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ragingbookdragon · 3 years

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I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 4

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @justine-en @iwillstaywiththemforever @weirdgirlfromtx @edlothia-baby @soul-end @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy

Author's Note: Some of y'all didn't tag so see if that's something on your end. Enjoy the angst and cliffhanger! -Thorne

Wally didn’t come into the coffee shop for almost two whole months after their fight—not that she blamed him—she was still vaguely upset with his harsh words. But she had to admit that she’d gotten used to his warm presence every morning, and not seeing him messed her up more than she thought it would. More often than not, she found herself absentmindedly staring at the door, waiting for him to walk in with that stupid grin on his face and proceed to boast and recall whatever exciting exploits he and his friends had accomplished earlier. It hurt not to see or hear him, and she realized that Wally had become the greatest friend she’d ever had.

Barry still came in though, and if he knew who she really was, he didn’t say anything because he still acted like he always did. So, even if Wally were still angry with her, at least he’d kept his word and not said anything to anyone about her identity. Which if she were honest, tasted bitter when she thought about the price she paid for his silence—his friendship.

It was getting colder again, which meant a lot more people were coming and going from the shop, so at least she could take her mind off her feelings for at least a few hours. Until she got home, and all she was left with were them and a whole lot of silence to think about them with. Sometimes she thought about calling Wally, at least to hear his voice. Hell, even if their last words to one another were frigid, she missed the interaction. She’d give anything to hear him, even taking another round of cold snipes and trades.

She heaved a sigh and wiped down the last few tables of the evening rush, smiling politely at the people who were still sitting at tables or so across. Today had been hectic and there’d been no let up of customers until the last hour of the shift. She’d never thought they’d run out of coffee, but it came close to that a couple hours ago.

The bell above the door chimed and with her back turned to the entrance, she didn’t see who came in, but with another barista at the counter ready to take the final orders of the evening, she didn’t particularly care. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. Sleep until hell froze over. That, or until her feet stopped hurting—whichever came first. She let out a quiet laugh that made her chest ache—Wally would’ve found that absolutely hilarious and probably shot back about how if anyone had the right to complain about their feet hurting, it would be him. God, she really missed Wally.

“Melisandre,” someone called quietly, and she glanced over her shoulder, eyes widening when she saw the familiar red head behind her.

Speak and the Devil will appear.

“Wally,” she breathed, voice thick with shock, and before she could stop herself, she was throwing her arms around his waist, squeezing him tightly.

He returned her hug in fold. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who missed this,” he quipped.

She huffed a laugh and pulled away. “Believe it or not, it doesn’t feel right when you don’t come around.” Her eyes narrowed almost sadly. “I’ve missed seeing you, Wally.”

“Same here,” he replied, then glanced at the clock above the espresso machines. “Are you almost off? I want to take you somewhere.”

Nodding, she took a look at her watch. “I get off in about ten minutes. Can you wait that long, or will you perish from boredom?”

“I think I can survive ten minutes, Melisandre,” he retorted and collapsed into one of the booths. “Hurry though, I don’t want to be late.”

She rolled her eyes and deadpanned, “Wally, I can’t speed time up. That’s not how that works.”

“Works for me.” He proudly stated.

“I wonder why?” she retorted sarcastically, then gave him a smile before wandering off to clean the last tables.

***

Despite the fact that Wally could run anywhere he wanted in less than a second, he still owned a vehicle and that was downright baffling in her opinion.

“Dick got it for me.” He suddenly said, shifting the car into drive and she blinked internally wincing at the mention of her brother.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I know you didn’t, (Y/N). But you were thinking it.”

“Uh huh,” she doubted and crossed her arms over her chest. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Knowing you? Probably food, I know you like to ea—” he dissolved into laughter when she reached over and shoved at his side.

“No, I don’t you ass.”

“Really? Because I distinctly remember the time I took a fry off your basket and you looked at me like I’d killed your favorite dog.” (Y/N) glared at him and he pointed at her. “Yeah, that’s the look right there.”

“I don’t like sharing my food,” she said. “You should’ve known better.” Her eyes drifted to the windshield. “So, where are we going?”

“S.T.A.R. labs.”

(Y/N) cocked a brow and stared at him. “Really? S.T.A.R. labs? What’s there?”

Wally shrugged. “Wanted to show you a bit of what it’s like to be me.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You mean you came to see me after all this time and the first thing we’re doing is going to a lab so you can show my what you do?”

His gaze momentarily darted to hers. “Is that a problem?”

“I dunno, I just figured we’d go eat a diner somewhere and apologize to each other.”

“Are you sorry?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Are you sorry? For all of the last three years?”

“Not particularly,” she griped, and he shrugged again.

“Then I’m not sorry for what we said to each other that night.” he let out a sigh. “But I’m willing to let it go, because I’d rather us just have a disagreement than lose what our friendship over it.” he looked at her. “What do you say?”

(Y/N) stared at him for a long moment, then she sighed and nodded. “…Yeah, I agree.”

Wally smiled. “Good.” He turned the wheel and pulled into the parking lot of the lab. “But there is food there for us, so you’ll be satiated anyways.”

“Hardy har har. Shut up, Wallace West,” she shot back, climbing out of the car. Her eyes traveled up the tall building. “Wow, this place is huge, isn’t it?”

She felt him stand next to her. “Yeah. Did you know they had to replace the glass windows a whole bunch of times because Barry and I kept shattering them when we’d run up ‘em?”

(Y/N) blinked, unsurprisingly stating, “No, I did not. But I can see that happening.”

He started towards the doors, leaving her to follow and soon they were stepping into an elevator. She watched him hit the rooftop button and she looked at him.

“If you’re showing me what you do, why are we going to the roof? Shouldn’t we be going to some laboratory inside?”

Wally chuckled. “Patience, young padawan.” He ignored her rolling eyes. “Food first.”

“Oh, dinner in the moonlight? Well, aren’t you just the romantic.” (Y/N) cocked her elbow on his shoulder and grinned. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with me all that time we spent away from each other?”

This time, he was rolling his eyes. “Hardly, (Y/N). I just figured you’d want a nice evening where you weren’t staring at your bland kitchen walls.”

She scoffed and pulled away from him. “Look, I’d paint and hang shit up but the landlord wouldn’t be happy.”

“Since when do you care about making people happy? You’re typically a ‘I’m going to make someone unhappy’ type of person.” Her eyes shifted to his and he waved a hand. “Not what you’re thinking about—I was talking about the coffee shop.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, then she hummed. “There’s nothing more fun than telling someone I’m going to get the manager and then do my magic little spin and cheerfully greet, ‘Hi, I’m the manager’.” She grinned. “Does wonders to see Karen’s little head explode.”

Wally chuckled and the elevator dinged. The doors split open, and they walked out onto the rooftop. Surprisingly, the roof was enclosed and lighted, giving her perfect vision and when her eyes fell on them, her heart seemed to stop in her chest, and her feet to a halt.

They stood from the table they’d been sitting at and with her heart hammering against her ribcage, she immediately spun on her heel, intent to flee back into the elevator, only to come chest to chest with Wally, who wrapped his arms around her waist—effectively keeping her in place.

Her feet were still moving on their own accord and she shoved against his chest, trying to get back to the lift. “Wally, move.”

“No, (Y/N),” he murmured, and she could feel her breath starting to come in and out in panicked spurts.

“Wally, please, I’m begging you, move.” She stared up at him and plead, “Please don’t make me do this. I’ll do anything, just please let me leave.”

His evergreen eyes were narrowed in pity, but there was a firmness that rested within that pity and he shook his head. “I can’t let you leave, (Y/N).”

“Wally, please,” she begged, arms starting to go limp against his chest, the tears flooding her vision. “Don’t make me do this.”

“You’ve gotta stop running, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t help the sob that escaped her, and she rested her cheek against his chest. “I hate you…so much.”

“I know,” he murmured.

“You’re a liar and I hate you.”

Wally sighed. “I know you do.”

(Y/N)’s face contorted in anger despite her pain. “I should’ve left the night we fought. I knew you wouldn’t be capable of keeping it from him. From any of them,” she sneered and suddenly pulled away from his grip, eyes flashing with rage.

“This wasn’t your right to tell!” she shouted at him and shoved him in the chest. Wally didn’t budge an inch and she shoved him again. “God, I was so naïve to assume you’d keep your fucking mouth shut! That’s one thing you’re not capable of doing!”

She growled and turned from him, running her hands over her face. “Three years of relative peace shot straight down the fucking drain,” she shot him a teary glower. “All because of you and your big bleeding heart for your best friend.”

Wally frowned. “I’m doing what I think is best, (Y/N).”

“Forcing me to meet them isn’t what’s best, Wally! I didn’t want to be found! I didn’t want to be associated with them again!” she snarled and in an instance her anger cooled, her shoulders drooping as she lamented, “…This wasn’t a decision you should’ve made. This was never your right to decide. For me…or for them.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t,” he agreed. “But if you weren’t going to draw the line in the sand, I was.”

(Y/N) met his gaze and held it for a long moment, then she turned her attention to the four men who were standing in front of the table, their expressions a mixture of regret, anger, and relief.

She let out a long sigh and reached up to rub at her temples. “Let me guess, I’m not allowed to leave until we’ve had our picture-perfect reunion scene?”

Wally nodded. “The elevator is sadly,” his hand shot backwards and with a sharp crackle of lightning, the light went out. “out of order.”

(Y/N) shook her head in disappointment at him then declared, “The next time I run, I’m settling in a city that has no superheroes.”

“Good plan,” he quipped. “But I don’t think there’ll be anymore running.”

She got up in his face and hissed, “Then you underestimate my feelings regarding the brothers and father before me.”

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

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Hi! Hope you’re having a nice weekend. I was curious if you would ever consider exploring a “What if” AU for Royals where Anthony does call Kate after that first night? I know it probably wouldn’t be as dramatic, but there was a line in there about how Anthony knows if he hadn’t done what he had done, then everyone probably would have thought he was perfect for Kate, and it made me wonder what that would have been like for them.

Hello!

I am having a good weekend! It's a four day weekend leading into a two day work week courtesy of this trash team building day so you know!

Anyway! I think that had it not been for the coup of it all, The palace would have been glad of the idea of Anthony as Kate's companion. He's young, and handsome, and a viscount, she could definitely do worse. So let's take a little look at how this would have gne.

“Did you have a run in with some sort of animal last night, Kate?”

And in her sleep deprived state Kate hadn’t seemed to think the better of sharing this with her seventeen year old sister, “Something like that.”

Edwina had made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, “Sophie’s on her way in, and you might want to dig out some high necklines to cover that mess.”

Sophie’s eyes had flickered over her appearance in that non judgmental way she had tutting a little and saying “I’ll send the make up girls in. I hope it was at least good.”

And something deep within her had burned when she saw the little patchwork quilt of bruises and nips he’d left along her collarbone, her neck, possessively done almost, a smirk coming to her face when she thought that at least she wouldn’t have to have the stylists cover the marks his stubble had left between her thighs.

“Oh it was good enough.”

“You’re foul.” Edwina had said primly, though her lips were ticking upwards in a smirk. “Will we be seeing this, I hesitate to use the word gentleman, again?”

Kate’s heart had done an odd little flutter as she thought about the note she’d left him, forcing herself to shrug. “I don’t know.”

She sat in the make up chair while her team chatted around her, working quickly before she had to meet Mary. Kate's mind kept slipping back to last night, the way Anthony had grinned down at her in his kitchen as he'd searched for something for them to eat, his hips between hers as he hoisted her onto his kitchen counter his voice hot in her ear Oh look, I've found something for me to eat.

It had been nice despite how filthy parts of it had been, and not just to escape, but to feel some kind of connection.

"Kate, your phone is ringing." Sophie said a little exasperatedly, not looking up from her own phone as she typed furiously.

Kate stared down at it, the unknown number making her heart beat quickly Surely it couldn't be him. She'd only left him a few hours ago... Surely it wasn't him, her hand hesitated over it.

"Oh for God's sake." Edwina snatched the phone from her lap from her chair beside Kate's. And before Kate could stop her she'd answered it. "Hi, Kate's phone?"

Edwina's eyebrows shot up, ignoring Kate's insistently holding out her hand. "Anthony?"

Kate's heart stopped, her mouth falling open, "Eddie give me the phone."

"Anthony, Kate's just in make up right now, Can I-?"

"Give me the phone!"

"Oh! She's done apparently! Well Done Anthony, you got her out of her chair." Edwina was grinning manically now as Kate snatched the phone from her, sweeping from the room her make up barely done, her heart pounding.

"Um Hi? Anthony?"

Silence stretched over the other end of the phone for half a second before a deep voice rumbled through it "Now, I don't know about wanting to escape again, but do you want to get dinner tonight?"

Kate felt her mouth fall open, the answer on her lips immediately, but there was just a tiny problem, last night she'd been Kate, and this morning she had responsibilities and appearances and a make up team and Christ.

"It's kind of... complicated for me." Kate said awkwardly, casting around the hallway, blanching a little as she saw Mary striding this way.

A laugh echoed through the phone "Oh you mean because you're the Princess?"

Kate's stomach sunk, So he had known, she knew he had to have but to hear him say it was different. "Yeah, that complicates my life a lot actually."

Anthony hummed, "I wasn't really honest about myself last night either, but come to dinner with me, and I'll explain. This is going to sound a little insane but... Kate, I'm really glad we met last night and it's been a long time since I met someone that I felt like this with so I'm not really ready to let that go yet."

She could feel her heart pounding, He hadn't been honest about himself? What did that mean? Was he some sort of criminal? No, that didn't seem right, he'd seemed a lot like her, looking for something you shouldn't have been able to find in a dive bar. But it had felt like she'd found it anyway.

And she knew she really shouldn't but she couldn't help herself "Um... yeah okay. But just as a warning... I have to bring a guard with me this time, last night was... unusual for me."

"As long as you're there I don't care." She almost thought he might mean it.

"Can I at least know your last name before tonight?" She should at least know that much if she was going to sell this.

"Well, That seems fair. I'm Anthony Bridgerton."

_______

"Um... Mary?"

Mary looked up at her curiously at the end of their meeting with the Spanish Ambassador. "What's wrong?"

Kate blanched, "Um... nothing's wrong."

Mary raised her eyebrow, "Am I about to find out where you spent last night? Or with whom it was spent?"

"How do you-?"

"Darling, Sophie's a very good liar, but did you really think if I knew you were unwell I wouldn't have checked on you." Kate opened her mouth to give some excuse, to tell her that she hadn't spent the night being bent every which way, but Mary cut her off. "You're an adult, Kate. You can sleep with whoever you like. Do you need the morning after-?"

"Mary!" Kate hissed, looking around at Steve, politely looking in the other direction, obviously wishing he was anywhere but there. "We used protec- I'm not talking about this with you!"

Mary looked fairly unruffled, "Well Why did you bring it up then?"

"I didn't bring that up! I'm going out with him, tonight."

Mary frowned. "And his name is?"

Kate sighed, "Anthony Bridgerton."

Mary's mouth dropped open, "Viscount Anthony Bridgerton?"

Both of them stared at each other, surprised, Steve cleared his throat.

"I am not confirming that the address you were collected from this morning-" Kate avoided Mary's slightly impressed look "is the official residence of Viscount Bridgerton."

Well... Fuck.

__________

Kate could see him, through the window of the restaurant, no other patrons around, even more handsome than he had been last night. He was dressed a little more formally tonight, so was she she supposed, the dark grey plaid of his suit perfectly tailored, the purple of his waistcoat bright against it, the similar to her dress she realised with a small smile.

"We don't have to go in." Steve hummed quietly at her hesitation.

Kate smiled, "I think I will, You could take him right?"

He scoffed, "Please."

Kate swung the door open, watching as Anthony fumbled to his feet, his hand in his hair, adjusting his glasses.

"Kate, sorry... Your Royal Highness?" He seemed nervous here, so different than he'd been last night. Kate rolled her eyes, leaning in to kiss his cheek, a little thrilled at the way his breath caught.

"Kate's fine. Your royal Highness is a little formal for a date. I usually save it for the bedroom." Anthony choked as he pulled out her chair, sliding it in for her to sit.

She watched as he slid back around the table taking his own seat, "And you? Do you prefer Anthony or Lord Bridgerton?"

His eyes widened a little, "So you figured out my secret."

"I don't think it's much of a secret if my mother knows your mother."

His handsome smirk was back, "Did you tell your mum about me?"

Her lips twitched, "Did you tell your mum about me?"

He stared back at her, his eyes dancing in the low light. "I'd like to tell everyone about you, but for now I think I'll keep you to myself."

"There might not be anything to tell, if you don't feed me this time."

"Well, we wouldn't want that now would we?"

Kate groaned when she woke up the next morning, cushioned against Anthony's chest, his hands tangling in her hair, to three missed calls from sophie and a text that said Am I stopping this or not?

A picture of her and Anthony at Dinner, him whispering in her ear, his hand on her thigh, the headline Princess Kate on Steamy Date With Dishy Viscount

Kate hummed showing the article to Anthony a little embarrassedly, "Um... my team wants to know if this is something they should keep quiet for now. Like if this isn't going anywhere, or you don't want this to be-?"

Anthony cut her ff with a kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, his eyes soft. "I think that you should let it come out because... I don't really want to hide this, but if you'd rather not-"

Kate turned back to her phone typing out Let it go, and maybe start preparing to introduce the country to my new boyfriend.

#royals #royals au #this got very long #sorry about me #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #molly's asks and answers

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togetherweflyhigh · 3 years

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Chronicles Of Owning A Hybrid| Chapter 1: Here You Are

Pairing: Ragdoll Hybrid! Yoongi x Owner! Female Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU, slow burn, eventual romance

Trigger Warnings: Brief mentions of past harassment/bullying, brief mentions of being gaslighted

W/C: 2.2k

A/N: So, I wrote something. This was very spontaneous of me but this is my first BTS and hybrid related fic. I very much have plans to have this as a small series. From short to long chapters. I have no idea how much this will be updated.

Comments and kudos are encouraged!

It wasn’t supposed to happen, truthfully.

You were asked by a friend to attend a consultation with them because they felt nervous about going in alone. They needed some support so, going with them was going to be fine. Because that’s all that was supposed to happen.

Now, here you were at your appointment, alone because you weren’t sure how to ask your friend since they were home still getting associated with their hybrid. Nobody knew you were here doing this. Reviewing over a cat hybrid- a Ragdoll- that was on his fourth strike.

Past families that adopted this hybrid before only saw the breed he was. A pretty Ragdoll cat. Not the human he mostly presented as. They thought that just because he was mixed with a Ragdoll meant he would be gentle, calm, and sociable. A known cat breed to be perfect with families. What they got was the complete opposite.

The most they seemed to be able to tell you was he’d been adopted four times already, the longest housing being six months. He was quiet and didn’t interact much with the other hybrids in the shelter. Mostly stayed in the same areas in the room they had for them. The way they spoke about him, made you think they were trying to discourage you from adoption. You couldn’t see what was so wrong with him even when they were describing him as distant and antisocial, overall unfriendly. It still didn’t make you rethink it for some reason. Something in you wanted to give him a place to call home after hearing all this.

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

A few weeks went by with no word from the shelter. You were starting to think the extra shifts for the past month and a half at work for preparation were in vain. Perhaps they were being more cautious of his strikes and worried you would return him like all the others. If it was, for this reason, you really couldn’t blame them to be picky about who was to attempt adopting him next. You could only hope they cared so much for those in their care.

As you washed some dishes that had been a bit overdue, your phone rang. You weren’t quick to answer, at first, as hope had gone from high to low in the few weeks. Though, you still dried your hands-off because it could have been work. Who knew you’d be seeing the number you’d familiarize yourself with. Your heartbeat must have doubled as you stumbled over, sliding the answer button. “H-Hello?” You answered, cringing over your nervous voice. “This is Hope’s Shelter calling for (Y/N)(L/N), we were wondering if you were still interested in adopting?” The words felt like they were going through one ear and out the other. You weren’t all too sure what to expect when answering the call but hope had suddenly being reassured. “Yes, of course!” You answered almost too quickly. The eagerness felt as if it was spilling out of you at this point. “Great! Would Thursday be fine for you to come in?” It was currently Monday, another few days was nothing to wait for after these weeks. “That works out perfectly.”

After the short goodbyes were said, you stood there in your kitchen nearly dumbfounded. You were officially days away from adopting a hybrid. Suddenly, the mixed feeling of excitement and worry came over you. The first week was only filled with thoughts of not living in your apartment alone anymore. In the past, you had roommates. Some worked out just fine and others not so much. To the point, you never wanted to experience them again unless it was a close friend.

The second week was filled with doubts of if you even seemed worthy enough to take care of another, especially when the other couldn’t exactly take care of themselves. Hybrids didn’t have much freedom. They couldn’t go anywhere alone without their owners. Unless they were service hybrids, which there was a lot to go through to get them certified. They really couldn’t do anything and suddenly thinking about that, you realize how weird it’s going to be for someone to call or to even refer to you as their ‘owner’ will be.

There was no way in hell you could treat hybrids as a pet. They were way more human than human and capable of feelings of understanding, not at all saying normal animals weren’t capable of such. There were a few times you’d gone over to a friend’s house and they introduced you to their hybrid. Sure they had some traits of the animal they were mixed with, but they acted like their human part in front of you for the most part. This was nearly the only time you’d interacted with hybrids. So, the experience was on the low of how they truly acted behind closed doors.

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

The few days of waiting went by sluggishly. Mentally you had a list of things to do or things you thought you needed to do before Thursday. You went out and bought a few different types of clothes, not much as you had no idea of what he would like. Bought more food than you’d ever stocked your home with before, again, not knowing what he would like. There was so much you didn’t even know about him yet, not even his name.

Standing in front of the shelter, the weeks and days of waiting were finally over. The nerves and enthusiasm had mellowed out in the slow waiting days. Though, you couldn’t help feel a little nervous walking into the shelter.

Almost immediately, you were pulled into an office to go over some paperwork. It was nearly the same as papers to adopt a normal animal. It didn’t seem as strict since you didn’t need things for an animal. Though, you were surprised at how they didn’t seem so… disheartening towards you anymore.

Signing the papers felt unreal as the pen glided across the paper. You had officially adopted a hybrid.

