#like. sorry but her career is effectively down the drain | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowbriar · 2 years

Text

Remus Lupin - Wrangler

Pairing : (F/M) || Remus Lupin x Reader Word Count : 2.2k Warning : Mentions of scar and wound. Misunderstanding. Notes : Her absence has created nothing but more insecurities for the poor boy. He knew he was at fault and he would never forgive himself for it, but was that it? Could his condition finally become the scissors to have cut their strings of love?

Remus stares at the now cold food served in front of him. The empty chair placed on his side was screaming in silence. The ticking sound of the grandfather clock by the sitting room turns louder with each passing second. Another night poured down the drain, he thought.

There hasn’t been a day where he doesn’t blame himself for what happened that night. Perhaps he didn’t chew enough wolfsbane, or maybe he didn’t fully drink the potion down to its last drop. Whichever reason it was, the cost he had to pay was beyond his imagination. It had cost him everything.

It had cost him her.

Ever since that full moon months ago, she’s always left their house before the sun even woke up and returned only when the clock almost struck midnight. He hardly ever sees her, though they’re living under the same roof, sleeping on the same bed. The lingering smell of her perfume on their bedsheets and the dirty cup by the sink, stained with her lipstick, were his only proof that she hasn’t truly left.

Yet.

He would forever curse himself for hurting her that night. The scar marked across her chest would be his everlasting reminder of how much of a monster he is. One that doesn't deserve a lover. A lover as precious as her.

Perhaps this is where he should draw the line. Let her go and watch her flourish from afar. End whatever it is left of their relationship before every good memory and pleasant affections turn into guilt and hatred. No, he would rather die than have her hate him. He could never bear such torment.

Yet seeing the fading glee surrounding their home, Remus could understand if such a feeling is already brewing in her heart.

His brood was interrupted as he heard the front door open. She finally arrived. An hour earlier than her usual timing, yet still late at night. He quickly wipes the tears off his eyes with his sleeves, plastering a fake smile to not worry her even worse. The last thing he’d want is for her to pity him though he knows he must look like the most pathetic bloke right now.

“Remus,” She greets, surprised to have found him still up and with untouched plates of food “Why are you still up, Love?”

“I cooked for us.” He answers with a smile, hiding the disappointment that she has indeed forgotten their anniversary “I thought it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together, so.”

She places her bag on the table, taking a seat with an apologetic look, “Remus, Darling, I’m sorry but- I was starving earlier so I ordered some takeaway and I-”

“It’s fine,” Remus cuts in, taking the plate in front of her and feeling even more foolish of himself yet concealing it with a shrug “More for me, then. I mean, it’s almost midnight. I’ll be even more worried if you haven’t had dinner.”

She nods, eyes still filled with sorry.

“How’s your day, Love?” Remus asks, taking a piece of his meal “Anything interesting happened today?”

“No, nothing interesting happened, unfortunately.” She sighs, running her fingers through her hair in despair “The potion I’m developing hasn’t shown any promising effect and we have to wait until the next full moon to try out the new batch.”

He smiles sympathetically, taking one of her hands and caressing it softly.

Remus hates yielding to the ugly ideas that have been plaguing his mind, but it was clear for him to see that his condition is starting to change her view. At least, in his mind, she’s doing all this research to cure his condition because she was embarrassed to have a werewolf as a boyfriend. One that will hurt her and is obviously an improper partner for her. She’s the brightest witch of their year. Her career as a healer is blooming while he couldn’t even manage to keep a job longer than three months. Why would such perfection stick around with someone as damaged as him?

“Your scar hasn’t fully healed.” She says, taking a jar of her self-made healing balm and gently dabbing it to his skin. In a few seconds the red wound was healed, leaving only a thin line that is hardly visible to the eye “There. Beautiful as always.”

“You’re embarrassed of me, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t sure what came into him but the sudden raise of his tone had certainly made her blink in surprise. Perhaps the frustration of missing her has finally reached its peak, or the disappointment that she’s paid no attention to today’s date. Either of which, it was powerful enough to fuel such anger in his chest. Remus was never one to get angry. He was always the calm and composed one in every other argument they had before. With this sudden change of action, he was sure that a storm was coming.

“What- Embarrassed of you? Remus, what are you talking about?” She asks, sounding appalled “I’m only trying to heal your wounds.”

“I’m a werewolf, Love, I’m supposed to have wounds!” He answered, voice raising to make her quiver on her seat “All you seem to care about is to make me look pretty. Heal my wounds, make them look invincible. I’m a monster, I’m supposed to have scars!”

“You’re not a monster, Remus, stop saying that!”

“I am a monster! Stop trying to deny it!” Remus continues to yell, the veins on his neck more visible now “Look at yourself, for Merlin’s sake! I’ve scarred you. I’ve hurt you that night and now I have to live the rest of my life with such regret.”

The tears welling on her eyes have now fallen heavily. She’s never seen Remus looking so angry yet so vulnerable at the same time. She could feel the frustration and hatred he holds over himself, cursing and blaming himself for the accident that’s happened.

“I’m a damaged goods beyond repair, Darling.” Remus continues, smiling pitifully for himself “You can’t cure me.”

“You don’t know that.” She says fast, trying to light just a spark of hope to his dull eyes “We’re making progress with the potion. Not much, but we’re getting closer.”

Remus chuckles darkly, “If you really want a non-werewolf boyfriend then you should just break up with me and find another man. I’m done being your lab rat.”

With those last venomous words, he stood from his seat and stormed into their bedroom. The loud slam of the door made her flinch. He was hurting, physically and emotionally.

All she wanted to do was to help him. The regret Remus is having for that night is burying her alive, too. She was the one who gave him the wolfsbane and brewed the potion herself. If anyone were to be blamed for the accident, it was her. She must have done something wrong to have cost him to lose control like that. The fault was hers, not his.

But there’s no use of arguing when both of them are too emotional. If she were to continue, she was sure that more damage would be done. Remus is already feeling insecure of himself and their relationship. He would surely not listen to any of her words. At least, not tonight.

—-

Remus woke up with a bigger heartache than the previous days. Her side of the bed was neatly tucked, no sign of her purse by the side table. She must have left for work as always. Even after their huge fight last night.

Perhaps he should feel more thankful over the fact that she didn’t leave him for good. The words he spat last night must’ve been more painful than the scar he’s left on her chest. He wasn’t even sure how he could have the heart to accuse her like that, even after years of her evidently showing her love and affection towards him.

He was about to pull the blanket once more, trying to halt the frustration he’s feeling with another hour of quick nap when he heard noises outside. Remus checked on the clock by the side table— 10.15. She must have already left for work by this hour, so what could be the cause of said noises?

Taking his wand, Remus walks to the door. The moment he opened it, the sweet smell of newly cooked pancakes was smelled. He could see her silhouette in the kitchen, back facing him as she hums softly to the song from the radio. Oh how he missed this sight. Her wearing one of his ugly shirts, candidly beautiful doing whatever it is she’s occupying herself with.

“You’re awake.” She says softly as she turns, smiling gently at him “I’ve made breakfast. Come sit.”

Remus, not making a sound, only nods and takes his seat by the table.

“I’m giving you more cakes cause you didn’t eat enough last night.” She says as she places his plate in front of him, planting a kiss to the side of his head “Go on, eat.”

He stares at her, embarrassed and feeling undeserving of her kind gesture after what he’s done last night.

She raises her brows, “Come on, now. You’re not asking me to feed you, are you?”

Remus smiles, finally taking his cutleries.

The couple then have their breakfast in silence, occasionally glancing at each other and holding in an embarrassed smile as if they were back in Hogwarts. Though his heart was full, the guilt and remorse from last night is still hovering over him. He knows that he needs to apologise, try to ask for her forgiveness though he knows for a fact that he doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m taking some days off from work.” She announces as she places her cutleries down “I realised that I’ve been absent for too long and, well, I’ve got some sins to atone here at home. Starting with making up for the mistake of forgetting what yesterday was.”

“No, please don’t apologise.” Remus cuts in, feeling even more guilty now “I should be the one apologising, Love. I didn’t know what came into me last night. I’m so sorry for all the things I said to you.”

She smiles, taking his hand and holding it gently, “It’s not your fault to have thought of such an idea, Darling. I should’ve been more transparent about what and why I’m being so focused on developing the potion.”

Remus remains quiet, awaiting her further explanation.

“That night when you lost control, I couldn’t shake the memory of how fear and guilt were filling your eyes. I was hurt, yes, but I knew that I could patch myself and make myself good as new. What hurt me most was the panic on your face when you transformed back. How you didn’t want to touch me for days after that night. The guilt was eating me alive because I was the one who gave you the wolfsbane, I was the one who brewed you the potion. I’m the cause of said havoc, Rem.”

“No, no you’re not-”

“But I am, Love. I should’ve given you an extra leave of wolfsbane, or brewed you more potion. You couldn’t control yourself when you’re in the werewolf phase, the only thing controllable was our preparation and I was in charge of it. I was the one who made the mistake, not you.”

Tears were falling from Remus’ sad eyes. His hold of her hand is now firmer. He wanted to argue about how she was never in the wrong, it was his and his fault only. Yet no words were able to be uttered. His heart has taken over his brain and made it unable to create coherent sentences.

“Ever since that night, I promised myself that I will cure you. Not because I was embarrassed of you, but because I don’t want you to undergo the same painful torture any longer.” She continues, starting to cry herself “Remus, you’ve gone through so much pain in your life, already. If I could try to lift this one burden of yours, you bet your arse I would do it, whatever it takes. I would trade anything to stop you from feeling the pain of transforming ever again.”

Remus nods, finally understanding her absence and feeling more at fault to have thought of her with such ugly notions.

“I’m so sorry to have caused you so much worry, Remus. I should’ve told you since the beginning and not have myself too occupied with my ambition. It was never in my intention to make you feel like you were a lab rat.” She gently explains, caressing his skin with her thumb “If it would make you feel better, I’ll stop the research and we’ll continue our preparations as usual. I’m doing this for you, but if you’re not comfortable with it, we can always abort the mission.”

Never in his entire lifetime has Remus felt more loved. He’s hurt her and instead of hating him, she tries to cure him instead. The extent she’d done to show her love for him was beyond his imagination and he’s unsure if he was deserving of it.

He pulled her hand and kissed it, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you and I know I’m being selfish, but please never leave. Please never leave me.”

“I won’t, I promise.” She smiles genuinely, pulling him into a hug “We’re in this together, alright? Don’t you forget that.”

Remus nods, burying his face deeper to the crook of her neck. He pulled her closer, hoping that his embrace could show her just how much he loves her. For once, Remus felt that being a werewolf isn’t so bad after all.

#marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin angst #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x oc #remus lupin x you #the marauders #marauders imagine #marauders scenario

541 notes · View notes

landinoandco · 3 years

Note

Could I ask for a Max Verstappen request?

Where you get all excited to tell him you’re pregnant and it doesn’t go well. Could you make it super angsty

Of course you can :) here you go, I hope you enjoy!

Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: angst but with fluff at the end

Word count: 2.2 k

Requests are open...

Baby, the future is ours

At last the summer break had rolled around again, to the relief of the Formula one drivers and crew, they had 3 long weeks ahead of them to fill with whatever they deemed stress-free or relaxing. The subject of activity depending on person to person - most sane folk tended to stick to a holiday to Greece or if you were an adrenaline junkie like Daniel Ricciardo jumping out of planes or BMX biking. You had lost count of the times Max - your boyfriend - had rushed in to tell you about all of the exciting things his best friend had gotten up to as of late.

You and Max had decided to take a break and travel to a cosy, quiet part of Italy - to escape the press, the stress and most importantly the eagle eye of social media. It would just be you and him for a few weeks before reality brought you back to Milton Keynes in the shape of Christian Horner and his motley crew.

You and Max had met in 2018 at a gala event Redbull had hosted, Pierre Gasly - being a close friend of yours - had introduced you two and to say the pair of you hit it off instantly was an understatement, whether it was a mixture of the Dutch meets British humour you had no clue but you weren’t one to complain. A few months later and Max had asked you to travel around the world with him - you did so willingly and life had been nearing perfect ever since. Of course you had your ups and downs, where the universe seemed to really test not only your love for one and other but your patience. A few arguments had shown you that both being hot-headed never ended well.

You were sat out on the balcony, a book in hand and looking out into the Italien countryside. Max had left for a run and to explore the local village, leaving you, your thoughts and your growing baby. You were pregnant - you had taken the test just before flying out, this meant that Max wasn’t aware. You hadn’t told him yet and you had no clue how you were going to. As it turns out telling your partner you were pregnant was easier said than done - ironically.

You and Max hadn’t had the baby talk yet - you had but only along the lines of: “one day, when we’re older and married and driving isn’t the main priority anymore.” Those were Max’s words. He wanted to be there for his child, to watch him or her grow, to see every milestone but most importantly to be a good and nurturing father.

There was part of you that was slightly worried because you just didn’t know how Max would take it - you couldn’t keep it in any longer though. You had to tell him. There was another part of you that was excited - from a very young age you knew you wanted to have a family of your own with the person you loved the most. Call it childish naivety. At this point in time, you were ready to become a mother - well as ready as anyone ever could be.

Placing your book onto the table, you made your way into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it. Sighing loudly as you leant onto the countertop.

“That was a loud sigh.” A voice called out from behind you. You recognised it instantly. Whipping your head around, you saw Max standing there, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

Chuckling, you hit back, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, placing a sweet, chaste kiss onto the side of your head. Leaning into his warm embrace, you let out another long but content sigh.

“Seriously, what is it with you and sighing today.” Max uttered, his lips still against the side of your head.

You went to move forward, out of his welcoming embrace. You knew what you had to do.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Instantly the atmosphere changed, you could feel Max stiffen behind you. Maybe the tone you chose to make that comment in was too serious but it was now or never.

“Haha, which of your friends is pregnant this time.” He quipped jokingly, trying to break the tension.

Instantly you knew the way the conversation was going to end, a pang of hurt felt in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, catching your lip with your teeth. He stood there with an air of innocence and unknown, concern dancing in his eyes - he went to reach his arm out to you, to offer that encouragement.

You braved the words that came out of your lips, “Me.” You almost whispered. Time seemed to slow. Max dropped his arm and instantly took a step back.

“Pardon.” Was the only thing he could force out of his mouth, his throat seemed to close up and his hands went clammy. He definitely heard you the first time but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a night terror. A bad dream he had failed to wake from.

“I am, Max,” You said again, your voice wavering.

“Oh.” He stated, his face drained of colour, his mouth set in a straight line.

“Is that all you have to say.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes swam with tears. You had a hunch this was how it was going to end but it didn’t stop is from hurting the way it did. You had hoped he would have proved you wrong, to have wrapped his arms around you and to have spun you around. To have laughed. To have cried. To have shown a little more excitement to the fact you were now carrying his child. His first child.

You moved past him and sat down on one of the wooden chairs, rubbing your hands over your face. He was still stood there. His eyes fixated on the view out of the window. No emotion read in his eyes. It was almost like you had hit the ‘off’ button. He tapped his foot and made a clicking noise with his mouth before turning around to face you - meeting your gaze.

“How long have you known.” His voice was hoarse.

“A couple of days before we flew out.” You answered him, moving your face back to rest in your hands.

There was a pause. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner.”

You took a breath, looking him dead in the eye. “Because I knew this was how you were going to react.” You didn’t trust your voice at all, you also didn’t know whether you wanted to scream at him or cry in the corner.

“Right.” Was all he said. Still stood there like some awkward teenager after a rather large telling off from their mother.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” You asked him, nostrils flaring. You were allowed to be angry, right?

“What do you expect me to say.” He rounded on you, his voice raising more than was necessary. Tears had spilled down your cheeks, you didn’t have the energy to fight back. As soon as he realised the effect this was having on you, he went to move forward again, his eyes softening instantly. “I’m sorry - I - I shouldn’t have raised my-”

“Get out, Max.” You stated lowly. By this point, you had stood up, shuddering away from his desperate grasp. He knew he had made a mistake. You knew he regretted it, the moment the words had left his mouth.

“Get out?” He repeated quietly, his voice cracking, you could see tears glazing his vision.

“Just - please, go on a walk - come back once you have more to say to me.” You spat.

“But - But I already have more to say-” You cut his rambling off once again.

“Please. Max.” You insisted, your voice betraying you again. “Go.” You whispered.

Max stormed out of the door, ensuring to slam it so hard the chandelier on the ceiling swung precariously. You sank back into your chair and let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in any longer.

Max was mad. Not at you, that would be unfair. He was mad at himself. At the world. At everything actually because at this point why the hell not. You were pregnant - don’t get him wrong, he was over the moon. He was going to be a dad.

It was too soon.

He still had his full F1 career ahead of him. A promising and long F1 career as a matter of fact. He wanted a baby to be his main priority and he wanted to share those one in a lifetime moments with you. He knew there was no point in being mad, it wasn’t like they were in a position where they couldn’t have a child. They had plenty of things to offer, a nurturing home with parents who were head over heels in love with each other and a large family - blood and not - who would be willing to support and love the child as if it was their own. Max really was in love with you. He knew it would be you to mother his children in the end, he just didn’t think it would be now.

He reached for his phone, went into his contacts and pressed on the number that read the name: “D.R new phone.” Whilst it wasn’t adventurous like many thought it would be, it saved the confusion from calling a number that no longer existed.

Daniel picked up on the second ring. “Hey dude, how’s it going?”

“Not good at all, Dan, not good at all.” Max admitted, his voice wavering once again. He explained the events that had happened a mere 5 minutes ago, the way he reacted and the way he left you. Hurt and alone.

“I’m not going to lie to you, mate, you’ve fucked up big time.” Dan spoke after what felt like a loud silence. After all, Daniel knew you just as well as he knew Max.

“I know. I know I have, do you think I’ve been selfish?” He asked, his tone full of raw emotion.

“Yes.” Dan stated simply, “I think you have been, especially since she even told you this is how she thought you would react. How much stress do you think she had been putting on herself? Come one, I’ve taught you to be better than this.” Daniel paused, Max could almost hear him place his thumb and ring finger onto the bridge of his nose. “You know, just as well as I know, she knows it isn’t the best time. Her becoming pregnant is very much a two person job, I think it’s time that you go back to her and have a conversation like the adult I know you are.”

In that moment, Max was so grateful to have someone like Dan just a call away. “Thank you, Dan. Really. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Alright Mr Father-to-be, don’t be going all soppy on me now.” Daniel joked, returning back to his normal teasing. That was the best thing about Daniel, he was quite useful when you needed him to be.

“You can count yourself on being the godfather after that.” Max added, a large beaming smile plastered onto his face.

He heard Dan let out a loud laugh, “Go on, leave me be. Good luck, mate, let me know how it goes and when the time is right tell her I say congrats.”

“Of course, mate. Thank you, again.” Max muttered, looking back in the direction of the villa. After he hung up, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled slowly - working out exactly what he was going to say to you.

Once he had opened the door, he called out to you. “Babe?” He heard a sniffle in response. You were still slumped on the chair in the kitchen, shooting daggers at the cupboard opposite.

Max sat opposite you, reaching out for your hand. Grudgingly you let him take it, you blinked and he took a deep breath before a large, beaming smile crept onto his face.

“We’re going to be parents.” He rubbed the back of your hand, speaking tentatively. You nodded, your lower lip trembled. Max stood up, still keeping a hold of your hand as he gave it a slight tug, indicating that you should stand up. You made your way into his embrace, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking your face into the crook of your neck as he rocked gently side to side, burying his face into your hair. He then moved his hands to cradle your face, wiping the stray tears away before peppering your face with feather light kisses.

“We’re going to be parents.” He repeated, a little louder and to this you let out another sob, laughing as he picked you up and spun you around.

“I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” He said, as he wrapped you back up into his arms. You smiled into his chest. In that moment, you couldn’t be happier. It was like all of your childhood dreams had come true. In that kitchen stood your new family, mismatched and sometimes a little bit broken but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen fanfic #f1blr #f1 2021 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #formula one one shot #formula 1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #fanfiction #f1 requests

598 notes · View notes

disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.4k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week.

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent. He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you. Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #javi x you #javi x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos netflix #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #pedro fandom #the rules of engagement #better love #angst #slow burn #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #smut

362 notes · View notes

mintchocohip · 3 years

Text

sub!bts as househusbands

╺ requested | the ot7 as househusbands!

╺ note | sub!bts x domme!reader. see each member for any notes!

TAEHYUNG ➜

note | roleplay

Visiting friends, putting on his errand boy hat, or wandering town with a camera, an empty stomach, and a pocketful of cash occupy chunks of Taehyung’s weekdays. He isn’t allowed to open his sub journal until three hours past noon—that’s the hour when he misses you the most. At the sanctioned time Taehyung opens the journal to today’s date and picks out a handwritten note delicately tucked into the pages. Today, he’s Maestra’s best student—recording himself practicing the new song you chose on his violin. “'I’ll do anything for Maestra. I would be her Cinderella,’” you’re finally home, and you’re sitting next to Taehyung on the couch reading aloud the journal entry he scribbled after sending you the recording, “'cleaning on hands and knees.’” Taehyung’s sheepishness at hearing you voice his fantasies is cured by a fluff of his hair and a fond kiss on his rosy ear. As you wash dishes with Taehyung later this evening you’ll contemplate tomorrow. Choosing these secret tasks is your prerogative. Still. Your husband always has amazing ideas.

