#when i wrote this i was venting about my dad i didn’t expect it to blow up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

morizoras-cave · 4 years

Text

Sleepover (Collab with @lozzypoz321)

Sebastian Stan x f!teen!co-star!reader, MCU Cast x f!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: fluff, crack honestly

Description: You and the MCU cast have a secret sleepover on set.

Warnings: language!!

A/N by morizoras-cave: this was even more fun than the last fic, loz is so so funny and so so talented and i just feel so comfortable writing with her :) also so many… bad things… happened while we wrote this. I mean it was chaotic.. I hope you enjoy its LONG

A/N by @lozzypoz321: this was so much fun to write and I loved it!! Honestly you do not want to know what happened behind th scenes because that was a m e s s. Vic is suck and amazing writer and deserves so much love! Hope you enjoy!!

“Kid, open the door!” your head snapped to the door of your hotel room. You recognised Sebastian’s voice coming from outside. “Open up!”

“I’m coming” you yelled, padding over to the door and opening up. Sebastian and Anthony stood out there. They looked oddly child-like as they stood there with their sleeping bags and dressed in pjs. You snorted. “Well, hello to you too!”

“Don’t laugh, N/n, this is serious.” Anthony said as you walked out, you also dressed in your marvel pjs and with a sleeping bag in hand. Although, you thought, it was hard to take him seriously when he was dressed in Winnie The Pooh slippers.

“Whatever you say, man.”

The entirety of the marvel cast had planned a sleepover on set. It was very secret, apparently. You didn’t know the full story, but they had seemingly asked the directors if they could have an onset sleepover and they’d refused, so someone had to steal a key. It was a whole process, but nonetheless you found yourself on the way to set at around 10:30.

“Is anyone bringing snacks?” you asked. You, Seb and Anthony were walking down the street. You could see the set already. “Damn, I hope so” Anthony mumbled and you all continued walking.

When you got there Elizabeth was standing outside, holding the door open with what you assumed was the stolen key. She ushered you inside. “You’re late and for some reason I’m not surprised.”

Inside all the others were already waiting, the entirety of the cast. Notably, you could see that Robert, Scarlett and Mark had created a pillow fort, and were hiding out in the coziness with a bag of popcorn.

“Welcome, late-comers!” Robert greeted you dramatically, standing up in his Iron Man onesie. “You’ve missed the pizzas. You know, because you’re late!”

“It’s fine, we already ate. Which is why we’re late,” Sebastian pointed nodded to Anthony. You nodded along.

Everyone sat down on a large stretch of couches, blankets and pillows, where Elizabeth had placed a projector pointed to an empty wall of the set. You sat down with Tom (Hiddleston), Sebastian and Mark. It was a rather weird thing to see so many grown men and women (that you had previously had respect for) in their most colourful pjs, but you supposed it was on you to expect any differently from this cast of people.

Chris (Evans) had picked a movie and, unsurprisingly, he picked Iron Man 1. Robert protested for about two seconds, before he let everyone shower him in compliments because that movie was so damn good. “Okay okay, I guess we can watch it if we really have to”

Scarlett lightly laughed and pressed a button on the projector to start the movie after placing the disk inside that Chris (Evans) had brought from his collection at his house. “Where’s the snacks?” You heard Chris (Hemsworth) loudly whisper to Scarlett who sat next to him.

“Ooh do we have popcorn?” You quietly asked Sebastian who nodded and reached across Anthony who was laid next to him to retrieve the salted popcorn that Mark had gotten just for you as he was in charge of the snack committee. Chris (Evans) silently got up, after making sure nobody noticed him (except from you), and crawled across the room in his rapunzel pjs on his hands and knees to reach Robert who was now on the verge of unconsciousness with dribble falling from the side of his mouth. Trying to be discreet, he raised his hands scarily behind him, gaining everybody’s attention in the room except Robert, and suddenly pounced on him in a playful manner.

The man leapt up without warning with wide eyes the size of dinner plates and held his hands up as if he was doing karate in a mode of self defence. Everybody in the room burst out laughing at his reaction, Chris (Evans) reaching for his left pec as he leant back on his knees in a full on belly laugh. “You looked like you were a 6 year old girl” Scarlett laughed out and shook her head towards the man, who was now grumbling as he sat back down on his spot with an abundance of blankets by his side.

“All the snacks are gone” Anthony exclaimed to the cast, making Tom (Hiddleston) look up from the screen and ponder “well we could do something that doesn’t require food” he suggested, making everyone look at him to continue.

“I mean, we could play hide and seek?”

“Oh!” You exclaimed excitedly, one of your first inputs of the night “I’d love to play hide and seek! My dad used to do it with me all the time!”

Your happy demeanour made them all smile as you began explaining how he would hide next to you while your brother tried to find both of you. “Well it’s settled then, we’re playing hide and seek!” Chris (Hemsworth) announced in his Australian accent, before you could be told twice, you jumped up and grabbed Sebastian's hand before racing out of the room, not even giving anybody a second glance.

“Woah, where are we going?” Sebastian chuckled, following your rapid footsteps. “Don’t worry about this, Seb, I’ve the perfect hiding spot!” It was a little bit embarrassing to admit, but every time you entered a new place, you thought about the best hiding spots (in case of an unwarranted game of hide and seek).

You pulled Sebastian into the costume room and shuffled awkwardly into the back. There, you found your masterful hiding place. It was a vent, but not a small one. It was big. Sebastian looked at you in surprise. “Not bad, Y/n.”

You popped the cover right off, catching Sebastian off guard. “I unscrewed it back in February,” you explained and jumped inside. Sebastian seemed to want to question you further, but instead just shrugged to himself and followed you inside, closing the vent cover behind him.

“This really is the perfect place,” he mumbled, voice echoing slightly in the vents. It was pretty cold, but stable. “And hey, didn’t you say that your dad used to hide with you?” He asked while looking around the airy place. “Oh, um, yeah” you said sheepishly, just now remembering the moment in the other room.

“Um- I-I mean, not that you’re my- Like, my dad-” you stammered, blushing at the awkward moment, “Like- My dad is my dad- You’re just- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to make this awkward, I just-”

“Shut up!” Sebastian hissed suddenly. You looked at him, taken aback. He was staring out the vent covers, and then looked back at you with a grin. He pointed to it silently. Your brows furrowed, and you looked out. You saw Chris in the room, hand holding a flashlight while aiming it around the room, trying to find a sign of anybody. You held your breath.

“I know you’re in here! I can smell your fear!” he yelled trying to act scary. Meanwhile, he just looked kind of goofy in his Disney princess pjs. You saw Sebastian beside you, trying not to laugh. His face was contorted into a forced frown, but a smile still crept up the corners of his mouth. Seeing his face, you started feeling the urge to laugh too.

You both laughed silently, trying so hard to not give away your position to Chris. You were failing miserably.

“I will find you!” Chris said again, and this time Sebastian let out a laugh, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. His eyes widened and so did yours. Chris stopped moving, snapping his head around furiously. “Who was that? Where are you?”

You saw the moment Sebastian decided to give up on hiding, as he just suddenly started laughing like a maniac. You did too, both of you clutching your stomachs. Chris scoffed and tore the vent cover off, revealing the two of you laughing uncontrollably.

“Come on, guys, it wasn’t that funny!” Chris sighed, but he was wrong, it was definitely that funny. You guys went back to the movie room. Robert, Tom, Scarlett and Anthony had all already been found.

“Welcome to the losers!” Tom grumbled. You both sat down with him and chatted while waiting for the others to turn up. The next was Mark, who had been hiding under a table, and then Elizabeth who wasn’t even trying, but was somehow second last anyway.

Then came the waiting game. Hemsworth, the biggest of you all, the goofiest, and seemingly the easiest to spot, was still at large. Chris was hopelessly searching, but came back every ten minutes with a more and more depressed look on his attractive face.

“I can’t find him!” he admitted finally. There was a collective sigh, and then everyone started searching together, simultaneously calling out “Chris! The aussie one!” Eventually you did find him, crammed behind a couch uncomfortably.

When you finally did, Anthony (as well as several others) seemed to have only grown hungrier, and the need for snacks was larger than ever. “I swear to god if we don’t find food right now I may just quit the job” Anthony swore and huffed as he crossed both his arms over his chest. “That seems a bit dramatic but okay” Scarlett laughed as the ten of you rounded a corner in the building to only come face to face with an abundance of vending machines that everyone used at break and you all had seemingly forgotten about. “Woah” Tom said, impressed at the arrangement.

“Food galore,” Elizabeth expressed and was the first one to walk towards, closer to the arrangement, leaving the rest of you by the wall with your jaws dropped. “If I’m sick, don’t blame it on me” you quietly expressed, making Mark laugh from his spot next to you.

Trying not to seem too excited, Anthony ran forward, eyes following each and every item of edible food and drink. “I think you better hurry up” Tom commented from his spot the furthest from you, noticing the way Anthony and Chris were now eyeing your favourite type of chips.

“Umm yeah, that sounds like a good idea”

You, Robert and Sebastian immediately went over to the vending machine that was holding doritos, lays, and other classic chips. “Um, about earlier,” you mumbled to the Romanian man as Robert began to shake the machine with force, hoping something would fall down “I didn’t mean it like that” your cheeks flooded with embarrassment as the memory came flashing back to you.

But before you could start apologising even more, he stopped you and sent a reassuring smile your way “don’t worry about it Y/N, I know what you meant.” He gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before going back to watching Robert yelling at the Doritos to “fall out, you big pussy!”

Before Chris (Evans) and Tom could come over to your side of the room to be responsible adults and make a rational decision, Chris (Hemsworth) had already come bounding over to you and kicked the glass where the chips were held behind. He put full force behind the kick, so it shattered and fell loudly with a crash to the ground.

“Erm. Good idea?”

For no reason at all the situation was just funny to you, so while everyone in the room was stood still shocked (apart from Hemsworth who rocked back and forth on his feet sheepishly) you began to laugh. “What’s funny? You could literally cut your feet if you move!” Tom exclaimed with wide eyes, “you can’t get hurt we need to return you to your mom the same as we got you!”

Without warning Chris (Evans) ran over to you, making sure to carefully avoid the glass panes. “I’m not getting sued for this shit” he muttered as he picked you up and brought you over to a corner, which was a safe distance away from the wreckage.

“Alright, this has gotten out of hand,” Mark ran a hand through his hair, as he surveyed the broken glass on the floor in distress. Elizabeth nodded. You made eye contact with Scarlett and Anthony, who very clearly didn’t share the same concern that Mark and Elizabeth did. You all giggled quietly.

“But uh, let’s take advantage of the situation, eh?” Chris (Hemsworth) pulled a couple bags of doritos out of the broken vending machine, “Free doritos?” He shook the bags playfully. There was a moment where people seemed to question whether they prioritized their dignity of the free doritos, and it’s fair to say that a large number of them chose the doritos.

You all went back to the movie room, collapsing on your mattresses and blankets, with your snacks. But before any of you could begin to focus on the movie once again, a sudden gasp broke out from across the room. “He has the last bag of Doritos!”

“No I don’t” Hemsworth was quick to deny Elizabeth’s claim but everyone could see the full bag that he had attempted to stuff under his blanket. All of a sudden, Scarlett leapt out of her sleeping bag, trying to reach the chips before he did, but unfortunately all the gym workouts he had been going to (or yoga lessons you weren’t really sure) were paying off, as he held the woman at bay so he could grab the snack and hold it far out of her reach.

“Give it” she grunted and tried to reach past his grip and take the chips for herself, but before she had a chance, Chris (Evans) jumped up from his spot over by Tom and snatched the bag from him, holding a victorious grin on his face. Chris (Hemsworth) pouted angrily at his costar, not bothering to fight back as he knew it would be a losing battle (he was captain America for Christ’s sake). But you had a trick up your sleeve, you wanted those chips and you were going to get them whether it was the last thing you did.

Picking up the pillow beside you, you held it up as a shield as ran forward as fast as you could, taking in the confused expression Chris held in his face before you smashed into his stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs but unfortunately, not his.