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

Being a hybrid wasn’t all it was cut out to be, at least, not for Yoongi. Spending nearly all his life in the shelter. Maybe a year and a half were in actual homes. It was probably not even that if he was being honest with himself, but after the third home, he stopped counting the days and hoping.

The first time he was adopted, he was around ten years old, a little old for being adopted but nothing too bad. The family was looking for a hybrid around their twin son and daughter’s age, and Yoongi just happened to be two years younger than them. It was perfect they thought. It seemed like a happy family a month in but there was change. The children were constantly harassing him, pulling his ears and tail, pressured him to do things that would get the adults involved to the point of punishments.

It went on for months before they returned him, saying he was a deceiver and untameable. Yoongi was unsure of what they meant by this as it was their children who were the liars. Even when he told the caregivers of the time he had with them, it never seemed like they thought he was telling the truth either.

It was some years before Yoongi was adopted again. Age thirteen going on fourteen. He was adopted by a young couple. Must have been between the ages twenty-two to twenty-five. He never got around to asking because as soon as he was there he was brought back. The couple seemed to want to prove to themselves that they could take care of another breathing being. That is what he gathered by overhearing them a few times. All it did was tear them apart in the end over disagreements on how to take care of him.

The next two times were practically the same. One was lonely while the other was another person trying to prove something to themselves. Yoongi was done with these humans and their selfish ways. He didn’t want to attempt to get close with them anymore when he knew that they would return him like a replaceable item in the end.

Yet, another was trying to adopt him again. ‘I’m too old for this.’ He thought to himself when he was dragged into the office to be told someone was interested in him. Being twenty-five years old as a hybrid was considered old. Unadoptable. Plus he was on his fourth strike. A fifth- and by law- would mean he would have to be put to sleep.

The weeks dragged on because of him constantly denying to see through with this person’s desire to adopt him. It was an actual decision between life and death. He thought about it though. Would he rather be stuck in here? Wasting away inclosed in white walls or to live out in the world just a little bit longer, if the person would let him out that was.

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

The introduction of you and the hybrid, who you now knew as Yoongi was, well, short and awkward. Was it to be expected? The short answer is yes. Yoongi seemed unfazed and distant right away which, in a way, you know he would be like this. The real question was, was he always going to be like this. You were new to each other, so feeling like strangers was going to be present for a while.

The taxi ride home was silent. Nothing but the sound of wheels on the pavement with random songs playing on the radio softly. You wanted to make some kind of conversation with Yoongi, you did, but with awkwardness still lingering heavily in the air, it was difficult to start with anything. It was interesting to spot his ears out of the corner of your eye, twitching ever so often.

The climb up the stairs was just as silent. Nothing but the taps of feet with some huffs from you nearly the top. No matter how many times you’d walked up these four flights of stairs, you were sure to always be out of breath before reaching your door.

By the time you reached your door, you were indeed out of breath, and with the last huff, you pulled out your key unlocking the door, pushing it open revealing the seemingly small apartment. “And home.” You spoke out as you began pulling your shoes off, placing them on a rack before slipping into house slippers. “Oh, here’s some slippers for you. If you want to wear them.” You already owned some for when you had guests but you went ahead and bought new ones specially for Yoongi. Looking at them now, they seemed a bit… small. Though it didn’t seem to matter as Yoongi slipped off the shoes the shelter provided and ignored the slippers.

“I have a room for you ready.” You spoke again after a moment of silence. Seems silence between you two was something you were going to have to get used to. Walking through the kitchen and living area- either side had a room the same size. Though the room to the right used to be your storage and office space, you were able to move things around in your room for your desk and got rid of some stuff you’ve been meaning to. Now the once-office turned back to a bedroom. It was pretty bare besides the matching wood bed and dresser you’d bought.

Moving aside to the doorframe, allowing Yoongi in the room to inspect it. His eyes never seemed to stop taking in things. His ears moved with him as he looked around and his tail was low as the tip curled to one side.

As he took in the new home, you took in his unique hair color. It was probably the Ragdoll genes but the contrast between his hair and the fur on his ears and tail were a bit different. His hair was silver-grey and as for the fur, it was a bit lighter in the same color. You wondered for a moment if his DNA was manipulative to make the animal features stand out more but you quickly shook the thought away. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable even though it was just a thought.

“There’s some clothes in the dresser. I wasn’t sure what you like so, there are a few things in the dresser. Just for until we go shopping.” The response you got was nothing but an ‘mhm’. Yoongi seemed uninterested but curious about the clothes you’d gotten. He wanted to know if it was the type they would get him. Well-fitted ones that rubbed and itched all over. As he pulled them out, sure enough, there were the ones he knew he would find but as he kept pulling out and unfolding the clothes he found some that were baggy and much softer. Something about watching him digging through the clothes felt endearing and it showed on your face with a small smile on your lips.

As you turned away to allow him to have some privacy you wondered to yourself what Yoongi would want to have for dinner.

#min yoongi x reader #hybrid!yoongi x reader #hybrid!bts x reader #bts x reader #bts hybrid au #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts au #min yoongi #yoongi x reader

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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter one rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Masterlist and Series Masterlist

“Married?” You squeaked as your eyes grazed over the words on the card a hundred times without retaining any of the information. As you momentarily forgot how to even read, you had to rely on the words coming out of Andy’s mouth.

“Yes, uh, married.” He awkwardly cleared his throat. “Dani and I are getting married over the summer.”

The awkward silence filled the air, suffocating the three of you, but you didn’t care. You were still staring at that damn card. That damn card that said your ex boyfriend was getting married to another girl.

“Married.” You repeated, at a loss for words.

“You said that already, dumbass.” Venom chimed in, telepathically. You rolled your eyes and kicked the bench, signaling to her to quiet down.

“Yeah.” He said again. “I know we’re young, but I’m sure about her. She’s the love of my life.”

“Wow. Good for you.” You faked a smile as you stared at the invitation. “It’s Uh, it’s a lot to take in.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you in person. I figured it would be better than you randomly getting the card in the mail and finding out that way.” Andy explained.

“Our hero.” Venom snarled, so you pinched your leg to send her the message to be quiet.

“Yeah. Yeah, no, I’m glad you told me.” You lied as your eyes finally processed something on the card.

“You’re getting married on August 10?” You asked, finally tearing your eyes away from the invitation to look at him. He looked good, you had to admit. His curly brown hair was cut shorter than usual and he was still wearing his police uniform.

“Bright and early. I chose that day because-“

“Because it’s your parents anniversary. I know.” You cut him off, a little sharply.

“I’m sorry if this is awkward.” He frowned. “I understand if you’re too hurt to come.”

“It’s fine. We were together and now we’re not. Besides, I’m really happy for you and Dani. She really helped me get back on my feet when Venom and I first bonded. I like her. And if you want to marry her on that day, then go ahead.” You said, and you meant it. You did like Dani. You’d like her more if she wasnt dating the love of your life, but hey, nobody’s perfect.

“You’re lying. We want him back. He looks so juicy and delicious.” Venom said. You choked on your saliva for a moment at her words and Andy was quick to pat your back.

“You alright?” He asked. You nodded and made a mental note to have a domestic conversation about boundaries with Venom when you got home.

“I’m fine. And anyways, I’ve uh, I’ve moved on.” You lied, adverting your eyes so he wouldn’t catch on.

“What? No we haven’t?” Venom didn’t grasp the social cue.

“You have?” Andy asked, seemingly taken aback.

“No! We love you!” Venom growled in your head.

“Yep. I’m in a deeply committed and loving relationship.” You nodded as you looked anywhere but at him. It wasn’t a total lie. You were technically in a relationship with Venom, though be it a host/parasite kinda deal.

“What’s he like?” Andy wondered, looking pissed off all the sudden.

“They’re great. They’re, uh…tall. Super, super tall.” You began to describe Venom. So far, it was all true. Venom was 7’6 in her final form.

“They’re black, like yourself, and they’ve got this big, beautiful smile.” You could feel yourself cringing internally as you painted the picture for him.

“You think our smile is beautiful?” Venom teased you.

“And they just always have my back. They’re my ride or die, you know? If I didn’t have them, I’d be dead. Literally.” You finished. Also true. If you and Venom ever got separated, you would both die. Andy was looking off into the distance, sucking his teeth before nodding again.

“That’s nice.” He said, but his tone didn’t sound like he thought it was nice.

“I’d literally die.” You repeated to fill the awkward silence.

“I get it.” He deadpanned.

“Like, I’d freaking perish.”

“Alright.” He held up his hands and you stopped.

“So, do you think you can come?” He brought the conversation back to him, something he was good at.

Of course you could come. What else would you be doing? But you were just getting back on my feet after losing your job and a wedding might be too much too soon. You were at rock bottom before you found Venom. Well, before you found each other. That was nearly a year ago, but that day came back in flashes every now and then...

“You’re seriously breaking up with me? Over a job?” You asked as you followed Andy out of the police station. You were under the impression that he had just been fired because of the files you took from his computer. Classified files on local businessman Carlton Drake and the people he had killed with his experiments, of course.

“Yeah, I am.” He snapped. “I’m done with you.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” You pleaded as you followed him down the street.

“Okay.” He stopped, looking angry. “Do you want to talk about how you embarrassed me in front of my precinct? I just got yelled at in front of my all my coworkers because of you and your greed. You used me for your stupid show.”

“I wasn’t being greedy.” You insisted, ignoring that he called your job stupid. “You had the information on Carlton Drake and I needed it to make an accusation. He’s killing people! He’s a bad guy, Andy. And I write about and report bad men. That’s my job. I didn’t know that looking at your files would get you fired.”

Andy put his hands on his hips and looked around, suddenly sheepish.

“I wasn’t fired.” He mumbled.

“What?” You switched from upset to confused. “Then why are you angry?”

“I was demoted to traffic duty for two weeks because of you.” He pointed an angry finger at you and you almost laughed.

“I’m sorry, wait.” You compared yourself. “You’re breaking up with me after two years together because I got you demoted to traffic duty? Are you serious?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to wear that orange vest? It’s humiliating.” Andy shouted and you covered your mouth to keep from laughing. “Everyone in the neighborhood knows me and now they’re gonna know I’m on traffic duty.”

“People know you?” Your eyes widened at how dense he was being. “Andy, I’m a local celebrity. I had a whole show on YouTube that I was just fired from. Actually fired. You’re just a police officer who was demoted.”

“To traffic duty.” He repeated, as if it was suddenly worse.

“I know!” You snapped before calming down. “Are we really over? Just because of one mistake?”

“You used me.” He shrugged. “I can’t trust you.”

You stared at him as he walked over to you, never breaking eye contact as he took his key off your key ring.

“We’re over.” He hissed before turning around and walking away.

“Y/N?” Andy waved a hand in front of your face, snapping you out of it.

“Oh, right sorry. Um…” You trailed off as you mulled it over. You were happy for him, but you weren’t ready to see him marry someone else. That was gonna be you guys. Of course you wanted to be at his wedding, but you wanted to be the bride.

“Actually, I cant.” You blurted, quickly thinking of a lie. “The Daily Bugle called me and offered me a job in New York. They want me to cover a story on some serial killer. I was gonna move there part time until the story is done. I’m leaving in a few weeks.”

It was partially true. The Daily Bugle did reach out to ask you to write the story, but you had planned to write it at home. News of Andy’s impending marriage was enough to drive you out of the state.

“Oh really?” Andy raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

He was never one to celebrate you, even when you were together, but his reaction seemed different now. He almost seemed surprised that you were still successful without him.

“Yea. I just finalized everything this morning.” You lied again as you wondered how you’d get a NYC apartment on such short notice. “But hey, maybe I’ll finish early and make it back in time for your big day. I mean, it’s only April. I have lots of time. How many people could this guy possible kill until August?” You joked, but Andy didn’t laugh. He never really got your sense of humor.

“That’s great Y/N.” He nodded, not much enthusiasm behind it. “Things are really turning around for you. I can’t believe you found a job and a boyfriend. I didn’t think it would happen.”

You narrowed your eyes at his condescending comment but decided to brush it off.

“Well, it did. I’m on to bigger and better things.” You cut into him a little as you stood up. “I better go. I told my partner I’d meet them for lunch. Bye!”

“Bye!” Andy called after you, still in a funk from what you told him.

You practically ran home and slid down your door once you got inside.

“Holy shit. I’m such a liar.” You grimaced and covered my face with my hands. Venom manifested herself in her snake-like form and looked at you.

“You’re not a liar if we move to New York and start dating.” She said, making you laugh.

“You have a point. In that case, will you be my girlfriend, Miss Venom?” You asked sarcastically and Venom grinned.

“You’re not really my type, but I’m willing to settle.” Venom matched your sarcasm.

“Then let’s make moving plans, baby.” You sighed. “We’re going to New York.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

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nagito-kissmaeda · 3 years

Text

Can I Call You Tonight? - Nagito Komaeda x Reader

Summary: you send Nagito a nude. He likes it. Contains : Nagito x Reader, explicit NSFW content, fem reader, no pronouns used Words: 2467

ミ☆ Please send me a DM or an ask if you’d like me to write something for you!

You aren’t sure what possessed you to take the photo. You are even less sure what possessed you to hit send.

This incessant crush that you’ve had for almost two years now, it isn't going anywhere. It only gets stronger and stronger. with every meeting your heart races faster, you’ve been dreaming about his hands, the cut of his jaw. Nagito Komaeda consumes your every thought.

You aren't good with words. You have no idea how you would even begin to tell him how you feel about him. How you have always felt about him. So did something stupid, shirt off, tits out stupid.

But what's done is done. All you can do now is wait. Chewing on your fingernails and staring at your phone screen in absolute horror.

This was a terrible idea.

***

On the other side of the phone, Nagito freezes. One hand clapped over his mouth as his eyes drink in the image that just appeared in his message app. His heart is racing, his breathing is heavy. He shouldn’t even be looking at it, there is no way someone as pathetic as he should even be permitted to view your perfect visage. His throat bobs, horrified at how quickly his jeans are growing tight.

You’re smiling directly into the camera, it’s almost like you can see him. Breasts squished together and cheeks rosy pink, it almost looks like you took this photo just for him. That you know he is looking at it.

His cock is painfully hard now, begging for him to touch it. He can’t. He can’t use your perfect body in such a...a filthy way. You must have sent this photo by accident, you probably don’t even know that he is looking at it. That thought makes his cock twitch in his jeans and he groans. He is reprehensible.

It’s just as he finally starts giving in, when his hand starts slowly trailing down his torso, that his phone pings again. He blinks, stomach turning when he sees the message is from you once more. He’s ready for you to express your horror at sending something so intimate to someone like him, to call him out for even thinking about touching himself while looking at it. But then, he is taken by surprise.

Did you like it?

His heart is racing, staring wide eyed at his phone, any possible reply has died right at his fingertips. He’s all but short circuited.

I’ve never done something like this before...I hope it was okay…

You sent it on purpose. You sent it TO HIM on purpose.

Nagito? Oh god, I shouldn’t have sent that should I? I’m so sorry, we can pretend it never happened.

He is thrust back into the present, fingers tapping wildly on his phone screen.

My apologies! I was just shocked that you would intend to send something like this to someone like me.

...I do like it.

He unzips his jeans and takes his cock in his free hand. Sighing shakily at the relief of pressure. Looking down at the phone where he can still see the photo (the photo you took for him) and he has a sudden thought. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he forces his shaky fingers to type out another message.

Do you want me to return the favour?

***

You’re sitting on your bed. Holding your phone in your hand and shaking. Was he really asking what you thought he was? Did he want to send you a picture of..of...your teeth sink into your lower lip, you can feel an unmistakable warmth between your thighs. You swallow, and manage to reply.

Only if it’s okay with you...

Then you wait. Staring down at the phone with nervous eyes, fingers on your right hand slowly dance around the edge of your nipple. Not wanting to touch it just yet. Just the thought of him taking a photo on the other end of the phone is making you wet, just imagining him slipping a hand into his already tight jeans and-

Your phone pings.

It’s not much to look at. I’m sorry.

Your phone pings again and you almost drop your phone out of your hand when the picture pops up. Not much to look at? Nagito is a goddamn liar.

Surprisingly, it isn’t his cock that draws your eyes first, but his hand. You know that hand, from his chewed cuticles to the ridges of his knuckles. The same hand you have been dreaming about holding yours, is now wrapped firmly around the base of the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen. Flushed red and dripping with pre-cum. You can feel the arousal pang in the pit of your stomach. That was Nagito’s cock. You were looking at it. It was his. You gulp.

The hand not gripping your phone slowly slips down your stomach and into your panties. You’re shocked to find yourself already wet, gently rubbing circles around your clit as you stare at the perfect bead of cum balancing on the tip on Nagito’s cock. God how badly you want to clean it up with your tongue.

You look perfect, Nagito.

You manage to type with your shaking hand, dipping one finger inside of yourself and mewling at the feeling. Boldness takes over, and you send another message before you can regret it.

I’m so wet for you

It’s a few minutes before you get a response, you’re too busy thrusting a finger in and out of yourself while imagining just how that perfect cock of his would feel in its place. You’ve taken to examining some of the finer details, you can see the jut of his hip bones in the background, blurry and pale, you want to suck on them until they turn purple. Then, another message:

Another angle. The camera is higher this time, giving you a perfect view of his face. His white hair is fucked five ways to hell, plastered to his forehead with sweat. His milky skin is flushed pink all the way down to his collarbones and his white shirt is bunched up around his ribcage. He’s looking right at you, eyes half lidded and a thin line of drool escaping his full lower lip. Hand still tightly wrapped around his cock. You feel like you could cum from this alone.

I would like to see more of you. If you would allow it.

If it was anyone but Nagito, you would say no. You are shy about your appearance, the only way you were able to send that first photo was hitting the button before you had time to actually think about it. But still, he wants to see more of you, and you trust him. Your hand is quivering as you slip out of your panties, finger still slowly circling your clit as you angle the camera downward. This is so weird. You can't even look at the phone, you’re so embarrassed. It would be so much easier if he could just look on his own, if you didn’t need to practice angling the camera for the perfect shot.

A thought hits you, and you bite down on your lip.

Fuck it. You decide, and hit the video call button

***

Nagito jumps when his phone starts to ring. Worried that somehow, someone out there knows exactly what he is doing, but then he realises its you. His hand shakes when he brings up his finger and hits accept.

You pop onto his screen immediately, cheeks flushed, sweat dripping down your brow, mouth hung open and panting. The hand around his cock tightens almost instinctively. To see it in a photo is one thing, to see you moving. Well, that’s something completely different.

“H...Hey, Nagito” You breathe, breaking off into a moan halfway through his name. His name. You just moaned his name.

“Ah…” His throat bobs, still slowly working his cock through the thick trails of pre-cum dripping down it, “Hello…”

“I thought this might be...hng” It’s now that he notices the way your free arm is moving. Something is happening off screen, he can guess what it is. You have a shaky breath and manage a nervous smile, “...you know, easier? Than the photos…”

“Ah, yes.” A nervous laugh bubbles up out of his chest, “I was having trouble typing. My…mmph, my hands are shaky.”

You smile softly, but a twitch of your lips betrays your nerves. Nagito knows you so well, he can read you like a book, you swallow, “do you still want to see?”

A noise that could almost be called a whimper escapes his mouth at the thought, “y-yes...of course! If you are willing to show someone like me then I would be...exhilarated.”

He watches as you take a deep breath, and begin panning the camera down past your breasts, over the curve of stomach, before it finally focuses in on your fingers, dipping slowly in and out of your dripping center. He chokes on a sound, half a moan, half a laugh as he watches you languidly fingering yourself. First just one finger, but then quickly two.

“You weren’t kidding about how wet you are…” he breathes, completely in awe of you.

Nagito hears the nervous ring of your laugh from off camera, “Y-yeah.” You breath shakily, fingers still continuing their ministrations, “Is this okay? It’s probably weird to watch me doing this…”

Your thumb reaches up and brushes across your clit, he sees your thighs shake, “No...no, I am…” he licks his lips, tightening the grip of his hand around his weeping cock, “I am honoured that you trust me this much.”

There is a little fumbling, and then the camera comes back up your face, bright red and smiling shyly as you refuse to make eye contact with the phone screen, “I’m glad you liked it…”

There’s a lull in conversation. Your eyes turn to meet his through the screen, and for a moment he is just jerking off to your expression. The way your eyes clench shut, the way you hiss through your teeth. He can see your arm moving faster, he can’t help but wonder how many fingers are inside you now. Can’t help but wonder how many of his fingers would fit inside of you.

“N-nagito…?” You ask, voice high pitched and almost mewling.

He gulps, his hips are bucking up into his hand now. You look so beautiful like this, “Yes…?”

You meet the approximation of his eyes, chewing your lower lip nervously, “Are...are you still-?”

Nagito nods sheepishly, “Y-Yeah...I-“

“Can I see?”

His heart is racing, but he nods and shuffles a little higher up on the pillows. He takes a deep breath in through his nose and switches his phone to the back facing camera. He watches your eyes blow wide and your mouth drops open in a moan, “F-Fuck, Nagito...you’re so pretty.”

He laughs in disbelief, slowly bringing his fist up to the head of his cock and teasing the tip with the pad of his thumb. He can see that your eyes are following the movement, “you...you really like it?”

“If I was there with you it would have been in my mouth like half an hour ago.”

Nagito groans at that, head falling backward on his pillow as he flips the camera back around, “you’re torturing me.”

“The faces you’re making…” you whisper, biting down hard on your lower lip to hide a moan. Your arm is moving even faster, breasts shaking with the movement, “god, the way you look right now. Someone should carve you out of marble.”

He laughs breathlessly, pumping his cock even faster, “why do you keep saying such things? I can’t possibly hold a candle to you.” His eyes turn to your face, glowing with arousal on his phone, “you’re like a vision, something someone like me should only be permitted to see in my dreams.”

You turn even redder, he didn’t know that was possible. A smile crawls up the side of his face at your expression. He never wants to stop looking at you. Nagito can feel himself getting close, there’s a tightness in the pit of his stomach that is just begging him to let it go. Keening and moaning, eyes scrunching shut as his hips guide his palm into a particularly delicious stroke, he can here you whimpering and mewling on the other end of the phone, and if he listens hard enough he can hear the wet sounds of your fingers pumping into and out of your sex.

“Nhhn-Nagito...I wish it was your fingers inside of me.”

