice."

"I'm soaked through. I need a change of clothes."

"Lucy can get you a change of clothes. Luce, tell her."

"I can get you a change of clothes."

"I wouldn't want to be an imposition."

Lockwood inhales and turns to Lucy, who smacks the breath right out of him.

"I'm right here, Lockwood. Don't be ridiculous, Y/N, we'd love to have you over." Lucy exchanges a look with Lockwood, but it's so brief she wonders if she's imagined it, but it's just then that George forces the door open, and she gets jostled into their warm and dry home. Lucy helps her dry off and tosses her some clothes, including a spare oversized jumper, before bundling her and setting her down in front of the fire in the library.

It feels wonderfully cosy at first, and she only realises she's dozed off when she wakes up with a crick in her neck and beads of sweat on her forehead and neck. She pushes the blankets off her, sighing in relief as she starts to cool down. She hears the rustle of a page behind her and turns.

Lockwood is sitting in an armchair behind her, tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, a magazine on his lap. He smiles weakly at her, wincing as he rotates his neck. She was beginning to feel convinced that he ate, slept and worked in the same set of clothes. Her voice is gravelly with sleep.

"Still up?"

"Someone had to make sure you didn't roll into the fire. Besides, it hasn't been long."

She squints at the clock hung near the door. Unless the shadows were playing tricks on her, it was only a few hours from dawn. The glance he shared with Lucy earlier flashes in her mind, and she presses him about it.

"Say, you haven't told Lucy anything particularly saddening about me, have you?"

He waffles a bit. "I haven't said anything that isn't true."

"Lockwood."

"Fine...I might have mentioned how you live alone, and that you've only got a cold, dark home waiting for you. Alone."

"I didn't say that."

"So you're saying it's not true?"

She hesitates, and he quirks the corner of his mouth triumphantly. "It's no bother, Y/N. Lucy feels as bad about it as I do - George too. Just let us fuss over you for a while, I promise it'll soothe us."

She relents, but she's not happy about it. She watches him lazily flip through the pages with a becoming interest and decides that it's a nice change from the frantic energy running through him on cases. His eyes stay mostly fixed on the pages, but after a while the way he glances up occasionally makes her think his interest is waning. He looks at her strangely, and she unpleasantly realises that the jumper is likely his. She tugs at the hem, itching to take it off, but she isn't wearing a shirt underneath, so she settles for continuing to profusely apologise.

"I'm so sorry for burdening all of you-"

"Y/N, relax. As long as you're warm."

"Well...I'm awake now. And I won't stay too close to the fire. Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I'm a bit wired after the case. Might take a nap later in the day." He jerks his head towards the door. "My room's just down the hallway if you'd like to get some proper rest."

She flushes; talking about his bedroom while wearing his jumper feels too intimate to bear. "It's okay. I'd rather stay here with...you." She chews the inside of her cheek as soon as she says it, holding her breath as she gauges his reaction.

"That's a relief. I'd rather you be here anyway."

She doesn't understand how he says it so casually when she feels that she might run out of air. She tries to calm herself down, taking deep, long breaths. She could be normal if she tried hard enough. They spend the rest of the night like that, somehow never running out of topics to discuss. He tells her about Jessica. She tells her about her family. It's only as he gets up to get ready for breakfast that she asks him about the magazine in his lap. "What were you reading?"

Now it's his turn to look embarrassed. "Oh, er, I like to keep up with what's happening around town -"

"Is that...a tabloid?" She pulls out one of the magazines sticking out of the pile set to the side and blanches at the headline with a dramatically edited photograph of her. Shame burns the side of her face, and she wishes the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. She had stupidly assumed he hadn't heard of her before meeting her, but why shouldn't he have? The magazines beat her to making a first impression, just like they always have. Just like they always will.

"I can explain."

"No, no, it's fine." Was something wrong with her ears, or did her voice sound a bit too distant? "Lots of people read tabloids. It doesn't mean anything. Anyway, we should get ready for breakfast."

"Y/-"

"Lockwood. I mean it. Drop it." The cut-up look in his eyes is bad enough without an apology. What was he apologising for? For her being such For her being a laughingstock? He bows his head and shuffles out of the library. She stays there, frozen, sitting on the floor, until she hears George rattling about in the kitchen. She walks in, slightly disconcerted by the casual t-shirt Lockwood had changed into. So many of his hard edges and shadows in the the library seemed to soften into a more vulnerable outline that makes her regret snapping at him. She mumbles a greeting and George takes a long look at her. If he notices their matching eye bags, he doesn't comment on it, but while she's making tea, she hears a scuffle behind her and turns to see George standing next to Lockwood with the frying pan alarmingly close to his head.

"Eggs, Y/N?"

Lucy arrives soon after, and begins to spread jam on her toast despite George's aggrieved protests.

"Oh, Y/N, I hope you didn't spend all night on the hard floor. I didn't hear you come up to the attic."

"The attic?"

"Yeah, where the extra bed is." She brandishes her jelly-covered knife vaguely threateningly. "Lockwood told you about it, didn't he?"

The boy in question seems a bit too busy buttering his bread to look up. She mumbles an affirmative, but notices his reluctance to meet her eye for majority of breakfast. Still, she couldn't stay mad at him for long, and it didn't seem awfully polite to, either, not after he opened his home to her.

After breakfast, Lockwood left to scope out a potential client and George headed to the Archives for a bit of light reading, so she and Lucy spend the morning playing board games and watching crappy television while painting their nails. She hadn't felt so alive in months. After a few hours, Lucy suddenly remembers some paperwork she had to complete so while she's busy with that, she wanders around the stairs and hallways, reading every newspaper clipping and looking at every picture, eventually working her way down to the kitchen.

She hears a creak coming from the inside and looks in. Lockwood's returned from his excursion and he shrugs off his jacket, placing it on one of the kitchen chairs as she timidly steps in. He seems just as much at a loss for words as her. She tries to break the ice and, surprisingly, it works.

"Seems a bit full of yourself to litter the halls with your achievements." He gives her a small smile and she revels in the glimmer of success.

"Can't help that I'm especially gifted."

Emboldened, she takes a seat at the table as he pulls out an apple from the fruit bowl and a chopping board.

"Nasty business with the press, isn't it?"

She moodily fiddles with the thinking cloth. "Yeah, well. God forbid a woman be happy."

He looks at her like he's trying to figure her out. The attention makes her fidget nervously. They watch him slice the apple into halves, and then quarters, in silence. "Is that why you're so...highly strung on cases?"

"George tell you to talk to me?"

"Er, yes, but he didn't need to. I'm sorry about earlier, by the way. I have an uncanny ability of putting my foot in it."

"I'd never have guessed." She isn't even being sarcastic. She talks to the apple rather than him. "I hate it. They say all these...awful things about me. Not that I have to tell you." She blinks humourlessly. He sets down the knife.

"Y/N, if you think I believe a word those gossip rags have to say about you, I might be seriously overestimating your intelligence."

She swallows the lump in her throat. It's the nicest thing anyone has said to her in a long while. She never fully acknowledged it because that would mean admitting she cared, that she was weak. But she couldn't help it. She lived life forever looking over her shoulder, so wrapped up in what ifs that she could barely stomach what was, forever worrying that anyone would think it was true. Maybe it was true. Her self-perception contorts and convulses, until she feels strangely formless. But that was the beauty of the moment: hidden away in the dim light of the kitchen, with only Lockwood and God as her witness, she could be anything and everything.

Her hand trembles with repressed emotion. He steadies her by carefully covering it with his own.

And for one beautiful, transcendent moment, she thought she might love him.

She walks home in a pleasant haze, her senses enjoying the reprieve from their constant assault. She ambles by a florist, and she sees a rose. It reminds her of Lockwood. She buys the rose and takes it home, even though she knows she doesn't have a vase for it. Even after a day filled with the most fun she'd had in a while, a restlessness troubles her, making her feel feverish with some invisible affliction. She plucks the translucent petals one by one, holding them up to the setting sun streaming through her windows. She wonders what they would look like in his hair. She winces when one of the thorns break the skin of her thumb. She rubs the smear of blood onto her bottom lip. Looking up at the ceiling, her hair a mess, tangled with the rose petals strewn all over her wrinkled sheets, she realises what it means to be hopelessly and cluelessly lovesick.

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

She remembers the first time she cries in front of him. They were on a case at some billionaire's acres-large manor. She ducks under the tape cordoning off the area and freezes, seeing reporters unobtrusively yet steadily setting up their cameras. There had to be some sort of mistake, they're never here this early. Certainly not before they've even started the job. She feels her senses heighten and a faint buzzing teases her ears. She sees Lockwood glance at her and start walking towards her, and she all but flees in the other direction.

She stays a safe distance away from him until the rest of the agents arrive for their briefing. The billionaire's assistant hadn't arrived yet, so they were standing around one of the outdoor picnic tables in the front garden...right in front of the gathering sea of reporters. She tries her best to pay attention but there's a muffled quality to the discussion as she listens for shutter sounds, real or imagined. Her hands grow clammy and her breathing grows jagged as the ominous feeling in her stomach grows. Something very bad was going to happen and it was going to happen soon, she was sure of it.

As if in slow motion, she watches Lockwood reach across to pick up a file from the table beside her on the table, and she feels her panic reach a crescendo as she senses the ripple of excitement in the press. She flinches so badly before he completes the movement that he gets startled, backing away. The question dies on his lips as she walks away, clumsily adjusting her rapier to give her hands something to do. To stop herself from sobbing over the lenses in her peripheral vision.