He chuckled deeply as you smashed back into the wooden floors groaning as the pain surged through you. “I don’t think that worked as well as you thought it would” Mark commented from his comfortable spot on his mattress.

“No, it really didn’t”

The movie ended, and slowly but surely people started going to bed. There were yawns and stretches around you all bundled together on the floor. You too found yourself growing tired, stuffing yourself into your sleeping bag and getting comfortable.

“Goodnight!” you murmured and those who were awake mumbled it back drowsily. You distinctly heard Sebastian mutter back to you from his sleeping bag “shut up, I’m tired”. You chuckled for the last time that night, as soon sleep overcame you.

Then, at the the buttcrack of dawn, a scream came from the nearest entrance: “WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK-”

And that was the inspiring story of how body searches became a daily routine on set, so the Russos could make sure no one had gotten their grubby hands on an extra key.

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun @deephideoutmilkshake @rae-is-typing @sophs-library @herecomesthewriterwitch @alicedanganh @eviemarvel @idk123906 @tamayakii

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x teen!reader #sebastian stan x daughter!reader #chris evans x reader #anthony mackie x reader #mark ruffalo x reader #chris hemsworth x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #Tom Hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x teen!reader #robert downey jr. x reader #marvel cast x reader #mcu cast x reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast x teen!reader

1K notes · View notes

desertno3 · 3 years

Text

everything comes back to you (sean wallace x fem!reader)

Sean Wallace is the love of your life and had been ever since you were both sixteen. This is why, in the aftermath of his father’s murder, you do everything you can to make sure no one lays a hand him.

5.4k words.

A/N: To think this all came from me watching this scene of Joe from Volume (2012) and thought… I need to write about bb Sean. There’s also this post which is mostly what was in my head when I wrote this. Also, I was going to say Sean being soft around the people he loves is my own personal headcanon but like… it is actual canon, lmao. It’s so easy to forget because the man is cold most of the time. Anyway, I clearly have too many thoughts about this character. Enjoy. (also formatting on tumblr is shit so if you want to read this with the formatting I intended, head over here to AO3)

prologue.

“What the hell are you up to?” Sean demands as he watches you bustle around your shared bedroom, effectively turning it upside down as you stuff your belongings into a travel bag.

“Business,” You say, hardly pausing to look at him.

“Business?” He scoffs like he doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame him. Finn died mere days ago and every day since then you’d been acting strange. Between consoling Sean and helping the Wallace family with the funeral arrangements, you’d been answering calls at random hours of the day and going off to meetings even though nearly all business operations under the Wallace Corporation had been halted. Sean had been too caught up in everything to question it but now that you’d just told him that you were flying off to god knows where for alleged business, he was suspicious.

“You know something, don’t you?”

You don’t reply.

“Tell me.”

When you remain silent, you see his jaw clench in anger but that’s not what makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. What gets to you is the hurt you can see in his eyes, hurt that his fiancé of all people is keeping things from him. You know it’s unfair to be doing this to him right now but you had no choice.

You walk up to him, taking his face in your hands.

“You just have to trust me on this, Sean,” You say softly. “Please.”

“I can’t trust anyone right now, y/n.” He says it like a plea. He needs you to be the one person he can trust one hundred percent, wants to be able to put you apart from the rest of the world who seemingly had it out for his family right now. He can’t do that when you’re acting like this.

The statement doesn’t hurt you in the slightest. You understand where he’s coming from, understand why he can’t even trust you, but still, you wish he did.

“You can always trust me,” You tell him but you know it won’t be enough. That’s confirmed when his gaze goes steely and he pries your hands from his cheeks.

“If you step out that door, don’t bother coming home.”

You step back like you’d been burned by the ultimatum. “Sean, don’t-”

He shakes his head.

“Whatever you’re doing, I hope it’s worth it.”

_________________________________________________

one.

“It’s just so annoying, you know?” You huff, falling back onto Sean’s bed and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids. You’re sixteen and in the throes of teen angst, irritated by the confines of your parents’ demands regarding what you currently could and couldn’t do at that age.

“Yeah, I know,” Sean replies in solidarity from where he stands near the window.

You let out a sigh, the anger that was bubbling in your chest starting to dissipate now that you’d finished venting about it.

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t realise Sean has moved from his spot across the room to the bed beside you. The mattress dips a little as he sits and slowly lies back so he’s parallel to you.

You move your hands away from your eyes and your heart jolts when you crane your neck to look at him and realise how close he is.

“Thanks for listening to my ranting,” You murmur, starting to feel guilty that you’d come over to hang out only for it to end up being just him listening to your tirade.

He lets out a small chuckle. “Anytime.”

You smile gratefully, your heart rate accelerating as you continue to stare into his eyes. God, you like him so much. You have for a while now. As he inches closer, and you don’t know whether it’s deliberate on his part or not, you wonder what it would be like if you just kissed him right there.

“Y/n…” He says hesitantly, his gaze flicking down to your lips for a fraction of a second. “Can I-”

“Ooooh, Sean and y/n,” Billy sing-songs obnoxiously from the doorway - the doorway that both you and Sean had forgotten was wide open.

Sean leaps up from the bed and growls at his brother, who continues to tease him unfazed.

“Fuck off, Billy!”

He slams the door shut and everything descends into silence once more. You sit up and watch as Sean remains at the door, his shoulders tense. You get up and make your way over to him, feeling bolder than you ever have in your life.

“Sean,” You say softly, grabbing his attention.

He turns to you, the look in his eyes hesitant, and you use that opportunity to press your lips to his. You pull away just as quickly, gauging his reaction, but then he pulls you towards him again and this time the kiss is deeper, needier. Your hands steady yourself against his chest as his own move up to cup your jaw.

You’re both breathless when you pull away, sporting matching shy smiles as you look at each other.

“I really like you, y/n,” Sean confesses and your heart feels like it could burst.

“I really like you, too, Sean.”

When you and Sean get accepted into different universities, it worries you more than you let on. It would be the furthest away you’d ever lived from him and you were worried about what that meant for you both. You’d spent your last years of high school falling deeper and deeper in love with him and you weren’t ready to let him go. Not now, not ever.

“Hey,” He murmurs, noticing you’d spaced out again. “What’s wrong?”

You shrug it off but he’s not buying it. He shifts on the couch so that he’s sitting facing you and takes your hands in his.

"Talk to me.”

You end up telling him everything. How you don’t like that you’re not going to be able to see him as often as you do now, how you’re worried that the distance might put a strain on the relationship, how you really, really don’t like the idea of breaking up with him.

You half expect him to brush it off or to tell you that you’ve got nothing to worry about but he doesn’t.

“I don’t like it either,” He admits. “It’s going to be awful being so far away from you but it’s only a couple of years, yeah? We can do that. And then I’ll start working for my dad and you’ll start working for some cool startup and we can move into a flat in London. You and me.”

While your boyfriend’s vision of your future together warms your heart, you’re still hung up on the ‘couple of years’ you were going to be a good distance from each other.

“Babe,” He says, bringing your attention back to him. “We’re going to be okay.”

You nod, finally relenting and agreeing with him. There was no point in letting yourself get eaten alive with worry, not when he clearly loved you just as much as you loved him. It was going to be okay.

“I love you,” You tell him and he smiles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

“I love you too.”

Sean’s vision of the future wasn’t too far off. You manage to secure a flat just before you both graduate and by the end of the summer, you’d moved in. Sean starts working immediately alongside Alex at the Wallace Corporation and you spend about eight months working for a new tech startup on the other side of London before Finn Wallace offers you a job. It goes over with Sean just as well as you expected it would - which was not well at all.

“Are you really going to throw away everything you’ve worked hard for? To be my dad’s fucking assistant?”

You sigh in exasperation. “I’m not throwing away anything, Sean! Do you think I’m that stupid? I’m going to use more of what I learned at uni as Finn’s assistant than I am now at that fucking sad excuse for startup and you know it!”

Sean knows you’re miserable where you currently work so you don’t know why he’s so against this.

“You don’t want me working with you, is that it?”

He sighs, palms pressing against his eyelids in frustration.

“No,” He says eventually. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I don’t want my dad having a hold on the both of us. You’re supposed to be free from all the Wallace Corporation shit, out doing your own thing.”

Oh.

You step towards him and he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist. You press a light kiss to his lips, your fingers ghosting over the facial hair he had recently started sporting.

“Sorry to tell you this, Sean, but your dad’s had a hold on the both of us the moment we started dating. Maybe even before that. I’m sure if he didn’t approve of me, I would’ve been out of your life a long time ago.”

Sean grumbles at the realisation but he knows it's true.

You lovingly run your thumb over his cheek. "Nothing in London is out of Finn Wallace's reach."

You’re not a fool. You know Finn offered you this job for a very specific reason. If you were going to continue being with Sean, and at this point, everyone knew that was absolutely going to be the case, you were going to have to know how the company worked. And you weren’t against it. If Sean was to be the CEO one day, you refused to be the kind of wife who was oblivious to their husband’s dealings.

Gone is the youthful innocence of the lanky boy you fell in love with when you were sixteen. Sean is filled out and a lot more serious, trying to be more than what he is for his father’s sake. You suppose you're the same, too. It's not easy, being primed to eventually take over a multi-million dollar organisation (connected to an insidious underground one to boot) and Finn put just as much pressure on you as he did his son.

“It’s not my blood,” You mumble when Sean walks into the bathroom to find you soaking in the tub, the water around you a deep red. “Mostly.”

Wordlessly, he comes over and drains it before filling it back up with fresh water. You don’t move as he does so, still shaken and borderline catatonic from having just killed somebody for the first time. Sean doesn’t have to ask, he can just tell that’s what you’ve come back from. As he silently washes the blood from your skin, you look over to see his lips set in a tight line. You know he’s mad. Not at you. At his father, maybe. But there’s nothing he can do now. There’s no going back from this.

Everyone thinks you’re the power couple of the Wallace Corporation, steely and unfeeling, and you suppose in many ways you are but you also know that in other ways, you’re still the teenagers you were before, still completely and utterly smitten with one another.

“Hey,” Sean greets you, kissing your cheek before pulling out a chair and sitting beside you in the empty boardroom.

You look at him in surprise as he starts digging into some pre-packaged salad. “Hi. What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d have lunch with you.”

“It’s three in the afternoon.”

“The meeting ran overtime.”

You give him a sympathetic look and he rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. C’mere.”

You shuffle closer to him and let him tuck you under one arm while he forked salad into his mouth with the other.

“What have you been up to, hm?”

You let out an exhale, resting your head against his shoulder. “Meetings, same as you.”

You’re interrupted when Alex pops his head in with an apologetic look on his face, knowing he was disrupting a rare moment between you and Sean. Usually, the both of you would be so busy you’d only see each other in passing at work.

“Finn’s looking for you, y/n,” He tells you before disappearing again.

You sigh, getting up but not before kissing Sean on the cheek.

“I’ll see you at home.”

“Mm, see you.” He mumbles, swallowing his mouthful of salad before his hand shoots out to grab your wrist. “Wait, give me a proper kiss.”

You smile and comply, laughing when Sean pulls you back in for another and another.

“I have to go, Sean!”

“Alright, alright,” He says, letting you go. “I’ll see you later.”

"What's all this?" Sean asks when he comes home one night to find you in the kitchen looking like you’re in the middle of making a more elaborate dinner than usual.

"Just something to celebrate you finishing up that contract," You say, smiling when his arms circle your waist and his lips press a kiss to your cheek. "I was also thinking now that the contract's done, you've got all the time in the world to fuck me."

You all but squeal when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom without a second thought.

"The food, Sean!"

"The food can wait," He murmurs, dropping you onto the bed. You giggle when he moves to hover above you, his lips brushing against yours. "I've got to take care of my fiancé first."

It’s those memories of your relationship with Sean that flood your mind as you lean against the brick wall of a Soho back alley, the hand pressing against the wound on your side not doing much to stop the blood seeping from your body faster than you would like.