YOONGI ➜

notes | naked apron kink, mentions of pegging

Yoongi is the ideal house husband. He’s vigilant, hardworking, and resourceful. A need for time and space alone is never questioned. When your sleepy-eyed husband emerges from the solitude of his home studio, though, Yoongi needs tangible proof he’s making you happy. “An apron?” Yoongi glances down at the white sheath. He wandered into the kitchen to find you home from work with a shopping bag on your elbow. You’re holding the apron’s straps against his shoulders to judge the fit. “Cooking naked. Flying oil. Makes me nervous... I thought my little chef could use an apron.” Yoongi blinks. He knows he’s blushing. Usually, he doesn’t pull on clothes before waking up early to cook you breakfast and pack your lunch for work. Cooking for you is basic, respectful routine. It would be easier to toss on a baggy shirt than tie an apron. This gift mostly appears to benefit the person who strolls into the kitchen most mornings acting like you’re already hopped up on two espressos and daydreaming about giving him the strap tonight while you wake yourself up knowing full well the effect your naughty backhugs and whispered “good morning, baby”s have on his attempts to focus on stirring veggies in the frying pan, of course; but, Yoongi has a feeling he might enjoy it more than you do.

JUNGKOOK ➜

notes | mdlb, little!jk

Jungkook waited for the right moment expectantly. He sensed it in your aura. He felt it in the way you looked at him, listened to him, and held him in the weeks before. Something changed. It was a comfortable, gentle change. Jungkook cried when he proposed. He cried at the wedding. He cried when you said it would be better to stop renting dungeon space and instead find an apartment with a suitable extra room. Marriage was about romance, symbolism, and becoming yours. Jungkook knew his lifestyle of playing games and going to the gym all day wouldn’t change. You’re two self-sufficient people who fix up chores as they appear. Most days, Jungkook feels that vocally supporting your ambitions and treating the apartment like a laundrette are the most important things he can do. When you text him to say you’re coming home early and wondering if he could take out all of his littlespace things and set up the playroom before you’re through the door—shocks run up Jungkook’s spine. He gloats like your friend when he steals your snacks, and he thinks like a roommate when he asks if he can dedicate more closet space to his growing shoe collection. Right now, you need your partner. That special knowledge relaxes Jungkook with peaceful—dry-eyed—certainty.

HOSEOK ➜

note | mommy kink

You didn’t know housework channels existed until Hoseok started one. The ‘mommy’ in his social media handle is cutesy but sincere. In the past Hoseok has always felt tingly and whole when you gave him a sarcastic “sorry, mom” after he scolded you for putting drain cleaner in the wrong cupboard or failing to tap down a coaster for a glass of water. Now, it’s what a legion of fans call the faceless, apron-clad man posting soothing clips of himself cleaning through every room of this gorgeous sunny apartment and, occasionally, grooming the puppies. You’ve never really looked at any of it. Hoseok appreciates that you have him so wholly you don’t need to. “Soft,” you mutter while laying in bed with him at night. You’re playing with his hair to make him smile. Hoseok knows a certain bedside drawer is off-limits from his urge to tidy and rearrange. When you roll over to open it he curls up inside. At some point this house gained two mommies. Only one Mommy is dignified with a capital M in texts through fluxes of dirty talk and reminders to buy new air filters. Only one of them decides when and how Hoseok gets off. Your husband enjoys organizing his days. For your sake, he’s even happier to surrender his nights.

JIMIN ➜

note | lifestyle d/s

Watered plants, vacuumed cat hair, spotless surfaces, empty recycling, lines in praise of Mistress. Jimin sends you photos of today’s completed chores at the scheduled times and gets cute emojis in return. If he lived alone Jimin might spend all day playing with the foster cats and downing wine at brunch. As it is, he carefully considers a new color scheme for the bathroom. He needs this space to be pretty for you. Shopping with a wide open budget usually distracts Jimin into sending you pictures of a giant teddy bear and asking if you would be angry to find it in the living room when you come home. Although he flutters from amusement to amusement, Jimin is always home, relaxed, and wearing the clothes you like when he needs to be. Hanging up your backpack and taking off your shoes, following you into the bedroom, and kneeling at the edge of the bed to massage your legs and eat your cunt is ritualistic. Jimin makes amazing coffee. You lounge in bed, sip the mug he brings, and tell him what to order for dinner. Discipline earns its rewards. The reason you bicker with smiles on your faces about Jimin’s definition of “spotless surfaces” is absolute comfort. You know what you want from each other, and you want the same things.

NAMJOON ➜

Lounging in the garden is a fine way to spend a weekend afternoon. Cool shade inside the wisteria tunnel is dappling Namjoon with light and shadow. You lean over the picnic tatami and clink lemonade cans with the man who created this masterpiece. He smiles shyly when he realizes you’re staring. You’re giving him that look. Once upon a time, discovering that you don’t care too much about your surroundings excited Namjoon. It’s a form of power he never thought he would have in a marriage. Perusing local furniture galleries and commissioning artists to furnish a home that suits his aesthetic sparked Namjoon’s creativity. Tempering compost, monitoring seedlings in the garden, and flecking walkways with wildflowers and willows brims him with encompassing adoration for life. Beauty is created in the wake of his passionate work. “Unbutton your shirt halfway.” You're taking a sip of lemonade, leaning back, and watching Namjoon follow your instruction. Buttons open somewhat shakily. He rests his hands and waits to hear your next idle thought on what he should do for you. The outlines of these moments cross your mind slowly and meander to your imagination. You don’t have the patience for gardening. You do have the patience to capture some of Namjoon’s beauty for yourself.

SEOKJIN ➜

note | blindfolds

Your coworkers have met him at parties. Seokjin is a friendly, handsome man with savoir faire. A creative list of salacious reasons a man like that would drop his career forms behind your back. Seokjin scoffs when you relay gossip to him. He’s especially fond of the idea he’s a criminal witness skirting discovery. Trying the hobbies he never had time for, taking his little cousins to the aquarium, fishing weekends, signing up for classes at the local university, streaming liveplays out of his gaming room or cooking tutorials out of the fancy kitchen you funded—Seokjin savors it all with fresh-faced enthusiasm. Some days he just takes out the trash, folds laundry, edges himself, gets bored, catnaps, and checks his phone to see if you can call because he’s lonely today and nothing he could do compares to hearing his wife tell him what’s on her mind. There is an unwieldy desire inside Seokjin, despite it all. He needs to demonstrate the ways he cherishes, protects, and provides for you. Sometimes, it’s being the person you need to tell about your day. It’s being the person who cooks your comfort foods, provides warm hugs, queues your shows, and takes you on dates. Most often, it’s your kiss on his forehead as you adjust the blindfold and praise him sweetly. “You’re the reason,” you remind him with another kiss, “that I’m always smiling when I think about home.”

#sub!bts #domme!reader #member x reader #ot7 post #sub!taehyung #sub!yoongi #sub!jungkook #sub!hoseok #sub!jimin #sub!namjoon #sub!seokjin #mch #scenario #not feeling this post #but it's been in the drafts for almost a year

337 notes · View notes

the-clari-net · 3 years

Text

A Mother’s Intuition

AO3

Maddie Fenton prides herself on being a woman of science. A woman full of reasoning and logic who has spent her entire career working on showing her credibility by proving that ghosts exist; not only that, but to show the dangers that they hold to the living. After so many years of being mocked and belittled she finally got her big break with that ghost portal. Once ghosts started coming into Amity Park, she knew she had something tangible that would shake the foundations of the scientific community that have been perceived as Law. Everyone would know that there exists a space that these laws don’t apply (in more ways than one). She and Jack would finally get their brilliance recognized, and her children could finally look at their parents with pride knowing that they’re the first to discover and pioneer this new branch of science never before studied by mankind.

With that being said, Maddie was the one who always brought a more realistic approach to the ideas Jack came up with. They made a good team like that, covering each other’s blind spots to the best of their abilities. Maddie was seen as the rational one, less emotionally swayed compared to her jovial and at times overly enthusiastic husband. That’s not a bad thing really, since it keeps Maddie grounded in not becoming too absorbed in observing at a microscopic level and he forces her to step back and relook at her project with new eyes with a wider perspective. This is all to say that Maddie is an observant person. Her profession relies on her ability to analyze and being able to report and reflect on those observations.

All this needs to be mentioned because Maddie has been feeling strange lately. Well, perhaps lately isn’t the right word. This is a feeling that has existed within her for awhile, it’s just become impossible to ignore the longer it stays. This is a blind spot that has grown too large to push aside.

Dread is one way to describe this feeling. Anxiety is another. At its worst peak, paranoia might be more applicable.

Right now Maddie is sitting at her dinner table with her family. It’s a Sunday night, she had ordered pizza earlier in the evening because the radioactive hot dogs are holding yesterday’s leftovers hostage. It’s a normal evening for the Fentons all things considered.

Except for the slightly shaky hands, which is strange for a woman who has skilled precision with a scalpel. Except for the pounding in Maddie’s chest, her pulse has been quickening the longer they’re having dinner, and she’s starting to hear that same pulse pounding behind her ears. Except for the slight chill that never leaves her despite sitting next to her husband who runs so warm he might as well be a personal heater.

There’s the tightening of her chest that leaves her struggling to breathe properly. It feels as if at any moment she may have to start gasping for breath like her sister Alicia used to as a kid before she got an inhaler to treat her asthma.

Ultimately, these are all the signs Maddie feels when she’s scared. It’s been a while since she’s felt true fear that wasn’t outweighed by adrenaline and excitement. She usually can hold her own against any human and she’s smart to never fight a ghost at close range. She can’t remember the last time she had felt helpless enough to fear like this.

As a woman who is a master at martial arts, she’s had a lot of past experience in her training going up against powerful opponents. There were certain opponents (especially in her early years of training) that made her feel like she was prey, that if she lost her focus for a moment, she would be pulverized. This is the same feeling only a thousand times worse.

Maddie has been trying to deny the connections she’s been weaving since the first prick of nervousness first reached her. She was a woman of science, she needed evidence to support her conclusion; correlation does not equal causation. However, her martial arts background has told her to trust your instincts; it’s a survival trait warning of a potential danger. The conflict of these two perspectives have been arguing in her head about the odd common thread with these spikes of anxiety.

These feelings only seem to appear whenever Danny was around.

It was such a silly observation at first, more of an offhand thought. But as time went on, and her nerves were worsening, the thought stayed with her in the back of her mind.

Maddie’s mind tries to be rational about the ordeal, trying to convince herself that these feelings of anxiety could be due to stress, or some effect of the ghost portal. The fact that something primal is screaming at her that her son –the boy who currently has a piece of pepperoni stuck to the side of his lip and is pouting at Jazz—is a threat to her livelihood is what worries her.

Could he be possessed by a ghost? No, that’s ridiculous; his eyes are blue, he can’t be possessed. They look a little brighter than normal. That’s the kitchen lighting, Danny is NOT involved in this.

It feels like it has to be ghost related. This feeling of dread is common with several of the ghosts that have appeared in Amity Park before. She’s noticed that the more powerful ones are more likely to cause this instinctual feeling compared to the little ghost blobs who only cause a shiver to your spine once physical contact is made.

“—right Mom?”, Maddie jumps a bit and looks up to realize that Jazz was looking directly at her. She notices that the pizza box is empty, and the table’s been cleared, except for her own plate. Was she out of it for that long?

“Sorry honey, I didn’t hear what you said. Could you repeat the question?”. She tried to offer a smile, but she could tell looked more like a grimace. Jack was looking at her worriedly, but he knew better than to push her to talk in front of the kids. Jazz looked back with a soft smile, but her brows were furrowed.

Maddie didn’t look in Danny’s direction.

“I was just saying I should have the leftover slice of pizza for tomorrow instead of Danny because I have seniority rights, right?”

Maddie blinked at Jazz for a moment before recollecting herself and standing up from her seat and moving to the sink to wash the dishes, forcefully ignoring the back of her mind screaming at her to run as far away as she can from here and never look back.

“Now you two, there’s no need to fight like that. Why don’t I just give you both some lunch money for tomorrow and we’ll call it even?” She smiled at Jazz, subtly angling herself so her back wasn’t facing towards Danny and kept him in her peripheral vision.

She doesn’t want to think of why she did that.

Later that night, Maddie couldn’t sleep. She managed to convince Jack that she was feeling better after dinner, and now she’s wide awake trying to remember why that fear felt so familiar. She recognized the unease that only comes from being in close contact with a ghost. It’s the same feeling that lingered in her system after having a ghost possess her; there’s a specific rolling in her stomach that comes from it. The feelings she got during dinner tonight felt like a specific ghost, something about it felt familiar but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

When she finally went to sleep, she was restless with dreams of sharp bright blue eyes, looming shadows that suffocated her, and sweet awkward smiles that slowly turned into menacing and haunting grins.

The rest of the week had been a pretty regular one. Jack and Maddie had spent most of the week building some new weapons that could help capture Phantom once and for all. Because of this, they had been eating in their lab. If Maddie felt relief at using her work as a shield to avoid family dinner, that’s her secret to keep.

The week had been quiet with no battles or major ghost sightings until a massive ghost battle broke out between Phantom and another one of the reoccurring ghosts on Friday. Skulker was the name of the ghost if what she had overheard from her sonar dish on the family RV was correct. It was all the way across town. Jack was behind the wheel, and Maddie was checking over the new prototype they had been working on all week that would hopefully weaken a ghost’s powers. They were hoping that Phantom could be their first test subject.

As they were about halfway to the battle, Maddie suddenly got a prickly feeling in her neck. She was well acquainted with that feeling when nearing ghosts, so she dismissed it as usual. But it got worse the closer they reached their destination. Her body slowly began to tense up, more, her breaths were becoming shallower, and her mouth had suddenly run very dry.

No… it can’t be…

There they were in front of Skulker and Phantom and all Maddie could do was tense up in terror and barely stop herself from letting out a whimper. This feels too familiar, he feels like…

Phantom suddenly crashes on top of their windshield, he groans and begins to lift himself off the hood of the RV when for a brief moment, his eyes meet Maddie’s. He sends a sheepish smile and begins to fly up towards Skulker, immediately striking him down with an ectoblast.

Meanwhile, Maddie feels all the blood drain from her face and she feels her eyes begin to fill up with tears. Jack is yelling about that darn ghost damaging his RV, but she can barely focus. She recognized the feeling now. The interaction between the two of them didn’t even last a minute, yet it is staying with her all the same.

The smile Phantom gave reminded her of a black-haired boy who would get caught staying up late looking at his telescope. A boy who would give her that same smile whenever he was confronted about skipping class and missing his assignments. She sees that smile every day in her own home.

It looked so odd, having that smile come from a boy with bright white hair, and eyes that glowed toxic green. The smile was sharper, with incisors that were just short of becoming fangs. But it was still recognizable.

She can no longer deny it, Phantom and Danny are connected. Danny even leaves her with the same sense of terror and fear that only a ghost as powerful as Phantom could do. It feels more potent with Phantom; looking him in the eye for that moment almost made her scream bloody murder.

Jack was never as attuned to the emotional effects that ghosts brought on due to his natural bravery and confidence (she has a theory about his family bloodline having adopted some traits that could block out these senses of fear which leads them to being better ghost hunters). However, even Jack had once mentioned that he felt unnerved by Phantom, which says a lot about the power that child ghost must hold. But to think that powerful monster is somehow connected to her son was a situation she never would have considered. Was he possessed?

When did it happen? Was it around the time that Maddie first began feeling unnerved?

How didn’t you notice? The back of her mind whispered to her. You’re his mother, aren’t you?

The weight of her realization begins to set it. The burden of fearing her son with no tangible reason for doing so. Her own neglect and obliviousness about missing this massive part of her son’s life fills her with guilt. Suddenly the weapon in her hand, ready to be used against Phantom (Danny?) makes her nauseous.

She feels her body beginning to shut down and go into autopilot. Maddie dazedly notices that she and her husband are parked in the middle of a street, in easy range to get blasted or crushed, or incinerated or possessed by these ghosts. She is in no condition to fight.

She feels a little hysterical thinking about her own safety when her son (or some possessed version of him) is out there fighting a ghost after literally crashing into an RV with military grade protection.

“Jack, we should go home”, Maddie hoarsely interrupts her husband’s tangent.

He looks like he was about to protest until he saw his wife’s bloodshot eyes, holding back tears and white as a sheet. Without further prompting, he turned the car around and as soon as the stiffening fear had melted away from Maddie’s shoulders did she finally allow the tears to fall.

#Danny Phantom #maddie fenton #phic #idk man #have fun with ghost vibes

63 notes · View notes

girlmeetsliv3 · 4 years

Text

Lilies of the Valley II

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

Chapter Two: Tears of the Virgin Mary

“In Victorian times, lily of the valley meant a “return to happiness.” In Christian legend, Eve's tears as she was expelled from the Garden of Eden turned into lily of the valley.”

Release Date: 05/22/20 @ 7 pm

previously ~ next

YN was beginning to wonder if all Jungkook had in his closet were suits, or if that was a part of the pack uniform. It wasn’t even ten minutes after YN finished speaking to him, that the alpha stormed in threatening to tear the place down, by his side a lean figure with styled blonde hair that she recognized as the infamous Park Jimin. I should stop referring to them by their maiden names. The second Jungkook saw YN he rushed towards her, hands gripping the bars tightly. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?” Jimin stood off to the side, watching their interaction. As much as YN disliked them, at least they’d come to the rescue.

“Thank you for coming.”

Jungkook nodded quickly, his eyes roamed every bit of her body frantically as if to make sure she was alright. "We'll see to it that the charges against you are dropped," Jimin spoke, he sent a polite smile YN's way. The beta had a calming effect on YN because if he was here Jungkook would restrain himself - theoretically of course. The guard by the door seemed stumped, "no charges are being pressed on either of them." This caught both Jimin and Jungkook's attention as they turned toward the cop. Before either of them could say anything Rosé finally spoke, truly exasperated.

“So you were simply going to send us to the boarding house with no reason?!”

YN swore under her breath. Jungkook however flew into a rampage, heading straight for the cop. Thankfully Jimin stepped in, holding Jungkook back by his hand. “Go get your superior right now.” The tone in which Jimin spoke was far more terrifying than the look in Jungkook’s eyes. The guard nodded and hastily walked away.

“Fucking genderists.” YN heard Jimin mutter under his breath, he pulled Jungkook towards him and leaned into his chest. “Call Hobi, he’ll know what to do.” Jungkook nodded and climbed up the stairs, but not before sending YN a small smile. If it was meant to be comforting it did the opposite. YN sighed, leaning back against the wall before casting a glance at Rosé. Her eyes were filled with questions that YN didn’t know how to answer; she couldn’t even begin to try. Rosé was bound to misunderstand like everyone else or worse - pity her - YN couldn’t lose her only friend too.

"I'm sorry you had to be here for so long," Jimin was now by the cell door, he reached into his pocket and pulled out her belongings. "I believe these are yours." They'd been confiscated when the two of them had been imprisoned. YN stepped forward, thanking him as she reached for her things. Their hands brushed and YN was amazed by how soft they still were. Jimin had always been soft with her, understanding even if she was nothing but cold to them. Something flashed in his eyes but it happened so quickly YN missed it. Minutes later, Jungkook came back downstairs followed by officer Hwang. The man looked smug, as he took in the situation.

“See I knew you had an alpha. No need to lie.”

YN would've ripped his throat out right there and then if she wasn't sure Jungkook would do it for her. Instead the young alpha marched towards Jimin, lips turned down into a scowl. "They won't let them leave, not both of them." At this Jimin frowned. YN saw Rosé visibly tense when the officer got near her cell, "Your family has been called, your brother is on his way to pick you up." For some reason, Rosé's eyes filled with panic. YN wanted to question her on it, but Hwang turned to her instead.

"Unfortunately you're unregistered so you'll be taken to the boarding house after all." YN felt faint as if all the blood was being drained from her body. It was when she swayed that Rosé rushed to her side trying to reach her through the bars. "You've got to be kidding me?! It's a partial bond, she doesn't have to be registered." Jimin was now screaming at Hwang, who seemed to enjoy having riled the beta up. Hwang leaned forward as if to mock the height difference between Jimin and him. Immediately Jungkook stepped forward, a low warning growl emitting from the center of his chest.

"I don't make the rules. You can either register her or she'll be taken away. The choice is yours."