The press are just as ruthless as they were the last time she made the mistake of not leaving the scene as soon as she had the chance. And still from the chorus of overlapping voices, one made her heart stop dead.

"Y/N L/N, what do you have to say for seducing London's most eligible bachelor?"

She looks around desperately, struggling against waves of despair that threatened to drag her down into the abyss. No one was safe, not even charismatic Lockwood, and it was all her fault for dragging him into her messy life. It wasn’t fair that news agencies chose her life to screw with. She loved him silly with bruised eyes and an aching liver, but she couldn't even look at him properly. She couldn't scrub the image of Lockwood's face from her mind. Hot shame spread from her spine up her neck, an unpleasant prickling sensation. She felt flayed and grotesque, a hundred different kinds of twisted and messed up. Promiscuous on paper, manic in reality, enraptured by what she could never have.

Lockwood finds her sitting on the patchy grass of the backyard, head resting against the wall with suspiciously red eyes. He thinks for a moment before sitting down next to her.

“Hey.”

She’s too busy holding back tears to respond. She despairs internally when she first hears his voice, wishing he didn't care enough about her to follow her. God, they were going to make her pay for this tomorrow. He speaks in a low, soothing voice, but there's an underlying disquiet that comforts her. She'd never have imagined him to feel rattled by the press like she did.

"It all happened so quick, even George didn't realise."

"Doesn't matter. They got what they wanted."

"We'll talk to the assistant as soon as she gets here. We'll refuse to work until they clear out."

She feels an overwhelming amount of relief, not just for his help, but just for him. Sitting here solidly, away from prying eyes, rumours and lies, he felt like a precious secret she wanted to keep. The relief doesn't last long until it gets poisoned into grief. She rasps out an apology.

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Everything." She feels herself shutting down, unravelling at the seams. But then there's this warmth next to her and a solid, reassuring weight across her shoulders. She shakes with mostly silent sobs, not realising that she's crumpled his shirt from clenching it until later. She sniffles into his shirt like a child, and clings to him with the desperation of a drowning man.

He insists that she sits out for the case, and for once, she listens.

The next time they meet is a little bittersweet. She tells him she's being posted outside of London for a month. It's sobering news, even for him.

"A whole month. Well, it'll go by faster than you realise."

"I hope so."

"How're you feeling?"

"Nervous, I suppose." She was dreading it. She didn't know how she ever worked on a case before Lockwood. At first, she thought it was simply because he took attention from the press off her hands. But there was just something about his presence that made the tension coiled in her body unwind. She tries to keep her tone light, but something must have shown on her face because he sighs and throws an arm over her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd of agents, medics and reporters.

"Don't fret. You'll be fine, trust me. You'll have your teammates with you, Barnes is supervising and you know he can't stand the press, and I've yet to read a headline vicious enough to knock you down for good. You're stronger than you realise, you know." She nods glumly, dragging her feet along. She looks up when he pulls away slightly, frowning at her face. He rubs at the furrow in her brow and she feels her face heat up.

"I said to not fret. You have everything you need." That earns him a weak smile, and though he doesn't look entirely happy with it, he can see George looking around for him. She watches him walk back as he mouths 'one month' to her, trying to smile encouragingly. The sun has started to rise, and the dusk casts a soft purple glow on his hair. She mumbles her response to the wind.

"What if...all I need is you?"

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

The month drags by painfully, but it finally ends. She packs her bags and takes the first train to London, just in time to join Lockwood for a case after a bit of begging at Barnes' feet. The job is at another mansion, but somehow even more extravagant and sprawling than the last one. It's bathed in a soft bubblegum pink glow, spilling out into its lawns and hedges and fountains.

She watches him explaining something to one of her colleagues, making some light sketches on the report. He looks exactly the same if a little haggard, yet older somehow, and it tugs at her heart. She had heard that this was supposed to be the last of a particularly tedious string of connected cases, and it had clearly taken a toll on him. Her heart skips a beat at the boyish glow that washes over his features when he sees her.

"...and for the Limbless George was sa- you weren't supposed to be back till Sunday!"

She flushes, beaming excitedly. Part of her wants to hug him, but another part is too scared to, so she contends with her smile.

"We finished early, and I wore Barnes down eventually. Now, what's this about a Limbless?"

The case goes more than smoothly with the extra help of her and her team, and they end up finishing comfortably before midnight, though not without a few minor mishaps. She finds Lockwood with his sleeves and trousers rolled up, dangling his legs in the pool, scrubbing at his hands.

"Wet cement," he grunts as a greeting, looking peevishly at the not-so-clearly cordoned off patch of wet cement. "Ought to have told us. Someone could have gotten properly injured."

"Oh, who'd be silly enough to fall into that?"

"Let me rephrase that: Quill Kipps could have gotten properly injured."

She laughs, turning to add her own handprint next to his in the cement. She smiles coyly as she tenderly scrapes the residue of her palm. He leans in, then stops, sniffing curiously.

"Is that...smoke?"

"Had a bit of an incident with a salt bomb. Someone threw it in the wrong direction."

"Ah."

They're interrupted by a loud whoop from the other end of the pool. A couple of Fittes boys had broken into the liquor cabinet and were now the proud owners of three preciously high-end bottles of champagne. She tried to look at them reprovingly, but couldn't find it in her.

"Oh well. We'll put that down under property damage."

One of her teammates scurried over to clarify a discrepancy in her paperwork, and she leaves to sort it out. By the time she's back, Lockwood's tie is loosened and he's swaying along to some invisible music.

"Y/N! You've got to try some of this stuff, it's grrrreat!"

She shakes her head bemusedly. "Lockwood. How many glasses have you had?"

"Oh, just one." He blinks at the glass in his hand. "One and a half." He drags her in briefly, whispering into her ear. "Besides, what happened to being young?"

Her heart hammers as soon as she feels the tug on her wrist; she's never even touched him in public before. She scans the scene reflexively, but no one seems to have noticed. She supposed getting drunk and making ill-thought-out decisions was the youngest she could be, so she decided to have a little sip.

"Clink?"

"I don't think you're supposed to say it."

He makes a face, clearly more tipsy than he was letting on. "Whatever. I'm saying it."

Still, she humours him, and he looks at her with shameless adoration. Even while well on the way to getting drunk, there was an endearing tilt to his swagger and rosy cheeks that made his youth a delectable luxury. She takes a sip, then another, and then tries to drown herself in champagne, anything to distract her from the way he stole her breath, the fizz electric under her thrumming skin.

They return to where they were sitting earlier, watching some of the more boisterous agents splash into the pool. Someone manages to switch off the harsh floodlights overlooking the pool, washing everyone's outlines with a tangerine glow from the orange neon lights. They talk about their month apart, then catch the eye of the other in a way that makes them both look away, and the cycle repeats.

"I've missed you."

She can't tell which of them says it first, only that the yearning in her voice mirrored his. The look in his eyes scares her yet appeals to her daring all at once. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to.

"We...I...couldn't. It'd go horribly wrong, and you'd hate me, or they'd double down and it'd blow up in your pretty face."

"I'll take my chances." He says it so casually that it stings.

"This isn't exactly bearable for me either, you know."

The background noise fades away, and suddenly speaking at normal volume is too loud. She whispers, as if he might not hear if she's soft enough. "You give me your bed and twist your neck dozing in an armchair. You stick up for me when I'm too weak to stick up for myself. You pull me in when I'm breaking down and hold my fractured pieces together. I can't help but love you." He follows her line of vision to the camera lens peeking through the wall of foliage, not as sneaky as it was trying to be.

"And if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were in love with me."

He inhales roughly, and she recognises his unsteady breathing.

"Are you...?" Lockwood's voice makes her tear her eyes away from the lens, and focus on his soft brown tired eyes.

"...Might as well. Right?" She tries to hide how badly she needs his acknowledgement. He searches for something in her eyes she's not sure exists. Her heart is in her mouth as he tenderly covers her hand, and suddenly she's sitting at the kitchen table at Portland Row again; unsure and raw and hoping against hope for a love like his. He strokes the back of her hand with him thumb, deep in thought, as if soothing her, or maybe telling her to stop, breathe and think about this horrible decision.

"They'll publish the most horrible things tomorrow."

"I thought that didn't matter."

"Not to me. But it does for you."

"It's worth it. You're worth it."

He closes his eyes, and she watches his eyes shift restlessly behind his eyelids, as if fighting a losing battle. "They'll give you hell for it."

She whispers into his mouth. "Damned if I do, damned if I don't. They're watching either way."

His lips twitch. Her eyes flutter close. She inhales the space between them, their noses softly bumping against each other as they tilt their heads.

Slut.

She leans into him and her lips part as he deepens the kiss. She feels the tangerine neon light burn into the expanse of her exposed skin from her neck to her shoulder.

Slut.

She feels a hand on her lower back as she wraps an arm around his neck, craning her neck upwards. The kiss is equally delicious and bruising, and she feels herself getting drunk on his touch.

Slut.

The pressure on her lips fade and he pulls away, giving her the choice to back out. In the span of a second he shifts from a hazy sunset to the deep aquamarine pool in front of them, and then she's leaning in and devouring him like they could never be close enough.

Slut.

Her mind holds the whisper like a promise.

#fanfiction #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #taylor swift 1989 #1989 taylor's version #1989 tv #1989 #slut! taylor’s version #slut!

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baileypie-writes · 5 months

Note

Hello! My name is Korey! I've recently been seeing your blog pop up whenever I search for veneer stuff and when I tell you I am STARVED for content- (I understand that there might be more content out there but I haven't been able to find any ;-;) I personally love your headcanons and the way you write everything and I was really hoping if you could do a Veneer x Male reader? And don't worry!! I read your rules so I have a basic idea for the story!!! You can do headcanons or a one-shot, either one works!!!