Dread had filled you the moment you heard about Finn’s death and it had less to do with what happened to him and everything to do with the man you were engaged to, the one who was set to take over the company in his father’s wake. Despite Sean being the clear successor to the business, you knew Finn’s death would still leave a power vacuum in both London’s corporate and criminal worlds. You knew people would be out for Sean, trying to off him so that they could step up and take Finn’s place. And so, since the day Finn had died, you’d done everything you could to ensure Sean wouldn’t be harmed. Even after Sean’s heartbreaking ultimatum, you’d left and had been all over the country and London trying to stop the people that needed to be stopped. This last job you’d just carried out would have been it. It would have sealed the deal and would have kept Sean safe for good. Too bad you were probably going to die because of it.

You wince as your back slides further down the wall, your legs giving out and leaving you to drop unceremoniously onto the concrete. Each inhale felt like a billion knives entering your side and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

It was worth it, you think to yourself. It’s the last thought you have before your eyelids get too heavy to keep open, Sean’s last words to you echoing back in your mind. It may have cost you your life but was worth it if it meant you’d just ensured Sean would keep his for a long while.

_________________________________________________

two.

Despite the number of people crammed into your hospital room, the only sound to be heard is the steady beeping of the machines that had been attached to you. It had been a hell of a night for all of them and one that wasn’t over yet. Jacqueline’s frantic call to Sean about seeing you get wheeled into emergency surgery had cut short the tense discussion the Wallaces and Dumanis were having around the dining table. Sean had all but sped to the hospital, everyone else trailing behind him. Despite everything that had just been revealed to him that night, it all became secondary in comparison to the fact that Jacqueline had told him you were practically dying.

Everyone but Sean looks up when Ed steps back into the room, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“That was Jevan,” Ed announces to all of them. “Things have changed.”

“What things?” Marian asks, the tone in her voice still bitter. It’s a wonder neither she nor Sean have kicked the Dumanis out of the room but it was because there was still so much to be discussed - especially now that you were back in the picture and what happened to you remained unclear.

“The investors now want to keep Sean alive.”

A silence settles over the room at Ed’s revelation. It was mere hours ago that Alex had revealed it was the investors who wanted Sean dead.

“She knew,” Sean mutters, finally speaking up. His eyes raking over your nearly-lifeless face as you lay unconscious on the hospital bed and his mind thinks back to the last conversation he had with you. Business, you had told him then. Now, he had no doubt you had something to do with the investors’ most recent decision. “She knew they wanted me dead.”

“How?” It’s Alex who asks, vocalising the same thought Sean had been turning over and over in his mind. “How did she know where to find them? Who to talk to?”

No one has an answer. The machines beep steadily, filling in the silence until Ed sighs, a realisation dawning on him.

“Finn,” He states like that alone makes the answer clear. “She would’ve known through Finn. Think about it. When she was his assistant, he made her go with him to nearly every meeting he had.”

Everyone in the room was aware of the latter, of course. It was part of your job. It had even been a point of contention between Sean and his father at one point, why you were let in on meetings that he should’ve been in on too if he was going to take over the company one day. "She’s just there to make the coffee, son," Finn had laughed but that wasn’t true in the slightest. You were the one who took down the minutes, noted down anything of importance, kept tabs on any and all of Finn’s dealings with everybody. That was your job and through it, you ended up knowing more about the business than anyone else and you didn’t even realise it. You didn’t realise just how much you knew, how much knowledge you could use as leverage, as blackmail, until Sean’s life was on the line.

After Finn died, you did wonder whether he knew what he was setting you up for when he hired you, wondered if he always knew Sean would eventually need protecting and knew that you would do it without hesitation if you had the capability to do so.

It’s Ed, here in the hospital room, who comes to the realisation that he absolutely did.

“She knows more about Finn’s dealings with the investors than all of us in this room combined,” He continues. “Because he never actually needed her to be his assistant. He needed her to be someone who would know how to talk to them. To protect the company and its successor from them if need be.”

“Successor?” Marian asks. “You mean Sean?”

Ed nods and everyone jumps as Sean suddenly throws his fist against the bedside table in anger before whirling on the older man.

“You knew about this,” He seethes. “You knew he was doing this and you just let it happen.”

“I didn’t know this was his reasoning behind it, Sean, I promise you. But it makes sense. As his son, protecting you was a priority. Through her, Finn made sure you’d be kept safe.”

"Fuck that.” Sean spits in anger. “Fuck that. She's a priority too. You hear me? She needs to be kept safe too because if she's not alive I may as well be fucking dead."

_________________________________________________

three.

“I should’ve fucking realised that’s what she was up to. I should’ve fucking known,” Sean mutters as he looks at you, still lying there unconscious. “She risked everything for me.”

“Are you surprised?” Marian asks him. It’s just the two of them in the room now.

She, for one, isn’t surprised in the slightest. Having known you most of your life, she knew you had it in you. Maybe Finn saw that too, since it was what he ended up priming you for.

Sean sighs. He’s not surprised either. What he mostly feels is anger - at his late father for putting you in that position to begin with - and shame. He’s ashamed that while you were bending over backwards to try and keep him alive, he was doing fuck all for you. He'd even broken your fucking heart in the process. He’d regretted it the second you’d left the flat but he couldn’t get into contact with you afterwards. Either you’d changed your number or you weren’t answering his calls. He’d even hired a fucking private investigator to find out where you’d gone and what you were up to but they hadn’t come back with anything solid enough that could lead him to you. It was like you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

"She paid you off,” Sean says bluntly the moment the PI enters the hospital room. It’s not a question. After everything that had surfaced in the last twenty-four hours, it clicked into Sean’s mind the reason the private investigator couldn’t find anything on you.

"She did,” They confirm.

Sean swears under his breath. He curses that fact that you were too good at this and curses the fact that it was probably Finn that taught you how, the same way Finn taught him. He should’ve fought harder to stop you from accepting his dad’s job offer. All those years ago.

“She paid me off,” The PI says. "But that doesn’t mean I didn't do my job."

Sean is handed a folder full of notes on your movements and a flash drive full of photos they’d snapped from a distance.

"You are a very lucky man, Sean Wallace. To have someone like her in your life."

_________________________________________________

four.

To say you’re surprised when you open your eyes to a sterile hospital room is an understatement. You were so sure you had no chance of getting out of that alley alive. Still groggy, you briefly wonder if it was the investors who managed to get you here in time - the strange puppet masters that they were - but your train of thought is halted when you realise Sean’s sister is in the room with you, sitting beside your hospital bed.

“About time you woke up,” Jacqueline says softly, a kind smile on her face. “How’re you feeling?”

Her question brings your attention to the relentless ache you feel all over your body.

“Like shit.”

She hums. “Well, you’re lucky you aren’t dead. You gave us all a scare getting wheeled in here the way you did.”

You shift a little, trying to get yourself in a position that would ease the pain somewhat. “How’s Sean?”

Jacqueline has to stop herself from rolling her eyes because of course that’s what’s on your mind right now. You coming back from the verge of death asking about Sean ran in a similar vein to the way Sean had been adamant about not leaving the hospital since you’d been admitted. Like two peas in a pod, she thinks. Always have been.

“He’s just out in the hall, actually,” She informs you. “On the phone to mum. He’s not going to be pleased he wasn’t here when you woke up.”

“But he’s okay?” You ask her.

“He’s okay.”

You let out the breath you didn’t realise you were holding, your head sinking further into the pillow.

“Good,” You say, shutting your eyes in relief. “That’s good.”

Only a few seconds pass before you hear the door open and shut and a heart-achingly familiar voice break the silence.

“How is she?”

Again, Jacqueline has to keep herself from rolling her eyes. Her brother would always ask that same question every time he returned to the room, no matter if he was gone for an hour or for just a couple of minutes. At least this time, she was glad to give him an answer other than ‘she’s the same as she was when you left’.

“She’s awake.”

Your eyelids flutter open and your heart jumps when your gaze lands on Sean.

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Jacqueline smiles when she looks between her brother and yourself. She comes over and rests her hand on yours. “I’m really glad you’re alive, y/n.”

You give her a grateful smile and watch her leave before your eyes flicker back to the man standing at the door. He looks healthy, you note to yourself. Exhausted, but healthy.

“Sean,” You whisper, breaking the silence.

“Hey,” He says softly, approaching your bedside. You slowly sit up and tears start to pool in your eyes at the sight of him here, so close to you. Safe and alive. He notices and reaches out to wipe away the stray tears that had rolled down your cheeks.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” He murmurs and you have to hold back a sob.

"I did it for you, Sean," You can barely get the sentence out, your voice catching as you start to get choked up by emotion. "Everything I did-"

"I know," He says, cupping your face tenderly. His eyes are glassy too. "I know."

“I couldn’t let them hurt you. I couldn’t-”

You stop as your tears start to flow uncontrollably. You’d kept so much of your emotions at bay as you dealt with everything and now that it was all done, they were spilling over in waves. He gently pulls you into his embrace as you cry, mindful of your injuries. One hand strokes your hair comfortingly as you cling to him, soaking the front of his shirt with your tears. You keep muttering apologies into his chest and he has to tell you to stop because you have nothing to be sorry for. He should be the one apologising, he thinks. No matter what he does for you for the rest of his life nothing would come close enough in magnitude to what you’d just done for him.

You sniffle as your sobs finally start to subside but you don’t let go of him just yet.

“I want to come home, Sean,” You say quietly, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

“You are home,” He assures you, his arms affectionately squeezing you ever so slightly. "You're here with me. You're already home."

_________________________________________________

epilogue.

Sean barely leaves your side while you recover - not for business, not for anything.

“The company needs you, Sean.”

He shakes his head. “Alex has it covered. You need me.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Believe me, I know. But still. In sickness and in health, right?”

You snort. “We’re not married yet.”

His arms wrap around your waist.

“But we will be,” He murmurs. “I would’ve married you a long time ago if I had it my way.”

“My mother would’ve murdered you.”

Sean chuckles, all too aware of it.

It was about a year and a half into your university lives that Sean decided he genuinely wanted to marry you and, of course, he had run it by your mother.

“I’ll give you my blessing, Sean,” She had told him. “But only if you promise me you’ll give it a few years until you propose.”

“Just trust me on this, okay?” She said after Sean had frowned and asked her why. “I know you love her and I know she loves you but there’s no need to rush.”

Sean had agreed reluctantly but now, years later, he understands where she was coming from. At the time, he had naively been sure there was nothing the two of you couldn’t handle. You’d both handled being at different universities so well, after all. Now, he cringes at the fact that that was his metric but he figures he couldn’t blame himself. At that age, he definitely never anticipated having to deal with all the shit life had thrown at you both in the last few months alone. He’s somewhat grateful your mum told him to wait because now, after everything, he’s more sure than he ever was about the fact that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

You’re finally back home, in your own bed, lying on your back because it’s the only comfortable way you can lay down with all your stitches and injuries yet to fully heal. You turn your head to look at Sean and you smile. He’s on his back as well, the both of you craning your necks awkwardly to look at each other.

“What?” He asks.

“This is very familiar.”

He snorts, knowing exactly what you’re referring to. He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at you.

“At least this time I’m not scared to do this.”

Your eyelids flutter close as he leans down to press his lips to yours. You reciprocate, leaning up to deepen the kiss before pain shoots up your side, making you hiss.

“Sorry,” He murmurs, pulling away.

“It’s fine, just the stitches.”

His thumb grazes over your cheek. “Rest.”

He smiles at the way you huff. You never did like staying still.

You let out a content sigh, sinking back in your office chair. It had felt like a lifetime since you’d been in here and finally being back felt like you were putting in the final piece in the puzzle. It was the last thing you needed to feel like everything was starting to go back to normal.

A knock on the door grabs your attention, Sean popping in to check on you. “You ready?”

You nod, gingerly getting up and following him to the boardroom for the family meeting.

“So you know Alex and I have been talking,” Sean says to you once everyone had filed in and taken their seats. “About what will be best for the business going forward.”

You nod.