The choice was theirs because in the society in which they lived in YN would never have a choice. She stood to lose too much if they took her away, but she stood to lose much more if she accepted. YN wouldn't simply be registered as Jungkook's omega - he wasn't lead alpha, it wasn't his pack. She would become a pack omega forced to uproot her life and abide by the rules established by her mates. It wouldn't simply be under society's rules that she'd be mated but under the eyes of the law. There would be no escape, not unless another person was willing to be her mate and even then, it would be immensely looked down upon if it was even allowed.

Rosé reached through the bars and placed a hand on YN’s cheek, caressing her softly. As if trying to give her strength. The look she sent her was hopeful as if to say things will get better. YN wasn’t sure they would. Her whole life had been one unfortunate event after the other ever since presenting, this would surely be the same. Still, at least there was hope if she was claimed. The boarding house only meant certain death, either to her spirit or her physical self.

“We’ll register her.”

“You do know what that entails don’t you?”

“Don’t treat us like fools or you can kiss your career goodbye.” Jungkook was entirely in Hwang’s face, but the older man only laughed.

“Whatever you say boy.” The officer turned once again towards YN, sending her a sly wink that had chills crawling up her body. “Good luck with this one, once his rut rolls around.”

They had waited until Rosé's family picked her up, though YN could see hesitance in her friend's eyes she quickly jumped into her brother's car and sped away. YN had originally planned to ask for a ride back to her place, but it seemed that she was now stuck with the two men. It was Jimin who took the initiative to speak, "We'll give you a ride back to your place." Jungkook looked like he was about to say something, but Jimin shot him a look and the boy quickly became quiet. It seemed that even though Jungkook was the supposed 'dominant' one, his hyungs held full reign, which wouldn't stray too far from what she remembered.

The ride was awkward and tense, to say the least, YN thought the two men would ride shotgun while she sat alone in the back. When the driver pulled up to the curb, she realized that was not to be the case. It was a thirty-minute drive from where she lived to the police station, fifteen if one sped but it seemed the driver was taking his time. Likely ordered to do so by his patrons.

"How have you been YN?" Jimin asked, turning in his seat to look at her properly. Jungkook was seated beside him, glancing out the window. YN couldn't help but feel Jimin had noticed how tense she was around the alpha, so he'd done this to make her feel secure. Sadly his efforts were wasted, YN wouldn't feel safe even if there was an entire continent between her and the men. "I've been better." That was as polite a response as she could offer up. Jimin seemed to take it, smiling at her. "We've been looking for you. We wanted to meet and discuss things, but you moved away and didn't tell anyone." YN didn't see what they had to discuss, she'd long forgiving the others for the part in which they played. She was trying to forgive Jungkook, even if she wasn't there yet. But YN could never forget. That moment would forever be imprinted in her memory and body until she eventually died.

"I just don't see what there is to talk about." She folded her hands in her lap, glaring down at them. "What's done is done." Jungkook scoffed but didn't say anything else.

Jimin moved to lay his hand on top of hers, “We don’t see it that way. You’re a part of us. You always will be.” Yeah right.

YN withdrew her hands from under his, crossing her arms though she noted Jimin’s hand remained placed on her lap. “Thank you for helping me and my friend out back there. You didn’t have to and I appreciate that.”

“Of course, we’d help you. You’re our -”

YN noticed they were near her apartment and quickly cut him off, “Thank you for the ride. I’ll contact you if anything else happens.”

Before she could jump out of the moving vehicle Jungkook said something that made her freeze, “You live in this dump?” Jimin sent a glare his way, but the words had already tumbled out of his mouth.

"It's the only place I can afford to live. It's the only place I can live in." Her tone was sharp, barely above a whisper as she wondered how much more she would have to endure.

"Right," the car had finally pulled up right in front of her apartment. "See you soon." YN exited the car, slamming the door. She practically crawled up the stairs, dreading having to have lost so much potential sleep. Her senses become hyper-aware when YN notices her front door is open, clearly hearing sounds coming from inside. Remembering that someone had broken into Rose's and with Jungkook's snarky remark at the forefront of her head, she prepared herself for whoever or whatever was inside.

Rosé stood in the middle of her apartment with all her belongings, the second her eyes met YN she broke down. "I'm sorry your landladies let me in." YN rushed to embrace her in a hug, perplexed at everything that was occurring. "Ro, please tell me what's wrong. I know that something is and I can't stand seeing you like this." Gently, YN pulled Rosé towards her bed arranging all the pillows and blankets to resemble a nest. YN wasn't big on cuddling, but she knew her best friend needed her. It took hours for Rosé to finally calm down, but now it was YN who was even more anxious. Her friend was never like this. Rosé was the bubbly of the two, the sunshine that accompanied her clouds.

“What’s wrong?”

“My brother’s alpha propositioned me.” Her tone was so dull and lifeless; resigned.

“What? Why would he do that?” YN had never met Rosé’s family, but she’d heard enough from Rosé herself when her brother finally found a mate. ‘He’s a good man. A kind one.’

It’s always the nice ones. Rosé sniffled, “He didn’t even offer to mate. He simply told my brother that I was getting too old and that it was his responsibility to take care of me. My brother thinks it’s because he can’t have pups.”

“I’m so sorry Ro.” YN hugged her tightly, rocking her gently. “That guy is an asshole and I’m sorry your family ever had to cross paths with him.”

“T-they said,” sobs were threatening to leak again but Rosé bit her lip to prevent them from coming out. “I-if I don’t t-then they won’t support me anymore.” That’s why she was here with all of her stuff. Rosé had come from a family of Omega’s, being born to a single mother and then placed into the foster system wasn’t easy. It was her older brother who’d she bonded most with and it was he who helped her maintain herself.

“It’s alright, babe. You can stay with me, we’ll figure it out.”

YN would have to move, find somewhere cheaper where she could maintain both of them. Rosé's job couldn't cover rent and YN couldn't possibly ask her parents for more money. The issue was finding a new place: very few places in Seoul rented to unmated omegas, even fewer to multiple. They would all just direct them to the boarding house and if they tried to hide, then they'd be arrested. YN had already seen this morning that the system was set up against her, not that she didn't know that already.

There was a knock at the door and YN had to pry herself away from Rosé promising to be back soon.

There stood her two landladies outside the door. Well fuck. “Hi, how can I help you?” YN stepped outside and tried to close the door as much as possible. “Oh we just came to check up on your friend, YN. She looked wrecked.” Though her landladies were nice, they weren’t once to be trifled with. Both of them were sticklers for rules and YN could already guess why they were here. “I’m sorry her apartment was broken into while she was sleeping and her families out of town.”

“Oh what a shame.” Spoke the taller of the two, Min So, her brow raised as if she didn’t believe a word YN had just spoken.

"Ah I heard something about that on the news. Terrible crime rates these days. Well anyhow there was something we wanted to talk about." Ivy's tone was always polite, bordering on being too nice as if it was all an act. Min So was the one who spoke now, YN wondered if they took turns speaking; the way twins sometimes do. "We wanted to remind you that your rental contract is almost up and that we don't rent to multiple omegas or mated ones." YN's eyebrows shot up at that statement. Wondering how exactly they'd found out so quickly, it was then that YN remembered that mates are public records.

From their faces YN knew that the jig was up. She was beginning to question what she'd done in her past life to merit such bad luck. YN felt like she was the protagonist of Shakespearean tragedy forced to undergo trials and tribulations until her inevitable death. Casting one last glance at the door behind her YN let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, "That's exactly what I wished to speak with you about."

“No, absolutely not. I’ll find a place to live.”

YN groaned falling back on the sofa, she'd spent several minutes trying to make Rosé see reason. "It's fine Ro, it's not like I can even live here. I'll find someplace else and I refuse to let you go back out there knowing that predator is waiting for the perfect opportunity.” Finally her best friend relented, “but where will you go?” Rosé intertwined their hands together, she was big on skinship, having been raised as omega it was the only way she knew to express affection.

“I’ll find a new place.”

“With your mates?”

It wasn't her fault, she didn't know. YN simply nodded, not wanting to add more stress onto her friend's plate. She would figure it out. She always did.

“How long do you have to move out?”

“Three days.”

“Well then you better get packing.” It was said in a teasing tone, but that didn’t stop the dread from setting in. “I can start on dinner while you call your mates, yeah?” Yeah like that’ll be easy.

Getting in touch with them wasn't difficult, she had Jungkook's number in her phone and a business card with their work on it. It was building up the strength to make that call that took her the entirety of the day and a bit of the morning. Jungkook had been extremely pleased when she'd called, though it fizzled out a bit when she asked to speak with Jimin - privately. Still the alpha obliged, Jimin seemed surprised but his tone implied that it was rather how soon she'd called rather than that she had contacted them at all.

Now YN sat near the front of a cafe, facing the window waiting for two of them to arrive. She had asked, as cautiously as she could, that Jungkook was not present or any other alpha's for that matter. Jimin obliged, saying he understood her hesitance and that he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible around them. That would likely never happen. Truly she didn't know who he would show up with and it worried her. She knew most of them from school, having all attended the academy where elementary, middle, and high were each a few steps away from each other. However, they didn't know her at least not until the incident that created this mess.

YN took a sip of her now watered down tea, hoping to calm herself down before she simply ran out of the cafe. From where she was seated YN saw a Bentley Bentayga pull up to the front of the building before the passenger doors opened from which Park Jimin and Min Yoongi stepped out. Their walk was full of swagger and it attracted the eyes of everyone around them. Even if Beta's had a muted scent there was a different allure to the two of them: something that made people want them even if they knew they could never have them. They faced forward when they walked, heads held high as if they had only ever seen the sky and that ahead - never the ground.

Min Yoongi turned his head over so slightly and YN, fearing that he might look her way and their eyes would meet, looked down at her trembling hands. Here goes nothing. The little ring of the bell attached by the door announced their arrival. Shortly YN heard the scrapping of the chairs until Yoongi and Jimin were seated in front of her waiting.

“Hello.” It was all she could muster, she forced her downcast eyes up and met their stifling gaze. YN nearly trembling in her chair.

Jimin's lips turned upward, "You called?" There was something in his eyes, expectancy perhaps. Though YN didn't want to dwell on what he might be expecting. "Did you run into trouble?" It had been a while since she heard Yoongi speak, she'd forgotten how mellow yet rough his voice was. Back then it had been more high pitched too, but that was an expected change. Yoongi had his arms crossed but leaned forward ever so slightly. It made her uncomfortable. Having them so close, even in a public setting, made her uncomfortable. YN shook her head, she opened her mouth to talk but Jimin spoke before she could get a word out.

“How’s your friend?”

“Um, Rosé is good...kinda.” The look the two betas gave her was enough for her to launch into explaining the situation. After she was done, they both looked at each silently communicating with each other. “So...you need a place to stay?” Jimin questioned, repeating what she’d just said moments prior. YN nodded, “I know that you guys have a lot of connections, so I was wondering if you knew anyone who was renting or someone to room with.” YN knew it was unlikely but she had to try and they were her last hope.

Yoongi shook his head, “That’s ridiculous. You’re staying with us.”

Taglist will be in the comments!

794 notes · View notes

lupin72 · 3 years

Text

Pretty Damn Lucky

Anon asked for a fic where ‘Lucy is pregnant and is freaking out because no one knows that she and Tim are even dating. How would they react and how would they tell everyone at work?’ This wasn’t something I had given any thought to before but I hope it worked out okay!

Lucy stood frozen, staring at her reflection in the mirror before her. Her arms braced her weight against the sink. If it hadn’t been there to stop her fall, she wasn’t sure she would still be standing. She was alone in the precinct bathroom. Alone, that was, apart from the positive pregnancy stick in the sink.

What was she going to do?

She had only been dating Tim for four months. No one even knew about it yet. He was a sergeant at the station, and she hadn’t been fully qualified a year. They wanted to wait it out. With any luck, she could prove herself as a cop first and then everyone else could know.

The baby inside her clearly had other ideas.

Lucy had only taken the test on a whim. They had always been safe. Hadn’t they? But when she was sick this morning and with her period now two weeks late, she had thought she should. Just in case.

It wasn’t just in case anymore.

Ten minutes passed before she found it in her to make her way to roll call. Her walk was casual as she could make it, her facial expression somewhat neutral. Lucy sat at her usual seat. And then Tim walked in and any composure she had scraped together shredded into nothing. He didn’t smile at her like a normal boyfriend would have. Instead, as their eyes met, he merely nodded in pleasant hello before he sat down in his seat. Right next to hers.

As had become their custom, the one small grace they allowed themselves, Tim slouched just enough that his knees were far enough apart so that his left one bumped Lucy’s right. It rested there. It was the only point of contact they allowed themselves when on shift. Sure, they might escape for a brief conversation in passing in the corridors but with an audience, this was as much as they dared push it.

Usually, the brush gave her goosebumps. The secret relationship could be hot in its own way. Today it sent her stomach somersaulting.

They hadn’t discussed children. Hell, they hadn’t discussed anything about their relationship past keeping it a secret for now. Everything was very much for now.

How was she going to tell him?

That choice was pushed when Jackson had to drop Lucy back off at the station mid-way through their shift. She had thrown up a grand total of four times and no matter how she tried to insist she was fine; Jackson was having none of it. She knew he was right. She couldn’t work in the condition she was in.

Lucy wasn’t ready to acknowledge that pretty soon she wouldn’t be in the field at all. She was only freshly qualified and yet it was all about to blow up in her face. She knew she wanted the baby, hadn’t doubted that since she saw the test. But that didn’t mean she was ready for all the consequences.

As she stood in the bullpen, just about to turn for the locker room her phone beeped.

Tim- are you okay? Heard you were sick on shift. Come up to my office before you go?

Lucy smiled at the message. He was caring, if a little overprotective sometimes. He had always toed the line when it came to her. He had admitted, during a late night drinks at hers, that he had let his feelings control his actions when she was kidnapped. That he knew he would jump in front of any bullet meant for her and would never try to train that instinct away. He wasn’t happy when she admitted she felt the same for him.

But they were working on it. Working on his trust both in her and in the fact that this wasn’t going to go wrong. Lucy knew he feared it. Knew he was full of so much fear from his relationship with Isabel and then with Rachel. Two long term partners that had left him in the dust.

She just hoped this wouldn’t ruin their shot too. Not that she thought it would, she realized, as she finished getting changed and made her way to Tim’s office. He would make a great dad. And she thought they would make a good go of it together. It was whether that was what he wanted, whether he was 100% ready for it, that made her falter as her hand rose to knock.

She noticed the blinds were already drawn, something he usually did when she was inside. Gathering her strength, she told herself that it didn’t matter. She wanted this and she had to be honest with him.

She knocked.

Tim was at the door in a second. He pulled her in by the hand and hastily closed the door. As soon as it was, that marker of the outside world now securely gone, he cupped her head in his hand and smiled down at her.

“You okay, baby?” he asked.

The pet name almost made her threatening tears spill over. He didn’t use them often, but every now and then a babe or a baby slipped out. She loved it, a fact that he knew. But it was too much right now.

“Lucy?” She still hadn’t responded, and the worry lines grew deeper on his face.

“Maybe you should sit down?” Lucy suggested, turning from him and making her own, shaky way to his desk. She couldn’t find it in her to sit and instead gripped the back of the chair.

“Okay you’re officially freaking me out here. What’s going on?” Tim asked. He made his way round to his seat, but she noticed he didn’t sit down either.

“I um,” Lucy paused and then, summoning all the courage she had left she looked up and met his eye. “I’m pregnant.”

Tim collapsed into the seat.

Minutes passed, painfully long minutes. Tim’s hands rose to rub at his face, covering most of his reaction from view but Lucy caught a good enough glimpse to see that all color had drained from him.

Her heart plummeted.

And then he looked up, the hands came away and, was that a threat of a smile?

“I’m sorry, I just. Wow.” Tim cleared his throat and pushed himself to his feet again. He began to pace the room. “I just never expected… How far along are you?”

“A month, I think, maybe nearing two? I was late, but as you know that happens sometimes, but then I was sick this morning, so I thought I should check. Tim are you okay?”

Tim spun immediately to face her again. This time the smile was on full show. “Sorry,” he quickly apologized and in three long, fast strides he was before her, hands on her shoulders. “I’m happy Lucy. Shocked, but happy. I am on board with this one hundred percent. That is,” he paused, seeming to catch himself, “if you are?”

Lucy felt herself smiling, despite the fact her hands were still shaking. “Yes,” she breathed.

And then his lips were on hers.

They decided to wait until Lucy had been to the doctor before they told the precinct. Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long for an appointment and two weeks later they were both, this time, standing outside an office. Only this time it was Captain Grey’s. It had made sense to come clean to him first, to understand fully how the department wished to handle both Lucy’s maternity, her field work and the fact they were dating at all. Neither one of them expected Grey to have too much of a problem but there were people above him to be considered. And the rumor mill of the precinct too.

Grey called them in.

Looking up from his mountain of paperwork, he greeted them. “Sergeant Bradford oh and Officer Chen, what can I do for you?”

He looked confused, Lucy thought, but there was also something else he wasn’t fully hiding. Some other reaction to seeing them both walk into his office together.

“Sir, I just want to say that what we are about to tell you never has had, nor will ever have, any effect on how myself or Officer Chen perform our jobs. We are capable officers and I think we have both proven that.”

Grey frowned, “Out with it Bradford.”

“We’re together,” Lucy answered, “in a relationship I mean.”

It wasn’t the script they had rehearsed but the words escaped Lucy before she could hold them back.

Grey’s eyes narrowed, in a half-hearted look of anger, for all of one second before a smile broke out on his face.

“Well, I do believe I am owed at least thirty dollars.”

That wasn’t the answer they had been expecting.

“Excuse me, sir?” Tim stuttered from beside Lucy.

“You two have not been anywhere near as secretive as you thought. I didn’t think it made sense to tell you, since plausible deniability meant none of us would have deal with the consequences of this,” he gestured between them, “and I had been watching to check that it wasn’t affecting either of your performance, but I guess we will have to deal with it now. If I might ask, what changed? Why come clean now?”

Lucy swallowed, her hand rising unconsciously to her stomach. It was all the answer Grey needed.

“Ah, well,” the smile on his face impossibly grew. He rose to his feet and clapped Tim on the shoulder. “Congratulations to you both.”

Tim awkwardly cleared his throat again, but this time Lucy could see that he was positively beaming. She felt her own smile grow.

“Thank you,” she told Grey. “What happens now?”

“Well, I’ll have to let the superiors know and it might limit the work you two can do together in the future. I don’t think I have to tell you how the fact Tim was your TO might affect your career since you both had the sense to try to hide this.”

Lucy nodded, “I know, I’m ready to face it. But maybe you could let us tell some people first? West and Nolan don’t even know yet.”

“I wasn’t going to announce it at the next roll call Officer Chen,” Sergeant Grey laughed. Lucy really couldn’t be any more shocked. “It’s your news to tell. I’ll try to keep it as quiet as I can.”

Lucy parked her car outside Angela’s house. Pausing, she turned to Tim. They had a deal since they started dating that she got to drive her own car. It always felt weird seeing him the passenger side.

“Ready for this?” She asked him. They had discussed how Angela might have his head for not telling her sooner, both about them being together and the baby.

Tim nodded. Lucy could tell that he was doing his best to look grim, as though he really was daunted, but she could feel the excitement rolling off him in waves.

This was the first friend they would get to tell together. They had decided to tell Angela first, both because of Tim’s fear and because Lucy had admitted that it would be nice to get some advice before they went completely public. After all, Angela had hid her own pregnancy out of fear of the repercussions so Lucy could do with speaking to someone who understood.

Tim placed his hand on Lucy’s knee and leaned towards her.

“This isn’t going to be easy,” he whispered, “But I’ll do everything I can to make it easier for you. I know I have it easier being the man and being sergeant, but you know I’m willing to ask for a transfer if things get tough.”

Lucy smiled at him and felt her eyes water. Stupid hormones, “I know.”

With that Tim turned and opened his door, “That’s if you protect my head in there, she won’t risk throwing things at a pregnant woman. You might be my only hope of making it out alive.”

Lucy laughed and together they walked to the house.

Angela opened at their knock. She appeared in the door frame with her sleeping son Jake and a wide smile on her face.

“Tim,” she beamed at seeing him first, “And Lucy?”

Lucy smiled, “Hey Angela.”

Angela looked confused but she invited them in.

“Sorry for the mess, you wouldn’t believe what he can get into.”

Angela fluttered around trying unsuccessfully to tidy some of the debris with one hand, but Tim put a hand to her shoulder. “It’s alright, there’s no need.”

“So what brings you two here?” She asked, seeming to have given up.

“We have something to tell you,” Tim began. The excitement had faded slightly, and Lucy could tell he was getting nervous just by one glance at his clenched jaw.

Angela looked between them. “Go on.”

“We’re,” Lucy looked up at Tim and felt unable to continue.

“We’re together,” Tim announced, keeping it simple and wrapping his arm around Lucy’s waist as though to confirm it.

Angela burst out laughing.

“Seriously Bradford? You interrupt my child’s nap all so you can tell me that?”