He felt those words in his insides, from his stomach all the way out to the tips of his fingers. It was like a bolt of lightning to his heart, to his cock, to his everything. You wanted him. You wanted him. His mouth drops open, and words escape him before he can think better of it, “I...I don't deserve it...but…” he gasps as his thumb brushes over his weeping slit, drool running down over his chin, “I want your mouth on me...i want it so badly...i can’t--ahhh~”

***

Nagito has the prettiest orgasm you’ve ever seen. His mouth drops open, his eyelids flutter closed and his back arches up to the ceiling. In the soft light of the lamp by his bed, he looks like an angel, chest heaving as he finally comes undone.

You don't stop touching yourself, twitching and gasping, getting closer and closer just watching him as he shatters. The moment that breaks you, that makes the coil in your stomach finally snap is when you catch a glimpse of his wrist giving himself one last pump off screen. His brow furrowing and a delicious moan escaping his perfect lips, splattering his bare torso with his cum.

It’s too much. With a breathless moan you feel yourself tip over the edge, your insides tightening, toes curling and the world goes white behind your eyes. All you can think about is Nagito. Your hand is shaking when you finally slip your fingers out of yourself and wipe them on your bare thigh, when you open your eyes you can see Nagito laying back on his pillows and breathing deeply as he comes back down.

You giggle, “So…”

Nagito cracks open an eye, “So…”

“Do you want to keep talking?” You grab a shirt and pull it on over your head, “Or was that...it?”

You watch as Nagito runs a hand through the mess of his hair, he gives you a sleepy smile, “I need to clean up, but i can leave the audio on if you want?”

“Yeah.” You reply, “That sounds good.”

#nagito x reader #komaeda x reader #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa #super danganronpa two

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jaggedlittleteacup · 3 years

Text

Reverse, esreveR

Tw: S*ic*de Attempt, Dr*g Abuse

Sherlock Holmes was an arsehole. He knew that he was, he felt it- deep inside, a sort of gut emotion that clenched and twisted and made him feel all the more wretched. He really couldn’t control it at this point. It was a habit that had formed from years of keeping every awful thing that had happened to him pent up in his mind. So many years of abuse, so many bruises and scars, and so, so much hurt that left no marks on anywhere but the mind. He knew it was wrong to take it out on those he loved- and even those he didn’t- but it kept resurfacing in the forms of snide comments and manic volatility.

It started one quiet night at Baker Street. It was nothing much, a snappish comment too far, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was the last straw for a livid John Watson, who stood up and kicked over the coffee table in fury. Words bounced off of Sherlock, who heard without listening. Eyes closed, chest feeling empty, Sherlock felt John’s innate rage. Until he didn’t.

When Sherlock opened a single eye, he saw John holding a small box that had been concealed under the table. Sherlock heard a roar in his ears, he could hardly breathe, he was crushed by an overwhelming feeling of guilt- it all just hurt.

John’s steady fingers brushed over the syringe that the box contained. The flat was silent, except for the pounding of Sherlock’s heart- or was he the only one who could hear that?

Glass shattered at his feet. John was yelling, now. Sherlock was pretending to listen.

Sociopath. Liar. Machine.

John was saying those words as if they held no value to Sherlock. Of course, that had been the impression Sherlock had made, so why wouldn’t he say those things?

Sherlock was used to feeling hopeless, but this? This was it. This was all he could take and more. And worst of all? It was cowardly, and Sherlock couldn’t even have the decency to properly listen to John.

Possibly in the middle of John’s sentence, he stood up and mumbled some sort of excuse- that he had to use the loo, maybe? He wasn’t sure.

Dazed, Sherlock walked to the loo and left John alone in the living room. Thoughts were rushing through his head. He couldn’t take this. Not anymore.

He clicked the lock and slid down the door onto the cold, hard tile floor. His hands were shaking, his vision blurry with held-back tears. He didn’t want to do this. Yes, he did. No, he didn’t. Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he?

Trembling fingers pulled open the medicine cabinet. They pulled out a bottle of painkillers. They opened the cap. They poured precisely ten in Sherlock’s other hand.

Ten, because Sherlock had measured the dosage during a particularly bad night. He knew that each pill had 500mg of acetaminophen in them. Over 5000 in one go would certainly kill a man. It had to.

Shaking, crying- although he didn’t realise it, and he never would have admitted it otherwise- Sherlock popped a pill into his mouth one at a time. It was hard to swallow. His throat was rejecting it, so each pill took longer to take. He was shaking his head, not wanting to finish, but knowing he had already taken at least six.

After number ten, Sherlock broke. The tears came freely, now. He mumbled a shattered apology to his mum and dad, to Mycroft, even, and most definitely to John, whom he didn’t want to leave.

With each whispered name, Sherlock popped another pill between his lips. Now he had taken…what, fourteen? Fifteen? He didn’t really care, even though he did. A small part of him was screaming for someone to care, to stop him, to save him- but to no avail.

After a few choked-out sobs, Sherlock regained some of his composure. He wiped his eyes, which were shamefully red, and stood up. He was going to go about this bravely. The toxic shock wouldn’t kick in for at least a few hours, and by then, he would be asleep. A peaceful death. An easy one.

Sherlock unlocked the door and walked back out to the living room, where John was pacing furiously. He looked pale and frightened.

John must have asked something along the lines of “what did you take?” in a worried tone of voice, but Sherlock shook his head. He probably told him that he took nothing. John still looked concerned. He asked him again. Still, Sherlock shook his head. He felt guilty for lying to John.

John relaxed. He nodded, he sat down. He offered Sherlock dinner, but Sherlock politely refused.

Sherlock lied about something or other and said he had a stomachache, that he wanted to go to bed. John reluctantly allowed him to.

At approximately nine o’clock, Sherlock laid down in bed and wrote a short note in his pocketbook. It told whom he wanted his things left to, even though he knew it wasn’t entirely legal. He trusted Mycroft to sort all that out.

His stomach was already starting to ache. He needed to fall asleep.

And so he did, praying that he would never wake up.

Unfortunately, life was decidedly quite cruel.

By the time the clock read midnight, Sherlock realised he had made a terrible mistake. He woke up gasping for breath as his stomach burned. His face felt hot, and his head was pounding. It was as though his insides were tearing themselves apart.

Dazed, he tried to move, but instead fell out of his bed and hit the floor with a groan. Sherlock was so weak that he could not find the strength to move. He threw up, even though he didn’t want to. It meant that the drugs might not work. Mind racing, chest heaving in mild panic, Sherlock wondered if this was how he would die- suffocating on his own vomit and in horrible agony.

Spirits broken, Sherlock whispered John’s name. It hurt too much. He needed John to save him, or else he was going to die.

Sherlock kept whispering it- his lungs wouldn’t allow him to speak up. But John was already upstairs. He couldn’t hear him. Maybe Sherlock didn’t want him to.

He choked out something along the lines of “I don’t want to die”, but slowly, agonisingly, his eyes closed and he faded into unconsciousness.

You could imagine his surprise when he woke up the next morning, every inch of his body aching. His chest burned, and he kept needing to throw up every few minutes, but he was unmistakably alive.

And in some of the worst pain of his life.

He staggered to his feet and made his way to the loo. He threw up again.

For a brief moment, he felt better. He dreaded another racking dry heave that would take hold of his body.

No dice.

After typing a few things onto his laptop- perhaps updating his website with a few unintelligible entries about the side effects of acetaminophen overdose- he went back to the loo and threw up. He hadn’t eaten anything, so it was just stomach acid that burned his oesophagus and made him nauseous. The pain was growing steadily worse, and John wasn’t even awake yet.

For the next hour, Sherlock allowed the poison to simmer in his body, silently attacking his liver and slowly killing him.

John eventually woke up. Of course he did.

When he saw Sherlock’s pale face, he said nothing. When Sherlock nearly tripped down the steps in delirium, John was concerned, but said nothing.

When Sherlock’s knees buckled beneath him, he said something.

What did you take?

Sherlock slurred a half-hearted response, his head aching and his stomach twisting itself inside out. He felt like he was dying. It was probably because his organs were failing.

He clung onto the banister of the staircase as John desperately shook his shoulders. He couldn’t breathe. His brain was shutting down but his eyes and ears still worked. Everything hurt.

Sherlock saw John pull out his mobile and dial Mrs. Hudson’s number before swearing and pulling him outside.

Sherlock faded in and out of consciousness.

He was in a car.

Then a waiting room.

Then an urgent care.

Disappointed, disapproving, and endlessly pitying. Nobody would stop staring.

A nurse said he would be out of their care the same day.

His liver began to fail.

And then he was in an ambulance. He made a hazily rude comment to the EMT.

They stuck a needle in his arm. They did it wrong. It hurt like hell.

I’m clean, he wanted to tell them. Saying he didn’t do drugs anymore would be a flat-out lie.

They put him in a hospital.

His liver reached critical condition. The levels of acetaminophen in his bloodstream were lethal, yet he was somehow still alive. (It would be a case study for months and months to come.)

Sherlock was in the worst pain of his life.

They gave him morphine.

John sat by his bed during the entire ordeal.

He didn’t say a thing.

He didn’t know what to say.

Sherlock almost died.

John looked like he’d aged many years.

Sherlock felt regret.

John held his hand.

Sherlock wished he could turn back time.

John did, too.

༺═──────────────═༻

(Author’s Note: Based on a true story, sad enough to say. It’s sort of my way of giving past experiences a bit of closure. Imbuing writing with pain and anguish is rather cathartic. To tell you the truth, the fact that I’m alive now puzzles doctors and professionals alike. A case study was written on me. I am one of only eleven cases to have ever survived several doses of acetaminophen- enough to kill multiple grown men- at the age of twelve. I’m an anomaly and the fact that I’m here today writing this only proves how strange I am. I can’t say I’m better now. But I’ve learned my lesson. I’m sorry if it was so intense. If you or a loved one are having suicidal thoughts, please tell someone. Don’t make my mistake. And please, for the love of God, if you’re considering it, don’t kill yourself. It would be the biggest and final mistake of your life. People care about you so much. Much love, - AE.)

#sherlock #bbc #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock #benedict cumberbatch #post reichenbach #angst #sad ending #ambiguous ending #angsty #based on a true story #jalexandria #writing #fics #fanfiction #tw suicide i guess?#drug addiction #writing angst to make people suffer

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the-volume-is-astronomical · 3 years

Text

The Crown, The Sword, and The Gay

Knight's Mistake

A/N: y'all some people actually cared so i decided to share this chapter which is def shorter but hope y'all enjoy and remember to stay alert there could be clues as to what happens next anywhere (also let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist!)

First | Previous| Next

words: 1601

summary: Roman’s in the tower and he is now alone with his new knight in shinning armor pairings: eventual prinxiety, eventual intrulogical, eventual moceit

warnings: some potty language (not much), stress, anxiety, pretentious character, violence (near the end), talking down to someone, blatant sexism

(let me know if there's any other)

“Your majesty…” Trent opened the door for Roman, he didn't react at all. He kept looking out the carriage window. Ruth asked Trent to give them a minute and he nodded looking complacent but, she saw from the corner of her eye his smile drop and his eyes roll...she’d have to look into that later, for now…

”Roman, I truly do hate to bring you back to reality but-” Roman seemed to sober up at her voice “I know, I know.” They both got out of the carriage, Trent at the ready with Roman’s possessions. Ruth and Roman gave each other a goodbye. “I'll be back in the morning. I hope by that time with Remy..” Roman chuckled

“And I swear if I see you reading that damn book-” “No! I promise I'll read something else this time” Roman knew Ruth was just joking “You are such a bad liar- I thought I taught you better!” Their little moment was rudely interrupted by Trent’s over exaggerated coughing.

Roman turned around almost forgetting Trent was there. “Sorry for the interruption, Your majes-” Roman interrupts Trent “No, please, call me Roman” The knight gave a tight nod and gestured towards the tower which Roman purposely ignored. Roman gave Ruth a hug, afterwards Trent helped her to the carriage.

Roman watched his only way out leave with his nurse. Trent was getting tired of being ignored. He grabbed Roman’s arm, not forcefully, the Prince was his only way of proving to the King how much potential he had. He had heard how ingenious the heir could be, he had outwitted several knight before, it was obvious the royal hadn't done it to embarrass the knights but, the other trainees always made fun of those who were fooled by the young prince.

Trent did not intend to be one of them.

Roman quickly twisted his hand off “his” knight’s grasp, he just started walking forward without saying another word, not even looking to where he was going. From an outsider perspective it might look as if he had memorized the path to such a degree he could get to his destination with his eyes closed, they would be right.

After arriving at the top of the tower, he went towards the nearest shelf and took out the only book with any color that wasn't brown or gray, he sat by the window but instead of rereading his favorite book, Trent spoke up trying to make conversation.

“So, I heard Hugo had been your knight before I” dropping Romans possessions as he spoke. Roman looked up pretty confused, he wasn't used to talkative Knights, he usually had to fight stories out of Hugo.

“Well yes, there was a time where Hugo was planning to retire but all the knights that applied to be my babysitters, to upgrade rank of course, were very easily fooled” Trent ignored almost everything he had said just waiting out until it was his turn to talk “Yeah, yeah.. Did you know Hugo actually taught me for a while?”

Trent obviously expected curiosity, which he got. “Really? Hugo has never spoken of you, I've asked him about his life for so long, I could write a whole book about his life.” Trent looked a little annoyed at that “He did indeed teach me for a while not for long though, it was back in Meadowfort…” making an obvious pause expecting Roman to ask for more details about Hugo’s home, he was a very private person

… What he did not expect on the other hand was Roman to start monologuing about what Hugo had told him about the place.

“Oh, Meadowfort!” He jumped up starting to look through a trunk, until he pulled out a drawing “Gosh, I remember Hugo telling me so much about his home” Trent didn't really know what to say, he looked at the drawing that Roman had laid on the desk, and it was Meadowfort.

He only had a foggy memory of what the place looked like, last time he had been there he was a child. “Hugo went back a few years ago, he got an artist to make me this painting of his hometown. I had completely forgotten about it till you mentioned it!” Roman rambled admiring the drawing.

Trent, still trying to impress Roman, spoke up. “Yes! That's um... his street, his house was…” he trailed off looking around the drawing, actively trying to remember which was Hugo’s house, before his memory could be refreshed the Royal next to him beat him to it, “...I believe it was this one, Hugo always told me what a perfect view he got from his bedroom window.” He was very hesitant as he felt he was interrupting his new knight too much.

Trent agreed with that sentiment. He was incredibly annoyed with the prince. Trent tried to impress him by other means but, Roman proved to know a lot about Hugo’s life. So he headed towards the big shelf and picked up one of the philosophy books he recognized.

“Ah! ‘Philosophy Without A Goal’, an amazing piece of literature... though, I certainly don't agree with all it’s ideals” he again expected a reaction of awe towards his knowledge on a type of book mostly used to teach royalty but he got none of it

“Oh yeah, I think I remember a bit of that book. I wasn't really interested in the topic and my professor was very considerate, he always included some adventure or fantasy book when it was time to practice reading, after my parents found out he got fired...always felt bad about that.” Roman spoke while eyeing the red book that sat abandoned by the window.

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

After several attempts of trying to impress the prince with the amount of knowledge he had but, being out done by the monarch, Trent gave up. “It’s getting late, i'm going to head to bed...where exactly am I going to sleep?” Roman stood up and quickly headed for the door “There's a room we passed while heading up-” Roman, hand on the door handle, was going to show Trent where he was going to sleep but, the knight panicked thinking this might be the prince trying to trick him.

“No!” He ran towards the door and slammed it, startling Roman “I can find it myself- thank you though, your majesty” Roman was very confused and still a little shocked at the outburst “Um...sure, if you have any questions about anything let me know, i’ve spent half my life here.” there was something bitter tracing his voice, not that Trent noticed nor cared so, he excused himself.

Trent actually found the room pretty easily, he was unsure how he had missed it before. He was unbelievably annoyed once he realized he'd have to be in the tower with the royal for an undisclosed amount of time, why couldn't the prince shut his mouth from time to time, on the other hand, he could handle it as long as he could cut a few extra steps and effort to actually get to a position of power.

Though life isn't always ideal.

(In this case, he definitely had it coming)

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

Roman woke up to raised voices, in his half-asleep self he couldn't make out what they were saying but he did recognize Ruth’s voice and how much anger she laced her words with.

He stood from his bed concerned for his nurse and who might be on the other end of her venom, she only really had patience for those she cared about. He hurriedly put a robe on and headed out his room. He found Trent and Ruth arguing, his nurse was absolutely fuming, and in a lack of better words “ready to kill a bitch”.

As Roman finally realized they were arguing, he tried to listen as to what they were fighting about. “The King gave me direct orders to not let anyone who wasn't of importance in, that obviously doesn't include a random servant bringing the Prince some tea. Trent emphasized on the word King, as if to prove he was somehow above Ruth.

“Look hun, I get it you think you’re hot stuff because ‘the king chose you to babysit the prince and that's going to help your career’ or whatever, just let me in to see how my baby is doing...ok?” Ruth sounded tired but Roman could hear the murderous edge to her tone.

“Did they not teach you to not to talk that way towards a man?” Trent apparently heard the tone she was obviously trying to hide and he also didn't have a will to live, Roman was about to say something but, Trent spoke before he could.

“Just leave the food and head back, you sure as hell aren't strong enough to get by me.” Roman genuinely thought Ruth was going to go off on Trent and go on a screaming match. However, he did not expect his nurse to, in a blink of an eye, have Trent on the floor, one of her hands on his back and her other hand extending Trent’s right arm while putting a foot on his left arm, basically having this trained knight in an armlock.

Roman was confused and impressed but, mostly too tired to analyze what was happening in front of him so, when a random purple haired knight showed up holding a piece of paper and made eye contact with him, looking extremely concerned and confused, he just shrugged and yawned as if, his nurse didn’t have the his assigned knight in an armlock.

taglist:

@meowthefluffy

#roman sanders #ts roman #ts sanders sides #virgil sanders #sanders sides patton #ts virgil #prinxiety fic #prinxiety #roman angst

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captain-barnes-writes · 3 years

Text

Someone Like You [5/6]

Summary: In which Sebastian tries to win you back a year and a half after your relationship’s rupture, but only because there’s a new man in your life. [Part 5]

(Mini-series)

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Latina

Warning: Angst (LOTS) , language, 18+.

NOT PROOFREAD so watch out for lots of errors.

Word count: 4.5k

You’d avoided thinking of Sebastian for a good portion of the morning, but he was creeping back into your head forbidding you from forgetting what had happened just last night. Upon arriving at your hotel room the night before, you had turned into a weeping mess while still clad in your beautiful satin dress, a huge contrast to the ugly emotions that were seeping out of you. Sobs had wracked through your body to the point it had become hard to breathe.

The strong smell of him lingered on your body as if taunting you that he still owned every part of your being. Despite everything, despite the many months apart and despite the very reason why things had not worked out he still had an effect on you. Even after you’d jumped into the shower to wash the night away, especially to rid of his scent and the smell of sex that had followed you, you could still feel his lingering hands on you, the wet trail his lips would leave on your skin. As if taunting you, his scent was still present even in your room. You couldn’t escape him.

He still managed to pull at your every heartstring. It was the silky locks, the azure eyes with the crinkles on each end and that toothy grin of his. It was the way a single glance your way and you were a puddle at his feet, melting for him. But whatever happened last night had been a mistake, he was a part of your past and had to stay there. Yet you still found yourself pondering over how after so much time he could hold such a part of you, tight and permanent. The fluttering sensation in your belly, and pressure on your chest weighing heavy and electric that he induced with just one glance let you know that he was still very much a part of you. And when he looked at you, kissed you, let alone put his hands anywhere on you? It was a magnetic force so strong it left you breathless.

With a heavy chest and an even heavier heart, you thought of how you’d become pathetic and submissive all over again with just a mere touch of his. So puddy in his hands, holding onto every word that fell from his lips. His hands had been so greedy, wanting to hold you and kiss you all at once. He’d been everywhere, placed his large hands on every single part of your body. And you couldn’t lie to yourself, couldn’t deny the deep attraction that was clearly still present.

The magnetic pull, the sexual tension and desperation that had surrounded both your glistening bodies the night before was an engraved image in your head; pinned to your mind not letting you forget how he’d felt inside you. How he took you with such force, kissed you as if your lips were his only mean of survival. It was memorable what you’d both shared. Raw and emotional and in its wake left a gaping hole in your heart.

Despite how good it had felt while it happened, once it ended everything felt as if it had come crashing down. Like shattering glass around you, falling, breaking and so very loud, your mind had woken you from the bliss that had been shared in that stuffy closet. Like an alarm that rang and rang and the only way of shutting it off was the very act of leaving. Again. And so you did, you ran off once again from the man who’d held your heart almost two years ago and had refused to care for it. Refused to hold only you and you alone. He’d been valiant enough to corner you and take you again with such confidence, then you were valiant enough of walking away too.

But this time it felt different. Horribly different because there was pain growing inside, building up and tormenting you. You had been unfaithful. It didn’t matter that the relationship with Romeo was not yet serious or that he was away in a different country at the moment, none of that mattered because your desire for Sebastian shouldn’t have clouded what reality was in the first place. Nothing should have made you forget your morals and had you commit such a sinful act. It felt as if the guilt was diminishing you if you didn’t come clean or at least put pause on the budding relationship.

As if he had an extra sense, your phone rang next to you breaking you from the torturous thoughts that had been clawing at you. Romeo’s name appeared on the screen, his contact picture blank. Swallowing loudly with tears already brimming your eyes, you took a hold of your phone with shaky hands. God, what the hell were you going to say?

“Hi.” Was all you managed to choke out when you finally answered. Voice low and dull, nothing compared to the usual silkiness and cheerfulness that laced it.

“What is going on, Y/N?” Romeo’s boomed through the phone. The background noise was distracting, loud chattering in Spanish could be heard.

“What?” You felt slightly shaken at the tone of his voice, he didn’t sound like the sweet Romeo you’d grown used to hearing. He sounded different and, dare say, impolite without even a simple greeting to start the conversation off.

“I’m not a fool, Y/N. What the fuck happened yesterday? What are all these pictures of you and that damn actor from those Marvel movies?” He paused, the sound of heavy footsteps could be heard and the background noise was slowly disappearing. “They’re circulating everywhere to the point that people keep tagging me on that shit.”