So; Masc!Reader is like a tall intimidating guy that dresses rather formally, often in reds whites and blacks. HOWEVER! They are SUCH a softy. Like, they have the voice that could scare anyone but they love stuffed animals and like dressing up in cute animal onesies!!!

When Veneer first met this gentleman, Reader would often keep to himself at first because he didn't want to accidentally scare him, but Veneer is immediately head over heels just because he sounds and looks cool. But as soon as the Reader says that they love bunnies and start opening up more he is just SWOONING-

And when Veneer starts ranting about how he thinks Reader is cool to Velvet, she is just; "That guy?? He's terrifying-"

I'm so sorry if I made the request too long, please let me know if you need more info or if you can't do this request! I will definitely understand!!!!

A/N ~ Aww this idea is so cute! Love all the details you added! I decided to do headcanons, cause it’s better for me to get all my thoughts down. Hope you enjoy!

~Veneer with an Intimidating, but Soft Boyfriend~

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Reader: Male

Relationship: Romantic

Genre: Pure fluff

Warnings: None!

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

~ I feel like Veneer is naturally drawn to tough looking guys. So obviously, he likes you the moment you meet. He thought that you were just too cool! He wasn’t scared like most people are, he just wanted to get to know you!

~ When he finds out that you’re actually just a big softy, he falls for you ten times harder. Like, you’re just so cute to him.

~ He’s in love with your voice! He barely texts you, because he prefers calling. He just wants to hear you!

~ You love plushies? Well guess what, you’re now getting a new one every week. Veneer is big on spoiling you, so be prepared to not have any room left on your bed. Plushies everywhere!

~ Veneer buys you guys matching animal onesies. Multiple sets, in fact. Each with a different color and animal theme. His personal favorites are the rainbow unicorn ones.

~ Sometimes he forgets that most people perceive you as scary. He’ll get confused when people are nervous around you, until he remembers how intimidating you look to them. So he tries his best to make people see you as you truly are: kind and caring!

~ He personally loves how you dress formally. He thinks it makes you look so handsome(not that you’re not already). Sometimes he wears the same style so you two match.

~ Veneer sees you as his Prince Charming. His night in shining armor. His soulmate. And he calls you all of these things as nicknames. His sister hates it, thinking it’s super cheesy. But he couldn’t care less.

~ Secretly want you to carry him around bridal style. It adds to the whole Prince Charming thing. If you actually do it, he’ll literally swoon.

~ Veneer loves how much taller you are than him. He loves when you lean down to kiss him, or when he has to stand on his tip-toes to reach your lips.

~ Before she met you, Velvet created an image of you in her head based on what Veneer says about you. Let’s just say that she was surprised when she did meet you. You were definitely not what she was expecting. You? Sweet and soft? How?

~ Velvet is honestly confused on how Veneer isn’t scared of you. She finds you terrifying. She physically jumps when you just ask her a simple question because your voice sounds so scary. Veneer doesn’t get it at all.

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

~~baileypie-writes

#trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #trolls 3 x reader #trolls 3 veneer #trolls veneer #veneer x reader #veneer x reader fluff #veneer x male reader #veneer #baileypie-writes

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sirianasims · 2 months

Text

“Mr. Romeo? Lee Thompson is at the gate.”

“Thanks, Jeff. Ask him if he brought any new tunes for the party.”

“Mr. Thompson, any fresh melodies for tonight?”

“Only if Paul promises not to sing along this time!”

“He’s brought harsh truths, Mr. Romeo.”

“Ouch. We better let him in, Jeff. And tell him my singing’s improved!”

Paul turned from the intercom, still chuckling, and pulled me close.

“Now, remember,” he urged softly, “You’re just meeting my friends. There’s no need to be nervous, they’re very nice and they’ll adore you.”

“I’ll try. It’s just that all your friends are major celebrities.”

He smiled and tucked a few stray hairs behind my ear.

“They’re also just people. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re going to have fun.”

I nodded and kissed him, trying to ignore the way my heart felt ready to leap out of my chest. I wasn’t even sure what I worried about the most, the fact that these people were famous, or that they were Paul’s closest friends. What would they think of him being with someone like me?

Lee Thompson exuded the same intensity he brought to his music. He’d composed some of the most memorable scores of the last two decades, including the original Llama Man theme tune and the new version for the animated series. He moved gracefully, like a dancer, and his handshake was surprisingly gentle. I thanked him for more or less writing the soundtrack to my entire childhood, realising only too late what I was implying, but he was delighted and didn’t seem to notice.

I’d barely recovered from my embarrassment before Jeff announced the next arrivals, and Lee sauntered off to open the champagne.

I clung to Paul’s arm as Sierra Moss and her husband, Dave Richardson, entered. Somehow, I even managed to mumble a polite greeting.

Dave’s smile was warm and welcoming. “It’s good to meet you. Paul has told us so much about you.”

Sierra laughed. “In fact, he never shuts up about you.”

Meeting Sierra Moss felt surreal. I had seen all of her movies, I even had a poster of her in Cop & Llama on my walls at home. Well, Dave was technically on the poster as well, but the llama costume meant that he wasn’t as instantly recognisable as Sierra, especially since he’d stayed on the other side of the cameras since the series ended. Sierra, on the other hand, had starred in dozens of movies and was a household name.

I straightened my back and desperately hoped that I looked like someone who was both a proper adult and perfectly chill about the fact that my childhood idol was standing in front of me and teasing my boyfriend about thinking he could keep me a secret for long.

beginning / previous / next

#duchellilegacy #duchellichapters #duchelligen5 #julia duchelli #paul romeo #lee thompson #jeff the security guard #sierra moss #dave richardson

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juyeonszn · 9 months

Text

WHAT IS LOVE? — ELEVEN

PAIRING ₊˚⊹ lee juyeon x f!reader

SUMMARY ₊˚⊹ all is well in the business of matchmaking. except it’s actually not, because lee juyeon, the school’s star baseball player, has just come to you for help in obtaining the girl of his dreams. oh yeah! and he happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on since your first year of university.

MORE ₊˚⊹ i remember when i was writing this i was like ..woah bc i didn’t expect it to be so angsty 😭 like idk what is up with me and the angst train lately

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ELEVEN — Just Like A Doughnut (2.04k)

The next few days pass by in a flash and before you know it, it’s Wednesday.

Part of you really missed the whole matchmaking thing and listening to people explain why they wanted you to set them up with whoever it was they wanted you to, after all, that was the whole reason you started the club. You’d been a hopeless romantic for as long as you could remember. There were times in your childhood where you had these elaborate meet-cute backstories for your stuffed animals. You’d even go as far as planning fleshed out weddings for the Barbie and Ken dolls your mom had gotten you for Christmas when you turned 8.

Throughout grade school, you had this big dream of being a wedding planner, too. You wanted to help people put together their best day ever— the day they’d recall for the rest of their lives. Helping women channel their inner child was the portion you were most excited for. It would be like letting yourself have the chance to give back to the little girl who threw extravagant celebrations of love for her inanimate toys.

But, alas, you had to grow up from that idea eventually. As you got closer to starting university, you knew there wasn’t much you could do as a wedding planner. There wasn’t anywhere for you to go. The pay was mediocre for such a stressful and demanding job, so why would you make yourself hate something you felt so passionately about when you could do something else that made you just as happy?

That was when you decided to study psychology. It was a basic enough major that you didn’t have to choose an exact career yet, but also generalized enough that narrowing it down wouldn’t be too hard when the time came. Getting to know how people’s minds worked was exciting. Then the idea for Love Loop saved you in a way. It brought together this new territory with that old passion of yours. That was why you’ve been trying to reconnect with the club so much recently. You didn’t want to forget your roots and become out of touch with your beginnings.

As you’re finishing up with your 2PM appointment, your phone begins to ring from its spot on your desk. A quick check of the caller ID lets you know that Minho was calling, which was a bit unusual for the time of day. Once your ‘client’ has left your little cubicle area, you plop back onto your rolling chair, spinning around as you accept the call from your friend.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so I remember you saying you had a break between your last two appointments and I figured you hadn’t had lunch yet. Is it cool if I drop by and leave you some jajangmyeon? Seonghwa and I are leaving the restaurant now.” He says, and as if on cue, you hear Seonghwa’s voice in the background.

“That would be amazing actually! Thank you, Min. Is there by any chance enough for me to share with Kkura?” You slow your chair to a halt, nibbling the inside of your cheek.

“I think so. We ordered you a pretty big portion.”

“You’re a lifesaver really, I owe you one.” You sigh dramatically.

Minho laughs into the receiver. “I’ll hold you to it.”

The two of you say your goodbyes and then you’re strolling over to Sakura’s cubicle to inform her of the good news. This was just what you needed to power through that last appointment of the day, the mysterious and anonymous person who requested you specifically.

You had to admit, you were a little nervous. Of course, you understood that they probably wanted to protect their privacy just a bit longer before the entire club found out about them. However, you were also slightly afraid that this person was not interested in the club’s purpose at all and they just wanted to harass you. You could never be too sure or too careful! There’s a lot of weirdos out there.

But no matter what, you chose to stick by your mindset of giving people the benefit of the doubt. Even now, you felt like they just wanted to stay concealed a smidge more than the average Love Loop client. The ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach was the product of something else you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

It was like when you had a gut feeling about something. Except, you didn’t know what your stomach was trying to tell you. It felt foreboding in a way, almost like a warning— but not necessarily a bad one. Things were going to get interesting to say the least, that was one thing you could settle on.