At their obvious looks of confusion, Angela clarified, “I know. Everyone knows.”

Tim spluttered. Lucy took a step toward her, “We thought Grey was exaggerating. What do you mean everyone knows? No one’s said anything to us?”

“That’s because no one knew for sure. You think they would risk getting into trouble with a sergeant for spreading rumors? People talk, but no one was brave enough to let it get back to either of you.”

Tim sighed and Lucy felt her own wave of relief. If people knew but no one had made a deal of it, then she might just escape the stereotype and the judgement. Maybe. Then again, they were more than just hooking up.

“That’s not all we had to tell you,” Lucy continued. She had said the words twice, once to Tim and once to the doctor. It still felt unreal, but she felt herself speak them again. “I’m pregnant.”

Angela let out a whoop loud enough to wake Jake. She cursed and immediately started to rock him, gave up after ten seconds, and ran instead to pull them into a hug. “I’m so happy for you both, congratulations.”

After a few minutes of pleasantries Lucy turned to Tim. “Think you could maybe give us a minute?”

“Why don’t you take Jake out back? He’s got a thing for birds it might calm him down.” Angela suggested.

Tim looked hesitantly between them. Lucy tried to give him a reassuring smile and it must have worked for he sent his own her way and moved to pick up Jake.

The sight of them together had Lucy’s stomach fluttering, her heart pounding in her chest. Jake stopped crying as Tim cradled him and she couldn’t help but think about what a great father he would make.

“He’s going to be a great dad,” Angela said, as though reading Lucy’s mind.

“Yeah, he is,” Lucy agreed.

“You’re going to make a great mum too.”

Lucy ducked her head and resisted the urge to disagree.

“The fear is normal, it gets a bit easier. Then they are here, and it comes right back at you again,” Angela advised. “But you get through it.”

Lucy smiled, “You’ve been a great mum to Jake, I don’t know how you two did it with both your careers and everything else.”

“It hasn’t been easy, but you make it work. You don’t have much choice really. But he’s been a blessing. I remember how scared I was when I found out. It was the day after Nolan was accused. And the day I got promoted. I was so scared that I would always be seen as the pregnant detective, given the lighter case load, forever seen as the weak link. So, we hid it. And judging by the fact you’ve kept your relationship quiet this long, I’m guessing you are considering hiding it too?”

Lucy nodded, “I don’t want to be judged either. It will be hard enough when everyone finds out me and Tim are together but this-”

Angela’s smile grew, “I told you, everyone worked that out long ago. And this baby of yours could actually help matters. It shows you are serious, and the fact you are becoming a family shows that you fell in love. Tim isn’t your direct superior anymore and you got together long after he was. There’s not much they can say to that. And even if they do, you get over it. Trust me I’m dating a defense attorney, I know all about it.”

Lucy laughed at the last part, “Thank you Angela.”

“No problem, now, not that I don’t trust him, but I think we should rescue Tim. Jake can get fussy if I’m not in the room.”

They decided to tell Jackson and John next. Lucy had arranged to meet them for drinks after shift. Tim was supposed to join them, but he got a call last minute and had to work overtime. Being a sergeant on patrol had its downfalls.

So, Lucy met the boys on her own. She shouldn’t have been nervous, or awkward, after all this was how they had spent so many nights. But she found herself shuffling in her seat.

Nolan had gone to the bar just as she walked in the door, not giving her any chance to correct the drink order from her usual. At least it gave her an early way in.

“Actually,” she told him as he sat down in front of her. “I was thinking of sticking with just the pineapple juice tonight.”

Both men froze and put down their drinks. Jackson looked confused but Nolan’s eyes dropped, Lucy expected subconsciously, to her stomach.

“Yeah John,” she said, feeling a smile grow on her face at the immediate look of happiness her friend gave her.

Jackson on the other hand still looked confused.

“I’m pregnant,” she told him.

It was becoming easier to say it now. Especially since they had told her parents. Although that one had been easier since they already knew she was dating Tim, and, thankfully liked him a lot.

Both men immediately sprung to their feet to crush Lucy in a group hug, congratulating her and laughing as they did so.

“Aren’t you going to ask who the father is?” Lucy prompted when neither man had done so.

Jackson and Nolan looked at each other awkwardly as though daring the other to speak.

“Angela and Grey weren’t kidding when they said everyone knew about Tim and I were they?”

All Jackson and Nolan could do was laugh and shake their heads.

With their friends in the know, as well as their superiors, they simply stopped hiding their relationship. Surprisingly, no one had been brave enough to say much beside the odd remark, usually off shift. It hadn’t been anywhere near as bad as Lucy had expected. But when she was pulled off the street and placed on desk duty, just as she was starting to show, there was no denying the secret any longer. A handful of people had asked out front, mostly to her whilst others had asked John or Jackson. Thankfully, Angela had been right, and it hadn’t made matters worse. Instead, they received many congratulations and happy remarks.

Lucy expected some of it had to do with their history. Many officers were familiar with what had happened between Tim and Isobel, and they certainly knew about Lucy’s kidnapping. Surviving a serial killer gained her some respect and the work she had done on the streets couldn’t be denied either.

Lucy missed patrol but staying in the precinct had its perks. She no longer had to suffer Tim’s insatiable worry, or her own for that matter, and they managed to enjoy more time together. If he was in the office, they shared lunch and if he was on the streets, he brought her some between calls. They remained professional and kept a strict boundary, but they could be seen entering and leaving the building holding hands and sharing a quick kiss in goodbye if one had to leave without the other.

So, whilst Lucy was still scared at what the future would hold, her excitement far outweighed it.

She counted herself pretty damn lucky.

#the rookie #chenford #tucy #tim bradford #lucy chen

55 notes · View notes

yukeri · 3 years

Text

[YURI&Co. Headquarters]

THIS PIECE CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE AND ARGUING - Starring: Hong Yumin, CEO Na Deokhyun - Synopsis: Yumin, feeling as if she has nothing left to lose, makes one last attempt to save her career. - Year: 2019 - Length: 1,867 w.

Yumin stood in the elevator nervously wringing her white linen top. Just go in and make your demands. Don’t take no for an answer.

A chime signaled she’d reached her destination, and the following robotic voice confirmed it. She could feel the temperature drop as she stepped out of the elevator and into the frozen tundra that is the CEO’s floor. But it didn’t discourage her; it’s no secret that the CEO is very sensitive to warmth and keeps his office floor cool. It also serves as a cheap ploy to subconsciously intimidate any industry adversaries coming to meet with him and make them more susceptible to his coercion, but it won’t work on her. Hong Yumin was on a mission that she had been psyching herself up for over the past several days. Nothing could destroy her resolve.

She strolled up to his secretary. “Hi, Jeongho,” she said as sweetly as she could without cringing, “Is the CEO busy?”

He glanced at the man's schedule; “Uh, not right now,” he said hesitantly, “But he has a meeting in 10 minutes.”

This is your chance.

“Sorry, do you have an appointment? I don’t see one--”

“That’s all the time I need,” Yumin said, strutting right past Jeongho and approaching the CEO’s office. She could hear the secretary’s stuttering protests as she reached the door. She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and entered the breach.

I did it, she thought as she closed the door behind her. Yumin slowly turned around. She had only seen the eggshell walls and cement flooring of the CEO’s office on two occasions: the day she signed her contract with Tastemaker and about a week ago when TM Girls was disbanded. Such a rush of emotions came over her that she almost forgot why she had committed this career-threatening faux pas in the first place. Flustered, she swallowed her feelings and greeted the CEO politely: “Good afternoon, CEO.”

“Yumin-ah...good afternoon,” the CEO replied curiously, looking up from his thick-rimmed glasses. He glanced at his iPad confirming what he already knew, “According to my schedule, you don’t have an appointment with me.” Yumin stood visibly trembling as he looked her up and down. “So either my secretary just lost his job, or you’ve lost your mind,” he said with a dry chuckle.

Then he stared at her with that look, his eyes fixed upon her and his eyebrows raised. The look was not openly nefarious as he is the CEO and must keep the appearance of approachability even behind closed doors, but to anyone who knew him that look was just as effective as a gorgon's stare.

Just like that, Yumin froze. She felt all that hard-earned conviction drain from her body and immediately realized the grave mistake she had made. Stop freaking out! You got this, Yumin’s inner motivation coach called out trying to preserve the last ounces of confidence she had left. You’re already here; you might as well speak! She opened her mouth, not particularly sure as to whether coherent words or her breakfast would come out, “Yes-- I mean, no. I don’t have a-- er, an appointment.” Alright, looks like we’re getting somewhere. She started regaining her confidence and spoke again with a voice significantly less shaky; “But please, if I could have a moment of your time--”

Suddenly, Yumin heard the subtle tones of the CEO’s phone. She looked down at the cellphone on his desk, then back at him as he pressed the tip of his AirPod. “Hello,” he answered, “Oh, Kyungsoo-ya! How’s filming going?”

Then it hit her: all the emotions she'd swallowed. The years of anxiety facing the possibility that she might never debut; the anger from the relentless hiatuses she had no choice but to endure; the devastation when she was told for the second time that the group she cherished more than anything in the world was no more. They were all festering inside her and had amalgamated into a feeling she rarely experienced: pure rage.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Yumin thought. The CEO jerked his head up to look at her with an expression of plain shock. Oh, wait...no, she said that. To the CEO.

Before he could utter another word, Yumin’s hand had snatched the phone off his desk and ended the call with whoever was on the line. She clutched the CEO’s phone in her hand as he stared at her in disbelief. Yumin didn’t back down; she stared right back.

“Okay, I’m listening,” he said flatly, breaking the silence.

Yumin took another deep breath and finally spoke her mind, “The only reason I signed a contract with this company was because you guaranteed that I would debut within 6-8 months. That was over two years ago; I--”

The CEO groaned and rolled his eyes as he reclined in his chair, his folded hands on his chest and his eyes fixed on her. Sorry, am I boring you?! I can’t believe this smug bastard...

His phone began to vibrate in her hand, but she swiftly declined the call. “I-- I am tired,” she said in a tone louder than what she had intended. “I’m tired of getting calls from my grandparents asking me to come back home because I have no future here; I’m tired of training trainees half my age that debut before I do; I’m tired of being the oldest trainee I know that isn’t anywhere near a debut; and I’m tired of putting my faith in old men who so easily crush the dreams of young, hardworking trainees because they’ve never had to experience this disappointment in their life.”

The CEO glared at her with his eyebrows furrowed, clearly offended. She decided it would be better to switch up her argument: “Look, when I left JYP...I was devastated. I worked so hard and all I got in return was a cancelled debut. Looking back, I can see that if I had debuted then I would’ve left the group almost immediately. I wasn’t ready; I would’ve been torn to shreds for my lack of ability. But I am a thousand times better than I was all those years ago because of Tastemaker. I was an alright rapper when I got here; now I’m the rap instructor. I can out-rap any trainee under this label, male or female. I was a good dancer before, and now I can out-dance our choreographer-- her words, not mine.”

The CEO chuckled lightly at her claim before she continued, “I have leadership quality, an attractive personality, and great visuals...but what good is having those attributes if no one sees them?” The CEO nodded thoughtfully.

Now we’re here, she thought, the hardest part. She took one final deep breath and gave her ultimatum, “I’ll always be thankful to you...and to Tastemaker for making me better...but if you don’t plan on debuting me, then...then just let me go. This way, we can stop wasting each other’s time.”

There. Yumin had said her piece and now it was time to listen.

The CEO cleared his throat and began to speak: “Wow…how dare you speak to me this way?! You have absolutely no idea why I make the decisions I make, and I will not be told what to do by some little bitch who thinks she’s talented because she can rhyme two words together.” Yumin was speechless; she could see what could’ve been a successful career flashing before her eyes...now it’s all gone. She felt her heart sink as tears welled up in her eyes. “Give me my phone!” He snarled at her, snatching his phone from her extended hands; “By the time I’m done calling every agency and talent scout in my address book, you won’t be able to open a fucking YouTube channel! You’ll have to go back to your grandparents’ and become a turnip farmer, shoveling shit to make a living.” He pulled her contract from his drawer, “You want me to ‘let you go’? So be it.” He pulled out a lighter from his pocket and set it ablaze. Yumin could only watch and cry as her dreams literally went up in smoke. The CEO threw the remnants of her contract in the garbage, “Now get the fuck out of my office,” he hissed, “You’re done.”

But no, he did not say that. In fact, he did not say anything. The CEO simply glared at her without a word and all Yumin could do was glare back. Say something, dammit! She thought. Yell, scream, something.

After what seemed like hours of deafening silence, he finally spoke, “Wow...that was impressive,” he stated flatly while opening his iPad. “Tell me, Yumin, do you remember Moon Yuri?” She was still reeling from the thought of what could’ve happened, but responded, “Uh...yes. Wasn’t he involved in THE FUN FACTORY?”

“Correct,” the CEO replied while checking some emails and notifications, “That call that you declined a few minutes ago? That was him. ” He gestured towards the phone that was still in her hand; she’d almost forgotten she had taken it. “Moon has made a request to establish his own label within the company. I just needed him to confirm some last-minute details.”

Yumin clearly didn’t understand, so the CEO attempted to clarify as he reviewed some charts and graphs, “Yuri is planning to debut a new girl group next year and he’s looking for 6-7 girls to be in it. Tastemaker isn’t planning on debuting any other groups as of right now, so any Tastemaker trainee may audition for him. Whoever is accepted will have their contract transferred to his label. No hassle.” Yumin finally realized what he was saying.

“But-- when is the audition?” “That was one of the details he needed to confirm. I’d say about a month or two?” “And...I can audition?” “I recommended you personally,” he said, making eye contact with her for a moment before taking out a pen and flipping through some important-looking documents. “I was in the middle of drafting a memo with all the details.”

Yumin stared into space, feeling like a complete idiot. If I had just waited a little longer...

“Um, may I have my phone back?” the CEO asked politely, but sternly, “I do have some important calls to make.” Yumin snapped out of her trance and hurriedly rested the CEO’s iPhone on his desk. The CEO continued to split his attention between the graphs on his iPad, the documents on his desk, and now the iPhone which was connecting to no doubt some other big name in the industry.

Yumin didn't know what to say. “CEO...I’m--” The CEO started chatting with someone on the other line. She averted her gaze as she pondered what to do next, eventually deciding to leave. She turned and walked towards the door. “Oh, Yumin-ah,” he innocently called out just as she was about to exit the room. She turned back to him, “Yes, sir?”

“Don’t pull this shit again,” he calmly ordered, “Because next time you won’t be so lucky.”

Slightly unnerved, Yumin nodded in agreement and exited the CEO’s office with another chance. Fourth time’s the charm, I hope.

#aesxocnet #deluxeocnet #kpop oc #kpop idol oc #kpop oc group #fake kpop idol #fake kpop group #fictional idol community #fictional idol group #lovemonth.💚💚💚#lovemonth.read #lovemonth.past

6 notes · View notes

bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Bail Out : 01

(Bruce Wayne x Reader)

A Bruce Wayne Multi-Chapter Series

Chapter 01: The Bruiser

Summary: One fateful, drunken night gets you arrested for assault. However, once you get bailed out by Billionaire Socialite Bruce Wayne, surprising obstacles get in the way, forcing you to question all your choices in life, career, and in love.

Word Count: 4700

Rating: Mature

Warning: Swearing and Hints of Blood and Violence

Author’s Note: Initially wanted to write a One Shot, but had more ideas to possibly expand. And thanks to @kittenlittle24 ‘s encouragement, I was confident to continue this as a Series. This was soo much fun to imagine and write. It really was. Will do my best to make this a series you all can love. Enjoy!

Gotham City, never was it a fanatic of resting, especially when it came to crime. “Anyone out for a coffee run?”  

Thus, it was suffice to say the Law Enforcement of the City was never privileged with the gift of resting either. Even during the wee hours of the morning. Crime was detained, ranging from the highest risk to the mundane. Regardless, they were all crimes.   “...Anyone?”  Officer John Blake of Gotham Police repeated his inquiry, scanning the other officers in the precinct. Buzzing like bees, all seemed quite occupied in their own matters.   “I’ll do it…” Officer Nina Langdon got up from her desk, answering with a smile. The way her pupils dilated, her secret attraction for the other young officer was quite evident.   Finally catching a whiff of enthusiasm, John’s eyes glinted with a hint of sincere gratitude. Standing next to him, Langdon began her query at everyone: “How about a new place today?”

The buzz, it continued. No one really seemed to bother with an answer.

“Try Commons Cafe! They have great coffee for an affordable price!”

Suddenly the buzz seemed nonexistent, when everyone’s heads indiscriminately turned upon hearing a voice. A female voice which was unfamiliar, yet professional. And to their surprise, it was traced all the way back to the nearest holding cell.

Taking a gander at their expression, the owner of that voice seemed unaffected.  “You’re welcome…” She added coolly, returning her gaze back to the wall before her. Highly amused, Officer Blake chuckled. Deeply curious, Officer Langdon leaned over to Blake.  “What is she in for?” She asked in a low voice. “Assault…” John answered, opening the file that rested on his neatly arranged desk. His answer certainly made the red headed officer raise her eyebrows.  “Anything serious?” She was certainly inquisitive. He shook his head.  “Nah…” he replied, “Just a rough night, I guess” he added, turning back to the woman sitting in the cell.

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

It was never intentional, but you just could not help overhear their discussion. And Officer Blake was right: Last night was indeed a very rough night.  

Trying to catch a wink of sleep in the cell seemed impossible for you. For you were not at comfort. Let there be no misunderstanding, for the environment was not to blame at all. You scoffed to yourself.You were no princess, seeking any luxury. It was just that your damned humbleness got in the way with the most mediocre excuses. Like, your tight skirt riding up every time you made an attempt to lie down, for instance. You did not want to make a scene by showing any unwanted skin.

That’s right. That damned humbleness.

And the throbbing pain in your right hand did not seem to help either.

Yes, your right hand with your knuckles, all bruised and bloody.

Sleep deprived, and slightly wounded, your body was in a state of confusion. You literally felt your eye lids grow heavy, as if your eyelashes held on to weighty dumbbells in the gym, and they kept doing down. Squinting your eyes, you made your most dire attempt to stay awake. You resorted to methods a many. Pinching your own cheeks, slapping them with no shame. All until you were sober once more. You sat there, with your legs bouncing about as you stared at the wall.  

Every other corner in the station seemed to have a dose of color. Even it was dull or depressing. The wall on the other hand, was white, was empty.  Thus, it was no surprise that you picked up a brush, and proceeded to paint out the scene over that white wall of your mind.The scene that haunted you on a constant loop, all throughout the night.  

For everything was ever so clear.

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

(Last night)

 With single stroke of your mind brush, the white canvas of the wall altered into the surroundings of a luxurious hotel.

 A jazz melody, simple yet effective. It lingered in the piano keys, amplifying its effect on to every living being in the area. The musical sounds infused with the subtle shushes of the small water fountain placed in the midst of the restaurant. Occupants of class and formal attire were of abundance, out to play on a Friday night.  

And in the bar lounge in the corner, there was you, sitting on one of the barstools with your phone pressed against your ear. It was no call, as you listened to a voice message. The manner in which your eyes were closed, in which your temples had tightened, it was evident to any observer that you were listening to what you dreaded.

“Sorry sweetie!” The voice of Allison, your roommate flowed into your ear: “ I forgot that Mattie was having a Birthday bash for his friend, so I promised to help out with the party blah blah blah...you know the deal…But anyways, I can’t make it for drinks tonight. I’m so so sorry, roomie! Please enjoy yourself! And hey! who knows! Maybe you’ll get to work on ya flirtin’ tonight. Sorry again…Bye!”   As the message ended, a scoff was all you could let out. “Trust me…” You muttered to yourself, looking at the phone, “Flirtin’s the last thing on my mind tonight”.

With one hand lifted up, you turned your gaze over to the bartender nearby. Your empty cocktail glass appearing so lonely beside you.

“Whiskey, please” You requested, lips forming a sad smile.Taking the glass away, bartender nodded with a hint of concern.  

You sighed heavily, before taking a sip from your glass. Work had certainly drained you. It drained you like an insect being drained lifeless by a spider. With eyebrows raised, you slightly shook your head at yourself. That was an inaccurate comparison for that may not be an exact fact. Yet, it was how you felt: Drained lifeless. And here you presumed blowing off steam with your roommate would help you cheer up. But truthfully, that was not the case. It was not what you wanted in the end of the day. Drowning one’s exhaustion in a splash dip of alcohol seemed apt. At least, you’ll drop dead on your bed without hesitation. You will sleep faster. And waste the weekend away.  

As the effect of the hard liquor began to spread all over your system, you felt compelled to take off your high ponytail. You were desired by your own conscience to let your natural tresses rest easy on your head.  

“Oh! Save me the High Road Bullshit! You’re just like the rest of them SCUM!”

A voice, quite enraged reached out to your ears from afar. It cut through all the superficial chatter a few feet in between. Given the tone, You involuntary rolled your eyes.