You shouldn’t have, but a wave of relief washed through you. He was referring to Chris and at the mention of him you wanted to laugh. Even he thought the same as the media and besides the relief, you also felt upset.

“Oh, that...I got really anxious during the red carpet and he was nice enough to help me out. Walked me inside the venue and all. After the awards, we were just chatting.”

“You’re making me look like a fool. My whole team thinks so too.” It was apparent that he was only concerned about his image and the way people perceived him. It was disappointing to hear the roughness of his voice, accusatory and unkind. Though deep inside you were telling yourself that you deserved this type of treatment. You deserved it because even though he was upset about something that had not even happened, there was still something to be upset about. He just didn’t know what.

“I can’t befriend people because it makes you look bad? That makes no sense.” The words had flown past your lips before you could even think. You wanted to take the accusations, forgive them because you’d done something awful, but you weren’t that type of person anymore. You didn’t let men walk all over you.

“That looked more than friendly to me.”

“Yes, to you. My line of job has me meeting people constantly, as does yours, so either you get used to it or you don’t.” You had no filter. The words were just coming out without much thought. You wanted to be calm and let him continue accusing you using the harsh edge in his voice because you deserved it. You felt like he had every right to treat you this way, to denounce your behavior because he was right it had been more than friendly. It had become more than friendly just not with Chris, but with a different man he didn’t even know about.

“¿Qué estás diciendo? Se clara conmigo.” What are you saying? Be clear with me.

“You heard me. I’m not going to sit here and let you accuse me of anything. ” You responded, voice somewhat shaky. You were pleading with yourself to let you be firm and to keep an even voice, but your eyes were already welling up with tears for the second time in less than a day.

“Don’t embarrass me anymore, that’s all I’m asking.” He couldn’t be serious, you thought. The world didn’t revolve around him.

“Vete a la verga.” Go to hell.

And you hung up the phone. You didn’t know what had come over you. You wanted so badly to take the treatment and the accusations because you were worthy of them. Despite Romeo’s true colors that were coming to light, you had still done him wrong. You’d slept with another man and now you had probably just ended a relationship not even over that, but because of another man whom you had nothing to do with. You were an awful person.

Although you were an emotional mess and felt like one too your mind drifted to what Romeo had said about being tagged in certain pictures. You became curious and despite the state of being you were in, curiosity always overrode anything.

Grabbing your phone again you did the one thing you were advised to never do, google yourself. Upon typing your name in the search bar and hitting the search button, instead of it being about you it was about none other than Chris Evans. High quality pictures had surfaced the web the moment your anxiety fiasco happened last evening and it had become an even bigger deal today.

Y/N flirts with Chris Evans.

Romeo who? Y/N cuddles up to Chris Evans.

You pressed your face back into the pillow and groaned loudly. The sound echoed in the empty room as the city of Angels boomed below you. You were upset that even the sweet interaction such as yours and Chris could be taken so out of context. The man was no doubt an Adonis, you weren’t blind and you’d be a liar if you said your heart hadn’t beat faster at the sight of him yesterday. But it had all been so innocent and his gentlemanly actions had been genuine and with no underlying intentions. It was nothing but friendly. He’d been gallant, extending his arm so you could hook yours through it to get you out of the dramatic disaster that had been your red carpet experience. That was it. People were insatiable with their yearning for new information on people’s personal lives, wanting every little detail.

You’d taken pictures with other people at the after party and those pictures were out there too, but the media had clawed at those images that included Chris and ran with them. Of course, he was single and any woman who crossed his path was apparently dating him. You hated that now you were rumored to be one of them.

You were now a fuse of different emotions. Sadness because your relationship had just ended through a phone call, guilt because you’d been unfaithful and a flare of anger because you couldn’t believe your interaction with Chris had been taken as otherwise.

You saved one of the images to your camera roll. You were upset because many things in your life had come tumbling down in a matter of hours, but you knew that only you could discredit rumors that had no foundation. You didn’t want to become a victim of the media and knew just how to fix this.

Just letting y’all know that @ChrisEvans noticed me become extremely anxious in the middle of the red carpet & was kind enough to walk me the rest of the way. That is all. Please don’t believe these dating rumors, men and women CAN be friends🙄

You typed on twitter and attached a picture of him being the perfect gentleman, your arm hooked to his, bearded face smiling while he led you down the carpet. The real fixture of the picture was the clearly agitated face expression you wore. Lips formed into a nervous smile, anxious with knitted brows, forehead creased.

Pleased with the words and image, you pressed send to your tweet and dropped your phone back onto the bed. It bounced on the very edge of the very edge of the bed, any sudden movements and it would fall to the floor but you didn’t care.

Your cheeks were still wet with tears. Eyes dull, saddened and you felt exhausted. Chest so heavy it felt as if a weight was on top of it. Crawling under the covers you decided that the only way to forget about everything at least for a few hours was to doze off into a deep sleep.

-------

When you arrived back in New York a few days later after having concluded with a packed schedule, the weather had significantly dropped. You noticed the way the trees were still continuing to change in colors and drop their foliage on the wet floor. The holiday season was commencing and the vibrant colors of lights and many christmas decorations were already up throughout the city. It was such a divine sight and provided a serene feeling throughout your body. It felt like such a contrast from the way life had been playing out for you the last few days. Everything had changed in such a short time.

Your apartment was exactly as you’d left it and because the temperature had dropped even being in the comfort of it you felt as if you were freezing so you’d turned on the heater. You’d spent the last few hours trying to forget what the reality of your personal life was by taking the christmas decorations from storage and beginning the process of decorating that you loved so much. The holiday season was one of your favorites and despite the emotional state you were in, bits of happiness had oozed into your aura.

Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me to the Moon was rudely interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. You hadn’t contacted anybody in the last few days so nobody knew you were back in New York so you felt a little puzzled as to who it could be. You looked down at yourself in a haste noting that you were decent enough with your cozy oversized clothing. With a huff, you opened the door.

“Sebastian.” You sputtered out at the sight of the disheveled man. Like you, he was clad in comfortable clothing. Black sweats and a large jacket. With a shocked expression you noted how he looked so tired with dark undereye circles and he looked awfully cold standing in the hallway of your apartment complex.

“Hey.” Was all he said. His hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here?”

He remained quiet for a few seconds, his teeth biting the plushiness of his bottom lip. Sebastian was just standing there looking at you as if you were the one standing in his apartment. As if you’d been the one to show up to his place unannounced.

“I know you probably don’t want to see me, Y/N. But I really have to talk to you. Can I please come inside?” His azure eyes were almost pleading, gazing at you. Even in the situation you found yourself in you couldn’t help but take notice of how blue his eyes were in the light, gleaming and so pretty. It was inappropriate to even be thinking of him this way when he’d just asked you a question and you seemed to be stalling.

“Uh. I don’t know, Sebastian.” You were unsure if to let him in. You’d been so weak for him at a venue filled with hundreds of people that you didn’t trust yourself to be alone with him in your apartment.

“I just really have to talk to you. Please.” He was begging and looked so desperate for you to say yes. He looked so cold just standing there in the freezing hallway that his lips seemed chapped too. You were pitying him despite everything and thought how this was the exact reason why sometimes you were taken advantage of. You were too kind.

Regardless of how much internal battle was taking place within you, you nodded and pushed the door ajar to let him in. He walked into your living room, taking a seat on the love seat opposite you when you did too. The atmosphere felt a little awkward.

“I can’t stop thinking about that night, Y/N. I know I shouldn’t have initiated it, but it felt so right at the time. And even now, it still feels right.” Sebastian started.

“That night wasn’t supposed to happen, Sebastian. I did something awful to someone I was in a relationship with by being unfaithful. And guess what?” You paused, slightly chucking at yourself and the way life seemed to be playing with you. “Not even a day after I cheated and we broke up. Not even because of us, by the way, but because of something completely unrelated. And now here you are in my living room almost a week after we had sex and I’m...lost.”

Sebastian’s gaze was glued on you, he looked desperate. But you didn’t know what he was desperate for. You were confused as to why he was in your apartment in the first place.

“I’m sorry about your relationship.”

“No you’re not.” Was your response. He wasn’t sorry at all, why would he be?

“My relationship just recently ended too. But this was a little bit before the awards show.” God, what did he want from you. You wanted to know why he was at your apartment but he was beating around the bush.

“Oh. Well, I’m sorry about that.” You unconsciously took your lip in between your teeth while looking down at your clasped hands. Your apartment was warmer now with the heater having been on for a few hours and you made a mental note to turn it off soon.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. And this has been going on for a long time, Y/N. It’s not a recent thing. I think what triggered it even more was when I saw those music videos of you and...Well I felt extremely jealous. And I felt so angry with myself at having let you go and not treated you the way you deserved.” Sebastian stopped himself as he broke his gaze from you to look down at his hands. “And God, he just couldn’t even keep his hands off you...fuck, it was like you were a piece of meat to him and you just let him touch you like that.” His blue eyes were wide, mouth slightly ajar while he ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He had no right to be telling you off like this, especially not when you were witness to his many escapades with other women after you called it quits with him. No matter how hard you tried to avoid any news on him, it always came up somehow. It had been a nightmare.

“Who do you think you are, Sebastian?” You retorted, loud enough to alert him but not loud enough for your neighbors to hear. You didn’t let him answer as you continued spewing your rage. “So what’s it to you now? It seems like you suddenly want me again only because you saw me with another man. Was it because it wasn’t you?” You spat, doe eyes furious. Even with the gushing hot anger pulsing through you, this whole scenario was somewhat satisfying to you. After so long, he was the one in a jealous fit.

“Because that should be me. I feel like it’ll always be me.” His face had perked up at your questions, face still red with anger but slightly softening his hardened expression. He’d gotten to his feet, rounded the coffee table and started walking to you in a slow manner, careful not to push you away. You were on your feet then too, watching his movements and not at all knowing what to expect next from him.

“I don’t belong to you, Sebastian.” He hated the way his name seethed out of your mouth because you used to call him adoring names or whenever his name flew past your lips it wasn’t out of anger.

“Did you think I was going to sit around and wait for you? You refused to commit to me. I mean we weren’t even in a relationship according to you. You didn’t have time for one, didn’t have the type of commitment it took to be in one. Even the thought of being in that type of situation again makes me sick now.” Your voice was wavering, but your newfound confidence had not. He was going to hear what you had to say and he was going to hear it loud and clear. “You never did much for me. We were always holed up in my apartment because it seemed as if you didn’t want to be seen with me.”

“No, that was not it at all. Don’t think I was ashamed of you because that’s not it.” Sebastian was grabbing at his hair again, and this time he was pacing your living room back and forth. He couldn’t believe you thought he’d been ashamed of you.

“I was stupid. I was a fucking idiot who didn’t appreciate you and had commitment issues. That’s it, but I was never ashamed of you. I don’t want you to think that.” He exclaimed, eyes meeting your teary ones. He didn’t want to make you cry, and the sight of your pretty face with fresh tears falling down your cheeks was eating him alive.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” You cried out, hands wailing in the air in exasperation.

“To be with you.” Sebastian choked out. He was coming to terms with his feelings again, he’d pushed them aside for too long.

“Fuck, that’s all I want baby. To be with you. A chance to make it right by you and treat you the way I should have done before. I’m sorry for not appreciating you before and for taking you for granted. I’m sorry for being a blind asshole. I’m sorry for everything. You deserve the whole world and I’m willing to do anything to give you just that.” He was walking closer to you, hands stretched in front of him to grab hold of your arms. Your heart was beating erratically and eyes searched your living room, looking everywhere but him.

“Look me at me, doll.” He whispered as he stood in front of you now. He was so close. Too close that you could feel his breath fanning down at your face. He was taller than you and your eyes peered up at him through long dark lashes .

“I can’t, Seb…” Your voice was wavering, the confidence it oozed earlier was diminishing. You were internally screaming at the fact that he still had an effect on you. A heavy deep seated effect that pulled waves of electricity through you as his hand traveled up to caress your tense jaw.

“Fuck, yes you can. We can. Don’t you feel this?” He was inching ever closer if it was possible. His body plush against yours.

“No. ” You said, eyes breaking contact with his and hands pushing at his chest to move him away. He slightly stumbled backwards, not expecting the harsh refusal from your part.

“And you need to leave right now.” You pointed at the door. His shoulders had dropped at the sound of your words and he felt so dejected at your refusal to be with him now. He knew exactly how he had made you feel now because he felt devastated. Chest tight and his breathing uneven. You were tearing him apart.

“Is that really what you want?” His voice was low, eyes downcast as his hand slipped from your arm.

“Yes.” You whispered, your eyes looking forward trying so hard to focus on the tan lamp at the far end of the room. Even though it tore him apart, he walked his way back to the front door. He turned again just to take a quick glance at you as if expecting you to change your mind. When you didn’t even budge, didn’t even offer a single look at him, his demeanor faltered and he sauntered past the door managing to shut it behind him.

A sudden pang of excessive emotion allocated itself in your chest. So heavy it almost had you gasping. Cheeks wet with fresh tears and lips quivering, you were in such disarray not even a minute after he’d walked out the door. Even after so long, this is what you’d wanted. Him finally confessing how he felt about you, showing you the very emotions you so deeply felt for him.

You were unable to move as if glued to the spot near the sofa staring into space as cries wracked through your body. The man you thought you had stopped loving and had seemingly forgotten had just left and instead of feeling relief or a gust of calmness, you felt desolate. You were being forced to face the very reality that you didn’t just desire Sebastian, you were undoubtedly still in love with him. It didn’t matter that you’d been apart for so long, none of that mattered because what you felt for him was otherworldly.

And maybe you were the most ludicrous person in the world and maybe you deserved to get your heart broken many times again, but your feet dashed to the front door. You swiftly pulled it open, expecting to find the hallway empty. But Sebastian was still cemented there, back against the wall of the narrow hallway, with teary eyes. He pushed himself off the wall as your figure planted itself in front of him.

“Y/N.” He gently whispered your name. Frantic eyes meeting, both swollen and red, and his hands had moved to touch you in a desperate manner but they moved back as if scared you’d stalk back inside your apartment and leave him.

“When you walked out, I felt—I felt everything was closing in on me and this sudden rush of sadness washed over me. I don’t know why I feel this way about you, Sebastian. You know, maybe I’ll never be able to understand why after everything that’s happened between us we still have this strong connection. And I’m probably stupid for even contemplating this…”

Sebastian was holding onto every word you were uttering. Waiting for you to say the words he wanted to hear the most. He watched you pause, trying to gather your thoughts with your lip between your teeth.

“You get one chance, Sebastian. One chance and you better not fuck it up.” You finally finished. Sebastian’s mouth had fallen agape first before a large smile began to form on his handsome face. He immediately moved his body to reach out to yours, but you backed away.

“Not so fast. We’re going to do things differently this time.” You pursed your lips. He was still beaming at you and you tried so hard to fight off the same expression from your face.

“I’m going to take you on a date. That’s the first thing I’m going to do.”

“What?”

“I’m going to do things differently this time, Y/N.” Sebastian was looking at you with gleaming eyes as if they were reserved just for you. His smile hadn’t faded away.

“Tomorrow we’re going on our first date.”

----------

Good god this took me so long to write lol I feel like this is a horrible chapter! Next chapter will be the final one. Lee Bodecker is next on my list🥴

Thanks for reading y’all ♥️

@jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

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taexual · 4 years

Text

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (5)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst + soft joon cameo

words: 3.9k

chapter five

You tossed and turned for half the night and when you finally managed to fall asleep, your phone buzzed with a text message. Sticking your hand out from under the covers, you kept your eyes closed as you looked for your phone and debated throwing it against the wall so you could keep sleeping.

Driven by some sort of a pathetic hope – what if it was him – you opened your eyes after all, only to see that the text came from a student in your Sociology class, Namjoon. You were supposed to work on a project with him and he was wondering if you were free to meet him at the library today.

“It’s Saturday,” you texted back sleepily, thanking the God for autocorrect, “I don’t mind but don’t you have plans?”

You put your phone back down, hoping to get at least a few more minutes of sleep, but another text message came in almost instantly.

“Everyone will flock to the library on Monday and pick out the best books,” Namjoon said in his text, “so I’d like to get a head-start. Would 9 work for you?”

Nine in the morning – considering that it was eight right now – was absolutely not going to work for you because you were still half-asleep and weren’t motivated enough to have breakfast, shower, make yourself look presentable, and drag yourself across campus in an hour. But you didn’t want to be a nuisance, so you texted back, “sure! See you at 9” and sighed your way into the dorm bathroom.

Thankfully, everyone else seemed to be still asleep, so you got the whole place to yourself and could shower for as long as you liked, without fearing that someone was going to rip off the curtain, separating your naked body from the rest of the room – it was the sort of fear that didn’t go away in all of the three years that you’d lived here.

The shower did wake you up but, with waking up, came the memories of last night and the disappointment that Inna had brought home.

Truthfully, what hurt you the most wasn’t even the fact that Jungkook had presumably spent the night with some other girl but rather, the fact that he did so right after you decided not to purposefully sabotage your budding friendship with him and, instead, give it a chance to see what happened.

Well, you saw what happened and you didn’t like it one bit. So, on the other hand, maybe this was for the better. Clearly, there was still a lot of the old Jungkook – the one you knew and loved once upon a time – left in him, but there was also a part of him that you had never gotten to know – that was the part responsible for the end of your friendship seven years ago.

And, stepping out of the shower in your robe, you decided it’d be best to never get to know the foreign parts of him. Obviously, some of those feelings you’d had for him all of those years ago – actually, a lot of those feelings – had survived the long hiatus and were very much making a comeback – if they ever truly went away, that is – so it was best to quit before you got burned. Again.

And then, by a stroke of simply awful luck, you exited the communal bathroom only to see a familiar figure leave someone’s room down the hall. Being the only two people here, the two of you immediately took notice of each other, and you were starting to wish someone had ripped that shower curtain off so you could have died of embarrassment back there, instead of suffering through seeing Jungkook right here.

“Hi,” he said, just as surprised to see you here even though he walked you home yesterday and knew very well where you lived. “W-why are you up so early?”

“I have plans,” you said, your answer more curt than you’d intended. Being subtle would probably work better since you didn’t want him to know how hurt you were.

“Oh,” Jungkook said. He noticed that you didn’t ask why he was here which could only mean that you knew. “Can I walk you? I was on my way home anyway.”

“I’m not going out in a robe,” you said, “I still need to change.”

“Well, I can—I could wait,” he said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans to hopefully stop them from clenching into fists. Your coldness was messing with him.

“No need,” you said, abandoning all hopes for subtlety, “I’m sure you’d rather get back to your—well, friend, I guess. She’s probably waiting for you inside.”

You wanted to walk past him into your own room – and would have done so, too, if you were only a little faster – but he was quick enough to get his hand out of his pocket and grab your wrist, stopping you.

“Are you jealous?” he asked and you began fuming at this—very observant and absolutely correct—accusation.

“What? I’m not jealous,” you lied loudly and proudly. “I just think it’s funny how you’re trying to get your life together one moment, and then go ahead and sleep around the next.”

He let go of your hand. “I—”

“If that’s your version of drinking responsibly,” you added with a scoff, “then I have to tell you, it’s not all that different from any other type of drinking you’d been doing since you started college.”

“Drinking—are you going to preach about absenteeism to me now?” he asked, suddenly focusing on the wrong thing. “That’s very closed-minded coming from someone like you. I thought you were—”

“I’m obviously not who you thought I were,” you cut him off again, even angrier now that he’d touched you – just like that time at the party last week – because, despite the circumstances, the softness of his skin felt outrageously nice.

“Okay, fuck!” he couldn’t help raising his voice. “I’m still trying to catch up on all that we’ve missed about each other.”

“Why?” you demanded. “Why does it matter?”

“Because we were friends once upon a time,” he quoted the words you’d said to him and you groaned as you recognized them.

“Once upon a time was a long time ago,” you said. “Maybe what’s in the past should stay in the past.”

Jungkook had gotten into physical fights more times than he could count and yet he’d never gotten punched just by someone’s words until now. It hurt and, frankly, he’d have preferred it if you’d socked him in the eye instead. At least that way you could both could see the damage done.

“Right. Well, in that case, it’s really none of your business how or how often I’m drinking,” he said, his hurt feelings coming out in chilly, stone-hard sentences and you’d already heard him tell you something like this before. You should have listened and hung up the phone as soon as he called to apologize about it.

“Hey,” you raised your hands in defense, “you’re the one who called me last night.”

“I was drunk,” he shot back, his voice as cold as yours had been, “I barely even remember it. Don’t think it means anything or gives you the permission to—”

Not realizing what excellent liars you both were when you were angry, you allowed yourself to listen to him until his words started to sting too much.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said then, turning around to go back to your room. He didn’t try to stop you this time. “I never thought it meant anything.”

You were late to meet Namjoon at the library because, after having closed the door of your room, you didn’t dare to come back out into the hall even after you dressed up and got ready, in case Jungkook had lingered. But it all turned out to be just wishful thinking – he probably left as soon as you went inside – and there was no sign of him anywhere when you did finally come out.

Well, that was that. This time last week, you had been on your way to visit Jungkook at the hospital, and now your very unsuccessful attempt at reconnecting had ended.

You should have seen it coming, it’s been far too long. Pretending that it hasn’t and rebuilding your friendship on memories had, clearly, not worked.

“So sorry I’m late,” you announced to Namjoon when you finally reached the library, all out of breath and with a very poorly hidden bad mood.

“It’s alright,” Namjoon replied, showing you his cup of coffee, “I stopped by the café next-door, so I just got here myself,” he said and then realized, “oh! I didn’t get you anything, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what—”

“Oh, no, there’s no need,” you plopped down into a seat opposite him. “I had a quick cup before I left the dorm. Thanks for thinking of me, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded and, taking a sip of his beverage, gave you a look that he’d hoped appeared as nonchalant and not at all suspicious – even though it was – and, as soon as he placed his cup down on the table between you, he inquired somewhat awkwardly, “are you okay?”

You were busy taking your backpack off and putting it on a chair next to you, so his question took you off guard.

“Hmm?” you turned to give him a look. “I’m fine, why? Is it about being late? I was just—”

“No, no, it’s just that—well, nevermind. I thought you looked upset,” he said and then regretted ever bringing it up. His perception had gotten him labeled as creepy several times before. “Sorry if that’s out of line for me to say.”