Sakura and yourself had migrated back to your own space by the time Minho arrived with the food. He told you that Seonghwa had headed back to their apartment for his afternoon nap, which was why he wasn’t present. It was so Seonghwa-coded to leave the entire delivery to Minho.

“Thank you again for the food, Min!” You smile, watching as the brunette’s hand comes up to cup the back of his neck. He shrugs as if the action was no big deal, when in actuality the simple gesture made your day.

“Of course. Don’t sweat it,” Minho says, saluting to you with his index and middle fingers. “And don’t work too hard, okay? I’ll see you later.”

You wave to him as he exits your cubicle and seemingly heads to his shared apartment with Seonghwa. Without hesitation, you begin unpacking the takeout bag to eat with Sakura as quickly as possible, realizing you only had around 15 minutes before your last appointment arrived. You notice silence coming from your friend even after you’ve opened the container of jajangmyeon and handed her a pair of chopsticks.

“What?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” she giggles while simultaneously slurping up some of the noodles. “I just don’t think any of my friends would go out of their way to bring me lunch. Or even remember when I had a break in my day.”

“What are you insinuating, Kkura?”

“That’s up for your interpretation.” She answers through a mouthful of food. You decide to leave it as that and not pry any further, lest you gain a headache before your final client of the day. As much as you loved Sakura (especially because she was one of the few club members you actually hung out with), she could be a royal pain in the ass when she wanted to be. Therefore, leaving things unsaid was your best option.

The two of you tear through the jajangmyeon like a tornado through a farm, leaving hardly anything except a couple stray vegetables by the time 2:45 rolls around. The ravenette tips her imaginary hat in salutation to you as she returns to her own cubicle. (She more likely went to another one of the club members’ since they all had collectively agreed to spy on your appointment. They desperately wanted to find out who this anonymous client was.)

It was 2:47 when they finally arrived at the Love Loop headquarters, knocking on the wall of your cubicle to alert you of their presence. When you glance up from the sheet of paper you were preparing for notes during the appointment, you nearly fall out of your chair onto your ass.

Low and behold, standing at the entryway of your cubicle, is Lee Juyeon. It feels as if all the muscles in your face have gone slack and your jaw has dropped to the floor much like you almost did. He looks a bit nervous, running a hand through his hair as he waits for your invitation in. Your heart stutters in your chest at the sight.

It takes him clearing his throat for you to gather your bearings. “O-oh! Right, c-come in!”

He bows slightly before assuming the seat across from you at your desk. You can tell this is something completely out of his comfort zone, if the whole anonymous thing didn’t already give it away. And then as you begin writing his name at the top of the paper in front of you, the situation clicks in your brain.

Lee Juyeon wanted your help to get with someone.

And if that person was you, he obviously wouldn’t be here right now. So then the reality of it all hits you like a train of bricks— hard, fast, and painful. Just a few minutes ago, you were content with how your day was going. You enjoyed some good food with good company brought to you by one of your closest friends. You thought this would be a nice, uneventful day. But, it appears you jinxed your own fortune. It was silly of you to even think you stood a chance.

You swallow the lump of your throat and elicit yourself to speak up. “S-so, Juyeon—” God, that hurt to say. “What brings y-you in?”

Juyeon relaxes in his seat, pursing his lips. “To be 100% with you, I’m not too sure. There’s this whole stigma surrounding me that I could have any girl I wanted, right? Star pitcher for SNU, grades that aren’t the worst, every guy wants to be me and every girl wants me. Why am I here if that’s true?”

He could have any girl he wanted. He could have you in a second if he asked. So, why was he here?

“Um— I-I don’t know. Why do you think so?”

“I think it’s probably because I don’t feel worthy of her. I feel like she deserves better than someone like me. And I never know how to approach her without coming off as an entitled jerk either. I’ve just been admiring her from afar for a while and everything sort of boiled over when I realized we aren’t getting any younger, you know? I think it’s time I made my move.” Juyeon explains, twiddling his fingers in his lap.

Whoever this girl is, must be something special since he talks so highly of her, you conclude. Each syllable of each word chips at your heart, eventually driving a wedge right through those cracks and shattering it entirely. You write a summarized version of his confession down with a shaky hand, willing away the tears threatening to pour from your eyes. You see this as the opportunity to distract yourself for a second, to recalibrate your systems and get back on track before you crumble right in this chair.

When you started Love Loop, the possibility of having to assist your crush in asking out the girl of his dreams was never something you considered. In fact, you never thought about your crush at all during the process. The reason the club came to fruition was because of your desire to bring people together in the name of love.

Lee Juyeon’s case was no different. Sitting across from you, dishing all of his deepest secrets and most vulnerable feelings about the girl he liked, was not the Lee Juyeon you were in love with. He was a client requesting your aid in his quest for love of his own. Who were you to stand in the way of that? Besides, if Juyeon was happy, then so were you. And that was what mattered the most, didn’t it?

“Who’s the lucky lady?” You pluck up the courage to ask, not only because you needed that information, but because you were curious.

“Chou Tzuyu. I’m in love with Chou Tzuyu.” He replies following a beat, staring out of the window catty-corner from him.

Oh.

Even after bandaging your heart as quickly as possible and picking yourself up to hold your head high, he unintentionally found a way to pull it apart once more and knock you back down. Through trembling lips and a dull ache deep inside of you, you force a smile. “I can’t wait to get you and Tzuyu together.”

You were lying, but he didn’t have to know that. In fact, he didn’t have to know anything at all. As long as he was happy at the end of the day, right? It was the client who came first.

PREV ₊˚⊹ TEN — ur on THIN ICE JAMAL

NEXT ₊˚⊹ TWELVE — need a comically large piano to fall on top of me

MASTERLIST

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TAGLIST ₊˚⊹ @matchaoreocrepes @maessseongs @tannieflix @winterchimez @kyusqult

#the boyz #the boyz smau #the boyz social media au #tbz #tbz smau #the boyz juyeon #tbz juyeon #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon smau #lee juyeon social media au #juyeon x reader #juyeon smau #juyeon social media au #juyeonszn #what.is.love.juyeon🩷

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Of Saints and Sinners - Chapter 9

Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

Decisions are made for family and the future.

warnings | 18+ angst, descriptions of violence

a/n | the last entry in this series. thank you to all who read the very first thing i posted to this blog <3

...............................

Joel knew that there were a handful of kids that lived at the childcare center. It was usually only temporary, a couple in Jackson taking them in soon after they found themselves in need of a home. But there were some who couldn’t get placed somewhere new. Kids who had seen something they shouldn’t have, the world taking an early toll on them and leaving them damaged in one way or another. Maria had told him about it. Kids who would lash out like soldiers back from serving, flashes of their past dragged into the present rendering them reactive and violent. There were others who just wouldn’t speak, mute ghosts that needed looking after.

He thinks about that conversation as he sits outside the childcare center, wringing his hands in his lap. She had left him on a bench on the playground and told him she’d be right back out. With Will. The little boy he saw her with all those months ago. He had never seen her like that before or after that time, the clear love that she had wrapped around the kid. It made him nervous. He knows this is more than important to her. It’s another wall coming down. Maybe one of the last ones.

His breath catches in his throat when the door to the building opens. She comes out first, but he can see that she’s holding a very small hand next to her hip. The boy stays close behind her legs as she walks over to him. Joel’s not sure if he should stand or stay seated, but they’re on him before he can really decide so he stays on the bench, pressing his palms into his thighs. She’s smiling, drawing Will to stand by her side even though he buries his face into her hip. Joel’s eyes are darting between her face and the mop of dark hair that’s pressed against her jeans. She brings a palm to the boy’s back, rubbing gently.

“Joel, this is Will. Will, this is who I was telling you about.” Joel clears his throat, realizing all too late that he hasn’t had a whole lot of recent experience talking to kids. His voice comes out a lot gruffer than he intended.

“Hi, Will.” He feels like a dope, but she offers him another reassuring smile before carding her fingers through the boy’s hair, encouraging him to finally look at Joel. He holds Joel’s gaze for a heartbeat, eyes quickly going to his pigeon-toed sneakers. The boy’s voice is small but clear.

“Hello.” She crouches down next to the boy, keeping an arm wrapped around his waist as she glances back at Joel. He feels like his heart is beating out of his chest.

“Do you remember what I told you about Joel, bud? How I ride horses with him?” The boy nods, glancing at Joel again. She smiles before looking back up at Joel.

“Will really wants to ride horses. He thinks they’re the coolest, don’t you?” Will nods again, the suggestion of a smile on his face. Joel can’t help a similar grin turning the corners of his mouth. He leans onto his elbows, dipping his head to try to catch the boy’s gaze. He’s trying to remember how to talk to a kid, really.

“You like horses, kid?” Not his best effort, but Will still nods, finally meeting Joel’s gaze.

“I read books about them, a-and I’ve seen pitchers of them.” Joel’s heart squeezes at his words.

“You ever seen one up close?” Will becomes a bit more animated at his question, his eyes widening.

“Only a long time ago.” Joel glances her way but she’s looking at the boy with a hopeful smile. He’s not sure if it’s even allowed, but Joel’s already saying it.

“How’d you like to see some horses today?” The boy lets out a bright gasp that makes Joel laugh. Suddenly, his chest feels a lot lighter than it has in a long time. Will’s eyes dart to her, seeming to silently ask her if Joel’s for real. She offers him a grin and a nod.