“Someone’s not having the best day, huh?” You said to the bartender. “Yeah…looks like it” the man replied, whilst wiping the table. Sipping the whiskey, you resumed in indulging on the burning sensation you felt on your tongue.

Yet, regardless of your attempt to steer your ears away, the awkwardness could not be avoided. Especially when someone had the decency to have a tantrum on these marbled floors.  “Name one good thing Wayne Enterprises have ever done to the people of Gotham.Can anyone name ONE THING? I DON’T THINK SO…”

Now, you had to look up. Why on earth would he say something of the sort? Head unturned yet up, you paid close attention to the voice from the distance. Glancing upon the bartender’s expression, it was certain your face did not look happy at all. What was the other’s reply? You longed to hear it.But it was too soft.   “That’s right! It’s nothing but a HEARTLESS company with HEARTLESS people in it” Your eyebrows furrowed, tightly. This person certainly had the nerve. As much as this slowly turned your stomach, you silently convinced yourself it was not your place to interfere, nor to even be affected.  “You know what?” The man continued loudly, “It’s a darn shame Joe Chill didn’t finish the job…He should have gotten rid of the entire Wayne family”

A loud thud! erupted from your fists as they landed on the table with such force. So much so, even the bartender clutched on to his wiping cloth with fear. “That’s it…” You muttered through gritted teeth. Gulping down the rest of your whiskey, you decided this was definitely your place to be affected.   “Yes! That’s right.” The man began to mock, “Thomas, Martha....and little Bruce Way-”  “YOU!” Silence suddenly fell over the entire floor by the power of your voice. Even the piano stopped. Turning from your barstool, You heard yourself bellow: “You Take that BACK!!!”

Fueled with rage, you knew it was definitely your place to interfere.

Sliding off the stool, you quickly spotted him. The middle aged man was quite easy to make out by the fountain, due to his dramatic expression of embarrassment. All eyes were on you as your heels clicked sharply walking over to him in speed. He was the only one you could spot among the two conversing parties, and that was enough for you. Frankly you did not care. Though you were at your fullest rage, weaponized with clenched fists, the man looked at you with mere inferiority.

“Don’t you DARE say things like that!”

You yelled, pointing your index finger at him. The man laughed mockingly, which amplified heavily with all the dense fog of silence.

“Why?” He asked, “What are you gonna do?” He jeered, “Threaten m-OW!”

Gasps exited everyone’s lips in unison. Right when you cut him off with your right fist landing hard on his face. The punch was far from skilled, yet it managed to spill some blood, it was difficult to trace its origin. You felt pain, that was for sure.   “You take that back! I mean it” You spat out those words, which were akin to fire. Eyes squinting, the man scrunched up his bloody nose.   “Wha-? OWW!!”

This time it was your right knee that made an appearance. Greeting his nose violently with a kick, your knee brought out a popping sound, causing the others to gasp and scream in fear.

“ARGH! MY NOSE!” He cried out with agony.   “SECURITY!”  The cries of the Floor Manager finally brought you to the realization of the surprising consequences of your pure rage. Lifting your hands up quickly with a sigh, you surrendered yourself as the security staff surrounded you. The bystanders watched you with disbelief. Some with mixed emotions, while others purely had taken a side in this altercation. The Security found it strange when you voluntarily placed the hands behind your back for their convenience. For you were no fool. You were screwed.

“Gentleman! Gentleman! Let’s take it easy on the lady, shall we?”

A voice so smooth and undeniably familiar tickled your ears. Turning back, you gasped. For you finally laid eyes on the other party. The man who was insulted. The man you involuntarily fought for:

Bruce Wayne, in the flesh.   With a tall, beautiful blonde woman wrapped around him, he was as powerful as he could be. Besides, the beautiful couple exuded pure regality. And that was when you felt completely underdressed. Why wouldn’t you be? Your silk shirt, tucked in your high waisted skirt paired with a jacket made you look so meager. While the blonde woman gave you a nasty look, Wayne seemed quite concerned in contrast. Embarrassment finally came over you when you were aware of the fact he just witnessed your rage. And how he was witnessing your messy state, which included the literal blood and sweat and disheveled hair.  “I’m truly sorry, Mr.Wayne” The manager said, “…but our restaurant doesn’t tolerate violence” You were so tempted to scoff. And you did, out loud. “Wow! wow!” You cried out with irony, turning to the manager in your handcuffs, “So violence is not tolerated, but verbal abuse is?…” you inquired, motioning to the deserving bleeding man, “Unbelievable!”

“Security! Please escort her out!” The manager was certainly not pleased with your behavior nor your tone.  “YES! Get that woman out of here!” The rude man cried out, still covering his nose, “I’ll do you one better…I’m…I’m calling the police” he said, taking his phone out from his pocket.

You shook your head with disappointment, still feeling the alcohol linger in you as you were easily pushed out of the premises. Averting your eyes, you were relieved to leave. For you did not want to be in the midst of everyone’s judgment, most certainly his.

You heard the soothing words of the management comfort the customers in muffled tone as your footsteps got closer to the exit.

“What the hell happened, miss?” The big, tall security officer inquired with genuine curiosity. As if he felt guilty of apprehending you, “Why would you get so riled up about Wayne Enterprises anyways ?”  Sighing heavily, you looked over to him.

“It’s because I work there...”  

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

(Present) 

Completing the imaginary painting for the 20th time, you finally looked down. The right side of your skirt was stained with dried up blood. Your knuckles shared the resemblance, except there were cuts as an addition. And holy hell! The stinging was unbearable. You were no fighter. You just experimented fighting in the wrong place, in the wrong time.

Rubbing the top of your nose bridge with your fingers, you sighed. So many sighs today. “Why…why did I do that?” You muttered to yourself. You were never the troublemaker, nor the violent one, so why now? You hoped your convincing voice message would lead to your roommate getting you out. But the way you were ditched tonight, there was no possibility. It seemed quite apt you were to be left there to rot, to regret your actions.

But never did you think you were actually fighting on behalf of Bruce Wayne himself. What were the chances?

The jingle of keys grew prominently louder, amidst the chatter of policemen and civilians. You looked up to see Officer Blake in front of your cell. “Good News…” He said, “Looks like you’ve been granted bail”

Your eyes widened with disbelief. How was it possible? You were only given one phone call. Standing up in an instant, you held on to the bars with your left hand dramatically. “R-Really?” You babbled, “But who?”

The young officer smiled softly. “Best if you see it for yourself” he said, opening the door, “He is waiting outside”  “H-He?” You swore you breathed in literal fear, forgetting to even step out.

As you went through the formalities, you could not help but wonder. Could it be that wretched man you injured, had come to rub his power all over your face? Were you to be eternally grateful to him? Feeling sick to your stomach once again, you took slow steps towards the exit, unwilling to see the light of dawn.  “Ahh! Shit…” You cursed under your breath upon the first glance. It was not that wretched man. It was someone even worse. It was Bruce Wayne.

Taking a deep breath, you looked over at Blake. “Officer…” you began, “Do you have a mint by any chance?”

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

Nothing would strike you as strange more than the fact you saw Billionaire Playboy Bruce Wayne standing outside of a Police Station at around 6:30 am. And to bail you out nonetheless. Why? Was it something you should be worried about? You did not know.

For a second, you could not help but stare, especially when he was not aware of your eyes on him. He may have been wearing the same outfit as last night, yet he looked so different. With his tie loosened, hair a tad bit messy and out of sorts, he dipped his hands in his pockets whilst leaning against a black Lamborghini. As much as his sight seemed appealing and lovely on the eyes, it also worried you.

He straightened himself to attention the moment he saw you walk over to him. In the early morning, there was no one else by the pavement to cause a scene. Only the two of you. So finally came the big question: How were you even going to start a conversation with someone like him?

“Firstly,” you began, clearing your throat, “ I have to ask…” He looked at you with curiosity, as you took a deep breath:

“Was your date the Prima Ballerina of the Moscow Ballet?” You asked genuinely.

Bruce chuckled loudly, evident that it was the most unexpected question. But truthfully, it was something that kept you up all night.

He nodded, “Yes”

As much as you were happy to have guessed right, you were even more mortified. You were indeed the villain in the piece. “Oh my goodness,” you exclaimed, “I’m so sorry for ruining your date, Mr.Wayne…”

“Heh…Don’t worry about it” You could not help but realize the gentle nature of his voice. Gentle to the point it could graze over flower petals without causing any harm. But you knew you did not deserve that. Calming down, you averted your gaze down.

“You really didn’t have to do this…”you said, looking around shyly, “Bail me out…I’m sure that awful man-” “Mr.Henderson-” Bruce pointed out. “Right…Mr.Henderson…”you corrected yourself, “…won’t stop with just getting me arrested…” “Actually, he’s planning to press charges” “What?” Your jaw dropped, “Oh for the love of-” Covering your face with your left palm, you sighed hopelessly. “I’m sorry…” you said, looking up, “This is not professional of me at all. I…” you paused, “I just had a rough night” you admitted with honesty. Instead of driving you deeper with guilt, he just stood there with very little expression on his face. As if to let you recover from your own mess.

“Get in…” He said, a few seconds later as he motioned towards his car. Your eyes widened. “Oh…No! It’s fine, Mr.Wayne, I can get a taxi-” “I insist…please!” He said, voice still gentle, “You did punch someone in the name of Wayne Enterprises…” he added with a touch of humor.

Finally giving into a chuckle, you nodded in admittance before getting in.

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

You may not have known much about cars, but you certainly knew this one was quite the machine all men would die for. Would not be so surprising to find out the magnetic attraction it possesses. A symbol of power, for sure.   Following the first silent minute, you already as if you were robbing of his kindness. As much as the company of a handsome gentleman made you happy, a feeling of guilt was strong enough to conquer all.

“You know…” you began, “…you can just drop me off at the nearest bus station Mr.Wayne, you’re being too kind” You said with concern. “That won’t be necessary…” Bruce replied, his eyes still on the road as he drove, “Your address is already in the navigator” He said, with his hands on the wheel, motioning to the system screen. You chuckled. Of course, he must have pulled the file on you.

“As someone from HR …I have to say that is a major breach in Employee Privacy” you said, looking ahead whilst attempting to suppress a smile.

“Perks of being the Owner I guess…I suppose you can understand…” Bruce replied, confidence brimming, “And really? You work in HR?” He asked teasingly, “I certainly did not know that…” You laughed instantly. “Now I know you’re lying” “Well…It’s good to know we have a bruiser in HR-” “Oh no…” You cried out frustratingly, “Stop! I beg of you…As if it’s not embarrassing already to be bailed by the owner of the company…” You said, covering your face, “Ow!” You cried out. You seemed to be so accustomed to him, that you were not even aware of your bruised hand, “No…It’s fine…” you said in an instant the moment Bruce looked at your hand with concern. The way he glanced upon you, his silence compelled you to guiltily take off the tissue paper you had used to hide your knuckles. Opening it up, you bit your lip as it stung in contact with the morning chill. “No, it’s not fine…” Bruce said sternly, “...here” And to your surprise, he somehow managed to magically find a place to quickly stop the car.

Oh! Billionaires.

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

Surprises did not cease to exist so soon.

You sat there dumbfounded on the passenger seat, as you watched Bruce Wayne medically treat your right hand. His hands were articulate, cleaning out and disinfecting the skin, before smoothly applying a cooling cream over the bruises on each knuckle. He did it with such focus, you were nothing but entranced by the mere sight. And before you knew it, your hand looked like it was alive once again.

“You’re awfully good at this…” You remarked, watching him wrap a small bandage around your knuckles. The pain in your right hand deprived you the chance to identify and secretly indulge his touch. “Why, thank you…” He answered with a teasing smug. “But that definitely arouses suspicion” You had to respond, smirking with mischief. “Well..You’re awfully observant” He smirked back, as he pulled away. “It’s my job, Mr.Wayne…” You said, watching him put his hands on the wheel,“I’m a Manager in HR. I need to know the staff” you added, leaning back on your seat, “We need to know what they want. What they don’t want, like and dislike”

The car began to growl softly with the start of the engine, and it was on the road once more. With the bandage securely placed, you could move your hand freely again.

“I don’t understand…” Bruce suddenly began, “You seem like a very sensible person…” he continued, “What could possibly drive you to punch a man right in his face?” “I admit…” you began with a deep breath, “It was quite an overreaction…” as the recollection revisited you, “But...I had my reasons…” You spoke with such freedom. “Which are…?” “Mr. Wayne...” you said, as a sudden rush of confidence wore you like a suit, “I’ve been working in Wayne Enterprises for almost 10 years” you looked at him, nodding as his eyes grew wide, “I got my first job here, and I have been working here ever since. I grew up in so many ways thanks to this company. And I know how many people have benefited from it, just like me.”

Tilting your head, your eyes squinted looking forward, “Sure, the management had a bumpy road with Mr. Earle. But…” you paused, with a chuckle, “ I guess I’m too loyal to leave. Besides, with you finally getting ownership, and Mr. Fox being CEO, I’m liking the direction this company is heading…” You said with a smile, “But…loyalty and alcohol… does not go well together, I realized” you admitted, keeping one’s fingers on your chin.

Bruce chuckled. You felt proud to humor him. However, a part of you suddenly wondered if this honesty of yours was going to cause any judgement in him. “Please know that as a professional, I do not condone my actions…” You stressed out. “But...personally…?” “No regrets whatsoever…” You answered immediately, “That gentleman had it coming…”. Gasping, you covered your mouth, “Wow!…” you giggled, “I’m being too forthcoming now, aren’t I?”

“Looks like it…” With a smirk, Bruce looked at you. For a split second, you could relate this to two old friends, sharing a naughty secret. Who knew that Bruce Wayne was just like any other man you knew, except with a bit of specialty blessed in him.

Yet, still you looked at him pleadingly. “Forgive me…Oh!” You exclaimed, the moment you realized the surroundings suddenly grew familiar. The Lamborghini was already in your neighborhood. Finding a space to his luck, he finally parked. Before unbuckling the seatbelt, you savored the moment. Turning to him, you looked at him for a few seconds. Noticing your stare, his eyebrows were raised:

“Are you by chance, doing your job?” He asked teasingly, looking your way, “Being observant?”   Taking a whiff of his cologne was unintentional, yet necessary.

“No…” You answered, shaking your head, “Just…taking one last look at you. Just...imprinting the image in my memory, as you might call it…” you chuckled, moving your hands over your head, “I’m sorry but…It’s very rare for people like me to even meet Bruce Wayne in person.” You added, “And it’s highly unlikely that I will ever see you again”.

Opening his mouth, Bruce produced no sound. And just like that, he quickly closed it. You smiled, lightly bowing your head with respect. Why you did it, you did not know.

“Thank You, Mr.Wayne…” you began, “...for everything” you added, showing your hand.

The very moment you got out of the car, and walked around to reach the pavement, a pang of unhappiness came over you. A sense of chill suddenly pushed the sense of warmth away. You did not know why exactly.

But you froze, as Bruce Wayne suddenly called out your name with formality. Turning back to face him, you were more than eager: “Yes?” With the window fully open, he put his head out to take another look at you. Possibly a few years older than you, he certainly was handsome with the morning light shining over him, you realized. “Never underestimate the power of probability…” He said. You folded your arms, suppressing a smile. “You’ll have to be more specific” you replied. He smiled back softly. “We will see each other again…” He said, with confidence. Your arms loosened upon hearing it, and that swell of unhappiness, that chill suddenly disappeared into thin air. Leaving enough room for the warmth to creep back in. This time, the warmth was strong enough to glaze your heart.

Still smiling, Bruce gave a small wave. “You take care now” he said, to which you nodded. “I will…Thank You” You said, watching the Lamborghini slowly take off. Your eyes followed it until the sight of it grew small to the size of a pea. Moving your head, you quickly spotted the figure of Allison walking down the street towards you, with a dropped jaw. Relieved to see her without any hangover, you smiled at her.   “Was that Bruce Wayne?” Allison asked, pointing at the now non-visible car, “THE BRUCE WAYNE?” She squealed. “Yep…” “Damn! He looks good.” She said deliciously, only to gasp soon after, “Wait! Did he bail you out?” Her face grew concerned seeing your nod, “Oh sweetie…You know I would have bailed you If I had money…I know you’re probably mad at me right now but-”

Where her rambling apology went, you did not know, and did not care. For you were too deep in your own thoughts. That warmth which glazed your heart. You have only felt it a few times before. Recalling the times, was when you finally realized the unthinkable.

“Fuck!” You breathed. Allison looked at you with shock, “Excuse me?” “FUCK!” Exclaiming louder, you groaned out with frustration. With your buttocks finally resting on the front steps of your apartment building, you groaned louder. “Shhhhhh!“ Your outright cursing had attracted the attention of a displeased nun, as she passed you by. “I’m sorry...” Your apology to her was muffled, through your hands over your face. The roommate sat next to you with a worried look. She smelled of perfume and cigarettes.

“Sweetie…” she began, "You gotta tell me what’s going on! You’re freakin’ me out!” She said in a low tone, yet her concern was evident.

“I’m not...” you paused, taking your hands away, “I’m not mad at you…” you said calmly, looking forward “...if that’s what you’re worried about…” You added, “It’s just that…” you sighed, “I’m pretty sure I may have to quit my job…”

Eyes widening, Allison clutched her chest dramatically. “WHAT? But WHY?” “Because....” linking your hands together, you exhaled deeply before turning to her: “I think… I like Bruce Wayne...”

——————————————————

Is your curiousity stirred? Chapter 2 HERE

Tagged: @tealaquinn @ladyerina @kittenlittle24 @1-800-epiphany

Lemme know if you wanna get tagged.

Check My MASTERLIST for More :)

#Christian Bale #bale! bruce wayne #bruce wayne #batman #batman begins #batman imagines #The Dark Knight #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight rises #Batman trilogy #christian bale characters #bruce wayne x reader #bale! bruce wayne x reader #fluff #angst #newsies #jack kelly

311 notes · View notes

doiedreams · 3 years

Note

helloo!! how are you? school has been tiring. btw I love your blurbs! can I request a fic where chenle and the reader is an idol and they meet at a awards show? you can decide on how their relationship happens!! hope everything is going well for you 💚

Hi love ♡ Thank you so much for the request! I could be better, thank you for asking :) You’re right, school is so draining but you’ve got this!! Thanksgiving break is coming super soon, so let's hope for a good break when it comes! Anon, you're so sweet I'm so so so glad you like my blurbs. That makes my heart so warm ♡ In regards to your request, I mainly focused on the meeting more than the relationship itself... I’m sorry about that :( I really hope you enjoy it 🤍✨💖

- Kay 𖠌

you unexpectedly meet idol!Chenle in the empty dressing room after an awards show. Thinking about the idol life you live, you both realize there’s a lot to reflect on. (fem idol!reader)

◈⇢ fluff ద, requested r, idol!au

◈⇢ 1.2k words

◈⇢ warnings: none

◈⇢ pt.1, pt.2 (coming soon)

reflection • z.cl

A long night of performances, awards, and applause leave your feet in discomfort and your energy drained completely. All you can think of is going to bed, but you know the night is far from over as your group will probably be celebrating your wins ’til the morning.

You wait for the rest of your group members to get ready to leave for the company building where you're sure to have some sort of afterparty. In the meantime, you recall the several performances that left you amazed that night, one of which being a performance by NCT Dream. Something about their charisma, talent, and energy had a lasting effect on you.

“Ah, I must have left my bag in the dressing room,” one of your members mutter next to you.

You were surrounded by staff members and managers ready to send you off, but you decided to help her out and quickly retrieve the bag yourself.

“I got it,” you tell her.

You turn back towards the venue to bring her bag back from the dressing room.

After a while, you realize you aren't very familiar with the place and find yourself confused.

Which door did we come through? Which hallway looks familiar?

You end up in a very familiar-looking hall and take a mental note of how many doors you pass.

5th door down? Can't remember.

Opening the door, instead of the empty room you had been in when you were getting ready for the show, you see Zhong Chenle sitting at a mirror looking at your reflection behind his.

“Oh-”

“Uh...”

You clasp your hand over your mouth realizing you'd made a mistake. This isn't the dressing room you were in earlier.

“I’m sorry! I think I’m in the wrong room.” you begin.

Chenle gets up from the chair and turns toward you.

“No! I'm sorry, I was looking for the closest mirror and I figured it'd be in a dressing room and this was the closest one so I just came in here...” he trails off realizing that a simple ’it's my bad’ would suffice.

You mouth an “Oh...” after hearing his explanation and continue to stand there awkwardly thinking of what else you should say. Chenle remains in his place, wide-eyed, lost in your beautiful image. Seeing you in your stunning outfit made him weak in the knees.

He’s heard of you before. It’s hard not to when you're such a well-known idol. He's seen many of your performances even before tonight. Although you’ve never exchanged words before, he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought of sparking a conversation with you.

You clear your throat and glance down at your heels, beginning to feel uncomfortable under his gaze as you don't know why he’s staring at you. You assume the worst and begin adjusting your dress.