“Things have settled down and we’ve managed to broker temporary agreements with everyone to keep them in line. However, we need to guarantee they won’t act out in the future. So we need someone heading the company who they will listen to, someone who they trust. Alex wants to continue doing the finances and I’m better off sticking to making the buildings so… we were wondering if you would be the CEO.”

Your expression goes slack in shock. “What?”

“We’ve run it by Ed and mum and they agree, too. You’re our best bet.”

You look between everyone in the room, bewildered. “Why?”

“Because you know more about dealing with the investors and shareholders than any of us,” Alex says. “You saw first-hand how Finn did his business with them, something me and Sean rarely did. And they not only know you personally but they trust you, too.”

“Y/n,” Ed pipes up. “Whether he did it deliberately or not, Finn taught you everything he knew about the most important part of running this corporation. Alex knows finance and sales, Sean knows property and asset management but you? He specifically taught you how to bargain. And bargaining and making deals is part of what keeps the Wallace Corporation on top.”

“All our shareholders, the investors, they’ll be okay with this?” You ask.

Ed gives you a look, “You tell us.”

The weight of the responsibility hits you in full force but you’re surprised when you don’t feel scared. You feel sure. They were all right, you’d been doing this already.

You nod. “They will be.”

And it’s not a threat so much as it’s just pure confidence on your part. You knew their strengths, their weaknesses, you knew you would be able to keep them in line with your words, either finding mutual ground or using certain things as leverage to get what the company needed. You could bargain with them the same way you’d bargained for Sean’s life. You could do this.

You meet Sean’s eyes across the boardroom table and he smiles at you, pride blooming in his chest at the thought of his girl, the one he had fallen head-over-heels for at sixteen, being the CEO of his dad’s company. You smile in return. God, you loved him. Your entire world, your whole heart, belonged to him. And his to you. It always had been, and it always would be.

_________________________________________________

End notes: The first kiss setting in one. I took straight from Volume, lol, and then two. is set after that meeting scene at the end of Episode 7 of Gangs but I’ve taken some liberties with that meeting and diverged from canon right before Ed tells them Finn never wanted Sean near the business because Sean’s reaction to that hurts my heart. So that’s not a thing in my fic world. Anyway! Too many thoughts about this show. Let me know if you enjoyed this fic!

#sean wallace x reader #gangs of london fanfiction #*writing #sean wallace #gangs of london #sean wallace fic #sean wallace imagine #gangs of london fic #sean wallace fanfic

211 notes · View notes

britishassistant · 3 years

Text

@emyluwinter submitted: Hi!!With you again a freelance newspaperman who writes about the reporter Yuu and the Prefect!! I am very glad that you liked my little stories so much that I wrote earlier!!! It's very encouraging that my work is appreciated.

So today will be a small addition to the latest events related to the villainy of Crowley in the form of the kidnapping of Yuu's "family" and friends,and after the final" conversation " of the Prefect with Crowley.

Because of the noise and shouting, opening the room with a spare key, several henchmen cautiously look inside. Yuu had already changed back into civilian clothes and put on extra gloves to hide the knuckles on his hands that had been cut from the blows. - Um....chief, how are you? Yuu takes a deep breath. - Your boss should call a doctor. - So we were talking about you, micro-chief, - one of the minions adds, almost in a whisper. - Huh?Why am I a micro-chef? - Yuu looked at them in confusion. - Well...it's like you've just "talked" to the leader of one of the most powerful villains in the League of Villains.. - Plus your uncle, Mr. Cruel. - Your' family ' and friends are all right. We're not crazy enough to hurt them. - I don't really want to have a walrus's heel sewn on my forehead, - one of the henchmen added ruefully. Yuu couldn't believe it. - Are they really all right? - That's right, micro-chief! But please leave before Mr. Cruel breaks us down into test tubes. We want to live. - And I have a cat at home, how can I be without it. So we'll show you to the exit. Yuu chuckles uncomfortably.It was the first time he had felt so strange. Perhaps it was a mixture of shock, fear, and despair, laced with anger and rage. But for a second, he felt all the power that Crowley held in his hands. But now all this was not necessary, only his loved ones were important.

- Thank you..no, really, I'm grateful that they're safe and sound. - Yuu felt that all these minions were no different from civilians, and they just worked wherever they wanted. And now they are worried about the fact that their superiors have made a lot of mistakes. - Your cameraman friend is a great word player! - I lost three rounds in a row to him. Minions distract Yuu with simple and cute conversations. Some of them showed their pets. Yuu was even asked to sign an autograph as their favorite reporter. They were very moved by their understanding. Although for the most part, they behaved so as not to run into even more trouble. ***

TWST Anita hugged her baby tightly. - Oh Yuu, I was worried if you were okay. - Sorry, Mom - Yuu could barely hold on, they were terribly tired for this day and the last thing they wanted to do was go back to the kidnappings and villainies. TWST Roger patted their hair affectionately. - We were tied up just for show. The rest of the time off-camera, we sat on their couch. - He won four games of cards with the guards,- Anita added, chuckling softly. - Well, they're not stupid enough to harm us.- Roger chuckled. Yuu was just glad that they were all right. Yuuken held Grimm in his arms while standing next to them. - You held out well. - I should have burned all his feathers! - Grimm snorted. - And you cheated, Yuuken! You've made up more than half the words! - No, I didn't cheat, the guards told you the words. Yuu took a deep breath, the growing panic attack quickly passed in his parents ' arms and listening to Yuuken and Grimm. Uncle Divus arrived just a few minutes before the lair to make sure they were all right. None of the minions or minions were even willing to leave shadows in his path. "I sincerely apologize, Anita, that that idiot with the feathers would do something like that. Divus said guiltily, looking at his sister. - Don't take Divvy personally, I know that neither you nor Yuu will let us offend anyone. Everything ended well. - Anita said gently. Cruel relaxed a little at the realization that there was nothing wrong with the people close to him. Looking at the tired Yuu,Kruel just silently hugged him and hugged him very tightly. - You did very well, Yuu. I'm proud of you. - Thank you, Uncle Divvy...I think this time it's over once and for all. -I heard from the guards that Prefect beat him to the intensive care unit, but I don't know how he managed to get in. Yuu chuckled mirthlessly - yes, Prefect helped me out when it was most needed. Ah...I saw him get through the vent or something. Roger swore softly. - Damn it, I wanted to get his autograph! - Roger!Why do you need an autograph? - Little kitty King even has one, I also want an autograph!

Grimm uneasily climbs onto Yuu's shoulders and rubs his head against Yuu's cheek. He watched Yuu more closely than anyone else and saw the state they were in. - Hey .. Yuu. - Yes, Grimm? - Let you take a vacation, your hands are shaking like you're not letting go of a jackhammer. - Grimm glared at Yuu. - I absolutely agree with him, Yuu. Honey, you need a break, you have black eyes and you've lost weight since the last time we met. Being under constant stress is detrimental to your health. - Div, what about that country house you were talking about the other day? - Roger immediately joined in, taking up the idea. - I'm driving, so we can all go together. - Yuuken, you'll go too, no objection,- Anita smiled softly. - Yes, ma'am. I'll just talk to my superiors about letting us go for a couple of days. - Weeks at least,- Сruel added. *** Sitting surrounded by at least 15 pups, Yuu felt like he was falling asleep, they were really too tired for everything that had happened. The quiet snuffling of the pups around him brought him back nostalgically to the time when Yuu was just learning to play the piano with his father and, due to his age and height, couldn't reach the pedals below. How he and Uncle Divus would look at all sorts of fashion magazines, and Yuu would try to draw this or that dress or suit with crayons under his uncle's guidance. Even now, he could hear his mother and father discussing something with Uncle Divvy over a bottle of wine and quiet laughter. Grimm and Juuken fell asleep in a couple of minutes lying on the couch. Grimm climbed onto Yuuken's stomach and used it as a pillow.

Only in the evening, waking up from the doorbell, Yuu sleepily opened his eyes, they slept so soundly and well that they did not even notice how one of the particularly daring and playful puppies tried to gnaw his sleeve. - Who's, Uncle Divvy? - Yuu rubbed his eyes and yawned contentedly. Cruel carried several boxes into the room. - Courier with delivery, although it is strange that no one expected a special package. - What's is Divvy? - It came in the name of Yuu. - Me? - After getting out of the trap of the puppies, Yuu looked at the boxes with a puzzled expression. They were all in his name. And then Yuu noticed several small cards attached to the boxes. In the first box were expensive bagels with filling and frosting. It was a gift from Tsunotaro with an apology that they had to go through all this and Crowley had caused them so much inconvenience.

In the boxes from Tsunotaro there was also a basket of wild roses with a very pleasant and subtle aroma. Several varieties of very delicious tea and a letter was enclosed in an envelope. - "The items are very expensive and refined. Who is this secret fan, sweety? - Anita smiled softly. - From a friend, Mom...a very kind and good friend. - Yuu pulled out the letter and sat down on a chair and began to run his eyes over the beautiful written lines. Malleus certainly tried to put all his feelings and sincere empathy into the lines. The letter was very touching and full of grace, but the one phrase that caught Yuu's attention most was the one from the villain. "If you or your loved ones need help, please contact me first. It doesn't matter what the circumstances are, it doesn't matter who I have to stand up against, whether it's villainous or even heroic, I will always help you no matter what happens, my dear and sweet reporter. Your loyal friend and " pink ink was added "and the most important terrible villain" - this must have been Vanruge. ... your loyal friend and loyal fan. Enjoy your vacation, we'll probably take a break for a while, too. " At the bottom was another postscript in pink ink : "One of the minions had the temerity to fall asleep in a den with the windows open. And now in our shelter a flock of birds, rabbits, squirrels and other small creatures that need to be attached" Yuu choked on a laugh as he imagined the mighty Tsunotaro surrounded by all these cute little animals. Finally, this long day gave Yuu something good, at least they will spend a few days with their family and close friends. Finally, the long-awaited rest and a short vacation came. By the way, the bagels with stuffing that were sent were damn delicious. - To bribe me on an empty stomach, up villainy is not otherwise-Yuu grinned, finishing another bagel. Thank you for your attention!

AAAAAAAH, I LOVE THIS!!

The perfect little ending to ease the sad of the last submission!! Yuu getting away with beating up Crowley! Crowley’s henchpeople treating Yuu with more respect and kindness than birb dad does!! Yuu’s dad wanting the Prefect’s autograph!! Forcing Yuu onto a vacation because their family loves them and wants them to feel safe and happy!! Yuuken and Grim going home with them and falling asleep in the puppy pile together!! Malleus’ care package and Lilia’s additions to his note!! I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS!!

Thank you so much for sending this in!!

85 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 3 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 3 Co-Written with @southerngracela

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving, but when you’re being held hostage by Hugh Ransom Drysdale there’s really not a lot to be thankful for, is there?

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 2 to our submission for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.

You could feel the chill of the outside seeping into your space, your bones, through the vented window following your shower. The way it crept in made you realize just how far along through fall you were, maybe it was even approaching the onset of the holiday weather. Either way, a storm seemed to be outside. At least it felt like it. Once dried, you found yourself wrapping up tighter in the thick cardigan you’d chosen before you dried your hair, and allowed yourself a quick squirt of perfume before settled into the reading chair in the corner of your room, your journal on your lap.

The little, leather bound book had been in your handbag which had been given back to you earlier that morning as the latest reward for behaving and as you ran your hand over the deep brown cover, you couldn’t help the air of excitement you felt at having been given your treasured little note book, despite the dreary sky you could see from the porthole above your chair.

It had actually surprised you that Drysdale had kept it and not disposed of it the same way he had your phone and your car. But for whatever reason, he’d held onto it, and for that you were grateful. Grateful that you had something of your own from before this imprisonment to anchor too. You’d expected him to want some kind of favour in return but he hadn’t demanded any sort of sexual gratification, simply informed you he would be out most of the morning and would be back mid to late afternoon. As soon as he had gone you had eagerly tipped the contents of your bag onto the bed, almost crying at the sight of your half empty bottle of Coco-Mademoiselle, the Mac Lip-gloss, NYX Eyebrow pencil, Mont Blanc fountain pen, a full tube of mints and your treasured journal. With teary eyes you’d put everything away in its new place, apart from the book and pen before padding into the bathroom for a shower, deliberately sorting yourself out for the day. All you could think of was taking the time so you could savour the moment when you could hopefully make some sense of the jumble in your head by spilling it onto a page.