“No, it’s, uh—” you looked down, unsure if pouring your heart out to someone who was virtually a stranger to you was such a great idea since you obviously sucked at making – or, well, remaking – friends. “I am somewhat upset, I guess. I got into a fight with—with a friend before I left. But I promise it won’t interfere with my work!”

“Ah. Sorry to hear that,” Namjoon said and he sounded genuine, which was nice, considering he didn’t have to try so hard for someone who was just his partner for a Sociology project.

“Yeah,” you spoke and allowed the quiet atmosphere of the library on this early Saturday morning to engulf you both before finally saying, “anyway. Do you have the literature list, perhaps? I seem to have misplaced mine.”

“I have it on my phone,” he said and, in an attempt to sit up straight and pull his phone out from his back pocket at the same time, he spilled some of his drink on the table. “Oh, shit, uh—sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you told him, reacting immediately and reaching for a pack of tissues you always carried in the outer pocket of your backpack. You extended it for him. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he took one out and wiped his own hand first before cleaning the drink off the table.

“Is your hand okay?” you asked. “The coffee seems to be hot.”

“It’ll be fine,” he said with an awkward laugh. He’d already showcased enough of his inability to function as a normal human, he didn’t want you to have to deal with the stinging pain of his palm, too. “So, anyway, as I was saying, I have the list on my phone. I can send it to you and then we can split up to find the books faster.”

“Okay. That sounds great!”

And it really was great because, aside from being somewhat clumsy – he spilled his coffee again when he was pushing his chair back to get up from his seat and then dropped his phone as he was attempting to clean the new puddle – Namjoon was also an honest, dedicated worker and you appreciated that. You’d already had to work on many projects with peers who were more than happy to let you do all the work.

“I love the library at a time like this,” Namjoon told you from the other side of the book shelf as you two began to freely roam the near-empty library, browsing for books. “Not crowded with people, I mean.”

“Yeah, I love it, too,” you agreed. “But I don’t get to see it often, to be honest. I’m one to jump on the bandwagon and come here when everyone else comes.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, usually, I’m like that, too. But I started coming on weekends recently. It’s blissfully empty here, especially in the morning.”

“Everyone’s probably hungover,” you observed. “Parental Advisory had one of their usual ragers last night.”

“Ah, yes,” Namjoon nodded and then, somehow hesitantly, asked, “why weren’t you there?”

He made it sound as though you were supposed to be there and, for a minute, you wondered if your very few public conversations with Jungkook ended up bringing more attention to you and him than you’d realized.

“I—well, I don’t really go to those things,” you admitted, “it’s not really for me. I was home, binging on TV shows instead.”

He laughed – not mockingly but rather, understandably. Like he could relate.

“That’s my usual weekend, too,” he said then, confirming your thoughts and you gave him a smile through the gap between the books on the shelves. “I’ve been catching up on the movies I’ve missed during mid-terms.”

“Oh?” you picked one book up to check the edition and then put it back after realizing it wasn’t the right one. “Did you watch anything last night?”

“I tried to give the Kristen Stewart movie a shot,” he replied, dragging his finger on the spines of the books as he looked for the one he needed. “But it didn’t do it for me.”

“Underwater?” you asked. You had dragged Inna to see this movie in the theater with you. “I didn’t like that one, either. Even though Kristen Stewart was, predictably, great.”

“Oh, you’ve seen it, too?” he seemed surprised as he stopped and glanced at you over the shelves.

“Yeah, horror movies are much more my thing than campus parties,” you said.

“Really?” now he was properly intrigued. “Mine, too.”

You stopped browsing as well and your eyes met even if your bodies were separated by shelves of books. Not wanting to make this awkward, Namjoon didn’t let his gaze linger for too long before he looked back at his phone and continued his search for books.

“What would you say were your Top 3 horror movies of the last few years?” he asked, not just to keep the conversation going, but also because he was genuinely curious. He hadn’t met a lot of other people who were into horror.

“Only three?” you put your hands on your hips, deep in thought. “Okay. I’d choose Get Out, Us… and Midsommar.”

Namjoon wrinkled his nose at this. “Midsommar? Really?”

“Yeah,” you looked at him in confusion. “Why? It was good!”

“Well, it wasn’t bad,” he said, “but it just… I don’t know, it didn’t have enough horror elements for me. You do have good taste, though. Get Out is definitely one of the few late-decade films worthy of its’ horror genre.”

You couldn’t deny that but felt like you had an addition, “I actually quite liked Hereditary, too. It was different from what I usually watch.”

“Is that the one with the actress from The Sixth Sense?” he asked as he pulled a book from the shelf nearby to check the cover.

He was truly proving to be a project partner sent from heavens as you squealed, forgetting the library rules for a minute, “Toni Collette! Yes!”

He turned around, surprised by your excited tone.

“You liked The Sixth Sense?” he asked with a laugh, then.

“Loved it,” you said, still overwhelmed by the realization that you two seemed to share the same taste in movies. “It’s one of the best movies out there, in my opinion.”

“I think it might just be,” he agreed. “I’ve never seen Hereditary, though.”

You stopped walking and turned to him with wide eyes. “No. Are you serious? It’s terrible! I mean, terrible as in, I had to look away from the screen several times and I’m not one that gets fidgety during horror movies. That really proves how good it is.”

“Ah, yes, as the rating for horror movies goes – boring, decent, bad, terrible,” he counted with his fingers as you both laughed. “No, I don’t know, I just somehow never got around to watch it.”

“I have it on my computer,” you found yourself saying, “if we wrap this project up quickly enough, we could watch it. If you’d like.”

“I’d love that,” he said, smiling, and then stopped himself, “although, I don’t think the library allows that sort of activity here.”

“Oh. No, I guess not,” you thought about it for a moment and then came up with a plan, “well, are you free on Monday? We could work on the project at my dorm and watch the movie then. My roommate has classes in the afternoon, so it’ll be quiet.”

You hadn’t even realized that you were inviting a guy you’d almost literally just met over to your room and neither had Namjoon as he considered your offer – trying to remember his own schedule for Monday – and then nodded.

Truthfully, he didn’t even consider that there could have been some concealed intentions behind your invitation – he genuinely wanted to watch this movie with you since it seemed to have left an impression on you.

“Okay, yeah,” he said finally. “Monday sounds good. I’ll bring my books.”

“Great!” you’d have clapped your hands together if you weren’t holding three books and your phone. “I’ll bring the movie.”

Shortly, the two of you had finished your search for the books for the project and Namjoon excused himself – apparently, his drunk roommate had lost his keys and couldn’t get home – agreeing to meet you at your dorm on Monday.

You didn’t even realize it until you sat down by the table to put the books into your backpack but discussing your favorite movies with Namjoon had helped you forget all about your fight with Jungkook. Smiling solemnly to yourself, you concluded that you were actually feeling surprisingly well right now in comparison to how disheveled you’d been when you first arrived here.

Deciding that it was your choice how to feel about your second falling-out with Jungkook, you chose to move past it with surprising swiftness. If a good conversation was what it would take for you to forget about him, then you were just going to have to find more interesting people to talk to. Inna, once she sobered up, would work perfectly.

You’d have probably succeeded at this plan if it weren’t for the two girls that just arrived to the library, sunglasses and paper cups of coffee in hand. You merely glanced at them, choosing not to say hi even though you thought you’d seen them around the dormitory, as they sat down a few seats away from you.

“Okay, listen, why does it matter that he left early?” one of them was saying as you pulled the zipper of your backpack, opening it up. “Everyone still knows that you went home with Jungkook last night.”

That’s when you froze, focusing all of your energy into not turning around to look at them again.

One of these girls was the girl whose room Jungkook had left this morning.

“Yeah, but so what?” she replied to her friend. You knew you had to keep putting the books into your backpack or else you’d look weird just sitting here, obviously listening. But moving with minimal noise, so you’d still be able to hear them, was difficult. “Nothing happened between us.”

“I mean, not nothing,” her friend countered and then hesitated, “you did kiss, right?”

“Yeah, but—I don’t know. We kind of did,” her friend said and you found yourself drowning in waves of hotness. You decided you should probably go if you wanted to still have a chance at the swift-moving-on you’d planned. “But it was really more me, kissing him. He didn’t even—he was just there, you know what I mean?”

“Was he drunk?”

“No—well, yeah, we both were,” she giggled. You mentally gagged as you hurriedly stuffed the books into your bag. “But he was sober enough to recognize where I lived.”

“He knew where you lived? Girl, that’s good!” her friend clapped her hands together.

“No, but he didn’t, he just—he knew someone in the building,” she said. You sat up straight suddenly and the two girls stopped talking. Trying to play it cool, you coughed nervously and pushed your chair back, standing up. They carried on, “anyway, I think he just went with me because he wanted to visit that friend who lived there. But he tripped over the door on our way in, and I said that maybe we should stop at my place first, I could get him a drink or something. He said, ‘yeah,’ so we went and… he fell asleep basically as soon as he entered my room.”

“What? Seriously?” her friend asked as you zipped up your bag.

“Yeah,” the girl said. “I sat him down on my bed, left to pick up some snacks from the mini-fridge, and when I came back, he was full-on snoring.”

“Shit. Maybe he’s sick or something.”

The girl wasn’t so sure. “Or maybe he’s just not into me.”

Choosing not to listen anymore or else they’d have to notice you loitering, you picked up your backpack and headed for the exit. Your mind was buzzing and even the walk across campus to your dormitory didn’t help make it stop.

Apparently, Jungkook hadn’t slept with the girl that brought him home – he just let you assume he had. Not that you’d given him a chance to deny it, to be fair, accusing him of sleeping around one second and drinking himself blind the next.

It was clear that you’d overreacted and, in a moment of weakness, you considered calling him to apologize. But then you stopped and reconsidered – he’d told you it wasn’t your business to worry about his drinking. He’d told you his late-night phone call meant nothing and that he could barely even remember it.

So, maybe the argument in the hallway meant nothing to him, too. Maybe you were the only one still thinking about it while Jungkook was already off, doing whatever he did Saturday mornings because, God knew, moving on came easy to him.

Deciding that it was time you listened to him when he told you not to get involved in his decisions, you exhaled shakily and put your phone back in your pocket.

There was no point to apologize to him about anything.

It was over.

keep reading | masterlist

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actuallybarb · 3 years

Text

The Aftermath ~ Part 3

Summary: y/n learns how much of a dick mysterio is and gets hit in the head because of it

Pairing: peter parker x reader

Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, mysterio being a dick, trauma, it’s marvel what did you expect

Word Count: 2017, the year i honest to god don’t remember, like at all

A/N: okay we’re starting to get rolling and i’m excited! i don’t remember how far i got last time but i’m really glad i’m finishing this time

//////////

If Harrington thought I was going to the opera his head was farther up his ass than I thought. We all groaned as he made the announcement and turned back upstairs to get changed. But I didn’t go back downstairs.

“Come on, Y/N.” I didn’t peg MJ as one to plead, but here she was, making puppy dog eyes at me. But if I could resist Peter’s, I could resist anyone’s.

“Remember how I said I was trying to prove Peter wrong? That’s way more entertaining than some stupid opera.”

I could feel her losing patience with me. Hell, I was losing patience with me. I wasn’t really helping myself become more integrated in my class, but Quentin Beck was all I could think about. I had to solve this mystery, for Peter and for myself.

MJ scoffed before slamming the door on her way out of the room. I paid no mind to it and got to typing.

It felt disrespectful to break into the servers of a company who’s namesake had just died, but I tried to convince myself this is what Tony Stark would’ve wanted. Yeah, sure, Y/N. I know, I’m pathetic, let’s move on.

It only took me an hour and a half to break in, and ten minutes after that to find Beck’s file.

It wasn’t pretty.

“Contract terminated due to unstable behavior.”

“Upon further psychoanalysis Quentin Beck has shown sociopathic tendencies and is a danger to himself and others.”

“Before removal from Stark Industries, Beck manipulated company drones to create illusions, disturbing many employees, including Tony Stark himself.”

Oh.

Fuck.

The stupid metal thing in the water, it was part of a drone. A drone used to make the Elemental.

I have to tell Peter.

I pulled on my sneakers and started running through the streets of Prague to the Opera House, but I ran into MJ, literally, as she was leaving.

“Where are you going?”

“Why are you running?”

“I asked you first.”

“I’m following Peter.”

“I’m looking for Peter.”

“Did you figure it out?”

“Yeah. And if we don’t get to him soon he’ll do something really stupid.”

I let MJ lead the way as we ran in the direction of the light festival. But before we could get too close, I pulled her aside.

“Listen, shit is about to hit the fan. As much as you’ll want to look for Peter and help, promise me you’ll stay back. Okay?”

“What are you gon—“

“Just promise me, MJ. I need to protect my friends.”

She gulped. “Okay, yeah, I promise.”

I exhaled in relief. “Good. Now let’s find Peter before this all goes to hell.”

It wasn’t that hard to find him. He was the one webbing the fire monster up, or at least trying to. But MJ didn’t know that. MJ couldn’t know that.

“Remember when I told you to stay back? That’s the smart thing to do right now.” MJ nodded and moved to a side street, still with an ample view of the festival.

I knew it was an illusion. But I couldn’t figure out how it was so real. What had Peter said? It grows stronger with metal? That’s something I could work with.

Of course, the big metal scaffolding was right where the fire monster was headed. But something distracted me first.

“Help! Help!” Betty and Ned were trapped in the ferris wheel, and the Elemental was getting closer and closer.

“What the hell are you guys doing here?”

Betty looked down at me and visibly sighed. “Thank god, Y/N, can you get someone to help us? We can’t get down.”

“Yeah, just—just hold on.” I could easily help them. But did I want my secret getting out to any more people?

Another swipe from the Elemental that was a little too close for comfort made my decision for me. I hovered myself up beside their door and manipulated the gears in the lock, letting it swing open as wide as their mouths were.

“Y/N, what the—“

I lifted some rock beneath the cobblestone and made a sturdy platform for them to stand on. “You might wanna hold onto something.” Then I shot them back down the thirty feet to the ground. “Now get the hell out of here.”

“We’re talking about this later!” Ned shouted as he and Betty ran for cover. I just rolled my eyes as I landed on the ground again.

In the time it took to get them to safety, though, Quentin showed up and was putting on a fantastic show. And I still had no idea how it worked. But I was determined to foil it.

One of the perks of being able to conjure fire: if I concentrate hard enough, I can become fireproof. So I could easily get in the middle of the fiery bastard and see how he did it. But I couldn’t be seen. Or, I could douse him up and hope he hardens, like lava.

The cat’s out of the bag, Dani, just finish the stupid thing.

Yeah, yeah, okay, whatever.

I felt a pull in my gut, my abs tightened, and I could hear the rush of water in my ears. With all of the strength I had left, I directed the water shooting out of the fire hydrant straight in the Elemental’s face. It was working, too, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then something hard and heavy hit the back of my head, and I went out like a light.

//////////

“Shit, shit, shit! C’mon, wake up, wake up!”

It felt like my skull was caved in. I knew it wasn’t, considering I could actually feel how bad my headache was, but that didn’t change the fact that it still hurt like a bitch. The person kept shaking me to get up, but all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep for five days. Note to self, sleep deprivation is never the solution.

One more good shake and I was groaning and wincing and barely opening my eyes. “God, I’m up, calm the hell down.”

Peter Parker was looking down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. I tried to sit up and he put an arm around my waist, helping me. “Are you okay?”

I squinted my eyes at him. It looked like Peter. It sounded like Peter. And yet, it didn’t feel like Peter. You pay attention to how people walk long enough, you start to recognize their patterns of movement. And this was all wrong. “Really? I just got hit in the head with a brick and you’re seriously asking if I’m okay?”

A light smile crossed his lips. “Yeah, that was a stupid question.”

I moved to stand up completely but Peter stood first and extended a hand to me. He felt wrong. I nearly toppled over when I stood, and Peter took a step to catch me, and I couldn’t feel him. Like, sure, I felt arms around my waist, but they weren’t Peter’s. The step wasn’t Peter’s. “You ask those a lot.”

What the hell was going on?

Another laugh from Not-Peter and it was a little unsettling to hear his voice so perfectly and yet know it wasn’t him. “I’ll probably keep asking them. C’mon, let’s get back to the hotel.”

My head felt like it was going to split in half, my ears were ringing, and I couldn’t even stand up straight without falling over. But I refused to take another step. “You’re not Peter.”

He made the exact face I imagined Peter would make. “What are you talking about, of course I’m Peter. You must’ve hit your head really hard.” His hand reached up to touch my forehead but I grabbed his wrist and let my hand get hot. Really hot. He looked like he was in pain, then he finally grimaced, and there was a small flicker by his ear. I was right.

“Where. The hell. Is Peter.”

Beneath the ringing in my ears I heard a low whir. Almost imperceptible. But definitely there. Without breaking eye contact I shifted my feet and shot a shard of earth at the noise. A crash resulted that rattled my brain and almost made me flinch, but it definitely made part of Not-Peter’s facade glitch.

Shit.

“You’re smart, kid, I’ll give you that.”

It was still Peter’s face, Peter’s voice. But the world around us started crumbling and I was suddenly falling and no amount of manipulation to the air currents was going to stop me from hitting the ground full force. Concussion number 2, anyone?

“Where’s Peter?”

“You really shouldn’t be so worried about him when you have other friends to think about.”

Suddenly I was looking up at our hotel and MJ was thrown from the top. Then Ned. Then Flash.

And I couldn’t save any of them.

More and more classmates were piled on top of each other, none of them alive. None of them saved by me.

I knew it wasn’t real. I did all of that research, I lost days of sleep over it, I knew. But all I could look at was MJ’s lifeless eyes and think that they looked so real.

“What the hell do you want?” I wanted to sound dignified. Like I was in control of myself. Like I wasn’t absolutely terrified. But I was. I didn’t know whether I was feeling the truth or not, and that scared me the most.

“To watch you squirm.”

I was thrown to the side and my surroundings changed again. I was twelve once more, and I walked into my house just in time to see my parents turn to ash. I turned to run out the door and I was suddenly in Jess’s apartment when her husband reappeared and the gut-wrenching feeling of rejection hit me all over again. One more turn and I was back at school with hundreds of kids pushing past me; completely forgotten, completely alone.

I collapsed to my knees and sobbed. I had buried everything so deeply just so I could function as close to a normal teenager as possible. And now they were thrown back in my face all at once.

Wait. Midtown Tech had tiled floors. These were wood.

Liar.

My sobs turned to sniffles, but I kept my head down. There it was, the whirring. I lightly tapped the ground, and sure enough, it was earth. I slapped the ground and drones started dropping left and right with pieces of rock sticking out of the metal. Midtown Tech was crumbling before my eyes and I smiled.

Of course, it didn’t last very long.

“You bitch.” A remaining drone fired at me but I dropped down and let the bullet fly over my head. Not-Peter’s facade faded and Quentin Beck stood there instead. He grabbed my hair and forced me to look at him. “Let’s make this simple: you can come quietly, or you can come in a body bag.”

A part of me thought he was bluffing. A part of me knew he wasn’t.

“What the hell do you want?”

“You’re going to help me put on one more show.” Before I could move there was a needle in my neck and my vision went black.

/////////////

I was crashing. I had gone too long without sleeping, I had too much adrenaline, and now I was crashing. Karma’s a bitch. You know who else is a bitch? Quentin Beck. And guess who was staring me in the face as I came to.

“Not you again.”

“This is how this is going to work,” he started. “You’re going to make a real Elemental, and then I am going to defeat you.”

“Hell no.”

Beck’s fist connected with my jaw and I swear I got whiplash. “Let’s try that again. You will do this, or I’ll have the drones in New York kill every person you’ve ever loved.”

Fucking bastard. I just got them back, I’m not losing them again.

“What do you need me to do?”

tags: @eridanuswave @vampirestrawberries

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker series #peter parker oneshot #marvel #marvel comics #reader insert #peter parker x mj #ned leeds #michelle jones #flash thompson #spiderman far from home #mcu #spiderman #avengers

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asphora · 4 years

Text

untitled | jww

angst; one-sided love

“For love, I will handle your sins.” “And for justice?”

Wonwoo’s arm is a sturdy warmth around your shoulder, both your eyes glued to the television screen in front of you. It’s 2 a.m. on a Friday night and you and your best friend are up to your usual plans: dramatic romance movies, popcorn, the two of you wrapped up in warm blankets, curled up on your couch with your head on his shoulder, his arm around yours and the usual sleepover that would ensue soon after.

There must be lifetimes where the two of you are more than this, you muse, but this is the way it’s always been, and despite your hidden feelings for your dearest friend, you wouldn’t change or trade your friendship for the world.

It’s true; you’d be a liar if you said you hadn’t ever wished things were different, that if maybe he or you were different, things between the two of you could be different. But this is the lifetime you’re born into; one where you are only his friend, but even then, your gratitude outweighs your yearning every time. So as always, you keep your eyes on the movie, ignoring the way your heart races at his touch despite its familiarity. You let yourself cry through the angsty bits of the movie and even shed a few tears, secretly meant for yours and the main character’s one-sided loves.

Especially now that he had a girlfriend, you’d keep this secret to the grave. Finally, this dork of a best friend of yours had finally managed to snag the girl of his dreams: the long awaited, beautiful girl who you were convinced had probably saved a country in her past life to be this lucky. Admittedly, it hurt to see them together, but despite this, you were thankful for her. She brought joy to light of your life and for that, you’d be forever grateful. So much so that you barely even ever registered the pang of pain in your chest anymore.

Wonwoo had been particularly restless that night, but as his best friend, you knew him well enough to know that if it was something he wanted to share with you, he would and that prying just wasn’t the best way to go about it. So, as he fidgets every few seconds throughout the opening scene of the movie, seemingly looking for a comfortable spot, you let him. You carry on as usual and remain unbothered, completely trusting that when he’s ready he’ll tell you.

Somewhere along the line though, your worries diminish as he finds a comfortable spot, head resting on your shoulder with the blankets snugly pulled up and encasing the two of you in shared warmth. The movie ends and the credits roll. You press the soft cotton of the blanket to your eyes, dabbing the dampness from the tears away. Then, looking up at Wonwoo who at some point had managed to become engrossed enough in the movie to finally focus on it, you saw he was now fighting back the obvious tears in his eyes. Honestly, he did this for every movie, fight back his tears, often saying that he didn’t want to get his glasses wet. Being the wonderful and understanding best friend that you are, you simply let him believe that you believed his reason. But you knew the truth, you knew that he had to stop himself or he’d be an even bigger sopping mess than you by the end of the movie.