“We can go see the horses, bud. I’ll just have to check with Laura, ok?” Will nods his head whip-fast, already trying to wriggle out of her arms. She fixes the boy with a firm but kind look.

“I need you to stay here with Joel while I go let Laura know, alright?” Joel’s stomach drops at her words. Sure, he was starting to do ok with the kid, but with her there as well. He did not feel ready to be solely responsible for him, even if it was for a few minutes. But she’s already walking back towards the building while Will hops up on the bench next to him. Joel tentatively rests one arm over the back of the bench, turning slightly towards the boy. He’s surprised when Will speaks first.

“Who are you?” Joel’s already at a loss. He opens his mouth to speak a few times, but only to shut it again when he can’t find a good answer. Will cuts off his floundering.

“Are you trying to take me?” Joel furrows his brow.

“What makes you ask that, kid?” The boy shrugs.

“People tried to take me before. But I won’t go without her.” Joel is still confused by the boy’s words. Had there been families in Jackson who had tried to adopt him? He clears his throat.

“Well, I’m not gonna take you, kid. I just wanted to meet you, she’s told me alot about you.” It’s a lie, but Will seems to accept that answer, looking down at his sneakers as he kicks them in the air.

“Do you shoot guns?” For a moment, Joel asks whatever mercy there is left in the world to give him a break, but then he answers.

“Sometimes.” Will hums at that.

“I saw her shoot guns once. It was loud.” There’s no time for Joel to respond to that, as he sees her walking back over to them. The relief is instant.

“Alright, bud. Let’s go see some horses.”

…

They walk through the town toward the stables. She’s holding the boy’s hand, and Joel is on his other side. He can see people looking a little longer at their strange trio and then, he nearly chokes on an inhale when a small hand takes his. He glances down at Will, who doesn’t even look at Joel, like holding his hand was the most natural thing in the world. Joel’s trying hard to not imagine what they look like. Like a family.

There are several foals in the grazing pen when they get to the stables, successful spring births that are now growing into the summer. Will lets go of both their hands to press up against the fence, his eyes wide as he watches the animals. Watching Will, Joel is reminded of the first time he saw horses as a boy, and he’s startled by how quickly he’s growing to like this kid. He squeezes her shoulder as she sidles up next to the boy.

“I’ll be right back.” She gives him a questioning look, but nods, becoming distracted by a peel of laughter that Will lets out when one of the foals tosses its mane back in a whinny.

Joel heads over to the main barn and quickly finds the bucket of grain he was looking for. When he returns to them, he tentatively rests his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Will looks up at him, his face still lined with awe.

“Do you wanna see them a little closer, kid?” He knows he didn’t really have to ask, but seeing the excitement in the boy’s face is worth it. He glances at her.

“You coming?” She shakes her head, biting her lip to pin down a grin.

“You guys go on, I’ll watch.” Joel steers the boy with a palm on his back over to the gate of the pen. When they step inside the pen, Will takes Joel’s hand that isn’t holding onto the bucket, stepping back behind Joel’s legs. Noticing the intrusion, the foals are already meandering over to the pair. The closer they get, the more Will shrinks behind Joel’s hip. Joel sets the bucket down, turning and kneeling with a groan to get on the now very shy boy’s level.

“You alright, kid?” The boy shrugs. Joel brings his hand to his shoulder, giving a light squeeze.

“They’re all friendly, I promise. Just a little hungry. Here, watch.” Joel takes a handful of grain out of the bucket and holds it out in his flat palm for the closest horse. The animal lazily sidles up, nuzzling the food out of his hand. Will is watching, completely enrapt, as a smile slowly spreads across his face. The grain gone, Joel wipes his hand on his thigh before looking back at the boy.

“You wanna try?” He nods, shuffling over to the bucket and taking a handful of grain out. Joel lets the boy stand in front of him, and he brings his palm to rest under the boy’s up-turned hand as he holds out his arm for the foals. As one of the horses approaches, Will starts to back into Joel, but he puts his other hand on the boy’s shoulder, a reassurance. The giggle that Will lets out when the horse begins to eat from his palm makes Joel dizzy. He didn’t know there was joy left in this world, but he reckons that if there is, this is it. He glances over his shoulder to see her, elbows resting along the top of the fence and her chin in one of her palms. He’s not seen that kind of smile from her before.

…

They feed the horses for a while, and Will continues to come out of his shell. By the end of their time at the stable, Joel has him stroking the foals’ manes and talking sweetly to the animals, a natural farmhand if Joel ever saw one. But as they’re walking back to the childcare center, and Will so easily holds his hand, Joel is once again startled by how quickly he slipped into this role. He’s not entirely sure if he’s comfortable with it. Sure, he looked after Ellie, but she was practically grown by the time he knew her. This is different, and it scares him. He also doesn’t understand why Will is staying at the childcare center in the first place. He’s perfect, brilliant even, if not a little shy. But then he remembers what the boy said, that he wasn’t going anywhere without her, and a whole new set of questions lights up his mind. It’s clear how much this boy means to her, and how much he loves her. But Joel knows there’s no blood relation and he’s left with no clue as to why the pair are so close.

When they get back to the childcare center, they pause for a moment at the door and Joel’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. Will lets go of his hand, choosing instead to wrap his arms around her legs. She rubs his back. Joel can hear the boy’s murmurs though they’re muffled into her jeans.

“You’re gonna come tomorrow?” She untangles him from her legs, crouching down and holding both his hands.

“I always do, bud.” The boy huffs.

“Not always.” Joel sees the wince flash across her face, but she’s quick to hide it with a tight smile.

“Remember I told you that was just because I was in a little trouble. But I’m not gonna get in any more trouble, I promise.” Joel’s mouth gets dry, realizing exactly what “trouble” she’s referencing, but she keeps talking.

“You know, Will. It was Joel who helped me get out of that trouble.” The boy’s head whips around to look at Joel.

“You helped?” Joel swallows hard, sharing a quick look with her over the boy’s head. Her eyes are soft. He nods.

“I guess I did, yeah.” Will looks at him for just a beat longer before turning back to her.

“When are you coming tomorrow?” She laughs.

“In the afternoon, alright?” He nods, wrapping his arms around her neck for another hug before pulling away to let her stand. What Joel wasn’t expecting was for the boy to turn and wrap his arms around his legs, a hug that’s over as soon as it started.

“Thank you for showing me the horses, Joel.” The sentence comes out a bit shaky, but it still makes Joel’s heart catch. He has to clear his throat harshly before he speaks, resting his hand on Will’s shoulder again.

“You’re welcome, kid. It’s good to meet you.” With that, she takes Will’s hand and leads him inside, Joel hanging back. He’s not sure what just happened, his brain reeling in questions. He leans back against the wall of the building, scrubbing a hand down his face. He hopes she’ll have some answers. He’s startled out of his thoughts when she comes back out. He thinks she looks a bit nervous as she looks at him.

“Well, I think Will may have a new favorite.” Joel snorts at that, pressing off the wall to walk with her back to his house.

“That’s impossible, darlin. That kid is stuck to you like glue.” He catches the way her face falls at that only slightly. She clears her throat.

“I know you probably have a ton of questions. And I’d like to try to answer them, that ok with you?” He stops in his tracks to look at her, the way she’s biting her lip. He nods.

“Let’s get back to the house. You can tell me everything.”

…

They sit down at the dining table. Joel rests his elbows on the table, trying to organize his thoughts into coherent questions.

“Why– how did– what–” He takes a deep breath, trying to start over. She looks nervous. Joel clears his throat.

“From the beginning. Tell me from the beginning.” She sighs, leaning back in her chair.

“Alright, well I guess it was about two years ago now. I– we– um–” Joel is quick to take her hand in his across the table, a squeeze of reassurance. Her face softens.

“Alex and Steve and I were going on weekly raids at the time, running out and seeing what we could find. We had come across gamers before–” Joel’s brow furrows in confusion at that word and she catches it.

“You know, people who lay out bait? Someone old or injured, and then the rest of them jump you.” He nods, knowing all too well the sort of people she’s referring to.

“Well, when we saw a fucking kid in the middle of the road, we knew what we were getting ourselves into. But– I don’t know– I guess that’s my weakness– especially when they look so much like– like–” Her breath catches and Joel already knows the word, the name she’s trying to get out. He squeezes her hand again and she continues.

“Anyways, Steve and Alex stayed in the van, I got out, walked right up to him. He must’ve only been four or five? But he told me his name was Will and that he was lost. A script his adults probably told him– but I was gone, you know? This perfect little boy had me wrapped around his finger from the get-go.” She sighs, a crumpled smile across her face.

“And then, his folks appeared out of the woods on the side of the road, guns ablazing. The guys were still in the van, but I knew they had my back. I was trying to just talk to them. Told them we could work something out. Before they could even get a word in, a whole herd of infected came sprinting out of the trees. It was a fucking blur.” She pauses, taking a sharp inhale.

“His mom went down fast, god– the scream he let out– shook me to my knees. He tried to run to her but I grabbed him, hoisted him onto my back, told him to close his eyes. Steve and Alex came barreling out, took out a bunch of them, but it wasn’t enough. His dad got taken down too– there were just too many of them.”

“It was a struggle just to get back in the van. We got knocked down by one– I was trying to hold onto him and fight this fucking thing off of us– total clusterfuck– but we made it, somehow– hauled ass out of there.”

“He was sobbing so hard, I thought he’d pop a lung or something. Screaming for his mom– I just held him, it was all I could think to do as we drove.” She sighs, and Joel thinks he knows where this is going.

“He was bit, wasn’t he?” She presses her lips into a firm line, nodding.