You opened the cover and flicked to your last entry, the morning of Halloween. A rambling rant about Mick-The-Prick filled the page and you paused, tears in your eyes, as you’d give anything to be stood in his office thinking about ingenious ways to kill him and get away with it. Ironic, really considering that was exactly what your captor had done; committed murder and gotten away with it.

You went to jot the date down in the corner of the page and realised that actually, you didn’t have a clue what it was. Down here, night bled into day, day bled into night…and soon it all bled into weeks. However, given the fact your cycle had been and gone a week ago you figured that it was maybe four weeks since Halloween. Of course, you could ask Hugh, but the less you had to ask him the better as far as you were concerned. You hate the fact that he had this hold on you, that you had to ask for and ‘earn’ things by being ‘good’. And whilst it made you sick to your stomach, you’d fast learnt it was easier to comply than rebel. The night he had left you tangled in your sweater had hurt. It had taken you a good twenty minutes to muster the strength to work your way out and drag yourself into a bath, your body shaking with the trauma, sobs wracking your frame. Your body ached for days, your mind in a post-traumatic cloud of despair. And whilst it hadn’t broken you per-say, it had certainly made you realise exactly what the bastard was capable of, and you had no intention of finding out just how much further he was willing to go.

So, in summary, it had taken Ransom Drysdale two days to break you into compliance.

You’d become passive, so to speak. You gave into his whims, let him use you as he saw fit, did as he told… for the most part anyway. There had been a few other incidents post the sweater one where you’d forgotten yourself and protested, fought a little and he’d gone hard on you, but nothing like that second night. Your passive behaviour was mistaken by him for compliance, and as such you had earned a number of rewards. The bistro table where you took your meals, a book or two which just so happened to be by his grandfather, a gesture you weren't sure was him purging or pressing an agenda onto you. And more recently and most preciously, your bag. But, the strange thing was, that whilst he wanted you to give into him physically, he seemed to enjoy the fact that you were in no way, shape or form compliant to him in others. You openly sassed him, bit back, called him out and he actively encouraged it. He’d started spending a little more time with you in the mornings and afternoons, not just visiting you to toy with you or fuck, but to engage in these little tete-a-tete’s, and the sickest, most perverted thing about it was that you were almost glad. The loneliness was crippling, and you craved company. Even if it was his.

All things considered, you’d rather ask him for as little as possible so instead, you flicked to the front of the book and crossed off the days on the small calendar inside the cover. Deciding that the date it led you to was as accurate as it was going to get, you turned back, jotted it down in the top right of your page and stared at the blank lines, looking to sort your thoughts for your next entry.

The saying used to go, what's in a name, however as I sit here thinking back on the last few weeks I wonder now what's in a day. My days consist of imprisonment. Held by a captor I have met once before. He's smart, almost too smart. Displaying forms of abuse and aggressive behaviors any FBI analyst would love to dive deep into. But that's not my job, no, my job is to please and satisfy him. Answer to his whims of gratification at any call of the day. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. But if I behave, he lets few things get by. I miss home, my bed, my life. I miss Mick, which is saying a lot all things considered. I don't know still what he wants from me, other than the obvious sexual gratification with little to no room for anything else. I'm a toy, a means to an itch. I don't know how long exactly I've been here, I can only guess it's been about a month. Nor do I know how long I'll have to stay. The answers are blurred like my vision, marred by tears and the low light inside. I haven't seen outside since the day he took me. I haven't been anywhere outside this room. I can see from the small porthole window above this stupidly soft leather chair the season has changed. It feels like deep fall, and as a storm comes outside, what little sky I see is bleak and dark, clouds covering the bluest of skies, angry and ready to open up, raining down water to wash away the sins of the day. I wish I could do the same.

Before you realized, time had obviously passed, for the sound of the door bolts unlocking had you guessing it was late afternoon or early evening. A glance up at the porthole behind you confirmed as much. The sky was dark and rain had been beating on the window for a little while.

In came Drysdale, hair a bit wet, a strand slightly out of place, wool pants and maroon sweater. He carried a plate of food in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He looked irked, like he'd wasted time on something, a look you were now able to decipher after weeks of seeing it.

"Happy Thanksgiving," he said, setting the plate down on the bistro table with its two accompanying chairs, waiting for you to join him.

Instead of biting back, you simply whispered, "it’s Thanksgiving?" You checked the inside cover of your journal and see the date again. You were a day off and it now dawned on you. It was the fourth Thursday of the month and indeed, Thanksgiving. You glanced back up at Ransom and a deep sadness washed over you. Closing your journal and setting it on the table by your chair, you stood, moving towards him and the plate of food. You took a seat and looked down at the plate, full of the holiday dish basics; turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, diced not candied yams and roasted green beans. It was gourmet and nothing near what he'd been serving you or managing to try. "Thank you," you said softly, rolling your fork through the potatoes. You take a bite but it's about as bland and tasteless as your despair.

"I brought it back from the country club, I met my father there," he looked under your gaze again, as if willing your eyes to his. "Do you not like it?"

Finally, your gaze met those cold cerulean orbs, setting your fork down and you took a drink of water, "No, it's fine." Then you picked up your fork again and took another bite, this time of the turkey and gravy. You didn't have it in you for an argument or it's physical ramifications.

"Are you not hungry?" Ransom pressed.

"I guess not as much as I thought," you repled further poking at your food, your voice cracking a little as you try to keep your composure. The sting of the holiday has you broken, far more than you'd expected. Normally, today you'd be helping your mother in the kitchen, settling the final touches on the side dishes and listening to your father tell your uncle about some a-typical dad joke he'd heard. Your sister would be giddy over the wine while her boyfriend of the month received death glares from said uncle and your father.

Ransom outwardly sighed and you wait for what you were trying to avoid. "Are you alright?"

The question threw you off guard completely and you struggled to hide the shock from your expression. He never cared about your feelings before. Maybe he thought you were coming down with something. You braced yourself to answer honestly. There was no point in lying, he'd see through it.

"I'm fine, I'm not sick if that's what you're thinking," you answered, a deep restraint on your tone to keep yourself in check. "I hadn't realized what day it was. I didn't know it was Thanksgiving." You swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked hard. "My mom, my sister and I, we used to all help make dinner as a family. My dad and uncle would talk a bunch of shit around the fireplace while shooting death glares at my sister's flavor of the month."

He looked at you like he was confused. You scoff, "Of course you wouldn't understand."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He squint his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. His body language completely changed as he leaned forward on his forearms, popping one shoulder up higher than the other.

"Nothing," you backed down immediately.

"Tell me," he pressed.

God, he was relentless. You pushed your plate forward and leaned on your own elbows. You looked at him with a raised brow, "am I going to be in trouble if you don't like what I have to say?"

"Depends," he popped a shoulder smugly.

You matched his expression and his demeanour falters just a fraction. You saw it, but you didn't hold back. "Then I'd rather keep it to myself. That's what you want isnt it? Me to comply, be obedient? Frankly, I'm not in the mood."

He failed to hide his smirk and you noticed that too, "Sweetheart." It wasn't laced with teasing, rather his pet name for you on his tongue held a cautious venom.

"You hate your family. You know nothing about love and what it takes to give love. Hell, I don't doubt that for a minute you've ever felt loved. It's all an act. Self-preservation even. I don't know you or your family outside of the hours of research I did and the mere forty five minutes I listened to you drone on about your 'predicament'. But, the cold hearted truth of it is, you don't know how to love." You watched him run his tongue along his teeth as he continued to glare at you, but you weren't finished. "And that's what family is, it's what they do. They love, they are the embodiment of love at its deepest root. Maybe, just maybe somewhere along your life, your parents loved you, but judging by the Thrombey-Drysdale standards, none of you know what love is outside your selfish tithings and flashy cars. It got lost along the way, more than likely long before you ever were born."

"Wow," he raised his brows and clicked his tongue against his teeth, "That's good, that's really good."

You're fear receptors suddenly spiked as recognizable flash of anger in his eyes flashed through his irises. But there was something else there that you couldn't put your finger on it. Your breathing quickly up-ticked as you felt your palms begin to sweat.

He inhaled a deep, almost centering breath, "that perfume in your bag, I like it."

As if he'd grown a second head, you blinked hard refocusing on him. Had you heard him right? You'd just broken a rule, laid out an unspeakable truth for him and now in a blink he's, God forbid, complimenting your scent? Who the fuck was this guy? Was he on meds? Because he should be or he should at least probably share. It might make life here more bearable. "What?"

"The perfume from your bag, you're wearing it. It smells good," he lamented.

Alright, now the 'of sound mind' argument might be worth something because he sure as shit wasn't now. You swallowed and picked up your fork, taking a bite of the cold food just to buy yourself some time as you tried to process the scene before you. You had no remark to make. Confusing jumbled any thought of a coherent word you could utter.

"Maybe if I'm out, I can pick you up a new bottle. I noticed you were near empty," Ransom offered.

This was starting to make your stomach turn. If he'd gone through your bag, because why wouldn't he at this point, smelled your perfume, had he read your journal? You made a mental note to go back through and see if there was anything he'd read that he had used against you thus far or could use to corner you in the future. You looked around the room, waiting to see if you were being Punk'd. Just who the fuck is this guy? Without your expression giving too much of your confusion away, you nod at him in reply. "Thank you, I'd like that."

"Hmph," he paused, a dramatic effect he seemed to know that your heart rate up in anxiety. "Well, then why are you looking at me like I have two heads, Y/N?"

Tread lightly, you thought to yourself. He didn't call you by your first name often, in fact, the last time he had, you were very much smarting back and it resulted in a forceful situation that left you raw and sore for a few days. It was always 'Sweetheart'.

He baited you, you knew it, but you couldn't back out now. So you sighed, "I know I'm not supposed to ask questions, but, I don't even know who you are right now. Do you? One minute you're giving me food and being gentle, the next you're allowing my opinion, and now you're ready to flip this table. That's as close as two heads as it gets."

"Careful, Sweetheart," he now glared at you. There it was, you were in for it. The approach of choice, you weren't sure of, but he was done. You'd learned the different tones in his voice by now, the cues he gave. You were definitely in trouble. You dropped your eyes to your plate. The food stone cold and no longer even appealing in its slightest measure, a wave of nausea washing over you. You further pushed your plate away, "I don't think I'm hungry anymore."

His broad frame rose from the chair, "you weren't to begin with," his left hand reaching for the plate and holds it in his hand, "Third drawer down in the armoire. Pick something, I'll be back."

You watched him leave, the familiar click of the door shutting and snap of the lock sounded around the small apartment and you exhaled loudly, your head dropping into your hands. This wasn’t the first time he’d requested that you ‘dress for the occasion’ so to speak. With a deep breath you stood up and crossed the room, opening the drawer of requirements, seeking out a negligee for him to no doubt remove. Your fingers roamed over the fabrics and selection. La Perla, Agent Provocateur, Carine Gilson, Coco de Mer and Fleur of England were just a handful of the expensive, high-end brands that filled the space. Your fingers smoothed over a black macrame and tule underwired long line bra and the matching thong that was folded neatly under it. Plucking it from the drawer, you headed for the bathroom. You slipped out of your casual tee, duster cardigan and leggings, the bra and panties you'd had on. You sighed as you took a good look at yourself in your naked form.

While you hadn't lost a ton of weight over the last month, you could tell you'd grown thinner. You weren't gaunt but your lack of a daily Dunkin' Donuts macchiato had seemed to thin you out. Your captor made sure you were fed, but you didn't always eat. The plump of your cheeks had receded and your little pooch brought on by happy carbs was sucked into your frame. There were a few bruises still seen, near green, an indication of their final healing stage. The pock mark from a hickey he'd given you still a bit scaby as he'd broken the skin just barely. This was your life now and it made what few bites of Thanksgiving dinner in your stomach nearly lurch forward back up your throat.