“That was so good,” you tell him, offering him the same portion of the cotton blanket you’d used to dab your own tears.

“Yeah,” he agrees, lifting his glasses up to his hair as you move to dab the moisture off his face like you always do, but before you can, he moves back as if recoiling from your incoming touch and he takes the cloth you’re offering, then dabs his face on his own.

You almost raise a brow at the sudden and unusual gesture, but you let it slide. You really weren’t the confrontational type anyway, maybe he was feeling particularly antsy tonight and just didn’t want to feel like a bigger crybaby than his best friend (which to be completely honest, you knew he was and your entire shared friend group knew it too, not that you’d ever tell him though). Instead of saying anything though, you indulge him, grabbing the now empty bowl of popcorn from his lap and getting up to rinse it in the sink.

“Hey,” he says your name in a tone you haven’t heard since high school when he’d accidentally lost your favorite book and just didn’t know how to come clean about it. The sound makes you stop the circular motions of soaping on the bowl in your hands and look right at him.

In the darkness of the room, the only source of light from the moon outside the window and the quiet flashing of the still turned on television with the credits rolling to soft music, you see his expression clear as day. It’s tense and almost stoic. You can tell he isn’t angry at you, but he’s upset and from the twisting of his facial features, you knew he was struggling to get the words out.

You rinse your hands and walk over to him, drying the dampness on the fabric of your hoodie. “Hey, Woo,” you take a spot next to him, an arm instinctively wrapping around his shoulder and a hand from the opposite arm rubbing soothing circles onto the space on his chest where his heart was.

“It’s okay, you can tell me anything.” You say and he believes you, but it isn’t his belief in you that feels tested, but it’s in himself. Could what his girlfriend said to him possibly be true? And if it was, where did they go from there? Where would you and he go from there? Would he be able to bear what he might hear?

Braving his internal panic, he lets the question out, not meeting your eyes as the jumbled mesh of words tumble from his lips: “Do you like me?”

His question catches you of guard and your hands freeze their ministrations on his chest. You look him in the eye and for the first time in all the years you’ve known Wonwoo, you’re at a loss for words. He is too, finally staring back at you and reading the panic and fear that flash across your features. He was so sure you’d say no, but he knows that your silence is answer enough.

He shakes his head, looking down at where your hand is still frozen on his chest and he takes it in his own to remove it and untangles himself from you, shifting slightly on the couch to sit further from you and put enough distance that neither of you are touching. The sudden loss of contact feels cold and foreign to you, but you don’t protest.

“Y/N.” disappointment. You hear it so clearly in his tone that your eyes shift as quick as light to look down at the potted plants on your coffee table in the middle of the living room. Anywhere else but at his face where you know his beautiful, soft features are marred by the same disappointment that drips in his tone.

“I have a girlfriend.”

You’re offended by the way his says it. As if you had any malice or ill intentions towards him, when he was the one who asked first; as if all these years have been some kind of ploy to get him into your bed instead of years built on mutual understanding and adoration that had grown into something deeper than romance.

Hot tears threatened to pour from your eyes. You were going to be sick; how could he think so lowly of you? How could he diminish the sturdy foundations of something built on years of friendship in so few words? It must have been a talent, you thought bitterly, to be so eloquent that he could reduce a soul’s connection to another with so little, so easily.

He on the other hand, reads your tears as an admission of guilt. He watches you, shoulders and frame shaking as you try to fight the sob that wracks through your chest. “To be honest,” he speaks trying to fill the silence as he usually does in moments of uncomfortable confrontation, but you just wish he would stop. The more he spoke, the more his disappointment seemed to seep out of him, spilling out onto the carpet of your freshly made and cleaned apartment, staining everything.

“I didn’t believe it when I heard it at first. I thought Sohee was just being paranoid, but now…” he trails of, letting the pause settle and spread around the room into tension so palpable that even a knife couldn’t cut it, it rang in your ears so much so that you felt that maybe your ears might pop.

“Now, I don’t know.”

You don’t respond. You don’t say anything because like him, you also don’t know. Any attempts at defending yourself seemed futile at this point, especially when it seemed as though he’d made up his mind. Unfortunately, it wasn’t made in your favor.

“I think I should go,” he says, getting up from the couch, pushing the blanket off his lap and gathering his things from a corner of the room.

When he reaches the small hallway in your apartment leading to the door, he turns to face you, finding that you’d quietly followed his movements and were there to see him out despite the tears still streaming down your cheeks that you had left unchecked.

He looks at your shaken form; you devastated from the suddenness of it all, him devastated by what he saw as your betrayal of his trust and at a loss for what would come next. Watching you like that, his heart ached, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms around you in a comforting embrace.

Crying into his shoulder, soaking his shirt, you wrapped your arms around his waist and shoulders recognizing the hug exactly for what it was at this point. You’d known Wonwoo long enough, had been in love with him long enough to know every meaning and reason behind every movement he made.

This was pity.

You spill a few tears for the friendship you feel like your losing, and for the shear pathos of your situation; how low was low enough at this point? How much more pathetic could you get?

As you cry, you feel him squeeze you before his words break through the sound of your sobbing, “We shouldn’t see each other,” it feels as though his sentence is incomplete, the way it hangs in the air, as if he’s left the last word out before he abruptly adds, “you know, just for a while, while things calm down.”

He says for ‘a while’, but you know that a while piles up; a while could be minutes, even days. A while could also mean years. You knew your best friend like the back of your hand and exactly what he meant by a while. It was a kind let go, a caring send off to you; a while, in this case, was a kind goodbye. A while meant never again.

You push of and out of his grip, angry but still gentle in your touch. “Are you serious? Over this small thing, Wonwoo I would never, I’m not that kind of person–”

“It isn’t a small thing,” he cuts you off, a little too aggressively, voice a little too loud, eyes a little too furrowed for your comfort. That’s when you realize, it’s those miniscule changes that make someone so familiar, look so easily like a stranger.

“It isn’t small, please don’t trivialize it.” You try to process his words and almost think that maybe he’s feeling guilt over all the years he hadn’t noticed your feelings, but the next words out his mouth prove otherwise. “It bothers Sohee, and I doubt that would go away, especially now that you’ve admitted it.”

Should you have lied instead? You wonder. As if this situation is on you when you’d never even dared or thought of making your feelings known.

“So, for her sake, for her comfort, I don’t think I can see you right now.”

You feel frozen in place, but your feet feel like their failing you, like you’re being engulfed in quicksand, you already couldn’t move, and just as the cherry on top, you were sinking.

“So that’s it then? An entire lifetime’s worth of friendship, down the drain, just that easily?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to sound or seem like you were begging for him to stay.

When he doesn’t answer, you try again, “C’mon Woo, we’ve been in each other’s lives for as long as we could remember.” At the words, you feel your resolve to remain dignified failing, “I don’t know this world without you, all our friends are the same, our families are so close, I can’t exist without you, and I-I know it isn’t just me.”

You look into his eyes and watch tears start to pool in them from behind his lenses as you speak, and just when you think you’ve gotten through to him, an apology slips from his lips. “I’m sorry, it isn’t permanent, at least I don’t think it will be. Just till things blow over.”

You feel your firsts clench at your sides. ‘Till things blow over?’ As if this friendship of over fifteen years could ever just blow over, as if the feelings you’ve harbored and taken such great care to hide and protect him from would ever just blow over, for him to minimize this as though forgetting the intertwinement of your lives and souls was as simple as waiting for a storm to cease. Maybe for him it was that simple, but for you, it would be like rebuilding a house after watching it burn down, or losing a limb; you could replace it, remake it, but it would never be the same or as good as what it was before the loss.

With that, he faces the door again. This time his hand is firmer on the doorknob. Even the metal in his hand knows of his certainty and resolve to leave. How lucky it is, you think, to be the last thing he touches, prints embedded into the cold surface, permanent to the memory, but invisible to the eyes the moment he would let go and leave.

At that moment, you feel yourself overcome with a sudden surge of anger that washes over you like a bucket of cold water waking you from your immobility, and the words leave your mouth before you can even think to stop them.

“So what if I love you?”

The tone you use is sharp and Wonwoo doesn’t think he’s ever heard that sound come out of you, let alone directed at him; so striking with how full of hurt and burning rage it was. The sound is something akin to a wounded animal and it makes him stop dead in his tracks.

Slowly, he turns to look at you. He says nothing, but his eyes are a silent question; mixed emotions of a clarification begging to be answered, laced with a fear that seemed to take over his features at the realization of your words. If he let himself speak, if he found enough of his voice to even attempt to ask you what you meant, what would that mean for the two of you? Even for him and Sohee? He desperately wanted to know your answer to his unspoken question, but he also knew that once he knew, once the words released into the world, they couldn’t be unsaid.

At least now, if he didn’t hear you, he could always excuse himself and you; say he never knew exactly how you felt, that it was just mere infatuation that would subside. But if he knew, in his mind, he knew there would be no going back from the words you would say. He wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of your truth, the gravity of what you truly felt for him.

You, on the other hand though, do not back down. You’re angry and understandably feeling very betrayed, so you let the negative feelings flood out of you; if he wanted out of your life – out of this friendship – then he would also have to deal with being treated like someone who didn’t belong in it. He wouldn’t be spared the aftermath of destroying the one thing you held sacred in this life.

“So what if I love you?” You repeat, “So what I’m in love with you and have been for most of my life?”

The heat in your eyes warns you of the traitorous tears that are threatening to spill over, this time tenfold of how they had the first time, but you power through it not caring if you looked like an idiot in front of him. You believed in fighting for this, for your friendship and for him. If there was ever anything that would ever be worth fighting for, you knew with every fiber of your being that it was this. Between him and the world, you would choose your friendship. You would choose him every time. (It was just unfortunate that for him, that didn’t seem to be the case).

You can see his trapped expression, like a deer caught in the headlights, while you were a freight train headed right for him. All it would take is one step, one twist of the doorknob already in his hand and one swift motion for him to leave to escape the impending danger that seemed to be rushing at him. Worst of all was though, he didn’t even know if he wanted to step out of your path of destruction.

“The fact of the matter is,” you feel the moisture finally escape from your eyes, the words becoming muddled as they mixed with your sharp intakes of breaths and sobs.

You’ve never been religious, but you find yourself praying desperately to any and every divine being there is in the universe that this last hail mary would pay off. You may not have been a believer of gods, but you had always been a believer in this connection with Wonwoo and you would exhaust any and all options before you let it go just like that.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, because it all comes down to you.” You choke on the last word, knowing just how painfully true your words seemed to ring.

“Because you have never,” you push back a sob, your own tearful eyes boring into his own that now seem to be filling with moisture. Wonwoo may not have been as empathetic as you, but he knew you and with just the shaking in your voice and the pain in your eyes, he could already tell that years of agony and rejection seemed to spill from just the few words you had said.

It wasn’t at all what he had expected. Instead of pushing your romantic feelings onto him, what was happening seemed to be worse than what he had initially thought. Instead, you were resigned to this fate; a yearning so deep but unsatisfiable, a thirst that only he would quench, but couldn’t. The realization of true cruelty seemed to wash over him harder than he had ever thought possible, its result personified and facing him directly in the form of your broken form and unsightly begging.

He was wrong. You were not a freight train headed straight for him. It was him. He was an impending crash; the driver of a car you were a passenger to, as he headed straight for a cliff he would willingly (but unknowingly) drive the both of you off of, and yet, with every means for you to escape, you simply refused to. You would happily stand in front of him if he was a freight train; gladly bear the leap into the unknown abyss of a ravine, if it meant you would go down with him. You would set yourself on fire if it meant he could be warm, and nothing broke his heart more.

Eyes shut, as if anticipating the impending collision, you swallow the lump in your throat, and push yourself to continue, “and could never, feel the same.”

There it was. The reality you’d learned to live with. You had come to terms with it long ago, even if just on a subconscious level, but saying the words out loud, speaking into the universe was something else entirely. The agony of admission, of the truth coming to light, spilling from your mouth for the very person who was responsible for your hurt to see and spectate, was a pain unimaginable before this point.

You thought that after experiencing living through and with your unrequited love you could manage anything, but this was a kind of torture even more excruciating than the last. Your bleeding heart laid out on the floor, mangled and bloody for Wonwoo to examine every crevice of its selfish and wounded ventricles. Even more torturous was how he watched it, not so much as even an attempt to retrieve it from the ground; from his end there was nothing. Despite how long you seemed to wait for him to say something, anything, for him to be the best friend you knew he was and tell you that it would be okay.

It’s only when you find the courage to open your still teary eyes that you hear the first sound that breaks through the thickness of the silence:

Click.

Your eyes barely register his quick movements, only catching a glimpse of his shadow as he exits and closes the door of your apartment behind him.

It was over.

“For justice, I will show you mine.”

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winryofresembool · 3 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 25

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween aftermath

A/N: Sorry for the wait again! This chapter wanted to become long (for my chapter) so I just couldn't finish it in time. About the future schedule, there won't be another chapter this week but given it's only Tuesday now, I think I may be able to update again Friday next week. Fingers crossed!

Thanks for all the comments again, you guys make me so motivated to continue! ♥ But I won't rant more, now I'll let you know what happens after the cliffhanger of ch 24.

Words: 3,8k+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

...

Calypso woke up with her head banging in pain and a sour taste in her mouth. She also felt like throwing up. What was even worse than that, though, was that she had no idea where she was. She was still wearing a flowy, white dress instead of her pajamas and she didn’t recognize the bed she had slept in. Perhaps the strangest part was that she could hear light snoring from the floor behind the foot of the bed. She sat up on the bed so she could see who caused the sound, panic starting to surge in her veins when she recognized the dark mop of hair under a blanket.

It was Leo, sleeping on a mattress that had been taken from the other side of the double bed she had been sleeping in. What on earth had possessed him to sleep there, Calypso wondered worriedly.

Pulling a cover over her (which, she knew, was silly because obviously Leo had already seen her in her dress earlier) she continued scanning her surroundings and slowly started making some conclusions. This had to be Jason and Piper’s house, where they had stayed the night after the Halloween party. A party. Right. Her last clear thoughts were from the moment when she had seen the two Hunter girls arrive at the party. After that, she remembered vaguely fleeing the room and finding something to drink, and that’s when her memory got really blurry. And that was the truly scary part. She hadn’t been truly drunk even once within the past five years but she did know way too well what had happened the previous time she had done that. The biggest mistake of her life.

Before she allowed her mind to draw any more conclusions, she decided to rise from her bed and check up on Leo. He was still sound asleep and since the blanket had partially fallen off of him, she could see that he was wearing a tank top and boxers, which she took as a good sign. Since they both were at least somewhat clothed, she thought it was quite unlikely that they had crossed the line that she was not ready to cross. But that didn’t mean that nothing had happened.

“Ahem,” she cleared her throat while wrapping the bed cover around her a bit better, trying to make Leo wake up. She needed to do that at least twice more before he finally stirred.

“Wha… Woah!” He yelped with surprise when he realized where he was and with whom, quickly pulling his blanket over his mostly bare legs. “Morning, Sunshine. How are you feeling today?”

The panic had momentarily made Calypso forget about her headache and dizziness but now that Leo reminded her of it, she realized they hadn’t disappeared anywhere. Sitting back on her bed, she sighed.

“I’ve been better, that’s for sure.” She rubbed her forehead for a moment. “The worst part is that I have no idea what happened last night.”

“You… don’t remember any of it?” Leo asked while sitting up, and Calypso thought she could hear a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“I do remember what happened before my first drink,” Calypso clarified. “But not much after that.”

“In that case, I think I can help you fill some gaps,” Leo replied. “If you want to.”

“That would be good.” Calypso tried to undo some knots in her hair with her fingers, sighing with frustration. “Maybe you can start with explaining why we are both here. I mean, in this room. I think Piper and Jason have several extra rooms in their house.”

Leo’s face turned bright red at the implications of Calypso’s question. He had to clear his throat before he managed to answer. “Um… You were really not feeling well last night… And to be honest, some moments you seemed pretty desperate to… I don’t know, it seemed like you were trying to escape from Thalia and Reyna every time they tried to talk to you. So, um, we, as in, me, Piper, Jason, Annabeth and Percy thought that someone should probably keep an eye on you. Just in case. So. I volunteered.”

Calypso wanted to keep Leo distracted so he wouldn’t ask more about Thalia and Reyna so she asked: “But why you, and not for example Piper? She lives here so it would have been easier for her. You could have just driven home and come to pick me up today or something.”

“That’s… that’s true but I felt it was my duty… as your flatmate, of course… to make sure you’re OK,” Leo stuttered. Calypso had a feeling it wasn’t the whole truth but she didn’t push it. “Alright,” Calypso said. “But why were you sleeping in this room? Like I said earlier, there are other places…”

“Ahem,” Leo made a coughing sound again. “That’s because you asked me to stay here. And I’m not lying about that. You can think anything you want about me but I would not do anything without your consent… um, not that any of that has even crossed my mind, gods.”

Even though Calypso was relieved to hear that because it proved that nothing had happened between them, she had to admit to herself that perhaps a tiny part of her was a bit disappointed. Leo’s reply made it sound like he did not have any romantic feelings towards her. Or then he was a liar. Either way, Calypso wasn’t sure what she should think.

“I… asked you to stay with me?” she repeated instead.

“Um, yeah,” Leo replied, his fingers tapping on his blanket absentmindedly. “You said something about nightmares… and I dunno, you just didn’t wanna be alone. Piper asked if you’d like her to stay but… you picked me? I don’t know why.”

There was a long pause before Calypso answered. Maybe it was her dizzy head making her make decisions she usually wouldn’t, but she thought there was no reason to deny it anymore. Feeling the warmth on her cheeks, she finally replied: “That’s because – I hate myself for this, but - you… you mean more to me than her.”

“I… what?” Leo frowned, looking like he was wondering if he had heard right.

Calypso sighed deeply and hid her face into her hands. She hated how fast her heart was racing in that moment. “I’ve been trying to deny that for several weeks now, but… I guess the drunk me was more honest than what I usually am.”

Leo crossed his arms, inching closer to Calypso on his mattress so he could look at her directly. “But… but… what does it mean? I mean, I do have an idea because I’m not an idiot even if I seem like one – but I need to hear it from you.”

“Leo Valdez, it means I like you! In a very non flatmate like way! There, are you happy now?” Calypso’s voice started cracking and she felt like she was on the verge of tears.

“Of course I am!” He exclaimed, almost jumping up from his mattress. “I think I’ve had a crush on you ever since you got mad at me for smashing your table!”

Calypso’s mouth opened in surprise. “You… have? But… how?”

“When you got mad at me that time, I saw some fire in your eyes. Like, OK, I’m gonna admit that you looked hot from moment one but I didn’t care about that. I didn’t,” he repeated when Calypso looked at him skeptically. “I know a lot of girls who kinda remind me of you with their shiny long hair, perfect eyelashes, et cetera, but many of them are the type of people who used to laugh at me at high school. And I mean, not in a good way. But when I saw that fire, somehow I was convinced that you were different. You have just the kind of spunk that I like and you’re not afraid to call me out when I deserve it – but you’re still fair and don’t judge the book by its cover. Fine, of course I was worried I was wrong and you wouldn’t forgive me for that mistake. But, somehow, this one time, I was right. And I only got more convinced as I learned to know you better.”

“Leo…” Calypso was starting to lose the fight against the tears.

Leo looked extremely worried when he realized she was crying. “What? I thought you’d be happy to hear that? I like you – you apparently like me for whatever crazy reason – what’s the problem?”

Calypso tried to brush off the tears from her face before answering, her eyes sparkling with frustration. “The problem is that you just made this – what I should do – a hundred times harder! If… if you hadn’t answered to my feelings, I could have just tried to accept that and eventually moved on. But… how are we going to live with this knowledge, live under the same roof… when nothing can happen?!”

Leo started to freak out. “What do you mean ‘nothing can happen’? Calypso, could you please finally be clear with me? Why did you just confess your feelings and then say… that?”

Calypso didn’t miss that Leo used her full first name, a thing he did quite rarely. Her voice was still a bit hoarse when she answered:

“Alright. I have plenty of reasons but here’s the first one: In the past… I’ve had nothing but unsuccessful relationships. I may have been really young back then, but it made me doubt myself, Leo. Several guys I really liked - and I imagined they liked me back - told me some big words… only to run to their ‘real’ girlfriends at the first possible opportunity. You’d probably say ‘but that was many years ago, screw those guys’!”

“Damn right, I would!” Leo exclaimed, slamming his fist on the floor next to him to emphasize his point.

“… And I wish it was that simple but it isn’t.” Calypso shook her head. “There’s more to that story than I care to explain right now. And then I met Percy a couple of years later and thought that maybe I’d be ready to try again. Well, you know what happened. It did not work out and I decided that when I’d finally have my freedom… I mean, when I’d move out and start my studies, I would make sure that I really am ready for a relationship before starting one. And I’m sorry, but… I don’t think I’m quite there yet. I want to learn to love myself before… you know.”

Leo finally stood up from his mattress and sat down next to her on the bed, not even caring about the fact that he was still wearing only a thin tank top and boxers anymore.

“I guess I can understand that,” he said, spontaneously taking her hand into his as a comforting gesture. “I’m no stranger to self doubt.”

“Then I guess we have that in common…” Calypso sighed, allowing Leo’s hands to remain on hers. “However… that’s not the only reason why I think it would not be a good idea.”

“What else is there?” Leo asked.

Calypso looked down at their intertwined hands sadly. “Well… I think I’ve told you my father is not the nicest of guys… But the truth is, I left home without his consent or knowledge. So, he’s probably looking for me right now. And if he does find me, I don’t know what will happen. I may have to go back. And I definitely don’t want him to find out about you. He has money and a lot of power and he’s capable of ruining anyone’s life if he wants to. He’d probably blame you for hiding me and have you arrested or something… It would break me if something happened to any of you, because of me.”

“Why… Why haven’t you told this to me before?” Leo’s grip on her hand tightened slightly and even though Calypso didn’t dare to look into his eyes, she imagined that they were burning in anger like she had seen a couple of times before.