He notices you tugging at the collar of your dress, seemingly uncomfortable, and snaps out of his trance.

“Oh I’m sorry, I- I should leave.” He starts towards the door.

“No! Please, it's okay. I just need to grab something and go. I’ll be out in no time.”

You spot the dazzling purse from across the room and retrieve it before getting ready to leave the room. You stop at the door and tilt your head up realizing how you'd just ignored him.

“I’m sorry. I should've said this as soon as I saw you, ” you say as you turn back toward him. “You performed so well tonight. Congratulations on the awards.”

He beams at your commendation, feeling especially accomplished having his hard work admired by someone like you.

“Wow, thank you so much,” he replies.

“You’re welcome! I would say the same to the rest of your group but...”

“Oh, right. They're getting ready to leave. I should be too, but I needed to collect my thoughts.”

You think back to what he was doing when you first entered the room and become curious about why he was here alone.

“If you don't mind me asking, what were you doing here by yourself?”

Chenle rubs the back of his neck.

“Well...” He makes his way back to the mirror as you help yourself to a seat next to him. “Sometimes, I need to take a step back and think about what got me here.” he says, staring at his image in the mirror.

You understand what he's saying. Things like this - winning awards and national recognition for simply doing what you love to do - make you reflect on how your life has changed. How much of this do you deserve? How much more can you get from it? It leaves a lot of room for thought.

Still clutching onto the purse, you nod at his words and Chenle continues.

“I’m grateful for all of it. I really am. But I never want any of this to get to my head. I need a reality check every once in a while.”

“Mhm, I get that,” you agree. “It’s still a lot to take in. I like to think about the days when I’d sing into my plastic microphone alone in my room.”

He giggled at the thought and says, “Oh, you did that too?”

You both laugh at the memories of your childhood that led you to where you are today. You find it so intriguing how it can be so easy to lose sight of who you once were because you’re so focused on who you want to become. It's also intriguing how Chenle refuses to lose himself to the present and instead chooses to keep himself grounded in reality. It's admirable. It makes you want to hear more about him.

You begin to engage in a conversation you never thought you'd be able to have with somebody else. Everything you speak of, you assumed no one would understand. You've clearly been proven wrong as Chenle makes you feel less alone in your thoughts and feelings.

In an empty room with nothing but a couple racks of disarrayed stage outfits and dirty mirrors, it feels as if you're sharing your secrets with a stranger who somehow knows everything about you.

As you both dive deeper into the thoughts you share, reminiscing on the past and dreaming about the future, you begin to draw closer to each other in a way you could have never imagined, losing track of time completely.

Chenle stares at the mesmerizing glimmer in your eyes that shines bright when you talk about your passion, your aspirations, your hopes and dreams. He finds himself captivated by it. He’d listen to you talk all day if he could.

When you start talking about talents, you think long and hard about Chenle’s. He’s so talented in countless ways. Everyone knows it. And it's not just him. You shared the talents that he had. It's what drew you both to this career.

The way idols like you and Chenle tell stories through music and movement is enthralling. Good stories, bad stories, stories with happy endings, stories with sorrowful truths- they’re all worth telling. You couldn’t have imagined that sitting in the empty dressing room talking to Chenle about this passion of storytelling would turn out to be the very beginning of your story with him.

a/n: I tried my best. idol!aus are my weakness. i suck at this. goodnight I’m malfunctioning ily jdhdhsn. tysm for reading <3

Not proofread

65 notes · View notes

hello-im-not-a-possum · 3 years

Note

Can we get a fic of Everyone's first reaction to snowflake?

“Everyone was used to supernatural bullshit and as the toons already existed for several years now, they already knew that the Ink could create life. So while there was a bit of shock for some at the thought of the Janitor being the new father of a toon of his own, they mostly congratulated Wally on his new son and/or gave him parenting advice.”

...Sorry, this feels like a cop out, so we just gotta throw a child into a different dimension for kicks and giggles and character development.

Knowing the magic user's history with this kind of thing, Snowflake couldn't help but feel nervous when he saw Joey painting a large circle on the wall and intricate symbols within the said circle.

"G-grandpa Joey, what are you doing?"

"Opening a portal to a different dimension." The animator replied nonchalantly. "An important key ingredient for several reversal spells no longer seems to exist in this one, so I'm getting more from the closest one that has a lot of it before the Ink starts acting up again."

"Oh?" The little devil looked intrigued, the last time a visitor from another dimension came to their own, he was strange, but friendly! And wondered what the rest of that dimension, or other ones like it were like. "Can I come? I-I'll be good I promise!"

"Well..." Joey brushed his mustache in thought as the portal started to open. "Other dimensions can be quite unpredictable, especially ones where magic is much more secretive than it is in our own, I don't think the studio on the other side even has living toons yet!" The animator fidgeted with his collar. "And given the track record other Joeys have with their own studios and magic, I don't think it's smart for me to take you..."

"Pleeeeeaaaaasse!" the imp begged. "I promise that I'll stay close and not run off! ...unless it's an emergency."

"Hmm..."

The magic user narrowed his eyebrows and continued to stroke his mustache as he thought about the potential consequences for bringing Snowflake along. The thought of a distraught Wally discovering that he had taken his son somewhere dangerous and the kid got hurt as a result had made the man immune to the imp's otherwise irresistible puppy eyes, but the Ink behind the imp slowly rising from a puddle to a featureless figure that was making threatening gestures made him quickly realize that the consequences for NOT bringing Snowflake along might be even worse than taking him.

"Okay."

"Yay!" the little devil cheered, taking Joey by the hand and pulling him through the portal. "C'mon! Let's go see what other dad's like!"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," the old man gave a sharp tug on the speckled imp as he tried to run off and knelt down to be closer to his eye level. "This is *just* a last-resort errand run, nothing more, nothing less. Now that we're here, we are going to find the ingredient, get it and get out. Ideally, we won't even come across our alternate selves, let alone speak to them!"

"Why?"

Joey looked around nervously before bringing his voice down to a whisper and gestured for Snowflake to do the same.

"Because of the butterfly effect we'll bring here! How do you think the Wally on this side will react when you tell him you're his son from a different dimension when where he's from, magic is genuinely not real for him?"

"...He'll freak out?"

"Yes! Not only will he freak out but he'll probably tell everyone he knows! Including this world's Joey, who judging by his nickname; "That shi- shoot heel puppeteer", is the last person who needs to know about magic, let alone how to use it..."

"Oh. Yeah, that doesn't sound good..." the imp agreed as he suddenly regretted his decision. "Do you think it's too late to throw me back-"

The pair gazed at the now blank spot on the wall where they came from.

"...Unfortunately yes, so stay close and put on a disguise."

"I-I didn't bring one..." the imp sheepishly responded. "...Sorry, I got too caught up in the excitement."

Joey sighed deeply as he took off his glasses and sweater vest, putting them on the kid toon instead.

"It's not the best, but it'll do for now as long as we don't stick around long enough for them to see past it, so let's hurry out of here!"

Snowflake nodded and guided Joey as he tried to navigate the similar-yet different studio. (The man did not wear glasses for the sake of aesthetic.)

The layout seemed similar enough, but there were less pipes running through the building, the colors were duller, the stale smell of tobacco, old coffee, sweat, and a coppery-earthy scent that reminded Joey of blood but wasn't quite similar enough for him to call it that lingered in every single room they entered, the employees that they passed might as well have been reanimated corpses with how drained of energy they looked, all of them didn't even so much as acknowledge the pair's presence.

That was, until, an unfamiliar-looking yet familiar sounding janitor took notice. The man didn't look like Snowflake's dad, he was a lanky fellow and wore the same hat that his own father wore to work, but the similarities in appearance stopped right there. This world's Wally had shaggy, dark brown hair, eyes so dark that they looked black, a crooked nose, and when he smiled at them, Snowflake could clearly see that the man was missing a tooth.

"Hey, how'd you two get in 'ere?"

Joey cursed under his breath before answering the other Wally.

"Well, I was just-"

The dimension-traveling duo suddenly felt dozens of angry eyes on them, which had melted into confusion and mild intriguement as they realized that the man who spoke looked more like a kindly grandpa with an odd-looking Bendy doll with him instead of their sleazy boss. The pair of outsiders were afraid they fucked everything up before to the relief of the pair and the horror to everybody else, they heard the voice of Sammy in the other room shouting "God dammit Joey! I told you time and time again to stay out of the music department!" followed by the revving of a chainsaw.

The animator was quick to realize his mistake as he cleared his throat and did his best 'sounds like a normal voice but isn't MY normal voice' voice.

"-I was just looking for a herbal shop nearby but got turned around. If one of you fine folks could give my grandson and I directions, we'll happily get out of your hair."

Wally frowned in confusion as he looked at the very obviously not-human creature who smiled meekly at him and waved. He shrugged off the mild weirdness as he remembered that he did know where an herbal shop was.

"Dat's all? No problem! Herbal shop's right next to a really good burgah joint, has a statue of a knight wranglin' a unicorn right outside da place, ya can't miss it, an' by extension, ya can't miss da herbal shop eithah."

"Why thank you, you're too kind..."

"Oh and uh, Sorry if da musicians 'ere freaked ya out." The janitor adjusted his hat, it now covered the man's eyes. "Our music director recently got re-hirahed but nobody's willin' ta forgive da boss ova what he put him through, not dat I blame 'em, I get jitteahs every time I think about it happenin' ta me too!"

Joey nodded sympathetically as he reached for his companion's hand and internally panicked as he couldn't find it.

---

Snowflake ran off, the eyes on his back and by proxy, the pressure of knowing that the fate of this world and his own was on his back was far too intense. In his mad rush, he had only made his situation worse with everywhere he ran as he had lost Joey's glasses on accident, which was a vital part of the disguise.

"Holy sheit! is that a bloody livin' toy?!"

"What in the goddamn... Bertrum! Come look! You gotta see this!"

"My word! What has Drew done?"

"Okay, this time I'm finally going to quit for real! I swear, these hallucinations are just getting worse every time I come into work!"

"It... it worked! Tom, look!"

"Or at least, this one looks better than the first model- Hey! Get back here!"

It was terrifying thinking about how these alternate versions of the people he knew and grew to love, ones who shared their voices and careers, but not appearances, memories, and experiences could very well be his enemies. Most chilling of all, he heard Joey's voice in the crowd.

"Well done Tommy! At least this one looked halfway presentable!"

He shuddered at the thought of that Joey getting his hands on him. He didn't even know where he ran off to, only that he had to escape from them, he then squeezed himself into a small crack in the wall, an easy feat for a boneless ink creature, not so much for anything else.

His heart pounded loudly against his chest, the little imp tried to hush it, and prayed that the noise wouldn’t give him away he just needed to calm down. But his prayers went unanswered as the 'click-clack' of a pair of high heels passed by, and a woman crouched down, possibly hearing him.

“Now how on earth did you manage to wedge yourself in there, little guy?”

He recognized that voice all right, he scooched deeper into his hiding spot, hoping she’d leave him alone. The woman, the Susie Campbell of this world judging by her voice, might’ve looked at him with concern, but something about her just felt… wrong to him. He knew of alternate realities, good ones, bad ones, and downright weird ones, but this one felt uncanny to him and he just wanted to go home, it wasn't outright worse than most dimensions, but it seemed so bleak and miserable.

Hopefully he was wrong, but as of right now, it felt like this was a world that wouldn't even so much as bat an eye at its own destruction.

"I-I shouldn't have asked in the f-first place..." he muttered to himself. "I s-should've j-just left Joey to do his errand and s-stayed out of it..."

"Hey," the woman gently knocked on the wall, all the imp could see of her was her face, a face that looked mostly normal except for her left eye, which looked glassy and didn't look at him like her right eye did. "Are you okay in there?"

Snowflake stayed quiet.

"Oh no..." the woman muttered to herself. "Don't panic, I'll go get help!"

She said as she left, but her words didn't make the little guy feel any better.

He slowly crawled out of his hiding spot, ready to hunt down another one while fighting off the guilt that came with making the other Susie worry about him, while her eye was weird, she seemed just as nice as the one from his own dimension.

What seemed less nice however, was the sudden cold, yet firm grip on his shoulder.

"You know, it's very rude ta ignore folks who's just tryin' ta help you."

"Eep!"

The imp spun around to face a man with a familiar voice, he was a tall, dark-skinned, older man with an eye patch on his right eye, had a thin frame, and attire that vaguely reminded Snowflake of a comic about a western vampire hunter that Buddy showed him.

"Awfully jumpy, aren't ya, kiddo?" Norman chuckled as he knelt down to his eye level. "I get that a lot from people. But in all seriousness, we can't just have yous wanderin' around wherever you please, this here studio's a dang deathtrap, even on the best of days."

"S-sorry Norman..." Snowflake adjusted Joey's sweater vest as a realization dawned on him: judging by the studio workers' lack of a surprised reaction to him, this world might be more magical than his own world's Joey assumed. "Hey, wait a minute, are toons real h-here too? Can I find Bendy, Alice and Boris around here?"

Norman raised an eyebrow in confusion, but thankfully for the imp's sake, he stayed calm.

"Mr. Drew's tryin' but he ain't got a dang thing ta show for it. Although, I'm kinda hoping he can't, it doesn't sit too right with me. Just call it a gut feelin', but I don't trust that anythin' good will come from him messing with things like that."

"Y-yeah..." Snowflake nodded. "I've been here for less than f-fifteen minutes and I think I can see exactly what you mean. This place's Joey seems so much worse than my Joey."

"Sorry ta hear that little guy..." Norman knelt down to the little demon. "So, would ya mind ta tell me about this 'other Joey?"

"Oh, sure thing!"

---

True to her word, when Susie returned, she brought over three people; Wally, Joey who was now wearing his slightly broken glasses (Who Snowflake was relieved to see), and a shirtless, long-haired man with a chainsaw in his hands.

He was tall and broad, had dark brown hair and tan skin, his eyes were a stormy gray, and they were sharp with a steadfast determination that made Snowflake feel nervous, the little imp felt like there was something deeply terrifying about this man, and not just because he was currently carrying a dangerous weapon. Although, he couldn't deny that he felt a sense of familiarity with this man that he had not felt with the others in this dimension.

Snowflake felt like he's met this man before.

"Alright, and he should be right here..." The voice actress trailed off as she saw the timid devil shyly wave at her, very much freed from his wall prison and seemed to be chatting with her favorite projectionist. "Oh! Hi Norman! Thanks for getting him out for us and keeping him company!"

"It was no problem, the kid wasn't half bad company."

"Ya know kid, we're glad ta see ya okay, but your grandpops and I was lookin' everywhere for you! Not gonna lie, ya gave us both a scare when ya ran off alone like dat."

"The fuck is that thing?"

"Sammy!" The woman elbowed the shirtless man in the ribs. "Be nice!"

"Alright..." The man rolled his eyes and gave a forced smile that showed off black gums and yellowish-grayish teeth that creeped Snowflake out (the smile itself, not the man's gums or teeth, judging by his smell, he was an avid smoker and it was at least normal for him to have a mouth like that, the smile however... he doesn't think a man's smile should be that wide.). As he lifted the little devil up by the shirt like a scruffed kitten, he presented him to Joey. "Now then, is this your lost little lamb?"

"Yes." Joey reached for the imp. "Please don't hold him like that."

"Nearest exit is down the hall, take a right turn when you reach the giant broken pipe that's leaking everywhere and hasn't been touched for at least a week." The man gestured fluidly as he still held up that creepy smile. "As... lovely as it was for you two to visit us and our little studio, we really should be getting back to work before Joey decides to fire and blacklist everyone in this room for loitering or something."

"Uh... thanks?" Joey suddenly snapped upright. "Wait, how are you all so calm about this?! All of you are barely even reacting over a living cartoon character right there!"

"Speaking of which do you know who doesn't need to know about that? Our boss. You claim you're not here for a meet and greet and I don't think this should turn into one. You got the information you came here for, now get what you needed from here and get out."

"Wow, you're a rather blunt fellow, aren't you?"

"You could say so."

"W-well, I-it was scary, but it was also nice meeting all of you! Maybe we should visit again later so we can know each other better!"

"Oooh! I'll look forward to it!" Susie smiled warmly. "Good luck with your ingredient hunt, boys!"

Sammy started to shove the pair down the hall as he felt they wouldn't leave otherwise.

"Yeah, yeah, goodbye and all that, see you soon, I won't forget to write... Have yourselves some happy travels! Goodbye again."

The musician led them out of the building and dusted off his hands as he returned to the others who did not look happy with him.

"That was very rude, Lawrence..." Susie scolded. "They just wanted our help!"

Wally shook his head but didn't add anything.

"And we gave it!” He hissed. “Do you really think it would be safe for them to stay and talk with the shitheel around? Especially after what he just did to us?! Do you want HIM to know that there's a different version of him who got everything he's wanted and more? What do you think he'll do to them when he finds them? Do you want to find out?"

Susie's face scrunched up in realization as the other two men uncomfortably shuffled in their spots.

"I thought so..."

"...Think they'll come back?" Norman piped up. "I kinda wanted to talk with that other Joey."

The musician shrugged.

"Do ya at least think we'll find a way ta get ta 'em ourselves?"

"Maybe? If they would a way here, I wouldn't be surprised if we could get there."

"Wanna look for a way there? Ya gotta admit you're curious what the other us are like too!"

"Hmm... Well, maybe after hours."

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #Hell's Studio AU #joey drew #snowflake the demon #wally franks #norman polk #susie campbell #sammy lawrence #fanfic

8 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 3 years

Text

Good Omens - “An Enchanted Gift” (Rated NC17)

Summary: Anathema gives Aziraphale and Crowley a special gift - a homemade bottle of a holiday drink with some very peculiar side effects. (2299 words)

Notes: Written for the wonderful @theantichristmaszine :) Warning for sexual content.

Read on AO3.

Crowley’s flat is positively a picture, fit for printing on a Christmas card.

Fire roaring on the hearth.

Garland and tinsel draped over anything that doesn’t move.

Fairy lights brightening the dark corners, wound around the rubber tree and the Chinese Evergreen, weeding through the leaves of the dieffenbachia.

A host of red velvet, gold taffeta, and white satin ribbon hanging from the ceiling till no white marble can be seen.

And at the center of it all, a tree - an honest-to-Satan floor-to-ceiling pine that Crowley had tromped into the forest and tore out of the ground himself with his own two hands. An ax would have been simpler. Heck, he could have snapped the thing back to his flat, trimmed and mounted, ready for decorating. But his method seemed so much more festive considering he’d been bellowing holiday carols the entire time.

He let angel take the lead decorating. Aziraphale had a merry time covering the thing in frosted globes, glass candy canes (since the real ones didn’t last long enough to hang), gingerbread men (only slightly nibbled), reindeer, clove oranges, crocheted white-lace snowflakes, and other ornaments of the like, purchased from artisans all around London.

Crowley had gone so far as to include a manger scene for the benefit of his angel-in-residence. However, instead of hanging the Archangel Gabriel using the provided hook, he hung him over the birthplace of the Lord by a noose. Aziraphale giggled when he saw it but recommended fixing it - to ward off bad karma or something along those lines. Not wanting to sully his spirits listening to a lecture about tempting fate (which is all Crowley does), Crowley remedied it.

He replaced Gabriel with a vintage Troll doll key chain Pepper accidentally forgot at Aziraphale’s bookshop.

“There! Top notch replacement, if I do say so meself! Looks just like ‘im!” Crowley declared, gesturing to the absurd trinket with its vibrant purple hair.

“And which part, might I ask, looks just like him?” Aziraphale had asked.

“The head! It’s huge!”

Demons aren’t much for celebrating. But this year, with everything Crowley had to be grateful for, he honestly couldn’t help himself. At its root, Christmas is about love.

Family.

Birth.

A chance to shed the skin of past sins and start anew.

This year, Crowley couldn’t see letting Christmas pass unacknowledged.

“You know, I may not be a connoisseur of holiday shindigs,” Crowley says, leaning back on the floor and gazing up at the spectacle that is their cheerfully burdened tree, “but I would say tonight has come pretty close to perfect. Wouldn’t you?” He rolls onto his hip, beaming at Aziraphale seated not too far from him, a loopy grin nudging his mouth up at the corners.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale lifts his bottle of Burgundy, prepared to propose a toast. It comes up off the floor far too quickly, an indicator the thing has been drained dry.

“Looks like we finished that one.” Crowley looks left and right in search of another, but doesn’t see one. “Augh! Don’t tell me we went through them all! I’m sure I had another three at least!”

“Don’t fret, my dear,” Aziraphale says. “I may have just the thing.” He crawls over to the tree on hands and knees and rummages underneath. A second later he crawls back out, accompanied by a rustic-looking green glass bottle and a triumphant little, ‘A-ha!’ “This comes courtesy of dear, sweet Anathema.” He presents the bottle to his demon for approval. “She said she made it with love.”