You swallowed it down, pulling the long line bra straps up your arms and clasping it behind your back. Your legs slipped into the thong panties and you pulled the material up your freshly smooth legs. Your shaky fingers plucked at the hair tie that fastened the end of your brain closed, nails raking through your hair to loosen your tendrils. He always wanted your hair loose. You looked at yourself in the mirror, you were ready.

***** Ransom tossed the un-eaten food into the garbage and dumped the plate into the sink to be dealt with later. Turning so that his lower back was leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter he ran a hand over his clean shaven jaw, his mind ticking over the events of the day so far. A pain-in-the-ass Thanksgiving meal with his father had been made bearable by the fact he knew he was coming back to her, and because he hadn’t wanted to be a complete monster he’d made the effort of bringing her a nice dinner back too. But she’d hardly touched any of it.

And what disturbed him most about it, was the fact that instead of wanting to punish her for being an ungrateful bitch, he instead felt a deep rooted sense of concern. She’d lost weight, her face was pale, her hip bones more pronounced, and frankly the last thing he wanted was her passing out on him. Whilst he wanted her compliant, necrophilia really wasn’t his bag.

He had thought by giving her back the bag she’d had on her the night he took her he might have seen a lift in her spirits so to speak, a little gratitude, but instead she’d been meek and reserved until he’d coaxed that familiar sass out of her. And even then she’d been reticent.

It should have pleased him that she was learning her place and becoming more subservient. But if he was being honest with himself, he almost missed her fighting and arguing back. It had been exciting in a way, and he had thought it would have taken longer than it had to break her so to speak. Maybe he had overestimated exactly what a fighter she was, maybe she wasn’t the right muse for his writing after all. Because, let’s face it, writing a tale about a woman who was captured and broken into submission within two days, merely becoming a puppet for her captor’s whims was hardly going to win him any accolades was it? He needed more, needed something that he could spin a good story from. He knew now that when he went back down to her he had to try a different tact so to speak, he needed to coax her mind into reacting not merely her body.

Because if he couldn’t do that, there was no point in keeping her.

He allowed her half an hour or so before he headed back down the stairs and found her sat on the bed, dressed in one of the sets he’d purchased, her hair loose round her face and shoulders the way he liked. She jumped to her feet and he had to actively supress the groan that was rolling in his throat as his eyes scanned her up and down, and he didn’t miss the slight bruises that dotted her skin in various places where he’d marked her as his own. She’d long since stopped trying to cover herself up. Instead she stood stock still, her eyes focussed on the floor.

With long strides he walked into the room and stopped in front of her, tipping her chin up with his finger so she was looking at him, her eyes wide with trepidation and he gave a smirk as he reached up, brushing her hair off the side of her face and neck, dropping his head as he did so.

“You smell so good, Sweetheart.” He inhaled against her pulse point, lips pressing into her there. He felt the gasp of her breath, the way her skin pricked with chill bumps. He smirked to himself, he’s found her spot. And he filed that away, committing it to memory.

“I like this…” he practically purred as he toyed with the straps to the bra, a long, thick middle finger outlining the strap against her skin, lips following pursuit.

“You should, you chose it.”

He chuckled, ignoring the snark behind her words. “Like I chose you, huh?”

Like I chose you.

His words echoed around your head, reminding you exactly why you were in this fucking situation. Because he had decided you would be. He wanted you, and just like with everything else in his life that Hugh Ransom Drysdale wanted, he simply took. But what worried you the most about all this was whether or not you would be discarded the same way he no doubt discarded the other possessions he lost interest in.

You took a deep, steadying breath as his hands moved from the straps of your bra, long fingers moving to caress the back of your neck, but there was no grabbing, no force. He was being positively gentle.

And it scared the crap out of you.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked, his breath hot and wet in your ear as you trembled under the further graze of his fingers against the macramé of your set.

“You know I am," you swallowed nervously. You weren't new to this, this wasn't your first time, but the way he was being soft, a stark character change to his a-typical stance with you was what had you crawling in fear in the inside. Was it a game? Was it some sort of ploy? Was this his idea of foreplay now before he turned it up and went hard enough to bruise but not hard enough to make you cry?

A flat palm ran down your abdomen, already taught in fear. But not before a thumb grazed along the underside of your breast. Agonizingly slow, his hand, still splayed over you, dips into your matching macrame panties, dipping into your wet folds, thumb lightly pressing against your clit.

“You’re so wet, considering you’re scared.”

You didn't answer, just swallowed hard, the lump stuck in your throat as it fought against a little whimper.

His mouth once more latched onto your neck, the kisses gentle as opposed to the bruising ones you had become accustomed to. The fingers in your folds matched his slow nature, teasing you in such a way that when you closed your eyes and focussed your mind elsewhere, you could almost believe you were somewhere with a man you’d given permission to touch you in such away. But when his lips moved to your jawline and you took a deep breath, the heady scent of his cologne hit your senses and your eyes flew open as you were reminded just whose lips and hands were violating you in such away.

You swallowed as Ransom pulled away, his hand gently grasping your chin once more as he issued a simple instruction.

“Strip for me, sweetheart.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the bile that had once more risen up your throat as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his legs bent, hands resting on his knees as he watched you the way a lion watched its prey. You undid the clasp on your bra, your eyes remaining locked on his as you slid the straps down your shoulders and dropped the garment to the floor. Your captor took a deep breath, his eyes flicking down your body as you moved to shed the bottom half, wondering what on earth had been the point of wearing it in the first place. But even as you asked yourself that, you already knew the answer. It was a bout power, another way for him to remind you just who you belonged to now. How he could strip you bare in more way than one without even lifting a finger.

But lift a finger he did, curling it in mid-air as he beckoned you towards him. You took careful steps over the floor until you were stood in between his legs. His large hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs, before he pulled you towards him, his nose brushing the skin of your abdomen as he took a deep breath, fingers curling round your thighs.

And then, in a flash he stood, taking you with him, and before you could so much as utter a squeak or noise of surprise he had you naked, laying across the bed, the sheets cold against your skin, a contrast to the heat emanating from the body against yours. The look in his lust blown eyes was overwhelming. You didn't know what you were in for but as his body, still clothed in the frayed maroon sweater and wool slacks sunk into the mattress between your legs, you felt a chill course through your veins, your skin, again, pricking in bumps all over. His hands, with their thick fingers, trailed long lines up and down your thighs, Ransom's full lips kissing at your sensitive inner skin, a nip or two here and there as he went from your knee, upward.

He could smell your arousal, see it glistening as it dripped from your core. "Someone's ready," he quipped. He watched you swallow hard, a literal lump in your throat bobbing the skin. Your eyes never left him. "No cumming until I tell you. Do you understand?" When you didn't answer immediately, he swiped his tongue over your wet lips, tasting the honey your body gave him, your back arching away from sheets. "Do you understand?"

And there it was, your punishment finally arriving from your little moment before over dinner. As you still had your wits about you, you uttered a single word response, in the hope that the more submissive you were, the more accepting you were of your chastisement, the less hard on you he was going to be.

"Yes."

His mouth expertly devoured every inch of you, from your inner and outer pussy lips to the depths of your walls, tongue fucking you like you he was starving, the lavish holiday meal he'd partaken in not filling enough. His thumb pressed against your engorged nub, causing you to writhe but a firm arm over your abdomen kept you in place. The same thick fingers that traced lines up your thighs, two were now buried deep inside you, his tongue working away any juices that seeped out. As he gave you a third, stretching you more, you felt your walls start to tighten, that burning coil in your belly flare and your hands gripped the sheets tighter.

Ransom could clearly feel you flutter against his fingers as he stopped his assault and looked up at you.

"What did I say?"

Your chest heaved, your stomach taught and you fought to obey. When you managed to calm yourself, he began again, almost from square one, slowly, tantalizingly slow.

The action was torture and you were desperately willing yourself to remain grounded as again your body fought to ride over the edge building inside you. When his mouth was over you completely, tongue deep, thumb pressing again into your clit, you felt the urge to cum. But he pulled away, slowly, his thumb stopping the pressure, his tongue slowly dragging out of you.

"I said no. This is your punishment for your smart mouth over dinner."

"Please, I need to, I'll... I'll make it worth your while, please just let me." Your voice sounded alien as you spoke, the words leaving your mouth in the desperate hope he’d take pity on you but to no avail. Your attempts at bartering served only to frustrate him, anger him even and he Ransom backed away, roughly pulling you to the edge of the bed before stripping out of his sweater and undershirt, the undeniable outline of his hard cock along his thigh strained against his wool slacks.

Harsh in his grip, he repositioned himself between your legs, your thighs across his shoulders, ass dangling above the floor as a heavy arm kept you still. His flat tongue, hot and full of your sex was eating away at you while his final throws of resolve ate away at him.

“I’m done playing fucking games.” he growled against your aching cunt “I should have gagged you, stuffed my cock deep into the back of your throat, something, anything to shut you up.”

You barely had time to register his words before once more you were flat out against the mattress, trying to regain your breath and calm yourself down when he backed away, tore open his flies and smirked down at you.

"Oh no, Sweetheart, we're not done yet." He kneeled beside you, his chest heaving, hair completely out of place, anger and wait, was that pain, flickering in his eyes as he stuffed you with a hard thrust of his length. "Now you’re gonna cum on this dick."

He thrusted hard and within a few slams of his hips against yours, he allowed you the release you were begging for, "that's right, Princess, cum on my cock."

You wept at the feeling finally freeing you, cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as you squeezed around him. Your chest heaving against his, skin to skin. The fabric of his wool pants hot and itchy against your inner thighs. He was still thrusting but now it had slowed to a roll, slow and calculated. Your muddled mind was buzzing and rapidly trying to sort out if he'd cum inside you or if he wasn't finished. His features were softer, but still filled with purpose and his lips latched onto a naked breast causing your body to react, tingles and flames licking at your core again. His eyes looked up at yours as he caged you in, still buried deep inside you, hips rolling.

"I said we weren't done," he rasped. His thrusts and rolls, the two very different tactics mixing now, made the swell of his cock inside you abhorrently pleasurable. Try as you might, it was impossible to feel otherwise.

And Ransom was finding it equally as hard to hold on. His weight was evenly distributed over her, his cock swelling inside her heat. It took all he had not to blow his load the first time he made her cum, hearing the sinful sounds of her orgasm that felt like a volcanic eruption around his hard shaft. But now he could feel her again, tiny little pulses around his already overtly sensitive dick. He was sure his precum was leaking out, wanting to paint the way for the rest of him to follow. He rolled and thrust as his lips nipped at her neck. She moaned loudly, her body exuding lust. He could feel her shake beneath him and to his delight and surprise her eyes were no longer screwed shut and turned away. Instead they were locked on his. The moment those deep hued orbs met his, he felt a hitch in his breath and tightness in his chest that travelled through his belly and into his cock, causing the thick member to throb inside her. Tiny, soft hands gripped at his biceps, her touch a fiery scald against his skin, almost as if it were frost bite. Her touch equally shocking as her stare and he gave a roll of his hips to hide what he felt. A deep, satiated roll of his hips that sent her over the edge.

"Hugh!" She came around him, harder than her first, crying out his given name. It snapped him from his moment of revelation, driving him insanely frustrated at the word leaving her lips. He slammed into her as she rode out her orgasm, chasing his own.

You felt the dismissal of his body as he violently pulled free from your walls, spewing his hot seed over your abdomen, drops claiming your tits too. He nearly collapsed, his dick in hand, the other holding himself up against the mattress between your legs.

He left you there, dirty, degraded and shut the door with a barked instruction for you to clean yourself up. You no longer cried in front of him, either before, during or after. There was no point. He didn’t care about how you felt, but the thing he DID seem to care about was the fact that you still refused to call him Ransom.