Calypso rubbed her forehead tiredly with her free hand. “Because… what would you do in that situation?! I’d arrive at your home and introduce myself: ‘hey, I’m Calypso, your new flatmate, and by the way, I’m running away from my father who may or may not have kept me as a hostage for several years, but yeah, nice to meet you!’”

“A hostage?” Leo was practically growling now.

“Well… “ Calypso was suddenly hesitant, realizing she had revealed more than intended. “I was allowed to go to places… sometimes… but never alone… And I was homeschooled so… I did spend a lot of time at home… but we had a huge mansion… So it wasn’t like I was trapped in a basement or something…”

“But that doesn’t make it any more right!” Leo was almost yelling now. “I want to do something, I want to let people know what kind of person he is so he can’t keep doing that to you or anyone else anymore!”

“Leo, you can’t!” Calypso squeezed his hand, finally looking up at him. “Do you know how dangerous that would be?! And I swear, with his money he would only make the police go quiet about the whole situation… The main thing is that I’m here, right now, and relatively safe. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he doesn’t care where I am. I don’t know what he’s thinking, to be honest.”

Leo was quiet for a while, breathing heavily and fiddling with the bed covers. “Well… Fine, I’ll let that be, for now. But I swear to gods, or the River Styx, or whatever the hell those ancient Greeks used to swear on, that if he does something to you, I will not let it be anymore. I… and I think I can speak for all of our friends, that we all… will make sure that he will go down with a bang.”

Leo’s comment about the ancient Greeks managed to cheer Calypso up a bit. “You sound like you would physically fight him. And how exactly would you do that?” she asked. “With your tools?”

“That’s not a bad idea!” Leo exclaimed, getting into his fantasies. “I would definitely bring my trusty hammer. Or, I could build a…”

“Hey, now, I was not being serious! But you sound like you are,” Calypso stopped him by putting a finger on his lips. “I absolutely don’t want you to do anything where you could get hurt.”

“Me? Getting hurt? That’s unheard of,” Leo attempted to joke once Calypso removed her finger from his lips.

“Alright, now you’re not being serious. Didn’t you once tell me that you joke especially when you’re nervous?” Calypso remembered one of their earlier conversations.

Leo’s smirk disappeared. “Want me to be honest? I’m not great at the feelings stuff. But I just heard you tell me that you like me. For a moment I was like: ‘hey, for once the chick you like likes you back, maybe this could work out’. And then you told me that apparently your father is some kind of psycho who is still controlling you, his adult daughter. I am glad that you told me about all this but you can’t expect me to stay calm when someone I care about is in danger. You wouldn’t stay calm either, would you?”

Calypso shook her head. “No. You’re right. I would also want to help you. And I really am sorry, I wish things were different and we could… Maybe one day. That’s all I can say.”

Leo sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. “OK. I get it.”,

A silence fell into the room as they both tried to take in what had just happened. Some automatic reaction made Calypso lean her head against Leo’s shoulder as if she was trying to tell him with the touch that she really was sorry. She was thankful he did not shift away. Eventually, she asked:

“So… tell me more about last night. Did I embarrass myself badly?”

“Naah…” Leo lied at first, a smile returning to his face as he remembered some of the things that had happened.

“You just flinched,” Calypso noted. “I felt it. You’re totally lying.”

“Fine. It was pretty funny when you had a karaoke duet with Piper and were too drunk to be able to read the lyrics from the screen so you came up with the words yourself. And at one point you just suddenly switched to Greek and none of us could understand what you were saying. But it wasn’t that bad. And even drunk your voice was kinda impressive. And your dance moves were definitely better than mine.”

“Wait, what? I danced too? Gods, please tell me no one filmed that,” Calypso asked, horrified.

“I can promise no such thing!” Leo grinned, and Calypso stopped leaning her head against him, instead elbowing him on the ribs. “Ow! I’m just joking! I don’t know if Piper got any photo material of that but I was busy dancing with you so I didn’t have time to film anything. Promise.”

“Alright. Sorry.” She lowered her head on his shoulder again.

“Guess we’ll have to hunt down Piper after this,” Leo said with amusement before recalling something. “Anyway, something kinda weird happened too. Like I said, it really seemed like you were trying to avoid Reyna and Thalia and I have no idea why. Every time they got close, you were like ‘gotta get a drink’ or ‘let’s go dance’ or ‘bathroom break’. I’m not even sure if you greeted them. Can you explain that?”

“I… uh,” Calypso tried to come up with something that she wouldn’t have to tell the whole story. “My half sister Zoë… She used to be a Hunter. But she died some years ago. An accident. I think those two probably knew her and… the wound is still too deep so I didn’t want to have to talk about her. It would have ruined everyone’s night.”

“I’m sorry,” Leo said, causing chills in Calypso’s back by running his thumb on the palm of her hand. “I had no idea... Feels like I’m learning a lot more about you now than I have the past few months…” “I probably should have told you about that earlier… So I’m sorry too.”

Leo bit his lip as if he was struggling to decide something. “If it makes you feel any better… I know how it feels to lose someone important. My mum. She died in a fire. Yeah, the fire that started my fear,” Leo confirmed Calypso’s suspicions. “She was the only family I had and after that I went from home to home and no one wanted to keep me… Sometimes I ran away too… That kept going until Emmie and Jo finally found me. It… doesn’t really get easier, but somehow… you still learn to live with it. Because you have to.”

“Yeah. I know the feeling. But if you have to find something positive out of this situation… at least we’re safe now. And we’re not alone, right? That’s what they’d want for us, right?” Calypso sounded a bit unsure, though.

“Yeah. You’re right.” They stayed quiet for a while, but this time the silence was comforting. Finally, Leo decided to break it, in his typical way.

“No offense, Cal, but you could use a shower. For all of our sake.”

Calypso quickly sat farther from him. “Oh my gods, Leo, that is so not appropriate, especially in a situation like this! What’s wrong with you?”

Leo put his hands up defensively. “Was just trying to be honest! The alcohol and the throwing up did not do good to you.” “Geez, I hate you,” Calypso mumbled.

“That’s fine because I hate you too,” Leo claimed.

“Not what you said a moment ago,” Calypso retorted.

“I could say the same back at you.”

Suddenly both Leo and Calypso burst out laughing, needing to release the tension the whole conversation had created. Calypso didn’t remember when she had last laughed that long or hard but she didn’t care, it simply felt right in that moment. When she and Leo finally calmed down, she said quietly:

“Maybe we are idiots, both of us.”

“Maybe. But normalcy is not for me. I learned that a while ago.”

“Same, to be honest.”

Calypso and Leo’s eyes met. Some barriers had been broken that day and even though there was still a lot of work to do, Calypso realized that it had felt good to talk to Leo. He hadn’t judged or questioned, at least not in the way she had expected. He had seemed to accept that she’d come out of her shell with her own terms. Something about it all just felt so right, and when she remembered that he had also admitted he liked her back… she decided it was time to get a bit crazy. Screw the consequences, if they couldn’t enjoy this moment, then what could they enjoy? That’s why she let her hand brush his cheek before resting it in his hair, gently lifting his chin with her other hand so he’d know her intentions…

“Do you think… we could forget about the stupid rules just for a moment?” She asked, resting her forehead on his.

“I think I’m down with that,” Leo smiled at her softly (Calypso didn’t like admitting it but that soft smile never failed to get to her).

They closed their eyes and started leaning even closer, but just when their lips were about to meet, the door opened. The couple quickly separated when Piper peeked in.

“I heard some laughter from here so I thought I’d come to check…” Then she noticed their expressions. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt!”

“Didn’t interrupt anything,” Leo mumbled, although it was quite clear from his voice he was disappointed.

“Yeah, no worries,” Calypso tried to reassure her as well, although her eyes seemed to be interested in a wrinkle on her dress.

“OK…” Piper wasn’t at all convinced but she didn’t comment on it more. “Well, I just wanted to tell you that we have breakfast downstairs. Whenever you’re up to it.”

“Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute! Just let me… clean up a bit.” Calypso exclaimed, getting up and starting to head to the closest bathroom. Leo also got up from the bed and started pulling on the clothes he had had under his costume the previous day.

“See you soon then,” Piper said, leaving the very flustered couple to get prepared for the day. Calypso could imagine that she and Jason would probably get good laughs from this once she and Leo would leave.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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theweasleyslytherin · 4 years

Text

i knew you (ron weasley x reader) part 6

part 1/masterlist

summary: Ron inexplicably broke up with Cassiah Black just days before their final year at Hogwarts, leaving them both with broken hearts and no future plans, but too stubborn and too proud to fix things. The centuries-old rivalry between their Gryffindor and Slytherin houses only make things worse, and friendships are truly put to the test. Will they find their way back together before the year ends, or will the end of their time at Hogwarts be the last time they ever see the each other?

warnings: angst, drug/alcohol use, eventual smut ;)

CHAPTER 6 - awkward situations

I hope I cross your mind when you're too high and wide awake I hope you wonder if I'm happy, if I'm still the same And when you turn over, see her there I hope you think of me and how you wish it would've ended differently

i don't miss u, Caro __________________________

"Blimey, Neville, stop staring. She's gonna think you're a complete creep."

Neville blushed, immediately snapping back to looking at Ron and shielding his face in embarrassment. "M'not staring," he insisted, "She just happened to catch my eye, is all."

Ron snorted, leaning back in his chair and giving the boy a knowing look, "She must happen to catch your eye a lot, then, Longbottom."

The 'she' in question, Luna Lovegood, paid the boys no mind. She was completely entranced by the book she was reading, blocking out the chaos occurring around her as students filed into the classroom. Her wavy blonde hair was falling in a curtain around her face, protecting her from the outside world.

Neville sighed, knowing that trying to play it off was useless. He was a horrible liar. "Just please don't mention it to anyone. I'm never gonna get up the courage to take to her and its... embarrassing," he admitted, his cheeks turning pink.

Ron nodded and clapped a hand against Neville's back, "I wouldn't dream of it, mate." Especially, he thought, since Neville had generously failed to mention the way that he spent all of their class together stealing glances at Cassiah from across the room.

Speaking of which, where was she? The lecture was about to start, and being a prefect and all, she usually made it a point to not be late. It was usually more like Ron to be late than Cassiah – she was kind of the brains of the operation – but this semester he had made it his goal to focus more on his schoolwork and hopefully get his grades up before graduation.

Almost as if on cue, Cassiah burst into the room in a flurry of flying robes and unorganized stacks of paper and books. She looked flustered, her hair pulled into a disgrace of a bun on the top of her head and her robes flailing behind her. Ron still thought she looked beautiful, although it did remind him of the time she got too fucked up at a party last year and thought she was going to throw up. Ron had pulled her hair back into the world's worst bun – not dissimilar to this one – just in case, but she'd ended up sipping water and pulling it together. She always did.

Cassiah's normal seat with the Slytherins was taken. Frankly, Ron was surprised that the guys hadn't saved her seat, but then again, she was late and it was Malfoy and Crabbe he was talking about. Cassiah's gaze travelled over the room searching for an empty seat close to the front when Ron was hit with a horrifying realization. This was a pretty big class, and he and Neville were pretty much the only people in it without a whole friend group. So, not only were there no seats in the front of the classroom, but there were no empty seats anywhere. Except, that is, at his and Neville's table.

"Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath and at that exact moment he watched Cassiah realize what was about to have to happen. Neville looked vaguely nauseous.

And then she was walking towards them.

Cassiah forced her lips up into a tiny, awkward smile, and Ron ducked his head, not wanting to look. He couldn't look. She stood in front of the table for a moment, commenting simply, "I guess I'll be sitting here, then. Hello, Neville."

Neville let out a shaky, "Hi, Cassiah. How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you," she replied. She looked like she was choking for a second before finally adding, "Hi Ron."

Ron was forced to look up from his textbook that he was suddenly very interested in, "Hi, Cassie," he said quickly. He could've sworn he saw a dash of pain rush over her face at the use of his old nickname, but he'd never called her anything else. He must've been wrong though, because she dropped her books down at the table and took her seat without another word. It felt as though every eye in the room was watching them.

Cassiah must have noticed this, too, because she craned her neck to look over her shoulder and say aloud to the class, "Alright, everyone. The show's over." A few people chuckled nervously in response, and Ron started to, as well–

And that was when he saw it. With her neck exposed at this angle and her hair up in a bun, it was on full display for him to see. He shook his head quickly and squinted, not wanting to believe it. There was no way that this was real. His stomach dropped down to his feet and his throat swole up.

There it was on Cassiah's beautiful, tanned neck. A massive, purplish bruise that he instantly recognized as a love bite. Now he was going to throw up.

She turned back towards the table and they locked eyes for a moment. For a moment, blue met hazel and the whole world stopped.

But Ron felt his eyes beginning to shine with tears he wasn't willing to let her see, and just as quickly as the moment had begun, it ended as he turned away and began stuffing his books into his bag. She'd totally seen him staring and now he looked pathetic.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Neville asked, concerned and completely oblivious to what had just happened. He had been fortunate enough to not be at the right angle to see the absolute monstrosity on Cassiah's neck. Whatever guy had left it there must have had some sort of vampire fetish.

Ron fumbled over his words as he practically jumped up out of his seat and slung his back haphazardly over his shoulder, "I don't feel well all of a sudden. I reckon it's a stomach bug. I've got to go see Madam Pomfrey."

So much for prioritizing his schoolwork, he thought bitterly. Three weeks into school and he was already ditching class over a girl. He left the room in such a hurry that he didn't hear or see a single thing anyone might've said to him. His blood was pumping in his ears so loudly that he couldn't hear anything over the ringing.

At least he wasn't fully lying about the stomach bug thing, because he did puke in the bathroom once he made it safely out of the classroom. It didn't make him feel any less heartbroken, though.

___________

"So Cassiah is definitely seeing someone new," Ron confessed to Harry at dinner later that day.

Harry furrowed his brow, giving Ron a strange look. "Yeah... I already knew that, mate. She went on that date with Ernie Macmillan," he said calmly. Ron shook his head before staring at his feet, willing himself to get his emotions under control. Harry saw through him and prodded, "Judging by the reaction, I'm guessing there's something you're not telling me?"

Ron swallowed and looked back up, but still refused to make eye contact with Harry. He couldn't bring himself to do it for some reason. He nodded, "Yeah. A massive hickey on her neck this morning in Potions. I had the pleasure of a front row seat because she was late and had to sit with me and Neville."

"Shit," Harry said plainly, "That's why you've been off tonight. You've barely even touched your dinner."

Ron pursed his lips together, staring down at his still-full plate of roast beef – his favorite. But he still felt sick from the morning's events and he couldn't bring himself to eat it. He poked lamely at it with his fork.

He knew he should eat – he had Quidditch practice tonight and he needed his strength. Plus, he should be ravenous after heaving up breakfast and not eating all day, but he felt nothing.

"I don't know who it even could be," he stated instead of answering Harry's comment, "I mean, Macmillan just doesn't seem like the type to be so aggressive on the first date, but who else could it be? I hadn't heard of her seeing anyone else."

Harry considered. "Yeah... But, and please don't take this the wrong way. But you don't really run in the same circles anymore, so I don't know how you would hear, anyways."

"Thank you so much for pointing that out, mate," murmured Ron, and cursing under his breath, "Bloody hell, what am I becoming?"

The sat in silence for a few minutes, Ron picking at his food like a bird. He listened quietly at the other boys talked and laughed boisterously amongst themselves. He was honestly a bit dazed out, staring at the reflection of the candles in his glass, when he heard Seamus call out his name,

"Ron. Black is walking over here, just warning you, buddy."

And for the second time today, Ron looked over to see Cassiah approaching him. This time, she looked even more nervous that the last. What could she possibly want? he thought, feeling his jaw set tight. Whatever she needed, she could ask her new boyfriend.

"Um... hello," he stuttered when she stopped in front of him, all plans of acting cool and detaching flying out the window the second he was in her presence.

"Hi," she said back, smiling softly and then letting her gaze flutter nervously to all the other Gryffindor guys. Ron realized, watching her, that this was the first time she'd seen any of his friends since the break up. They used to be her friends, too.

Bloody hell, she was speaking again. "Ron, I heard you say you were sick earlier when you left class. I know we're not really... talking right now," she paused, pursing her lips together as if working up the courage to speak, "But I know your grades are really important to you this year and I just wanted to offer you my notes. I take pretty good ones, if you remember," she offered, laughing awkwardly at the end. She was smiling, but something about her energy was making Ron feel nervous in return.

"O-Oh," he stammered, mentally smacking himself for acting like a bloody idiot, "Thank you, Cassie. That would be great, actually." He paused for a moment, and then plastered a smile onto his face so he didn't look as rude as he felt.

She nodded for a second, almost as if she was expecting him to say no, and then thrust forward a handful of papers to him. He took them from her, studying them for a moment. Same magnificent penmanship and color-coordinated note-taking system. So part of her was still his same Cassie, despite the blemish defiling her beautiful neck.

"Thank you so much," he said, smiling up at her, "I'll get them back to you as soon as I'm through with them."

"Aright," she stated.

"Aright," he reassured.

She bit her lip before finally saying, "Take care, Ron."

"Take care, Cassie," he replied before she turned on her heal and walked away.

When he turned back to his friends at the table, none of them were breathing. They were probably too scared.

"What?" he remarked, "Just cause we broke up we can't be friendly?"

Harry raised his eyebrows at him and answered, "We never said that. I just didn't think that you wanted to be friends with her, especially after the hickey situation earlier today."

Ron sighed. Harry was partially right. It really hurt him to know that Cassiah was moving on, but perhaps she was the wrong person to be angry with. Their interaction had left him feeling a lot better about things. He was the one who'd pushed her away and forced to be open to other options. At least she'd picked someone as benign and neutral as Ernie to move on with. Perhaps the only person he should really harbor any bad feelings towards is himself.

"Well," he considered, "It seems like she's trying to be friendly, and maybe if she's trying, I should try to get over my feelings to be friends, too. It's better than being enemies."

And he meant it. If he could get over his feelings for her and the hurt he felt when he thought of her, it would be better to be friends with Cassie than not have her in his life at all. So that's what he would do.

He dug into his dinner, suddenly having his appetite back and ready for Quidditch practice.

__________________________

So they're talking again! That's a step in the right direction... right...?

We'll just have to wait and see ;)

Sorry that this chapter is sooo short. The content for the next chapter just didn't seem to make sense with the rest of this one. It'll be up soon, though.

Thank you so much for being so supportive! xx jenna

Published on my Wattpad (halebscallison) and my Tumblr (theweasleyslytherin).

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fangirlingincamouflage · 4 years

Text

Blind Hope: Chapter 7

Title: Blind Hope Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: 1,232 Pairing: Nick Jakoby x Reader Chapter Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst, Plot, affectionate frustration Disclaimer I do not own Nick Jakoby, he is the intellectual property of Netflix Originals, I make no money from this fanfiction. Dedication: @14readwritedraw96 and @thezucchini (For being so wonderfully enthusiastic) TW/CW Descriptions of pain, long term hospital stay

Previous chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 <~ You are Here

You are standing in the middle of the pasta isle at the grocery store when your cell phone goes off. It's that distinctive ping of an unknown number texting you. You sigh, roll your eyes, and wonder what is the easiest possible thing that you can make for dinner that night. In the past six days your workload has tripled. June and Em are on a much needed vacation and Nick is still unconscious at the hospital.

You know that because you called right before you left to go grocery shopping. You also called first thing this morning, and last night, and the morning before, and the night before that. You have called the hospital at least twice a day for the past thirty-seven days. You got the exact same information.

“Officer Jakoby is still in an induced coma, and he is not ready to be seen by friends or family.”

It was maddening.

Your phone goes off again and you set a jar of premade sauce back on the shelf. Your stomach isn't feeling red sauce. It isn't feeling pasta. Or oranges. Or any one of a thousand other things you were totally down for eating. You hadn't been hungry since the night part of LA went up in magical flames. Since Nick had been hospitalized.

With a sigh you eased into the snack isle. Is a bag of chips an acceptable replacement for dinner? Probably not, but you've had take out for the past two weeks and absolutely none of it has filled the steady, continuing ache in your heart.

Your phone goes off again.

“What?” you snarl loud enough to make the old lady with a basket full of frozen dinners blink with bewilderment. “Sorry. Not you.”

You pull your phone out and waive it at her. She doesn't look convinced, and doubles her speed to get into the next isle.

With a few swipes you bring up your new messages.

“This is Jessica, the Head Nurse at the Intensive Care Unit at the UCLA Medical Center.” The first message reads.

Your heard pounds so hard in your chest that your vision goes a little hazy. You grip your phone tightly enough to make the screen rainbow with protest.

“Nick Jakoby has achieved a state of continuing consciousness. One of my nurses made the mistake of telling him that you had stopped by.”

That hazy feeling turns to ash. You had wanted to see him yourself, to let him know what had gone on, and why you hadn't talked to him in six, not seven, months. He must be angry, furious.

The third message is brief, and comes across as a little mad. “In order to keep him in bed, I promised him you would come see him tonight. Do not make me a liar.”

You desert your cart, and take the shortest possible trip to the hospital that you have ever taken. Which is impressive, considering all the times you driven up there in the past month, just in case something had happened between your morning and evening check-ins.

You don't stop at the front desk, you know where you are going. The elevator doors close as you turn the corner, and the wait for the next ones seems like an eternity. The moment the doors whoosh open, you surge inside hitting the buttons for the ICU floor. You don't even wait. You ht the close-door button and watch your reflection stare back at you as the lift starts to rise.

What are you going to say? Should you have gotten balloons? Flowers? A stuffed animal? Would he even be allowed those things? Did he want them from you? Did he want to see you to make up or to have a final talk? In the twenty-eight seconds that it takes to get to your floor, your mind plays out you greatest hopes and worst fears in a strange, overlapping loop that leaves you feeling a little lightheaded.

Though maybe that has something to do with the fact that you haven't eaten well in a month.

Your clothes don't fit right, you think as you tug at the fabric. You should have gone home to change. You were wearing your comfy clothes to go shopping. The fabric weird. Then you realize its not the fabric, its your own skin. You are so nervous that your skin feels like an electric current is running through it. With a huff you roll your shoulders, trying to settle your nerves. It doesn't help.

The doors slide open and as fast as you got into the elevator, you hesitate to get out. This could go wrong. What if his mother is there? His partner? What about Johnassen, the jerk who broke his phone so long ago?