“Really?” Crowley snorts while Aziraphale uncorks the bottle. “And what ingredient is that then? Wolfsbane? Mandrake root?”

“Honey, I think.” Aziraphale gives the mouth of the bottle a sniff. “Maybe blackberries?”

“The important question is - is it alcohol?”

Aziraphale brings the bottle to his lips and knocks back a gulp, coughing at the finish. “That it is.”

“Give it here then. I’d like to partake of some love, too.” Crowley indulges, tilting his head back and taking a huge swig. He smacks his tongue, then licks his lips, shivering when a wave of heat enters his bloodstream and works its way down his spine. “Wow. That’s tasty.”

“Isn’t it? If being a witch doesn’t work out for her, she should definitely take up a career distilling.”

“Love, you say?” Crowley peers into the bottle, pondering the ingredients as the drink settles onto his taste buds. “Do you think that’s something she orders by the pound, or gathers under the full moon?”

“To be honest, I have no idea---oof!” Aziraphale sways, planting a hand flat on the floor and locking his elbow to keep from toppling over.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley snickers. “Having a bit of trouble holding your drink?” His forehead wrinkles with concern when Aziraphale doesn’t recover right away. “That’s not normally like you---”

Crowley’s teasing cuts off when Aziraphale’s mouth crashes into his - hot, demanding, tasting of mulling spices, apples, sour plum, and brandy. It takes Crowley a moment to realize Aziraphale is kissing him.

Then another for him to start kissing back.

This isn’t just any kiss. It’s the kiss he’s been longing for. The kiss he’d feel on his lips every time Aziraphale looked his way and smiled. It’s the kiss he thought about the century he slept. And even though there have been many kisses between them, Crowley ranks this as the first.

Because it’s the kiss of dreams.

Aziraphale inhales sharply and backs away. “Oh! Oh, I’m sorry, my dear! I don’t know what came over me!”

Crowley looks him over curiously, waiting for an explanation, but Aziraphale doesn’t seem to have one. Aziraphale loves kissing, but he doesn’t go about it this way - doesn’t rush in, doesn’t take what he hasn’t asked for. “Turn about’s fair play, I’d wager.”

“What do you …?”

Without another word, Crowley sneaks a hand behind Aziraphale’s head and kisses him back.

Another kiss follows. Then another. With each one, the room becomes inhospitable - too warm, too stuffy, too difficult to stay in wearing all their blasted clothes! Aziraphale tries to relieve the pressure at his neck, but he can’t seem to manage his buttons, so Crowley helps him undo those. Likewise Crowley’s zipper becomes uncooperative, so Aziraphale tasks himself with unzipping it. Article by article they tear through until the two become too frustrated to care about the inevitable paperwork and snap off the rest.

Crowley kneels behind his angel, completely naked, kissing every spot he can get his lips on. And God, how it tingles! No. How it burns - each touch of his lips to Aziraphale’s flesh sending surges of razor sharp and magma hot straight from Crowley’s mouth to his groin.

And he wants more.

He wants it everywhere.

He wants it scalding his throat, searing his lungs, consuming him from the inside out. Let it dissolve him into ashes that blow away on the wind, let him die in an orgasm of violence and fire and angelic light.

As long as it comes with Aziraphale.

What a way to go.

“I have to have you, angel,” he moans. “Now. Right now.”

“Are you … are you sure? We’ve always said that we wouldn’t allow alcohol to make us amorous.”

“I don’t feel drunk. Do you?”

Aziraphale focuses inward, taking stock of his corporation. “No,” he says, surprised considering the bottles of wine they’d polished off before they started in on Anathema’s gift. “I don’t. Not at all.” Aziraphale locates an empty bottle and concentrates, tries to push the alcohol of the night from his system, but nothing appears. Not a single drop. “Far from it, it would seem.”

“That’s right. We’re not drunk. We’re completely in our right minds.”

“I wouldn’t say …”

“I want this, angel!” Crowley pleads with a sense of urgency. “Don’t you?”

“Yes, I do. More than ever,” Aziraphale admits.

“What do you want me to do?” Crowley whispers, voice husky with a lust he has inspired in others but has never once felt himself. “Tell me.”

“Make love to me?”

“How?”

Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, grinning at his demon chomping at the bit. “You seem to be in the perfect position. I suggest you start there.”

Aziraphale expects Crowley to mock his snark, but he doesn’t, diving immediately back into the task of kissing across Aziraphale’s shoulders, lingering over the joint where his wings would connect if he let them out. Crowley swirls over it with his tongue, painting overlapping circles, and Aziraphale sees stars. They’ve made love in this position before, and Crowley has kissed every inch of his back, but he’s never spent so much time on this particular area.

The decadence of this sensation should be criminal.

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s hands on his body everywhere at once - massaging his muscles, fondling his cock, scissoring him open. Could Crowley be using magic to pleasure him? That’s not something they’ve ever done before due to the implications of Hell finding out. But seeing as Hell is no longer a concern, that puts every card at their disposal.

And thank God because this they need to do again!

“Aziraphale,” Crowley utters as he enters him, his angel’s name like sugar in his bitter mouth, and fuck!

There it is.

When he enters him completely.

The fire.

Inside his angel.

And Crowley has become its fuel.

“Oh, Crowley …” Aziraphale shifts his weight onto his palms and leans forward, raising his rear in the air. “Oh, yes. Just like that, my dear …”

“Like this, angel?” Crowley pulls back, then thrusts hard - harder than he would normally, sending Aziraphale swiftly to the verge. With Aziraphale’s grunts of ecstasy mirroring the rhythm of Crowley’s hips, Crowley knows that regardless of anything, this he cannot stop.

It would be unforgivable.

“Yes!” Aziraphale whimpers, bracing against the marble floor with knuckles white. “Yes! Crowley, yes!”

“Yes …” Crowley echoes beneath his breath, a lightness settling inside his mind, siphoning his ability to think. He’s done too much thinking already. Now is not the time for thinking. Now is the time for serving. The time for feeling. And what he feels is soft beneath his hands, tight around his cock, a quest for satisfaction, for completion, wrapped in a braided rope of love, love, and more love. So much love it fills his flat from corner to ceiling, leaves its mark on the walls and on the doors.

And on the marble beneath them when Aziraphale, spiraling out of control, comes unannounced on Crowley’s living room floor.

“Oh,” he squeaks with embarrassment though he knows Crowley would say he shouldn’t be. “I apologize, my love, but I seem to have sullied your floor.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Crowley says, snapping his fingers and cleaning the mess as he shudders through his own orgasm, which had snuck up inside him and granted him release less like an accomplishment and more like a reward for what he had done for his angel.

“Well,” Aziraphale manages even though he’s breathless, which isn’t a bother for him. “That was … interesting.”

“Just interesting?”

Aziraphale blushes. “More than interesting. But I would hate to think that was all because of the drink.”

“I wouldn’t say it was. I think the brew just sort of lowered out inhibitions. Enhanced the experience.”

“Do you think that was meant to happen? I find it difficult to believe that Anathema of all people gave us some sort of love potion as a Christmas present.”

“Not sure. Could be a side-effect of being witch made. Probably affects us more because we’re occult.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue Crowley’s word usage. “Or … what if it’s something worse?”

“Worse?” Crowley arches an eyebrow. “What worse?”

“What if it did what it was meant to, but it was supposed to be a present for her young gentleman?”

“Ugh! Aziraphale! Don’t!” Crowley groans, wrapping his arms around his angel and holding him tight. “You’re going to put me off!”

“Sorry,” Aziraphale chuckles, hugging Crowley’s arms about his waist. Locked in the cozy cocoon of Crowley’s embrace, a thought pricks Aziraphale’s brain.

There is a secret third possibility.

A week or two ago, Aziraphale went to Tracy Shadwell’s place for tea and rum cake. While he was there, he’d confided in both Tracy and Anathema that as much as he loved his sex life with his husband, physical intimacy had become somewhat of a chore. Not because he didn’t love it, which he did, but because Crowley seemed stuck on every love making session between them being more romantic than the last. First came the champagne, then the candlelight (so much candlelight …), massages with complicated names, and, as of late, dramatic musical choices. It’s nice, the care Crowley puts into being his lover, but it also puts a tremendous amount of pressure on Aziraphale to keep up appearances.

Makes the whole ordeal feel like a performance.

Some nights, by the time they get to the good stuff, Aziraphale is ready to hit the hay. Seeing as he despises sleep, that’s awfully telling.

Aziraphale has come to the conclusion that, often times, he’s just … how did the youths say it … down to fuck.

So this drink may have done exactly what it was meant to, and he and Crowley may have rightfully been its intended targets.

But Aziraphale isn’t about to tell Crowley that.

“What should we do now? Should we lock it away or …?”

“Seems to me there’s only one thing we can do …” Crowley looks the bottle over, gauging the level of the liquid still inside. He grins, the firelight flickering in his eyes, making him look more wicked than Aziraphale has seen him in decades.

And he takes a hefty swallow.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

23 notes · View notes

unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

Of Promises and Sands of Time

I don’t know who you are, anon. Or the brass you have to request this. But I’m calling you; what the hell? Gabriel Agreste; do you live to torture me? I debated doing this prompt for a weeks; kept staring at it in my asks. Mocking me; questioning if I have what it takes to pull this off. And you what? Probably not! But I tried anyway. Some of you who are friends of THE FLASH will recognize some of the dialogue below. It’s my favorite scene of the Flash in the history of the show, and I thought it fit well here. To my readers, please understand I never, EVER, set out to do a redemption!fic for anyone. It just happens. I don’t think I redeemed Gabriel here, but I think I made him a bit human.

“You promised,” The voice hissed in his ear. “You promised!”

Gabriel sat at his desk, in home office, alone, twirling a glass of whiskey; trying to ignore the voice he’s never been able to escape.

It had been a long day. Ladybug had dismantled his Akuma in record time. Adrien was more rebellious than usual. He had been in back to back meetings for a week; with barely a break in between. Gabriel was tired. He was done for the day.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him what he already knew. He was a monster.

So what? He already knew that.

Gabriel Agreste was a monster. He knew he was a monster. He set out to be a monster. There was no denying it, and he never tried to.

When it was done and over with, and Emilie was back to the world of the living; Gabriel would be the first to say there was never an excuse good enough for what he did. He knew the world agree. But he didn’t care about the world. He cared about his family; his son and his wife.

Still, he knew his son would never forgive him if he found out. He knew his wife would never forgive him if he ever succeeded in waking her up. In fact, he had divorce papers ready to go for that exact reason; not the ones his lawyers thought were for given the rumors of Emilie walking out on him.

He hoped. He prayed. He wished. Every minute of every day to have his family whole again. That he, Emilie, and Adrien would be a family again. It was the second thing he wanted more than anything else in the universe. The first was just Emilie back.

Emilie had been his best friend before she had become the love of his life. Without her, there would’ve never been a Gabriel Agreste. Or his fashion empire. She helped make him who he was. Since they were children, Gabriel knew that even if they didn’t end up together; never got fell in love and got married, Emilie would still be the other half of his soul.

Gabriel couldn’t live in a world that she wasn’t in. He just knew he could just barely manage to live in a world where they weren’t together.

Because there was no coming back from what he’s done. Or rather what he didn’t do. And Emilie would never forgive him for it.

Every time he looked at the shell of his wife, saw his son’s bright green eyes, every time he adorned the mask of Hawkmoth, every time he was alone with his thoughts just long enough; it was like Emilie’s ghost was standing right next to him. Giving him the look she always she always did when Gabriel went too far; crossed one line to many.

It was a look of disappointment, betrayal, hurt, anger, and sadness. Sadness was the worst. It was like he could see Emilie’s heartbreaking in front of him.

“You promised.” The phantom would whisper every time. “You promised me that you would be there for Adrien.”

He had promised. When Emilie had slowly started to get sicker and weaker due the effects of the broken Miraculous, she had made him promised to be there for Adrien; be a good father to him, love him, remind him every day that he is loved. Never, ever let Adrien feel for even once second that he wasn’t loved.

Like their parents had made them feel.

“Promise me,” Emilie had begged. She had been barely able to get out of bed. Her life force seemingly draining out of her, more every second. “Just please, Gabriel. Please.” There were tears in her eyes; whether it was from the sheer amount of pain she was in or the thought of leaving her family behind, he didn’t. Maybe it was both.

Gabriel held her hand tightly, willing the gods to let him trade his life for hers. He never asked or prayed for anything before. And he never would again if they just grant this one thing, this one wish. “I promise, Emilie.”

When Emilie fell asleep and didn’t wake up that day. Or the next day. Or the many that would come after that. Gabriel found himself waiting at her side, sure that the day would be the one where she’d open eyes. And if she opened her eyes, she’d want to see him there. She need him. He couldn’t just not be there for her.

He found himself skipping meals and sleep just to sit near her. Gabriel found himself telling Adrien he was working late; ignoring his son’s questions about his mother’s whereabouts. Some days just ignoring his son altogether.

“You promised.”

Even when Nathalie snapped him out of his, and he got back to work; tried to spend time with Adrien. He found himself still by Emilie’s side, wishing she was back. Then one day he remember Emilie telling him the story of Ladybug and Chat Noir and wishes.

That was when Gabriel wondered: what if? What if he could use those two miraculous to make a wish; a wish to bring Emilie back. He had no idea where to start, where to even begin hunting them down. Until he realized the best way was to get them to come to him. He knew it took powerful magic to undo Nooroo’s creations. And according to Nooroo there were only one Kwami strong enough to do; the kwami of creation. And you couldn’t have one without the other; where creation went, destruction followed.

He became HawkMoth the next day.

It didn’t take long for Ladybug and Chat Noir to appear.

And Gabriel’s life had a new dedication. He would get their miraculous’ at all costs. Emilie would return.

“You promised!”

And as for Adrien, Gabriel was so busy with the brand and being Hawkmoth that he let his relationship with his son fall through the cracks. Instead, Gabriel always made sure to keep his schedule busy so he’d never have time to question where Gabriel was. Or where mother was. Gabriel tried to just give him the best of everything; the best education, the best modeling career, everything he could. Except his time.

Nathalie and Gorilla became Adrien’s main caretakers. Nathalie became an expert in giving excuses’ on why Gabriel couldn’t come to breakfast or dinner. Why he worked on Christmas, on Adrien’s birthday Why he couldn’t make any of Adrien’s piano recitals. Or come to his fencing tournaments. Why Gabriel never told Adrien goodnight like used to. Or do anything to show he was loved.

Like Emilie had made Gabriel promise that he would.

“You promised,” Emilie’s specter whispered sadly.

“I know,” Gabriel murmured back.

The ghost didn’t understand. He had a thousand other choices, and Gabriel knew, before he even made it, that he chose the wrong one. He did that on purpose. It wasn’t an accident. He needed Emilie back. He wanted her back. She never forgive him, take Adrien and leave him forever, but Gabriel knew she’d understand.

He was the first person he ever loved; romantic or otherwise. Gabriel had loved her, even before he ever learned to love himself. Through her he learned to love himself. Then he loved his family, his friends, his son, all of Paris.

Without her, he didn’t know to love anything.

In retrospect, he when he decided to divert suspicion off himself once again by having Nathalie be Hawkmoth for today, Gabriel probably should’ve have run after letting Ladybug “Save him”.

However, Gabriel just stood there, watching Ladybug, wondering if just for a split second, if he could get the earrings himself.

The Akuma was named Sandy; Nathalie was known for worth ethic, not for her creativity. It seemed to turn people into sand.

Or at least Gabriel thought.

He was so distracted he didn’t see the Akuma attack coming. Neither did Ladybug. They were hit at the same time.

And suddenly, they weren’t in Paris anymore. Or least not least not the Paris, they knew.

It was like a scene from a dystopian movie. The streets were mostly abandoned. Building were wrecked. Debris everywhere. Smoke and the smell of ash filling the air. No sign of life anywhere.

No sign of any kind of life. Or even the Akuma.

And if there was no Akuma, there was no way for Ladybug to stop it and get them back home.

It was why when Ladybug said they should stick together, he accepted.

They went to his home. It was miraculously still standing, more than a little worse for wear, but still standing.

“Welcome to my home,” Gabriel nodded towards the hero as he opened the door for her. They were words he never imagined saying to his nemesis.

Ladybug seemed to hesitate at what to say, “It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it though?” Gabriel said.

Except the Gabriel who had walked into house with Ladybug that said it. A different Gabriel walked down the stairs, a cane in his hand.

The new Gabriel was older, but only by a couple of years at most. Not much about him had changed; except his hair was long, his eyes lifeless, and there was an air of misery to him that seemed to fill the entire room. He was dressed in a simple blue suit that seemed to hang of his thin frame.

He stopped on the stairs, and looked over the two, “Why are you?”

“We’ve for help,” Ladybug said. “Somewhere to rest while I look for Akuma.”

Gabriel wanted to snap at the foolish girl. Clearly this wasn’t real, just a mirage the Akuma had created.

Older Gabriel’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, “Akuma? I haven’t heard that word in years.”

“What year is it?’ Ladybug asked curiously.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “its still 2019. This is all an illusion from the Akuma; some dream world, clearly.”

Ladybug frowned, “I’m sorry, Mr. Agreste, I thought you knew. Sandy wasn’t a dream Akuma. She’s a time Akuma. She blasts people forward or back in time,” She explained. “It happened to Chat; he ended up meeting the Maria Antoinette, before her head got cut off that is.”

Gabriel blinked in shock. A time-travel Akuna? Could it be? Could they be in the future?

“It is the year 2022,” Older Gabriel said. “Call me Gabe, it will lessen the confusion.”

“Three years,” Ladybug whispered. “How did Paris become this in three years?”

Both Gabriel and Ladybug’s mind immediately went to: War. A nuclear. Something terrible, and devastating.

But Gabriel still had a bit of hope. “An Akuma perhaps,” He guessed. “If it is, it can still be undone.”

Gabe looked at his younger self, “You're from before she dies, aren't you?” He shook his head. “You can't save her. You can’t bring her back.”

“Yes, I can.” Gabriel hissed. “And I’m going to.”

“No, you can’t,” Gabe stated. “You never did. The plan didn’t work like you thought it would. You got them but it didn’t work the way you hoped. Go home. Let her go. Or you’ll lose everything.”

Ladybug looked between the two Gabriels with confusion. Something was really wrong, she knew, and she had a terrible feeling about what it might be.

Gabriel stepped forward, “Just tell me what I did wrong. What you did wrong? And I can’t fix it.” He was sure of it. His future self had made a mistake, Gabriel would take step to avoid making it. It was that simple. “That’s all I need. You tell me that. And I’ll bring her back. I’ll fix this.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“Yes! There! IS!” Gabriel shouted, face red. How could any future him ever give up? How could he betray Emilie like this?

“Do you see the world outside?” Gabe asked. “Did you take a good hard look at it? That’s not just Paris. That’s world now. An Akuma didn’t do that,” He said. “You did.”

Silence filled the foyer. Ladybug unconsciously took a step away from Gabriel.

“What?” Gabriel asked. “I didn’t do this. I’d never do this.”

Paris was destroyed. Everything had burned. Bodies had been everywhere. He didn’t do that. He would never do that. He was a monster but he wasn’t… He wasn’t?

“He’s Hawkmoth,” Gabe told Ladybug. “I’m Hawkmoth. If he’s here that means Nathalie is covering for him. She did it every time, he thought you or Fu were starting to suspect him.”

Ladybug snarled, forcing herself not to jump at Gabriel Agreste and beat him within an inch of his life.

“I can’t help you,” Gabe told Gabriel and Ladybug. “You came all this way for nothing. Chat Noir will figure how to stop the Akuma soon enough; he’s a good hero.”

Ladybug just glared. Gabriel was still wondering how he caused the destruction of the world.

“You want some advice; go home.” Gabe walked down the stairs and looked his younger self in the eye. “Give Ladybug Nooroo, and never be Hawkmoth again. Bury Emilie. And even if you don’t. Even if you decide not to listen to me. Still, do what you promised. Spend as much time with Adrien as you can. Because pretty soon you’ll never see him again.”

Gabriel stumbled back in shock.

Gabe looked at Ladybug, “I knew you were from the past the second I saw you,” He told her. “There's no hate in your eyes yet.” He looked away. “You have to stop him. Stop me. If there’s even a shred of hope of saving her, he won’t stop on his own. Help me.”

“I am not you friend,” Ladybug hissed. “My family! My friends. What happened to them? What did you do?”

“Dead,” Gabe answered. “They’re all dead. Adrien, Nathalie, Gorilla, every friend you had left, your mother, your father, your grandmother, nearly everyone in Paris; they are all dead.”

“How?!” Ladybug roared. “How did you do this? How could you do this? What happened to Chat Noir?

“I made a wish,” Gabe answered, bring Gabriel out of the shock state he was in. “I just wanted her back. I wanted Emilie back. There was a cost; a price. Chat Noir was a part of it. Or should I saw Adrien was a part of it.” A small smirk appeared on his face. “He was more like Emilie than I ever realized. It was the greatest shock of my life. My Adrien was Chat Noir.”