It was the one thing you held on to, the only thing that gave you an inch of control in this entire fucked up situation. You hadn’t missed the look on his face when you’d cried out 'Hugh' in the throes of your last orgasm. Before that moment there had been a softness in his eyes, one that had unnerved you no end, along with something that had looked suspiciously like hope. But when his given name had tumbled involuntarily from your mouth and not the one he preferred that softness had turned to contempt and you didn't miss the undercurrent of disappointment either.

And seeing that, knowing that it pissed him off and dare you say it, upset him so much was your single, albeit feeble, act of rebellion that served as a desperate boost to your ever waning inner strength. *****

Ransom laid in his large, plush bed, hands behind his head as the silk sheets pooled at his waist as morning was in full swing outside. His thoughts strayed to his girl in the basement and he took a deep breath, shifting slightly as he remembered the way her fingers had felt as they’d curled around his biceps, her touch firey but cold. That had been the first time she’d touched him when she wasn’t trying to push him away, it had been involuntary, he knew that, a reaction to the way she’d been feeling, the way he had made her feel.

A twitch resounded deep in his belly....the way he made her feel.

He realised now that he’d been going about this the entirely wrong way. The force had been necessary to make her comply at first, but last night she hadn’t just complied she’d participated, just what he had wanted all along. And all after he’d shown her a little leeway, brought her dinner, entertained her talk. He understood now that he needed to play a different card from his hand. She responded better to conversation, talking. Ransom hated fucking talking, he was more cerebral, calculating. Conversation means connecting, and connecting was something he wasn’t particularly interested in normally. He needed to lead, to be in charge, but it was clearly what she knew and thrived on, so he had to swallow his apprehension down to play the long game, to get what he wanted.

Now he understood that, it was going to be so fucking easy. All he had to do was to seemingly show her compassion, a little give so he could take so to speak. He rolled his head, cracking his neck as he remembered what she said about cooking with her mom so he decided that after her stellar performance last night, today she’d earned a bigger reward than a book or some journal. He was going to show her what she could have if she just gave in and admitted what he knew she truly wanted. A large house, a garden, a pool, a hot tub, silk sheets, a large bed, and a man to fuck her every way to heaven and back. He could give her everything that any woman could possibly desire, and then some.

With a twitch of a smirk across his lips, Ransom pulled his naked frame out of bed and slipped into joggers, a soft waffle knit thermal long sleeve pulled over his tousled hair. He felt like company for breakfast and he knew exactly to invite up.

His bare feet padded with purpose over the plush carpet of his room, down the stairs and onto the first floor, over the hard wood and marble tile of the halls and entry, down the plush carpeted spiral staircase down to the basement.

He reached the door and gently turned the locks, quietly pushing the door open as he turned the knob. It opened quietly and his eyes fell upon the empty bed. He frowned slightly, wondering where she was. Then his eyes found her, sitting curled up with her eyes cast upward, that little tease of a porthole window in her focus. She'd turned her chair around so she could see it more clearly, the throw blanket he'd tossed at her the week before was wrapped around her body. He didn't know the time, but it wasn't early nor was it afternoon. Not that it mattered, neither had anywhere else to be.

"Good morning," he said lowly. He watched as her eyes slowly moved away from the only bit of outside world she'd seen for weeks now.

"Morning," she replied quietly, her eyes locking onto his. "I err, I was just..." she trailed off. "Actually, I don't know what I was doing to be honest."

He stalked up to the chair, kneeling in front her. His hand reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her cheek bone. "You were such a good girl last night. Took me so well, teased me with that little number you had on. I've thought about you all morning."

Ransom watched her throat bob as she swallowed before licking her lips and biting the inside corner of her lip. Such an innocent gesture that had him half hard straight away.

"I want to give you something. But you have to be good, or it goes away," he started. "Can you be good, Sweetheart?"

She nodded, slightly. "Okay," he smirked. "Now, fix the chair and come up to make us breakfast."

Ransom stood back, allowing you some space to accommodate his request. You slipped the throw blanket from your shoulders and left it in the chair as you rearranged the piece back to its normal state. You met him at the doorway. You didn't miss the way his eyes moved over you, the way they lit up in a way at as he looked at the silken material covering your body. The dark teal silk and lace cami set was just one of a handful of options he'd provided for you. All the same, different colors, all in your size.

You hesitated for a second, not sure if this was another one of his little games but he simply met your eyes with his own and nodded up the stairs. With tentative, shaky steps you climbed them, sensing him close behind you as for the first time in weeks you left your prison. You felt anxious, highly on edge and nervous. What was awaiting you? There was the sickening feeling in your stomach of excitement too, you hadn’t seen the outside since Halloween. You paused at the top of the stairs in the hall. The kitchen was directly across from you, the entry to your right. The door to the basement clicked shut and you felt Ransom’s firm chest behind your back as his form invaded your space. He dragged a finger down your arm causing the strap of your top to fall away, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Straight ahead, Sweetheart."

“Okay,” you whispered before you slowly made your way through to the large, airy kitchen. You stood looking around, taking in the fancy appliances before you turned back to Ransom. "Did you have something in mind?”

"Well..." Ransom leaned in the doorway, watching you as you stood in the middle of the tiled floor "Yesterday wasn't the first time you said you enjoyed to cook so I thought you might like to." His eyes flicked once more down your frame and back up again before he nodded his head towards the rear of the room. “Anything you need is in the pantry and fridge.”

“And I can make anything I want?” You blinked, not quite able to believe what he was allowing you to do. It was fucked up that you were even considering this as a reward but, you’d take it. Boy would you take it, anything to grasp some sense of normality in this day-by-day hell you were living.

“Sure.” Ransom popped a shoulder again and you took a deep breath before you turned and headed to the sink to wash your hands before sorting out your menu and you froze. The outside landscape had stopped you cold. From what you could see of the back garden the property was secluded, not over looked. A lawn extended a fair distance back from the rear of the house, a neat decking area stood to the right which sported a hot tub and a little further down there looked to be a pool of some kind which was covered over for the season. Trees hung over the bottom of the garden lining the high wooden fence, what few leaves they still sported were shades of crimson, gold and brown and the river traced it’s banks as it curved around the side and back of the house, the sun shining off the surface, giving it the impression it was made of sapphires. It was breathtakingly beautiful and you felt your heart shatter, your eyes well and you couldn't help but hold back the urge to weep as your chest contracted painfully. You were so close to the outside, separated only by a pane of glass, yet it had never felt further away.

His voice broke you from your despair and you swallowed back the sob that choked your throat as you flicked your attention to the left, Ransom's reflection drawing closer towards you as he crossed the terracotta tiled floor.

"Everything alright?"

You cleared your throat and gave a quick shake of your head, "Fine."

Again you felt him in your space. His presence consuming. “You sure?”

Sure? No you weren’t sure. Because none of this was fine, in fact it was as far from fine as it could possibly get. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to spin round and hammer your fists into any part of his body you could hit but you knew that it wouldn't get you anywhere, bar back in the basement likely shackled naked to the bed so you instead turned slowly to find yourself caged in by his broad frame so close to yours. You cast your eyes downward, uncomfortable at his searching stare, "Yeah, I’m sure.”

Your tongue flicked nervously over your lips as you continued to avoid his gaze before you cleared your throat “How do you like your eggs? Or would you prefer an omelette? Pancakes even?" The urge to move away from him pulled you away from your idea of a menu. Brunch basics were flooding your brain and you rattled off a few nervously. He may have said you could make whatever you wanted, but right now, you had no clue. Seeing a different space, the outside world and breathing new air had rattled you.

“You choose.” Ransom spoke softly, his hand reaching up to brush your hair off your face before he tipped your chin up so your eyes met his. He looked at you, and you swallowed as for the first time there was something unreadable on his face. His eyes were looking at you in a way they’d never looked at you before, with a softness you’d never have anticipated he could possess.

"Waffles." You suddenly blurted out, desperate to escape his gaze "I err, do you have a waffle iron?”

“No.” He deadpanned.

"Oh," you swallowed "Erm, then in that case French toast...maybe? Is that ok?"

“Sounds delicious.” He said, his hand dropping from your face, “Sure it’ll taste almost as good as you.”

“Great. How about with fresh Chantilly cream and berries if you have them?” You asked, completely ignoring his blatant back handed compliment and you started familiarizing yourself with the space as you glanced around.

“Like I said, whatever you want, Sweetheart.” He shrugged, and with that he stepped back to allow you to move away.

Ransom watched her move around the luxurious kitchen, looking through the pantry and cabinet near the stove taking out cinnamon and vanilla, plucking items like bread, butter, eggs, berries and cream from the fridge. Searching drawers for utensils and measuring cups and spoons. Finding a pan and bowl from a bottom cabinet. Measuring sugar from the glass jar on the counter. He hoped the ingredients were still fresh, he wasn't exactly sure how long they'd been stored. She moved like she belonged there, he thought to himself. So sexy looking in her nightwear, bare feet on the tile, her ass and breasts moving underneath the silk as she stretched and worked.

"Coffee?" He offered, as he moved from one side to the other. He made sure his exquisite espresso machine was ready as it sat in all its glory on its own portion of the counter like a batista station inside Starbucks.

He didn't miss the way she watched him move around her, preparing the coffee and grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. He reached over her shoulder, his body brushing against hers as he opened the cupboard where he kept the glasses and mugs. He peered down at her, giving a twitch to the corner of his mouth. A smirk indeed. He noted the way her eyes followed him as he poured the juice, like he was going to poison her or something.

"It's just juice, Sweetheart," he said nonchalantly and put the juice back in the fridge. He set the breakfast table for them and took a seat in his place, a now hot cup of coffee in his hand, hers sitting on the counter next to her.

It wasn’t long before she had finished and brought the plates to the table, sitting down timidly in the seat to his right as he gestured to it, stopping her dead as she was about to make her way around to the opposite side.

It was quiet, the only sounds heard for a while were the click and scrape of forks and knives cutting away at the plates of food. Ransom wouldn't admit it out loud, but this was the best French toast he'd ever had in his life. Something about it, the way it was not soggy, but perfectly moist, the edges just crispy. The way the cream made for no syrup and the sweet berries added the final element. He watched her pick at the food for a moment or two as he glanced over at her and saw a small bit of Chantilly in the corner of her mouth.

A long arm reached across the table and automatically she flinched a little, as if she was going to pull away but one firm stare stopped her in her tracks. His thick thumb padded away the white, sweet cream and he brought the same thumb to his lips, sucking the cream away. He lifted his brows in a teasing manner and twitched up his lips, "Delicious. Like I said, almost as good as you, Sweetheart."

"Thanks, I think," she paused.

"Trust me, I know."

The comment seemingly threw her off her meal and it didn't get past Ransom. She had started picking at it, moving it around the plate like she had done with her dinner the night before. He, on the other hand, was near finished.

"Are you still not hungry?" He inquired.

She shook her head, "I just made my portion too big. I overestimated my appetite, I guess."

"Huh," he placated her reply. He knew she was lying but he let it slide, realizing that seeing a new space, the window to the outside was overwhelming. So, he thought he'd sweeten the deal. "I thought maybe you'd like to see the house," he offered, watching as her big eyes locked onto his and she took a deep breath.

"That sounds nice, thank you."

"Good, after breakfast then." He nodded affirmingly, as if it were drying ink in his mind. He picked up his coffee and finished it off, his plate already clear.

She stood from the table, collecting his plate with her own and headed for the sink. He turned in his chair, stalking her, watching her every move. The way she pitched over the sink, bending her frame over the dishwasher to load it as she cleaned up the kitchen.

With each bend and snap of her hips, he felt his mouth water more. Her little silk cami riding up as she moved, her breasts falling in and out of a fuller view. When she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, he was on her. He moved behind her, his hands grabbed her hips as she spun around completely startled giving a gasp and a quick yelp.

"Easy, Sweetheart," he chuckled as she looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Sorry... you, err...you startled me." She whispered as he moved his hands so they gripped at the side of the kitchen counter on either side of her, caging her in with his body.