“Fucker got him on his side– pfft, Steve and Alex wanted to drop him right then and there. But I– I couldn’t, Joel. Not when he– he looked so much like– god I wish I could show you a photo because it’s scary, really.” The first tears fall silently as she looks at him.

“I told them to give it a day, just give me one day to see. I sat in the van with him all night and all day while Steve and Alex camped outside. And I prayed– for the first time, I prayed– and the next day, Will still hadn’t turned.” She lets out a humorless laugh.

“I told him I would take care of him from then on, and I– I brought him home.” Joel’s trying to picture it, her stepping out of a van with a crying child in her arms for all of Jackson to see, and it finally makes sense.

“That’s why people call you the saint? What you did, when you came back? Isn’t it?” She offers him a small smile, but shakes her head.

“Not after Will. He was the first, but he wasn’t the last.” Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. She huffs.

“There was a string of kids afterwards, all the same situation. Gamer bait. Everytime I came back with another, people’s voices got a little more hushed around me, a little more reverent. That’s how that name stuck to me.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes scrunching shut.

“But Will was different?” She sighs again, squeezing Joel’s hand.

“Will was different, is different. Those other kids all got adopted. But Will– he’s mine, Joel.” He lets go of her hand, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs.

“So then– why doesn’t he– why don’t you–”

“Why don’t I keep him with me?” Joel nods. She frowns deeply, looking down at her hands now clasped on the table.

“It’s better this way. As you know I’m, uh, prone to trouble. I’ve tried to get him to go with other families, but he’s stubborn, just flat out refuses.” She shakes her head. Joel lets out a gruff exhale.

“He should be with you.” “Joel.”

“No. I know it’s not my place–”

“It’s really not.” “But, Christ, I’ve only met him once and I can tell you that you’re it for him.”

“So I should just have him shack up with me and Alex and Steve then?”

“No, he would stay with us, here.” Joel is saying it before he even knows what he’s doing. Her eyes widen at that. He knows it’s presumptuous as hell, not even sure if he’s ready to take something on like that. But, he figures, for her he’d get ready. She stays silent and he lets out another huff.

“Family should be together, that’s what I think.” She sighs at that, dragging a hand through her hair. Joel swallows thickly before continuing.

“I know you don’t like me saying this, but there’s no need for you to be– prone to trouble– like you say.” She scoffs at his words.

“Joel.” He brings his palms flat down on the table, standing his ground.

“No. You– you’re not disposable, darlin. And you’re not somebody’s science experiment, seeing how many times you can take it and get back up. Goddamnit, there are people here who– who need you.” He gulps an inhale after finishing speaking. It’s the truth, and it frightens him. Her eyes are still wide, not leaving his. He sighs and continues.

“Look, you’re gonna do what you want to, lord knows. But– family should be together– s’what I believe.” He seems to have left her speechless, her eyes searching his face. She finally clears her throat, rubbing her palms down her thighs before standing. She shuffles over to stand between his legs, bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders. He lets his palms drop heavily on her hips.

“That’s a lot to take in, Miller.” He huffs, looking up at her.

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, darlin.” She smiles faintly dipping down to press a chaste kiss to his lips, but when she stands back up Joel can see the worried crease between her brows.

“I’ll think about what you said, really. Thank you for letting me, um, share him with you.” Joel smiles broadly at that, nodding and squeezing her hips.

“Can I ask who else knows? About Will being like you?” She lets out a long exhale.

“Just the guys, and Maria. She thought I was crazy when I brought him back, but she helped me keep it secret, keep him safe. And now I guess you know as well.” Joel nods, slowly standing and sliding his hands up to cup her jaw, laying a kiss on her lips.

“I’m on your team, darlin. That means I’m on his too.” She smiles, leaning in for another kiss before pulling back and rubbing her palms up his chest.

“I’m really glad I’ve got you, Joel Miller.”

…

“Alright, kid. You ready?” Ellie nods to Alex who gives a few experimental buzzes of his makeshift tattoo gun before dipping it down to her forearm and getting to work. Joel can’t believe he’s letting her do this. When she had asked - more like told - him about getting a tattoo over the scars on her arm, Joel had balked immediately, a firm no on the tip of his tongue. Just as they started to argue about it at the dining table, she had come in, his woman, bandage gone from her arm where she had been bitten and a fresh design scrawled over it, a hare mid-leap across the length of her forearm. With some backup, Ellie had won that argument, but with the stipulation that Joel needed to be there when it happened. He wasn’t sure why that made him feel better, maybe a false sense of control. But now, watching Alex get to work, Joel finds himself getting a bit queasy at the sight.

It’s clear to him that Ellie is trying to look tough, biting her lip and furrowing her brow as she looks anywhere but at Alex’s work. Joel leans forward from his chair at their kitchen table and squeezes her knee, doing his best to offer her a small smile and firm nod that it’s alright. Both of their attention is drawn away from the ever-buzzing gun as someone clears their throat, their heads whipping around to see her leaning up against the doorframe.

“How’s it coming along, kid?” Before Ellie can respond to her question, Alex is chiming in, eyes still focused on his work.

“Sitting like a champ. A lot less squirmy than you are.” She scoffs, pressing up off the doorframe to step closer, bending over a bit to get a better look at Alex’s work as she rests her hand on Joel’s shoulder. Meanwhile, Ellie has a proud grin spread wide across her face. She smiles back at the girl.

“It looks great, Ellie. Gonna look even cooler than me.” That makes Ellie laugh, effectively distracting her from Alex’s continued needling. Watching them interact, Joel swears his heart swells at the sight, how easily she seems to be able to talk with Elliel, and how clear Ellie’s admiration for his woman is.

Joel is jolted out of his fond musings when she gives his shoulder a squeeze.

“Is it alright if I steal him for a second?” Ellie snorts, nodding lightly.

“Uh, yeah. He’s the one making me all nervous.” Joel huffs at that, grumbling at the kid’s smug expression as he gets up. Before he follows her out, he thinks better of it, turning around and clearing his throat to get Alex’s attention.

“Forearm only. I don’t want her coming home with any other ink, understand?” Ellie rolls her eyes, but Alex nods.

“Heard, Miller. No wandering tattoo gun.” Satisfied with his response, Joel turns back to his woman, following her to what had been her room in the house she shared with Alex and Steve.

He still remembers the day they spoke in here, after he found out about her immunity. It looks a bit different now. Most of her books have been moved back over to his place, along with her clothes. There’s hardly anything in the room now, just a lamp and a mattress on the floor with no sheets on it. His heart kicks up at the thought that this isn’t her home anymore, not really. Her home is with him.

She sits down on the edge of the mattress and Joel joins her with a groan, leaning back on his hands as he studies her.

“What’s going on?” She rests her cheek on her shoulder, turning to look at him.

“I thought some more about what we talked about. About Will.” Joel nods, but stays silent. That conversation happened two weeks ago now, but this is the first time she brings it up again. He knew better than to press her about it, that she’d come to him when she was ready to talk more. He knows her now. Knows when to speak, and when to stay silent. When to press, and when to let her come to it in her own time.

She lets out a long sigh before continuing.

“I think you’re right, Joel. I want Will with me– with us.” He feels his eyebrows shoot straight up his forehead at her words. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected her to so easily agree with him. It’s not like she ever had before. But he doesn’t voice that particular thought, instead leaning forward to wrap his arm around her shoulder and lay a kiss at her temple.

“Think that’s a good idea, darlin. How does this all work then? How do we get him?” She leans a little further into his side, head resting on his bicep.

“Usually, when folks– adopt, I guess– there’s a trial period. The kid might spend a few nights with the family, make sure the situation will work out. I guess that’s our next step.” Joel’s mind gets stuck on the word family, repeating it until it’s flooding his whole system. She takes his other hand in both of hers, keeping her eyes trained there as she runs her fingers over his knuckles.

“I asked Maria to start rotating me into shifts at the stables. Gonna be doing less patrol work. Less trouble, you know?” Hearing this is when Joel knows that she really means what she’s telling him, that she really wants this, wants them, and wants Will. He pulls back slightly, coaxing her to look up at him.

“Less trouble is good. It’ll be good for him too. To have you closer to home.” He takes a breath, and then says something else before he can really think about it.

“Think Ellie will like having a little brother.” It’s presumptuous as hell, and he worries that he’s crossed a line by saying it, but the bright smile she offers him is quick to calm his nerves.

“I think so too.” She squeezes his hand in hers, and he squeezes back.

“I just hope I can be good for him.” It’s the sweetest, simplest thing he’s ever heard her say and he can’t help but dip down to press a kiss to her lips.

“You will be. We will be. Together.”

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller au #joel miller series #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 2 years

Text

Azula x Gender Neutral Reader

Request Prompt: “Hey I had an idea for a story for Azula with a gender-neutral reader where she meets someone in the asylum both of them have family issues which is what they vibe on and Reader is kinda mysterious to Azula as in they kind of keep the selves hidden from her I was thinking kind of like in the Phantom of the opera don’t know if you’ve actually seen that movie or play you don’t have to accept if you don’t want”

The Fire Nation Psychiatric Institution had been your home for almost 10 years. You were taken from your life with your mother and placed inside it at 7 years old. You hadn't been outside its walls since. So you knew everything about the place, every patient, every member of staff, every room and every window. Despite this forcibly sheltered upbringing you heard what was going on outside the walls too. You heard when the Firelord banished the Prince and again when he returned. You heard that the Avatar was back and then a year later when he overthrew the Avatar. Of course it was also huge news when the banished Prince returned and claimed the throne for himself. Everyone knew of the Princess' downfall and you got to witness first-hand what happened to her.