Both of listeners’ mouths dropped.

“Adrien,” They chimed together. Ladybug shot Gabriel a glare, “Adrien is Chat Noir.” She stated as if the words were taste strange on her tongue.

“He was,” Gabe answered. He swallowed hard, and seemed to struggle with saying his next sentence. “You two became best friends; somehow you became the family he always wanted. You were his sister. He was your brother. Adrien died protecting you. He died in your arms. I’m so sorry I did this to you.”

Adrien dead. His son was dead.

“The wish had a price; a cost,” Gabe said. “It cost us everything. Despite what those we read said, it can’t bring back the dead.”

“She’s not dead!” Gabriel shouted. “She asleep; magical coma. She’s not dead!”

Gabe shut his eyes for a moment, “Yes she is. Magic is just barely keep her heart going but she had been for a long time. She had been gone for a long time.”

“NO!” Gabriel roared, fury once again fueling him. “I will bring her back!”

“Why?” Gabe asked. “What do you think will happen? Do you still hope you a family again if you do? Adrien dies because of you. Because of me,” he said with anguish filling his voice and sorrow in his eyes. “Because of what we did. And even if he leaves; Emilie still wouldn’t forgive you.”

“She’d understand,” Gabriel snapped. “She, of all people, would understand.”

“Understand what?” Gabe asked. “That you abandoned your son. That you abandoned him and everybody else? You made a promise!”

“That I couldn’t keep!” Gabriel roared back. “Not after everything I lost. I was just as broken as Emilie was. I needed her back.”

The older man looked at his younger self in disgust, “At what cost. How many have we hurt? How many of our akumas killed people? Even if Ladybug brought them back. How many died? How many innocent men, women, children wake up screaming in the middle of night because of what Akumas did to them. Or what they learn they did as Akumas? How many people suffer?”

“I don’t care!” Gabriel snapped.

“You will!” Gabe scoffed. “You will.” He sighed. “You want answered, Gabriel. How’s this? You will go back. You will do everything that you can think of to save her. You're even going to create an army of akumas; thousands, but Ladybug and Chat Noir and their team are going to stop them, mostly. But they won’t be enough. Queen Bee dies first; Chloe a girl, you’ve known, since she was diapers dies in front you. Artic Fox dies next. Viperion and Carapace. Ryuko and BrightRoar; all kids. All dead. Chat Noir and Ladybug overpowered.”

The two listened to man speak, horrified looks on their faces.

“And then on the night of June 23rd, 2020,” Gabe said, “you make your wish to bring Emilie back. It doesn’t work. The Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous are destroyed. The world still goes to hell for it. Nathalie tells you Adrien is hurt; badly. You go to him. You run to him. And see Adrien in Marinette’s arm, in Ladybug’s arms, and you reach him just in time for you to see him die.”

“No!” Gabriel yelled.

Gabe took a step forward, his grip on his cane so tight the wood cracked, “And in that moment that he takes his last breath, it’ll feel like an eternity. And it will break you.” He looked between the two. “It will break you both. And when the night is over and passed; they’ll be barely anything left of the world.”

Silence reign in the room.

Gabe swallowed hard, “She is the love of your, Gabriel,” He agreed. “She was the love of my life. But Adrien was my world. You fail him. I failed him. I failed Emilie. I failed everyone. You won’t be there when Volpina, when Lila Rossi kills Nathalie and take Duusu from her; and becomes so much worse than we ever were. You won’t be there when demons and monsters discover the holes between the realms that your action created and they run free on this earth. When a monster named Trigon comes for what’s left of humanity. You won’t be there when a monster rips Gorilla in pieces. For Felix, when he uses the Ox Miraculous, to save people; encounters the wrong monster and ends up a soulless husk. You won’t be there for anyone. But that’s what you do best. What… I did best.”

“I’ll stop him,” Ladybug swore, lowly, finding her voice again. “I promise, I’ll stop him.”

Gabe nodded at her, “You’ll try. Somehow you and I; the last of miraculous users team up and seal the holes in realm; we just couldn’t undo the damage.” He looked his younger self. “Everything that you've ever loved is gone. Including you. Go home, Gabriel.”

As if on cue, the world around them turned to sand, and Ladybug and Gabriel Agreste found themselves standing in the spot they left. Chat Noir looking at them with a wide grin on his face, and butterfly in a jar in his hands.

I should’ve known, Gabriel thought, Chat Noir has Emilie’s smile.

“Chat Noir, we need to talk,” Ladybug said seriously. “Now!”

And then the heroes were gone, leaving Gabriel to wonder if he was about lose his son anyway.

When he got back to his home, he didn’t know what to do. He waited a bit for the police to show but them never id. He waited for Ladybug and Chat Noir to burst through the door to finally defeat Hawkmoth but they never showed up.

“Adrien said he will spending night at his friend’s Marinette house,” Nathalie told him. “I tried to convince him to return home but-”

“Its fine,” Gabriel cut her off. “Let him spend time with his friend. Take the night off, Nathalie. Tell Gorilla he can to do. I’d like to be alone tonight. In fact take the weekend. Just go. Go.”

An hour after Nathalie and Gorilla had taken off for the night, Gabriel found himself sitting on the stairs; in the same spot Gabe had stood. Alone. He did that for a while, just trying to consider what he should do, what plan to take. Then he went to sleep, got up, and found himself back on the stairs the next morning.

“You promised,” Emilie’s voice whispered in his ear.

He sat there for hours. Alone with his thoughts.

“She couldn’t have wanted this,” Ladybug’s voice suddenly broke through the silence. “She couldn’t have wanted you be some magical terrorist just to get her back.”

Gabriel looked up to give her a rude reply but stopped when he saw it wasn’t Ladybug, or least not really. It was Marinette Dupain-Chang; the girl behind mask. “Come to arrest me?”

“No,” Marinette said bitterly. “Apparently I need you. I asked Tikki, my kwami, and she says Trigon’s bad news. He’s been trying to get to our world for centuries; destroy and conquer like he’s done to thousand others. In fact, they created the miraculous just stop him. Somehow in the future, you and I managed to do it. And seeing as Tikki says Trigon is destined to come sometime between now and the next ten years, you’re not going anywhere.”

“And how does my son feel about that?”

Marinette shrugged, “I don’t know. I haven’t told him you’re Hawkmoth yet. Because you are. He deserves to hear it from you. He deserves to hear everything from you.” The bluenette shook her head. “But first you are going to talk to a little old guy named Fu. You are going to bring him Duusu, tell him what happened to your wife, see if there’s anything he can do. And if there’s not, you are going to accept it. Because this is over, do you hear me?”

Gabriel just looked at the girl as if seeing her for the first time.

“It’s over,” She repeated. “The akumas, hurting people, the whole Hawkmoth thing, ignoring Adrien, breaking a multitude of child labor laws; it’s all over. It’s done, Gabriel. You’re done.”

“And if not?” Gabriel asked. “If I don’t stop, what will you do, young hero?”

“I’ll kill you,” Marinette said. “I. Will. Kill. You! One Akuma, that’s all it will take. And I will take you done. I won’t lose family and my friends, Adrien, just because you couldn’t deal with your own loss.”

Gabriel stood up, bringing him to his full height. “You’re forgetting Adrien. How will Adrien feel when he learns you killed his father?”

Marinette took a step forward, “Before I do it; I’m going to tell him everything. And he’s good hero; the best partner, brother I could ever have. And the Adrien I know, the Chat Noir I know will never stand for your villainous ways to continue; not for anything. He’ll volunteer to bring you down himself; end you for good. But I won’t let him. I won’t let him live with knowing he killed his own father. I’m a better friend than that. He deserves better than that.”

For a moment, Gabriel felt a bit grateful to the girl for refusing to allow such a thing to happen. She, too, reminded him of a younger Emilie. Emilie who would’ve stepped up to kill him herself if she had too.

“I got your number from Adrien,” She told him. “I sent you text with a location, be there in one hour. It’s your last chance, Gabriel.”

And then Marinette was gone.

It took nearly half an hour after she left for Gabriel to find the strength to move. He knew what he had to do.

When Gabriel walked into the small café, he quickly spotted Marinette and Fu, as they were the only occupants in the café. At all. There weren’t even employees present.

He sat down across from the two, and dropped two brooches on the table. Nooroo and Duusu flew out.

Marinette looked at him with a hard gaze, but nodded.

Fu took the miraculous off the table. He hadn’t let himself entirely believe Gabriel would show up. However, after the future Marinette had told him about, of Trigon and the impending they face, Fu was willing to take a risk. There were great evils coming their way. And they would need all the help they can get. “You are Hawkmoth.”

Gabriel nodded slowly, “I was.”

“No more,” Fu stated. “No more people will be hurt as result of your actions. Instead, you will save them as you are meant to do.”

Gabriel that night with the knowledge that Duusu and the peacock miraculous could be fixed. Its effects on Nathalie could be undone. Emilie was too far gone to save. There was nothing anyone could do. He wanted to rage and break things; swear vengeance. But anger never came. He just felt hollow.

The next day, when his son finally came home, he took Adrien down to see his mother and told him everything. From the moment he and Emilie met to going to the future with Ladybug; about being Hawkmoth and causing the end of the world. Everything.

When he was done, Adrien just stood there in shock; hurt written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel Agreste finally said to his son, to Emilie, to the ghost haunting him, to world, to himself for never being strong enough to let go. “I’m so sorry.”

He’ll be better, he swore to his son. He’d do better, he promised.

And this promise, Gabriel decided, wouldn’t be broken.

“I promise, Emilie.”

#ml salt #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #adrien deserves better #gabriel agreste

839 notes · View notes

frizzle-tales · 3 years

Note

“Thank you for making it. We really appreciate it.” The blonde woman peeked at the two in the backseat from the car window. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble. I know this was on short notice.” The woman apologized as she eyed the young male Haeun was with. “Didnt Henry want to tag along?”

“It’s no problem at all. Really, I’m overjoyed to be back.” Haeun replied, resting against the seat - the 12 hour flight was exhausting, and she wasn’t sure if she was dealing with the effects of a jetlag already.

She closed her eyes, but opened them again at the mention of the name she tried to forget. “Henry? He... he couldn’t make it because of work.” Haeun looked outside of the window, looking at the passing small boutiques and bakeries.

“Oh, well, if you need recommendations for souvenir shopping, just let me know!”

“Thanks, Eloise.” Haeun politely thanked the woman, not wanting to bug her down with the details of the messy current divorce.

After a 20 minute drive, they arrived at Eloise’s family home, a lovely home she bought with her husband after they got married.

Eloise showed them around the home, showing Jimin his room and Haeun’s room which were next to each other’s, and when they placed their items in their rooms, Eloise made them something to eat.

Haeun was finished first, and headed downstairs to the kitchen where she could hear the sounds coming from.

“I can do the dishes after, I feel bad letting you do everything.” Haeun offered.

“No way, you and that... man are my guests.”

“Man?” Haeun frowned. “Oh, you mean Jimin?”

“Of course, he is a man, isn’t he?” Eloise poked playfully.

“Yeah.” It always felt weird when others referred to her young student as a man, to Haeun he was a cute and innocent young kid who could do no harm, so when others referred to him as a man.. It always took her a bit to realize they were talking about him.

It reminded her of her late friend and a sudden feeling of sadness washed over her. If Jimin wasn’t here, she would’ve came to Paris with her best friend. Go to cafés, go shopping and sightseeing.

But Haeun didn’t have long to dwell into these feelings of grief when Eloise spoke again.

“So... What does Henry think of... this?” Eloise carefully hinted. “Is he okay with you and that man traveling together and-“

“Eloise, please, I’m... quite tired. Jimin is just my student, alright? I brought him here because he’s very serious about his career and I thought this would be a good experience for him, and that’s all.” Haeun didn’t know if it was because of the draining journey to Paris, or because of constantly having to explain to people who should mind their own business, that she and Jimin had no romantic interest, but she felt herself grow a bit agitated.

“Sorry, Haeun, I didn’t mean to-“

“I’ll set the table.” Haeun took a few plates and cups and left the kitchen. Her parents, her parents in law, her former best friend, her husband and now Eloise too, why did everyone have something to say about her and her student?

-🩰

All of this felt surreal - like a trippy fever dream.

Not only has he flown 12 and a half hours to one of the most romantic cities in the world, but he did it with her. Haeun. His world, his everything.

Jimin followed Eloise up the stairs, secretly piercing daggers through her with a sharp glare.

This woman .. he gave her off vibes, just like Henry and Yuna. Maybe it was the judgemental stare she shot his way when they were picked up at the airport. Or the audacity she had to mention his name. But no matter what the cause is for these odd feelings, he knew already he didn’t like her. Not one bit.

The young male got settled into his temporary new room. His suitcase was set on the foot of the bed, he plugged his charger into the wall before connecting it with his phone, then headed to the bathroom across the hall.

After closing the door, Jimin turned on the tap and splashed cold water onto his face. He had to wake up. This wasn’t a dream - it was reality. He was here, in Paris, with the only love of his life. There was no time to be groggy or out of it.

Soon after pat drying his skin with a fluffy towel, Jimin made his way downstairs into the kitchen and smiled when his eyes fell upon Haeun. But his eyebrows furrowed into a frown at the sight. Something was off, he knew it. Something was bothering her.

Anxiety bubbled up in his chest. Was she nervous about being having to be a judge for such a prestigious competition? Or was Eloise spewing bullshit, harming his dove?

“I’ll help,” he suddenly piped up after hearing Haeun state she was setting the table. He grabbed the silverware while she grabbed the plates. Eloise stayed in the kitchen, finishing up the last minute preparations, while Jimin and Haeun moved to the dining room.

“Hey,” Jimin whispered, stopping Haeun in her spot. His hand fell onto her arm in an attempt at comfort and his thumb rubbed soothing circles. “You seem down. Is everything okay? Did she say something to you?”

#🩰anon #dancer!jimin #yandere jimin

3 notes · View notes

scottybrock · 4 years

Text

Lesson Learned - Colby Brock

A/N: Requested by a lovely anon: “Can you write something reflecting on how Colby said he gets mad when people leave and dont tell him. Perhaps he gets mad at y/n or Sam for leaving and doing their own thing and he doesnt realize he's being clingy till the friend group calls him out on it.”

Colby was grumpy. Not only had he woken up without you next to him, but you left without telling him. Not that you had to have his permission, of course, but he’d like to know where you were going, so he knew that you were safe. He frowned. It sounded worse when he really thought about it, but it had always been a big pet peeve of his. Even with Sam. He had a serious case of FOMO, and he loved you- he just wanted to be included.

Perhaps it stemmed from being left out of things in high school, but he didn’t want to think about those times. Those times were some of the darkest of his entire life. He shook his head, trying to brush those thoughts out of his mind. He was living his best life; he had amazing friends, a career that he always dreamed of, and the best girlfriend he could’ve ever asked for. Things were great now.

Except for the teeny-tiny fact of that he had no idea where the fuck you were. There was, however, a simple solution. He picked up his phone and called you. You answered, breathless and giggly. Your voice had a wave of calm washing over him, almost a sedative effect. “Hi, bubs!” Your voice was bright, chipper. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Colby asked, a slight edge to his voice. You blinked, startled. “I went out to breakfast with Tara,” You replied, scrunching your face up slightly. Colby let out a soft scoff. “And you didn’t think to invite me?” He asked, his voice terse. There was no way that you could brush it off as a joke, and your own temper began to rise at the tone of his voice. “Well, Tara and I have had this planned all week,” You tried to reason with him. Tara raised an eyebrow at the tense set of your jaw. You shook your head at her. She scrunched her brows together, confused.

“And I wasn’t allowed to come?” Colby demanded. You inhaled sharply, then rolled your eyes. “Jake isn’t here,” You told him, gritting your teeth. “It was sort of just a girls thing.” Colby scoffed again, and you felt your temper finally flare out. “What is your problem?” You asked, your voice sharp. “Did you call just to start a fight? Ruin my day out with my friend?” Tara’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t often that you and Colby fought. Seeing it, hearing it, was strange.

Colby’s heart thudded in his chest and he frowned unhappily. No, that hadn’t been his intention. “Of course not!” Colby protested. “I hate fighting with you! I just wanted to be included!” You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I can have a life outside of you, you know,” Your voice was still sharp, anger simmering in your voice. “I wasn’t aware that my life had to revolve around you.”

You took another deep breath, then stabbed at your toast with your fork. “Honestly, Cole,” You sighed. The fight seemed to drain from you. “I just wanted to have a day out with my friend. I guess that was too much to ask for.” Your voice was sullen. Colby felt like vomiting. “No, that’s not it at all!” Colby tried to protest. You didn’t say anything in response. “Baby?” Colby tried. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you later.” Your voice was soft, sad. Colby hated himself for putting that sadness in your heart. “Don’t leave it like this,” Colby begged, but it was too late- you already hung up the phone. It felt like the final nail in the relationship’s coffin.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie,” Sam sat back on the couch. A few minutes ago, a despondent Colby had knocked on his door, near tears. Katrina, Jake, and Corey were also there. “You’re totally in the wrong here, brother.” Colby frowned at that, his frown deepening when his friends nodded in agreement. “But-” Colby tried, but a fiery Katrina cut him off, her hazel eyes narrowing at him. “I understand wanting to do everything with her,” She gestured to Sam. “But her life shouldn’t have to revolve around you and your needs.”

Jake nodded, his gaze sympathetic but firm. “She’s allowed to have a life outside of you, dude. She’s allowed to hang out with her friends.” Colby huddled in on himself. “I know that,” He replied, his voice small. “I just,” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I guess I just have FOMO. It’s always been like that,” He gestured to Sam, who nodded in agreement. “It’s not even that I think she’s going to cheat on me or anything like that.” He looked exhausted. “I just love her so much, I always want to hop onto her plans and spend as much time with her as possible.”

“Colby,” Katrina’s voice was soft, kind. “Just think about it- that’s a lot of time to spend with just one person. Eventually, you’re going to want space, even if you love them with all of your heart.” Sam nodded in agreement. “As much as I love Katrina, I can’t spend every waking moment with her. I’d go crazy.” Jake nodded. “It’s healthier to take some time away from someone.” He added.

Colby wiped a hand over his face. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” He asked. Jake shook his head. Corey shook his head. “No, brother,” Corey replied. “It was a minor fuck up, but it’s something you can fix.” He assured his downtrodden friend. “You really think so?” Colby asked, hope making his eyes light up. Sam nodded. “Of course,” Sam replied. “Just talk to her. Apologize, then explain yourself.”

Colby paced around the living room, anxiously waiting for you to come home. The door swung open, and you stood in the doorway, looking uncertain. “Hi,” Colby’s voice was soft, careful. “Hi.” You replied, taking a step forward. Colby’s eyes were wide, beseeching. “Can we talk?” He asked, his eyes pleading with you.

You dropped your purse onto the kitchen counter, then nodded sharply. “Yeah, I think we should.” You replied. Colby took a tentative step towards you, relieved when you met him halfway and wrapped your arms around his waist. “What was all of that about, Colbs?” You asked, your voice soft. “What happened?”

Colby practically melted into your embrace. “I just,” Colby’s voice was small. “I’m sorry, first of all,” He cleared his throat and looked down at you. You nodded slowly. “Okay,” You replied cautiously. Colby’s mouth trembled, and he released a sigh. “I know that I’m clingy, that I always want to join in on your plans, but it’s just because I love you so fucking much, and I want to spend every moment possible with you.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he cut you off, practically rambling nervously, hopefully. “I know that it’s not healthy to want to do that, and I promise that I’ll try and change my habits. I just have bad memories of being left out of shit in high school. I’ll try and change, because I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

You gently placed a hand over his mouth to cut off his rambling. “It’s okay,” Your voice was soft. “I appreciate you telling me that, for opening up to me like that. I know it’s hard for you,” You told him. Colby’s shoulders sagged in relief. “And I’m glad that you understand that we can’t spend every waking moment together. I love you so much, but sometimes, I just need me-time.” You removed your hand from his mouth, your fingers brushing tenderly against his cheek. “And you need you-time.”

Colby nodded, understanding what you were saying. “I love you,” His voice trembled, and he offered you the softest, sweetest smile you’d ever fucking seen in your life. Your heart melted in your chest, and you beamed back at him. “And I love you, Colbs.” You replied easily, bringing a wider smile to his face. “Even when I’m being crazy?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re always crazy,” You replied, your grin widening at his mock-outraged face. “But I love you all the time, crazy.” Colby’s expression softened, and that sweet smile blossomed across his face once more. “Just like I love you all of the time.” He replied.

He pressed his lips to the top of your head in a sweet, gentle kiss. “Are we okay?” Colby asked hopefully. You tilted your head back to look up at him. You stood on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“We’re better than okay,” You replied, your eyes twinkling at him beautifully. “We’re magic.”

#cole robert brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagine #Sam and Colby #colby brock #colby brock fanfic #xplr #traphouse

173 notes · View notes