It doesn't matter you tell yourself as you take that first step off the elevator. All that matters is he's awake. You'll be able to see him with your own eyes.

A stern looking woman with stark gray curls looks up from a desk as you approach. She tilts her head and inspects you.

“For Jakoby?” she asks like she already knows the answer. “Follow me.”

Your heart is in your ears as you follow in the steps of her worn out shoes. She swipes her badge, taking you through a set of secure double doors. The sounds of the hospital change. The ICU is bereft of human noises, but it isn't quiet. You can hear televisions on a half a dozen channels turned down low, doing what they could to preoccupy patients who were in layers of pain. The sound of breathing machines hiss and whirl. A man in green scrubs wheels supplies down the hall. There's no happy, warm chatter. Just a strange sense of desolation and pain.

You do not like it here, and you can't imagine Nick here. Nick, with his warm laugh and kindness. Nick who kisses you like the universe exists in your lips. You want to scoop him up and take him away.

The nurse stops outside of a door at the end of the hall.

“They are quarantined behind a see through partition,” she tells you in the kind of no-nonsense voice that must come from years in her work. “Do not attempt to breech this partition.”

She holds out a long medical gown. Confused, you shoved your arms into the sleeves. She spins you, and starts to tie it up, and then she puts another one on your back, spinning you again so she can tie it in the front. She hands you a cap, and a mask, and you put them both on as she helps your feet into medical grade booties.

“How dangerous is it?” You ask as she holds up a pair of gloves to slip on your hands.

“Unknown,” she tucks the end of the gloves over the wristband of the double set of gowns. “But you saw the news, you know where they were. Better safe than sorry.”

She types a number into the key pad. “You get ten minutes. No more, no less. I'm not being mean, but we need to minimize any chance of exposure.”

You nod your understanding. Ten minutes isn't much time, but you'll make the most of it.

“There are armed men in there,” she finally says. “Don't do anything to make them think you are a threat.”

It's the last bit of advice she gives you before the pad turns green and the door is opened.

The room is long, white, and empty save for what looks like a box made out of hanging plastic. Only a few of the lights are on, casting half the room in evening darkness. There are several beds, but only one of them is occupied. The long, lean body of a black male is visible beneath the harsh lighting. Three other people stand guard, dressed from head to toe, AR-15 clutched in their hands. The door closes behind you.

For a moment you stand there, frozen and unsure. A little, ugly thought makes you wonder if this is some weird trick. Then you hear your name.

Your eyes are drown to the shape of a man sitting in a chair. You hadn't noticed him at first because the dark lines of his body blend a little too easily with the pseudo darkness on that side of the room. But now that you've seen him, you can't pull your gaze away.

Nick. You'd know the shape of him anywhere. The broad, strong line of his shoulders stands guardian against the pitch black behind him. There's a blanket across his legs, and an IV in his arm.

“It's you,” he says softly, disbelieving.

“Nick.” You take one step, and then another, and before you know it your legs are carrying you across the room. You almost forget the plastic. When you foot hits it, you're startled. The guards watch you with cold glares. “Sorry.”

And once you start saying it, you can't stop. Over and over again you apologize. You don't realize you are crying until you taste the hot salt of your own tears. You are sorry you didn't call him. You are sorry you left. You are sorry you didn't answer him back. You are sorry for everything you ever did in the last six months because none of those things was going to him. You sink to your knees at the edge of the partition, the tears making it impossible to speak.

He says your name again, so soft you wonder if you dreamed it. You look up, and he's shaking his head.

“Please, don't cry.”

Slowly, unsteadily, he gets up. He doesn't look at you as he pulls the chair from one side of the plastic sheet box to the other. Right in front of you, he plops the chair down, and then lowers himself into it. His staccato motions belie how hurt he must still be.

The pair of you are silent as you look one another over. You see the bruises beneath his woad blue spots; purple and yellow and, in some places, black. You see the stitches in his arm, the thick swelling of his hands. The skin around his cheeks is slack with the lack of food he's gotten in the past month. But his eyes, those gorgeous eyes that are yellow and red and orange all at once, they are filled with pain that has nothing to do with being thrown half a football field by a magical explosion.

“You're here,” he says, his voice soft. “I thought-” He stop short, shrugging, and then wincing.

“I know,” you tell him. While you aren't sure of the exact words he must have thought, you know that it couldn't have been good.

“Why?” he asks.

You open your mouth to tell him, but the words wont come. You remember Elizabeth, his mother, and the way she had looked at you. You could tell him everything, but what good would that do? He might get angry at his mother, it might cause some kind of rift between them and how many people did Nick really have who cared that much for his safety? Not nearly enough, you think as you take in injuries you hadn't noticed before.

Instead you shrug. You can't bring yourself to lie, but you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth either, no matter how much it's burned inside of you. You turn the words that she said over in your mind, pulling an answer from them without revealing their source.

“You got hurt because you were with me.” Your voice cracks as you say it.

His eyes close and his shoulders sag. His body leans forward. You think he's about to slide out of the chair. The pair of you kneel on the floor, staring at one another. Emotions that you don't think have ever been named whirl through you. You want to touch him, you want to hold him, you want to vanish together into the night.

“No,” he said shaking his head. “No. You were just the excuse. When they saw me-” he cuts off, coughs, and shakes. “They'd already decided what they were going to do.”

He looks away. You can tell that there's more to say, that he's struggling. Rather than push you give him a moment. He deserves that at the very least.

“It wont happen again,” he says.

“Why not?”

He opens his palm, I can't see anything there, but he must because he's staring down at it like it's something special.

“I can't talk about a lot that happened that night,” he says. “I want to, I want to tell you everything but...I can't.”

You shake your head. “I just need to know you are safe.”

“I think I am. I mean-I gotta tell you, it was not a normal night. I was...I was blooded.”

Your eyes go wide. You can't help but stare at his lips. He smirks.

“It'll take a while for the tusks to grow. But I don't need to file them anymore.”

You sit back on your heels. “Are you okay with that?”

He shrugs. “I guess that depends.”

“On what?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath and looks at you. It's a long look, a scared and hopeful one. It's like he's weighing a thousand dreams as he watches you and all you can do is wait.

“I thought I was getting over you,” he finally says. “It'd been months. Long months. Really, really long months. My mom even set me up on a couple dates with some unblooded girls from other states.”

Your stomach twists.

“Yeah?” you say, hoping that he's not about to tell you that he has moved on and this whole thing was about him saying goodbye.

“They were nice, but they...they didn't understand me. They didn't like what I do. They didn't like my jokes and they all thought Alaska is stupid.” The two of you laugh and it feels so good. He shifts his position until the two of you are nearly the same height. “I wasn't falling for someone else but I was pretending really hard like I was getting over you.”

You nod, you know what he means. You'd been going through all the motions, acting like you were moving forward when all you were doing was playing the role and hoping.

“I was going to come see you,” he said. “As soon as my shift was over that night. I was going to go right to your apartment. Everyone said I shouldn't because I'd just get hurt, but I thought that it would be worth it. I just..”

Slowly he reached into the blanket still twisted around his legs. His thick, injured fingers shook with pain as he pushed the fabric around.

“Where-hold on-it's here, I swear.”

Your heart, which has already gone through far too much, pounds all over again. Your mouth goes dry.

“Nick...”

“I almost died you know,” he says as he lifts a corner, continues to look. There's a little wetness on his brow, and you wonder if it's fear, nerves, or pain that's put it there. “And not just once. I almost died like four times.”

One of the guards cleared their throats.

“I know,” Nick said, holding up his free hand. “I know. I can't tell her anything. But you only have to look at me to see that it happened.” He went still, and bowed his head. “I did die.”

It's not even a whisper, there's no sound. It's a breath of words that you are sure the guards couldn't hear. You pounding heart turns to ice in your chest.

“What?”

But he doesn't say it again. Instead he looks up at you and his eyes are bright with a hundred emotions. “And all I could think about, was you.”

He holds out his hand. Nested there is a black velvet box. Carefully, he opens it, revealing a ring. It's made of two metals, platinum and rose gold, twisted around one another to form a very simple braid, and right there at the center is a stone in the exact same shade of blue as his spots.

“All I thought about every day has been you,” he is saying when your ears start to work again. “And I don't want to ever have to worry again.”

You swallow twice before you can speak. “Are you proposing?”

You aren't sure if he's blushing, but his ears twitch. “Only if you're saying yes.”

“You have to ask,” you say. “You have to...ask.”

“Is it a spell? A human thing?” he says.

You shrug, because it kind of is, but mostly you just need to time to stop your thoughts from making such a commotion in your head. There are a hundred ways this could go wrong, a thousand even, but even so-

He says your name and you find that he's shifted yet again, down on one knee in front of you. “Will you marry me?”

#nick jakoby fanfiction #nick jakoby x reader #nick jakoby #proposal #cute #sweet fanfiction

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hauntedflxwers · 4 years

Text

Two People You Never Piss Off

Or as I like to call it: Luka rips Lila a new one

This is the first story I’m posting on here and it’s very Lila bashing and takes place after the season 3 finale has happened so spoilers!!!! just in case

Word count: 2965

With all that out of the way, I hope any of y’all who read it enjoy it!

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Luka sat some distance away from his sister and her friends, perfectly content to listen to them having fun while he played his guitar and watched. Something nagged at his mind, however: he recognised everyone there - Juleka, Rose, Alix, Mylene and Alya - except one girl. With two ugly sausages on the side of her head - he really had no clue what type of aesthetic she was reaching for with those, but either way she failed miserably - and a meek expression on her face as she spoke that seemed too carefully crafted to feel real, he could already hear what sort of melody he associated with her. It was sour and impure, a garbled mess of everyone else’s melodies and, quite frankly, it made him feel a little bit queasy.

That wasn’t the main problem, however. He couldn’t help but be painfully aware of Marinette’s absence, and the way no one seemed to care about it either. Ever since Chloe had been akumatized on her parents’ anniversary, he’d been worried for her. He’d spoken with Juleka a few days after Ladybug had set everything back to normal, and he’d asked her if she’d noticed whether something was wrong with Marinette. Her answer hadn’t been very assuring.

“Well,” he remembered her starting, dragging out the word as she thought. When she spoke again, her words had been slow and careful. “Marinette has had something against Lila since she came back from Achu, and she never normally hates someone that much. She keeps saying she’s lying but whenever she does Alya just dismisses her and says that she’s just jealous because Lila is close to Adrien. I always thought that was a bit weird, because she helped Adrien go on that date with Kagami even though it hurt her, but that’s not the point. I don’t know if Lila did something to her, but I think Marinette has a point, even if Alya would kill me for saying that - I mean, she knows Jagged Stone personally.” Juleka looked out of the window nervously before continuing.

“But ever since Chloe and her parents got akumatized, she’s been acting really strange. It’s almost like she’s mourning someone, she’s been that upset. Whenever we ask her to hang out she either blows us off because she’s so busy or she comes but she ends up on her own. Alya asked her why she was so upset once and she just said she’d lost something important. Alya assumed it was because Adrien and Kagami were getting closer. But Rose thought she meant she’d lost something valuable, like an earring or something.”

Since then, he’d seen Marinette once or twice when he had to deliver something to the bakery. Every time, she seemed well. Happy, but reserved. Her melody was more subdued, but it also seemed more mature, like she herself had had an experience that made her wiser. It was unusual, but he’d just been happy that she’d been handling herself well.

So seeing her friends without her, he was inclined to believe that she was just busy again. He was also inclined to believe that the sausage-girl was the Lila that Juleka told him Marinette didn’t like. The girl who could be lying. He focused on his guitar again and began to strum Marinette’s new melody softly.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he was interrupted by someone holding their hand out to him and quietly saying, “Hi.” He let his final chord finish playing before he looked up to see Lila in front of him, a warm albeit nervous smile on her face. “I’m Lila, and you must be Juleka’s brother Luka. I’ve heard a lot about you, you know. It’s so nice to meet you.”

Before he replied, she scooped up the skirt beneath her legs and sat next to her, making a point to flash him another smile. “The others have just gone to go and get some stuff, but they were so considerate of my arthritis that they told me to just wait up here so I didn’t injure myself! So I thought I’d come and introduce myself to you.”

As unpleasant as her melody was, he didn’t have any reason to distrust or dislike her yet, so he pushed those feelings aside in favour of watching her very carefully. “Well it’s nice to meet you too, Lila. Although, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

She laughed with a wave of one hand. It was a pleasant, bubbly sound but there was something slightly off about it that he couldn’t place. “That’s because you haven’t seen me here before. See, Juleka has invited me here a lot but I’ve always been so busy fundraising or talking with leaders of charities or catching up on schoolwork I’ve missed while away for my mama’s business that this is the first time I’ve been able to accept it,” she explained. Immediately he noticed that she was someone who spoke with her hands, gesticulating and gesturing in random directions to make her explanations seem larger. Whether it was natural or something she’d learned to manipulate people, he wasn’t sure. She hadn’t done anything to indicate she was lying yet.

He tried to hide his skepticism as he spoke, opting for a neutral, “Well, I’m glad you could make it this time, Lila. I’m sure you must have been upset to miss those first few times.”

Her face dropped and she gathered her hands in her lap, staring down at them pointedly as she replied, her voice quivering as she spoke. “Oh, I was really upset about it, but Juleka and the others were so nice about it, they didn’t even get mad when I told them I already had plans. You’re so lucky to have Juleka as a sister, you know. I’d kill to have someone as understanding as her in my family, but you know how it as an only child - you can only emulate those sorts of relationships. It makes me sort of envious of you and Juleka. You guys have always had that, while I’m going to have to search for someone who will trust me the same way I would.” Then she looked up at him, eyes going wide as if she realised she’d done something wrong. “Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry for unloading on you like that, especially when we don’t know each other that well!”

“It’s fine,” he reassured her, despite the conflicting feelings in his chest. On one hand, if she was genuine, he knew he would feel sympathy for her - a mixture of guilt due to inadvertently upsetting her and worry due to how scared she was of upsetting him - but if she was a liar like Marinette said, he knew he would be furious with her for trying to manipulate him into feeling bad, probably to butter him up for a lie. Both mindsets fought the other. “We all have something we need to take off our chest sometimes.”

She sniffled, head in hands before she looked up, cheeks pink and eyes wet around the edges and stared up at him for a moment before her face split into a wide grin and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, thank you Luka!” she hiccupped, tightening her hold on him. “How can I repay you for being so kind and understanding?”

“Repay?” he asked. Where was she going with this?

“Well, you- you like Jagged Stone, don’t you? I could get you a ticket to his next concert!” she offered, pulling away and clasping her hands in front of her chest. Her voice was hopeful. “It wouldn’t be hard!”

His gut squirmed as he contemplated what to do next. This is it, Luka, he thought. This is where you find out whether she’s lying or not. “How would you do that? I don’t want you paying money just because I listened to you rant about your feelings.”

“It’ll be no trouble at all!” Lila waved him off, her change in mood a little jarring. “I don’t know whether Juleka told you or not already, but Jagged loves me - I’m like his . honorary daughter! He even wrote a song for me once!”

“Really? What song?” There was something suspicious about the way she paled. “If you say it, I’ll know which one you’re talking about.”

“Well,” she spluttered, picking at her nails sheepishly. “I said he wrote a song for me, but I didn’t mean he published it. It would seem a bit weird to praise a 15 year old girl…”

“Actually, that depends on what he’s praised you for,” he countered. “Jagged Stone loved Marinette’s designs so much that he wouldn’t stop promoting her for another two months at least, but no one thought it was weird because he praised her designs, not her. Was he praising you for something you did or was it in a creepy, ‘this random girl is nice, she’s a minor, I’m an adult’ way?”

“I’m guessing Juleka didn’t tell you then?” she asked forcefully, eyes darting to where Juleka and her friends had gone. He shook his head and her shoulders tensed. “Well,” she dragged the word out as her melody began to go even more sour in the back of his mind. “Well, he made the song for me because I did something for him.”

“What did you do?” he asked curiously. “It must have been something dangerous if Jagged has had to keep quiet about it though, because he’s never mentioned you before on any of his social media.”

“I saved his pet from being run over at an airport once,” Lila admitted after what felt like ages, getting visibly nervous - tapping her foot against the floor and hunching her shoulders so that she was smaller, both of which were red flags for him. “My mama and I were on our way to another country for her work and I saw his pet nearly get run over by a plane so I saved it. I’ve had really bad tinnitus ever since.” As if to prove a point, she cupped her left ear with both hands and whimpered slightly. “It hurts, but I’m trying to be brave for everyone.”

“That doesn’t make sense though,” he mused out loud, watching as Lila froze. “Jagged loves Fang so much that he would never let him get anywhere close to somewhere he could be run over, so unless Fang escaped this would have never happened.”

“No, no!” Lila interrupted him hastily, waving both hands in front of her. “It wasn’t Fang, it was his kitten.”

He blinked in disbelief, then any sympathy he had for her was lost. She really had been lying to him and Juleka this entire time, without a care in the world. He took a deep breath before he said anything rash. Once he was calm, he continued. “Jagged is allergic to kittens, he said so in one of his interviews.”

“This was before he realised!”

“He said in his interview he found out about his allergies before he was an adult, and I’m pretty sure you weren’t born early enough to save his cat while he was a teenager.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no reason to lie to me, Lila. Not if it’s just to impress me.”

“I’m not lying!” she protested, voice raising in volume. “I don’t know why you’re attacking me like that!”

He shuffled away from her, raising his hands in the air to prove a point. “I’m not attacking you, Lila. I told you that you shouldn’t have to lie to impress me, that’s all. I’d much rather know the real Lila over the Lila who lies about Jagged Stone.”

“Oh, why do you care so much?” she snapped, meek demeanor disappearing. “It’s one lie!”

“Yeah, and that’s one lie you’ve told my sister, her classmates and Marinette. For all I know, you could have told more,” he countered evenly, struggling to contain his anger. “I’m pretty sure you were on the Ladyblog as well, with an interview about Ladybug being your best friend. Was that a lie too?”

“It’s only what Alya wanted to hear!”

“People want you to tell the truth, not get their hopes up.” He stared her down. “I want my sister to know that everything she’s being told is genuine. I want her friends to know that everything you say is the truth-”

“They all think it’s the truth anyway,” she hissed. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is you’re lying,” he said cooly. “And if you’re reacting like this to me knowing, god knows how you reacted to Marinette knowing.”

“It’s always about Marinette, isn’t it?” Lila all but yelled at him. Her eyes glared daggers at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I bet with your crush on her, she convinced you into believing I lied and you just went along with it, didn’t she?”

“Of course she didn’t. Marinette doesn’t like liars but she’s not cruel like that. I drew my own conclusions based on your inconsistencies. Besides, if Marinette wanted people to know you were a liar, she’d go about it in a way you wouldn’t expect her to. She’s not dumb.”

“Of course she’s not dumb!” Lila shot back. “If she’s smart enough to see through my lies she can’t be as dumb as this class! It’s why she’s so annoying!”

He folded his arms. “I’m guessing Ladybug doesn’t like you either?”

“How the hell do I know?” Lila shrugged viciously, expression getting more and more sour by the second. “She’s a bloody superhero, she doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve! I don’t even know if she has one! She has a brain where her heart is and a cavity in her head that makes her dangerous, because she could hate me and I’d never know because it’s stuck in her stupid head and not on her face! All I know is that she hasn’t called me out yet and every time she sees me she just encourages me to be honest instead of yelling at me, like she realised her mistake.”

“Mistake?”

“Doesn’t matter. But no, we’re not friends. There, you happy?” She was so angry that it was almost amusing, but he shoved that feeling down. “I hate her, she ruined my chances with Adrien and then gave me a half-assed apology like I was supposed to just accept it? Does she think I’m an idiot?”

“What you’re missing, Lila is a crucial piece of advice if you’re going to continue playing this stupid game.” He ran his fingers over the strings of his guitar as Lila opened her mouth, then closed it, then glared at him expectantly. “It doesn’t matter whether you’re an idiot or not. There are two people in this world that you never piss off.”

“And who would those people be?”

“I think you already know,” he smiled in vindication at the way her expression fell. “But just in case, I’ll remind you. There are two people you never piss off, and they’re Ladybug and Marinette.”

“And why might that be?” Lila was tense as she waited for his answer, eyes darting to and fro. They both knew Juleka could return at any moment. “What’s so special about them?”

“Ladybug has her mind, her Lucky Charm, her word and Chat Noir on her side, while you don’t even have your own word, you just have a reporter who blindly follows you, but even she’ll believe Ladybug over you. Marinette is your class representative, it wouldn’t be hard for her to expose you, especially considering she can contact Jagged Stone whenever she wants.”

“She can?” Lila spluttered. “But she’s a minor! Isn’t that illegal?”

“Not when it’s purely professional, or when his number is on her parents’ phones, or when her parents consented to it.” Lila paled. “Besides that, Marinette is as smart as Ladybug, maybe even smarter. If she wanted to, it would probably only take a day for her to take you down, like you did when she nearly got expelled, except she knows how to cover her tracks.”

At that, Lila scowled. “They still believed it.”

He shrugged. “From what I’ve heard, it was circumstantial at best, you just had so many disabilities people had to cater to that there was no way you could have stolen the papers, or planted the necklace to anyone who didn’t know. Besides, if they believed that, who’s to say they wouldn’t believe Marinette if she did the exact same thing to you, but with real, indisputable proof?”

“They haven’t believed her yet!”

“They haven’t, I’ll admit it, but what has Marinette done to you besides say you’re lying? She hasn’t even begun to gather evidence because she’s playing nice, god knows why.” Lila swallowed at that. Then her eyes widened as she looked past his shoulder.

“Well, I hate to cut this short,” she said, gritting her teeth into a smile. “But Juleka and her friends are back, so I have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Luka.” She stood up hurriedly, brushing any dirt off her skirt before she hurried over to his sister and her group of friends.

“It was nice meeting you Lila,” he murmured with a smile, knowing he’d won. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he returned to playing Marinette’s melody, noting somewhere in the back of his mind how similar it was to the one that played in the back of his mind when he met Ladybug when Desperada attacked as the sun shone across his face.

There were two people he knew to never piss off, and their melodies were so similar he knew exactly why that was the case.

#ml fic #luka couffaine #lila rossi #ml #ml season 3 spoilers #lila bashing #juleka couffaine #ml salt #ml salt fic #luka destroys lila #my writing

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