You were present the day Azula was brought in. She was supposedly unconscious and they carried her in and laid her on the floor. The Firelord followed and was looking around nervously. He spied you and your fellow patients in the other room and his frown deepened. The guard reassured him you were all stable and settled so there was nothing to fear. He still looked nervous and apparently for good reason but the threat was not from the other patients. The Princess suddenly sprang into action, her unconsciousness a ruse. She took her brother out instantly and so easily you wondered how he ever beat her in combat. She was in a straight jacket but she still managed to duck the guard who tried to defend him and kick another. She ran for the door, barging past two more guards and almost reached freedom...when a gust of air bending sent her back into the building. The Avatar. You hadn't seen him before of course but had heard rumours of what he looked like. You found him a little underwhelming, he was just a kid but that display of airbending was no joke. The princess was on the floor winded but he didn’t take any chances. He quickly took action and did something to reduce her oxygen levels until she was unconscious properly this time. He helped the Firelord up and you were all ushered from the room in case the Princess' actions had inspired you. It didn't, escape had long been off your agenda. The princess was taken to one of the most secure rooms in the whole place and she didn't leave it for months. It just so happened her room was next to yours and so you overheard a lot of things. She was apparently very difficult and the staff did not like her. She was dangerous and they had to keep her mouth shut with straps to stop her from breathing fire at them. She wasn't allowed to go outside or even move as far as you'd heard. She was chained to a chair every day like an animal and no treatment was ever attempted on her. She was just abandoned by her big brother who didn't know what to do with her. You knew what that felt like but then again so could half the people in here. Then after 8 months something changed. Perhaps Firelord Zuko had remembered his humanity or Azula had simply gotten better with time but you slowly began to see more of her. They let her come down to the group room when there was a big fire nation festival. She was chained and heavily guarded of course but it was something. Then 3 weeks later she made an appearance again. Then again and again until she was pretty much free to roam around. Well not free, she was the most heavily chained and the guards were always more nervous when she was there but at least she could actually move and walk around. At first you were all a little amazed to be in the same facility as royalty but that novelty wore off quickly. You'd been here for so long nothing was new. You just kept to yourself and out of trouble and that meant avoiding the new patient. You had learned a thing or two about new patients and could tell when they hadn't quite accepted this was their new home yet and escape was still on their minds. The princess was one of these people. She acted calm and stable but you could tell it was all an act and she could snap at any moment. You could see the lie in her eyes and could practically feel it in the air. So you stayed away from her, very happy not to be caught in the crossfire but the Princess had other ideas. Azula had been asking around who the oldest patient was and of course it was you. So she began watching you and then finally approached. She joined you at your table to eat and neither of you said anything. You kept your eyes down and acted like she wasn't there even though you could feel her staring at you. Finally she spoke, "I've heard you've been here the longest?". You didn't reply but she kept going "nearly 10 years apparently, a sentence that long must've been for something really bad". Again you didn't reply but the Princess didn't seem shaken. "I'm guessing your parents did something bad and you're in here as punishment. How does that make you feel? To know they separated you from them just because they could? To not even know what they did to them? To have no clue when or if you'll ever leave this place". You knew she was trying to provoke you but you didn't let her. You'd been here 10 years having guards and patients swipe at you whenever they felt like it, there was nothing she could say to make you react. So you finished your food and stood up, not even looking at her as you walked away. Azula tried several more times to provoke you into talking to her but you didn't. You just kept mute no matter what she said or when the anger started to seep through into her words. It was going well and you thought she was growing tired of you until a guard messed it all up. By now the guards were pretty much done tormenting you. You were basically just part of the woodwork to them but every now and then a new guard would arrive and try to cement their position by throwing their weight around. You could tell the new guard was one of those people and when he was assigned to your corridor you knew this wouldn't be a fun night. Sure enough the guard was loud and seemed to find it funny that he could annoy you and you couldn't do anything about it. All night he kept tapping his baton against the bars, running them up and down them every 5 minutes and whispering comments and abuse at you. You couldn't tone his annoying voice out so you asked to go to the bathroom. He made a few crude jokes before finally unlocking your cell and leading you to the one at the end of the hall. Inside you got a few minutes of peace before he started angrily banging on the door telling you to hurry up. You yanked open the door and followed him back to your cell but he didn't really seem in a hurry. He took his time tormenting you and making fun of you. Azula of course was listening to the whole thing. She too was ready to incinerate the guard but you distracted her with your nighttime bathroom trip. She heard him openly berate you and was curious how you'd react to a confrontation. She'd seen a few patient arguments but you never got involved and the other patients all left you alone. She hadn't heard you speak more than yes or no and she was curious what was going on in that brain of yours. So she stood by the door out of sight but in hearing distance. The guard continued to insult you and say horrible things about you but you didn't react. He was disappointed by that. "You're no fun, don't you know it's rude not to reply when someone's talking to you?" he called. Then he said one word and the whole atmosphere changed. "Come on Beifong".

Azula could feel something was about to happen. She was right. Whatever the man said had struck a chord and you finally responded. In the blink of an eye you reached up and grabbed his wrist and gripped it harshly forcing him to drop his weapon. Azula saw how easily you overpowered him and could see the fear as the man realised he couldn't escape. That only got worse as the wall behind him seemed to press into him. He tried to move his other hand but it was stuck against the wall somehow. He looked around desperately for another guard but he was the only one on this floor. "Don't ever say that name again" you told him. Azula heard no threat, no promise of what would happen if he did but still the man nodded because he could feel it. Your eyes were portraying all the horrors you would inflict on him better than any words could and he was clearly terrified. Then just as quickly as you grabbed him you let him go and walked back into your room. The man quickly slammed the door and bolted it. He turned around and jumped to see Azula stood there. "What are you looking at?" he asked and she just smiled. That seemed to unsettle him even more and he rushed away cursing you both. Azula didn't sleep that night, she stayed up thinking of all the reasons the man called you Beifong and why you'd react that way. The next day, the second her door was unlocked she headed for you. She spotted you in your favourite corner and appeared. "Sounds like you had a little tantrum last night" she said. You didn't react to her presence but Azula saw you hesitate when she mentioned last night. "Look we can keep this whole silent act going but I heard what that guard called you. He said you're a B...". You cut her off "I'm not one of them and I never will be". You looked at her and Azula realised it was the first time you'd looked her in the eye. She could usually tell a lot by a person's eyes but yours were...empty. No there was something there but it was hidden, stored in a place Azula couldn't quite see. She looked away first and carried on "well one of your parents must've been. Was it your mother? Or father?". At the word father your eye twitched ever so slightly and Azula smiled "okay so your father is the one". She was just getting started but you were apparently done. You shrugged "why don't you tell me princess. I never met the man" and walked away. Azula wanted to know how a Beifong had gotten thrown in a psychiatric institution in the Fire Nation. She knew there was more to you than met the eye and she speculated you could help her escape but to do that she had to crack you and she came up with an idea. Ever since you'd stood up to that guard he'd been on a rampage. Attacking patients whenever he felt like it, taking away food, stomping around to assert his dominance, typical insecure bully behaviour. Azula could see you hated him and so she had a proposition for you. "If I get toxic masculinity over there to quit will you tell me how you're a Beifong?" Azula asked. You raised an eyebrow and Azula worried you'd just not answer but your curiosity won "you think you can make a guard quit?". Azula smiled "easily, you can pick anyone of them in here and I'll have them gone within a week but it won't be without a price". "How?" you asked but Azula just smiled "do we have a deal?". You shrugged "why would I care?". "Because out of everyone here he hates you the most and you and I both know it's only a matter of time before he turns his attention back to you only this time he'll have back up. So, it's in your best interest to have him gone. I can do that for you and all it will cost is one measly story". You shrugged "fine, if you can somehow get him gone and not get yourself sent to prison in the process I'll tell you how I got here". Azula grinned but you didn’t even give her another thought, in your mind there was no way Azula was going to get rid of the guard. All it took was a few days for you to realise how wrong you’d been. At first you didn’t notice much difference with the guard but each day it became more obvious. Azula began intimidating and scaring him so he was less sure of himself and his behaviour. She also supported other patients who he loved to kick around so he didn’t have that either. They too started fighting back or outsmarting him and he lost his main source of power. Then the final nail in the coffin was how she separated him from all the other guards. She must’ve whispered rumours and got into their heads because they all soon started trying to separate themselves from him and it was obvious he was disliked. By the end of the week it was clear the guard was not happy here and by the weekend there was a new guard. When you asked the head guard told you he’d resigned. So Azula had held up her part of the bargain and you decided to keep yours.

You approached Azula in the day room but she shook her head and told you she'd come to you tonight. You were confused how she’d manage to come to your room at night but sure enough you heard the lock click and there was Azula escorted by a guard. "You get half an hour" the guard said and she locked the door. “How did you do that?” you asked and Azula smiled “being Princess still has some perks...now Beifong. Why don't you begin?" she asked. You rolled your eyes but obeyed. "The truth is I don't know if I'm truly a Beifong but my mom said I was. Every day she used to tell me I mattered because my father was a Beifong. We might be penniless but I was descended from a huge dynasty. I mattered. Then things got worse the day I discovered I could earth bend. I struggled to control it and my bending wasn't the most subtle. From what I've heard most benders start off small, earth benders move rocks, fire benders small flames...mine was the opposite. I couldn't move a small stone but a rock the size of a man? No problem. My mom knew it was a crime to earth bend even in the earth nation so she knew what would happen if I was discovered with the gift in the Fire Nation. As I got more and more unstable she knew it was only a matter of time and so instead she smuggled me out of the Fire Nation and tried to take me to my father. She thought we'd be safe in the Earth Kingdom but we weren't. I can't remember much of what happened but when we finally got there we weren't treated well and my father refused to see her. My mother didn't stand for that and began making a fuss which got us captured. We were sold back to the Fire Nation as traitors. They said we were conspiring with the Earth Kingdom and had to be punished but I knew that was all lies. I'm here because my father did nothing to protect me or my mother despite being from one of the wealthiest families in the world. He did nothing to save her or me".

Azula was quiet for a while before she shook her head "I don't get it". "What's there to get? My family are assholes and so are yours". Azula shook her head once more "not that I understand just fine, what I don't get is how you could be such a coward". You tensed "excuse me?". "Your father betrayed you and your mother, he probably got her killed and you're just sitting here with no desire to escape? You've just accepted what he did to her?". "Of course not" you snapped and Azula rolled her eyes "okay so what have you done about it? How have you avenged her?". "What do you expect me to do? I'm trapped in a country that doesn't want me, the country people flee to also doesn't want me. I have no family or allies, the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom wouldn’t hesitate to have me arrested or worse and you expect me to break out and go murder one of the most prestigious families in the world? Fuck you". Azula raised her hands in surrender "all I hear are excuses, you won't receive justice if you don't fight for it. When you're done feeling sorry for yourself let me know". She stood up and walked to the door of your cell banging on it twice. The guard opened it and let her out. It took everything in your power not to make the doorway collapse on her. After that you didn't speak to Azula. You were so angry at her. How dare she come in here from her life of privilege and act like you were lazy. She had no idea what it meant to have nothing and nobody in the world...but another part of you was angry because she was right. You'd been complacent, you'd never even tried to break out or find out what happened to your mother because you were scared. Sure the psychiatric institute wasn't good but you also knew it could be a lot worse. You'd heard stories from other patients who’d been to prisons and seen what happened to the ones that caused trouble. You'd been scared so you just accepted your fate and were thankful things weren't worse. Now looking back on it though you just felt weak and for the first time since being called it hundreds of times you felt like a true traitor. Well not anymore. The universe had sent you the princess of the Fire Nation and she was planning to break out. You wanted in. You found Azula in her usual spot in the corner where she could best people watch. You came to sit beside her and tried to ignore the way she was staring at you but you couldn't. You sighed and met her amber eyes "you're right. I want revenge so how are we getting out of here?". Azula grinned "i thought you'd never ask". Azula already of course had the place scooped out she just needed some information which you readily supplied to her. You told her about the guards Zuko didn't replace aka the ones who might be loyal to her father instead. That was plan A. She'd strike a deal with one of the head guards and they'd just let you walk right out the front door. Plan B was a little trickier. "How destructive exactly was your bending?" Azula asked. You shrugged "I haven't used it in years but it used to cause mini quakes and I collapsed a hut once". Azula grinned "excellent". The plan was if the guards would let you out, you'd tear the place down. You were more than willing to do that. Azula was fairly sure the guards would let her out but still in case they didn't she had planned your escape route. You would do it at night and Azula chose a Friday night because that's when your target was working and when security was at its lowest. The night of the escape Azula exited her cell and came to yours. The guard was now used to letting Azula roam around after hours so he let her out of her cell without any comment. He opened your cell and that’s when Azula decided to start. “We actually have another favour to ask you...or well a command. You’re going to unhandcuff us both to let us leave right now”. The man laughed “I am? And why is that?”. Azula smiled “because you’re a smart man. You were loyal to my father and are a strong nationalist. You’ve worked here 8 years yes? You’ve seen what my brother's rule has done to this country and how he’s putting us all in danger. I can fix that. I can defeat my brother and restore the Fire Nation back to the rightful order. All you need to do is let me and my friend go and I will remember your loyalty when I am Firelord I swear”. The guard was oddly quiet but you could see Azula’s words were affecting him. He seemed to agree with her deductions and disliked Zuko. You thought it might actually work when he sighed. “Look Princess I sympathise with you I really do...your father was a good man and what your brother is doing to this country is a travesty but he defeated you and sent you in here once so he can do it again...i’m not risking everything by betting on you”. Azula’s face changed immediately and the guard only now seemed to realise he was alone with the two of you. “Now go back into your cell and stop causing trouble” he said but neither of you moved. "You have no idea who you've just said no to" Azula told him and in one swift motion she swept her leg around and with firebending shattered your handcuffs. The man tried to push your cell door close but it was too late. The second your hands were free you cracked your wrists and threw the wall straight at the man. He managed to scream “guards” before he crumpled under the rubble. Azula meanwhile use firebending and snapped her own handcuffs off. "That felt good" you commented rushing out of your cell and Azula nodded "but don't celebrate yet". You could hear the guards coming up the stairs and Azula stepped forwards. You both hid on either side and Azula sent a wave of fire straight into them. The first 3 screamed but the others began firing back. Your bending was so destructive Azula had told you only to use it when absolutely necessary. If you kept yanking out walls then the building would just collapse on top of you. So you stepped back and watched Azula work. She was phenomenal. The speed and precision with which she attacked were unmatched and she easily took out the guards on the stairwell. You both descended to the next floor where several more were waiting. Azula quickly began to dispatch them and you waited when you felt something. You turned to see a guard in one of the rooms behind you. You hadn't been expecting that and only just managed to clench and collapse the doorway over him. He cried out and then you couldn't see him anymore. Azula shot you a warning look but things weren't going as you'd hoped. You could feel more guards coming up the stairs and there was already an alarm going off. "Azula we have 10 more coming up the stairs" you called. She grunted as a flame narrowly missed her and looked at you. "Collapse the stairs. Cut the lower levels off". "But we're three stories up!" you cried. "JUST DO IT!" she yelled and you turned to the stairs. You pulled at the ones on top and then fell down into the ones below. You could feel some guards still moving but they now couldn't reach you. Azula dispatched the last of the guards on this floor and turned to you. "This way". She directed you and then stopped at a room. “Break the wall” she told you and you obeyed. The patient inside the room screamed but Azula just yanked them out through the hole and pushed them onto the floor. She rushed into the room and to the window. She nodded and stepped back “I need you to break this all down”. You paused “but what if that causes the upper levels to collapse?”. She shook her head “this isn’t one of the main support walls, it should be fine”. “Should?” you asked but she shot you a look and so you nodded “okay geesh”. You focused on the wall and it began to crumble, cracks spreading up and down it. You could feel it give way and yanked Azula backwards as some of the floor went with it. You both ran back down the corridor as the cracks spread all over the building. “I said take the wall out not the whole building!” Azula yelled at you as the whole thing shook. “I told you I wasn’t good at it!” you screamed back and finally the shaking stopped. You and Azula paused as there was now a huge hole where half the building had been. Azula walked to the edge and nodded “we can make it down”. “We can? Are you an airbender as well as a Firebender or something”. “Just get on my back” Azula yelled and with only a slight hesitation you jumped onto her holding on tightly. “Brace yourself and don’t let go!” Azula yelled and she leapt off the building. You screamed profanities at her stupidity but then she began shooting jets from her feet and hands. It wasn’t enough to make you fly of course but it did mean instead of plummeting into the rubble below you managed to descend more slowly and reached the outer perimeter before plummeting to the ground. You landed hard but were okay. Azula jumped up immediately and grabbed your arm telling you to run but it was too late. Guards appeared and began to surround you. There weren’t any buildings around for miles so you’d be greatly outmatched in a chase. Azula stepped in front and created a circle of fire around you but you knew in a waiting game they’d win.It was in the middle of realising you’d lost when something happened. You felt as if a switch inside of you had been activated and you pushed Azula back and stood in the middle of the guards. You were not going to come this far and have it all taken away from you. You thought of your mother and pictured what you hoped was her face and screamed. Your sheer rage and anger caused ripples through the ground and it began to shake like an earthquake. The guards tried to keep upright but you channelled it right at them and the building, already unstable, crumpled. You purposefully didn’t let it collapse peacefully and it almost looked as if the building had imploded from inside. Finally when everyone was down you stopped screaming and dropped to the floor controlling your breathing. You counted remembering how your mother used to hold your hand and count with you to help you stop. You felt Azula beside you and she seemed to realise what you were doing. “Breathe y/n, in and out” she commanded and once again you obeyed. Your heart slowly stopped hammering and the ground began to calm. Finally every stopped and was still. There wasn’t a sound in the whole area and you opened your eyes to find Azula staring at you with a smile “you did it” she grinned. Azula cheered and you were momentarily overwhelmed by well everything. The sunlight which you hadn't seen unstructured for 10 years. The feel of fresh air blowing across your skin. The fresh soil beneath your feet. But mostly the princess of the fire nation beside you who had a smile even the devil would cower to. She was so beautiful and fearsome all at once but you didn't feel scared. You were excited. "Ready to go topple the Fire Lord and Earth Kingdom monarchy?" she asked you "I know my brother is friends with the latest Beifong who I'm sure you're dying to meet".

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I hope you liked it @captainblunder! It was actually really fun to write a morally ambiguous character and let them be bad

I also didn’t really put much romance in because I think Azula would be a slow burner and that’d be something that would develop after they start taking on Team Avatar together. Azula is not the type to fall for someone easily so I kept it pretty open and only hinted attraction.

#azula #azula imagine #azula fic #azula x reader #avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #avatar imagine #atla fic #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender fic #avatar the last airbender imagine #zuko #fire nation #firelord zuko #earth kingdom #beifong #avatar aang

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