"Some women would like that," he quipped, arching an eyebrow a little and watched as she swallowed hard and cast her eyes downward. Moving one hand slowly up her arm, over her shoulder and around her neck, he tipped her head back up so those large, Bambi eyes locked onto his.

His hand adjusted, gripping her chin softly as he moved closer still, dipping his head he pressed a firm kiss to her lips. He felt her go rigid, her chest spiking as she drew in a sharp breath, her body shaking slightly in his hold. "Stop fighting it..." he whispered against her mouth before he kissed her again. This time, his tongue traced the line of her upper lip, the feel of it soft and soothing.

You felt his tongue line your lip and you couldn't hold the whimper of fear that passed through you. He’d never kissed you before, not on the mouth anyway. You felt him deepen his kiss, his big hand cupping your face, pulling you into it more. Your mind went elsewhere, imagining anyone but him kissing you like this. You couldn't deny it, this intimate moment, completely lost on both of you for different reasons, felt good and he was good at it. He was damn good at it in fact, and that alone made you want to vomit your breakfast into his throat. At that, you jerked back, panting a little, feeling your lips swollen from the way he'd sucked your bottom one between his, pulling at it just the right way. You hated the feeling between your legs that it had evoked, your body betraying you just like it always did.

In an attempt to stave off the conflicting emotions spiking within you, you focussed on his face, the face you hated and to your surprise he looked dazed. The usual stoic expression that clouded his features had been replaced with something akin to surprise but no sooner had you noticed it, it was gone.

"Clean up and I'll meet you in the study." He told you, his voice a deep almost pained whisper.

"But I don't..." you started but were quickly cut off.

"You're a smart girl, figure it out," he smirked and slipped away.

You were tempted to follow, just so you'd see where he was going but you knew not to defy a command. The feeling of unease seemed to disappear as you slumped your shoulders and instead defeat filled your frame. A trembling hand came to your lips as jittery fingertips touched your swollen skin. Your bottom lip quivered like a ripple in a river and you quickly covered your mouth, turning on a dime as your French toast littered the sink. If the water hadn't been running already, Ransom would no doubt have heard you retching. You rinsed your mouth out to attempt at hiding that vomit taste from your tongue and quickly finished your task of cleaning up the kitchen, salty tears dripping from your chin, mixing with the soapy water.

When you could stall no longer, you sighed and headed out into the large hallway, taking a quick look around. It was light, airy, the grand staircase swept in and curved round to the next floor and your eyes lingered on the heavy wooden door just beyond it. You hesitated, and then with a dejected sigh realised there was no point even trying to escape. Even if it was unlocked, which you doubted, the threat to your family was just too much for you to risk. Instead, you decided to head down the corridor to your right and found yourself in a large open plan living room of sorts. It was decorated in clean whites and crisp greys with a huge feature stone open fireplace and sported a bar at the back. A brown leather sofa and two matching arm chairs were strategically placed around an expensive looking coffee table but you didn’t bother to look at the rest, this wasn’t the room you needed so you turned back on yourself, walked back into the hall and took the turning to your left.

This time you found yourself walking into what you could only assume was his study-come-den of sorts. It was huge, and once again sported a sofa pushed up against the wall, looking out over the spectacular view of not only the garden but the river too. But that wasn’t what caught your attention, nor was it the walnut desk and laptop that sat upon it. It was the floor to ceiling bookshelf behind it. Your mouth dropped open as you made your way towards it but then you stopped, biting your lip. Were you supposed to be looking at them? But, he had said to meet you in here. And left you to find your own way. Surely, if he didn’t want you looking around he wouldn’t have left you to it.

Throwing caution to the wind you strode forward, your pace hurried this time and your eyes quickly scanned across some of the books. You couldn’t help but feel shocked. Whilst there was a huge collection of his Grandfather’s books, and a number of other crime novels of types, it was the colourful spines to your right that made your chest heave in delight. The entire Harry Potter collection. With a shaky hand you reached for The Philosopher’s Stone, noting the British version of the title, and opened the front page giving another gasp as you read the publishing details.

This was a first edition. And from the date you also knew it would be one that contained the misprint errors. And as such, would be worth a small fortune.

“See something you like?” that familiar voice hit your ears and you gave a little shriek, jumping around, clutching the book to your chest to avoid dropping it.

“I’m sorry.” You hastily began to apologise “I was just…erm…”

“It’s ok.” He assured you, crossing towards you. Once more he encroached into your personal space and you felt the blades of your shoulders press into the shelf behind you. “Harry Potter fan?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Didn’t think they’d be your type of thing.

“They’re not really.” He shrugged “I’m a collector. Everything on the shelves, well they’re all first or limited editions, so worth a lot.”

“Figures.” You mumbled, turning round and slotting the book back into the space it had come from. As you did you felt him push up behind you, his hands on your hips, the unmistakable feel of his hard on dug into the lower part of your back and you fought to stop yourself shuddering. He was after pay-back for allowing you to leave your prison.

“Did you like the house?” he asked, brushing your hair off your neck.

“Yes.” You answered politely, your voice catching a little as he placed a kiss to the crook of your shoulder.

“You know, it could all be yours sweetheart if you just stopped fighting what you know you want” His kisses continued up your neck as his words whirled around your brain and you were back to where you had been in the kitchen. It felt good. And that disgusted you.

“Did you enjoy making breakfast?” he whispered, his lips by your ear.

“Yeah.” You nodded, your voice barely there.

“Show me how much.” His teeth nipped at your lobe, his hips grinding forward and you swallowed and closed your eyes. You knew what he wanted but as you turned to face him you had an idea. One which would save you being fucked no doubt over the desk or on the hard looking couch.

With a lick of your lips you looked at him and sank slowly to your knees, taking his sweats with you. His hard cock sprang free, slapping his lower abs and you reached out, grasping it in your hand.

“Fuck, yeah baby…” Ransom hissed as you moved your head forwards and took him in your mouth.

You pulled out all the moves, you took him as deep as you could, gagging a little as he wasn’t a small man. You kept your hand firmly on the base of his cock, you hollowed your lips, you swirled your tongue around his shaft and he let out a little groan his hand fisting in your hair as his hips bucked forwards.

“Jesus, I knew your mouth was smart but…” he panted, looking down at you. You raised your eyes to look at his as he bit his lip, his entire face contorted in pleasure…

Pleasure that was ruined by the sound of the doorbell.

“What the fuck…” Ransom growled out, un-fisting his hand from her hair. “Who the fuck is that?”

He glanced down at her and she looked up at him, wide eyed. She was a mess, swollen lips, wet chin and dressed in nothing but her skimpy tank and shorts. With a frustrated growl, Ransom pulled his dick out of her mouth and grabbed his phone from the table to check the doorbell camera. His face blanched as he saw who it was.

“I don’t fucking believe it…” he mumbled, as she looked up at him.

“Who is it?” She asked, wiping her face, “I’m not exactly dressed for visitors, Hugh.”

Ransom might have been pre-occupied with the familiar face staring at him from his phone, but he still picked up on that 'Hugh' and he glared down at her. “No shit, and because we have a visitor, I'm gonna let that one slide. Get up.” She rose to her feet, blinking a little as he pulled off the thermal he was wearing and tossed it to her. “Put that on. No one gets to see you in silk but me.”

She blinked as she caught it, confusion spreading across her face. “Don’t you just want me to go-“

In a flash, he grabbed her chin between his thumb and finger and she winced, “If I wanted you downstairs I’d have said. So put the damn shirt on, and when he starts asking questions just remember what I said I could do to your family and friends.”

In complete complacency, he watched her slip his thermal over her head, her fingers barely peeking through the sleeves to fix her dishevelled hair. The material hit her mid-thigh and his eyes brows gave a flicker of approval before he walked to the entry and opened the door. "What do you want?"

"Pleasure to see you too, Mr. Drysdale..." that infuriating Southern drawl hit Ransom's ears with all the finesse of a cheese-grater. Benoit Blanc, without so much as a gesture of request, pushed past Ransom as he strode inside, stopping in the tiled entry, looking around.

"Do you have a warrant?" The man of the house snipped in his usual spiteful tone.

Blanc still didn’t reply, and Ransom rolled his eyes following him as he wandered down the hallway, stopping at the open door to the study. "Well, if it isn't the lady of the hour."

Ransom stood behind Blanc, an infuriatingly warning glare sent his girl's way. He noted the way she was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked underneath her, lips still swollen, cheeks flushed, hair tousled. She looked like a sex kitten, and maybe that was the idea. He warned her to sell it after all…

"Excuse me?” Y/N looked up at the two men in the doorway.

Blanc stepped inside the room, taking a seat on the edge of the same couch where she sat. "I've been looking for you, young lady. A lot of people are looking for you, you know Miss Y/L/N.”

“I errr…” she swallowed a little as she slowly got to her feet, her hands pulling the hem of the thermal down before she folded her arms across her chest, not in a defiant manner, but almost as if she was hugging herself “Did someone send you or…”

“No, nothing like that. You see, I heard you'd gone missing, and I knew you had a work connection to Mr. Drysdale, that, shall we say didn't go quite as planned. So when things started adding up, I thought to ask the man himself."

“Well, congratulations, this is one mystery you actually solved correctly, Sherlock. As you can see she’s here and she’s fine, and we were in the middle of something, so if you don’t mind….” Ransom folded his arms, his eyes moving from hers to Blanc, who was irritatingly completely ignoring him, his gaze focussed intently on the woman who stood in front of him.

Ransom could see him take her in fully, now seeing the situation he may have just walked in on. She looked dishevelled and was missing crucial parts of her clothing, but she had no tears in her eyes, no markings looking to be of abuse or out of the ordinary. None that were visible anyway. Blanc’s gaze then dragged over to Ransom who was bare foot in joggers and still half aroused, which he did nothing to hide as he folded his arms over his naked chest.

Ransom held Blanc’s gaze, his chin jutting out defiantly, the detective only looking away when the lady of the hour spoke, her voice quiet, as she gave a small nod. "He’s right, I’m fine."

"Then why not tell your family where you are?”

“I err…” Y/N’s right hand gripped he cuff of the sweater sleeve tightly, “I just, well, I…”

Ransom could see that she was losing it and he knew he had to intervene. He walked over to her and placed an arm around her, kissing the top of her head lightly, "It's alright, Sweetheart. I know how he can be frustrating. We're doing nothing wrong."

With that he turned his gaze to the man in front of him, not even trying to hide the sneer of contempt that was crossing his face “I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you Blanc.”

“Well, maybe Miss Y/L/N has some crayons hidden up her sleeve so to speak.” Blanc smiled innocently and Ransom felt the anger floor his system.

“You’re starting to really piss me off.” he snarled, “You barge into my home, without so much of an explanation…” his rant was stopped dead as Y/N placed her hand on his chest, palm splaying over his bare skin. Ransom swallowed at the touch of her fingers against his skin, firey hot just as they had been last night when they curled around his arms.

"Hey," she spoke and he looked down to see her giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes but one that should be enough to convince the dumbass detective who was watching them. "It's okay." She then turned to Blanc as he held his hand up, palm open, speaking to Ransom.

“I’m not trying to be frustrating Mr. Drysdale, I'm merely enquiring after Miss Y/L/N’s wellbeing."

"I'm not here under duress if that's what you're thinking.” She spoke, clearing her throat. “Hu… Ra, we have had to keep our relationship private,” she stumbled on the right identity, settling for 'we'. Clearing her throat again and settling her nerves, she continued, "Mr. Blanc, as you well know, I'm reporter and his background has been less than stellar as of late. It no doubt would not look good for either of us if it had come to light. My reputation as a journalist would have been in tatters.”

“Well, lies and deception certainly go hand in hand when it comes to Mr. Drysdale...”

Ransom rolled his eyes dramatically “Change the record, Blanc. The static is a little loud.”

Blanc completely ignored him, his attention still on her. “So you caused all this worry, because of some…” he waved his hand in front of him, gesturing between the pair of them.

Ransom’s arm curled round her even tighter, his fingers pressing into her hip and he felt her stiffen a little before she relaxed into his side and gave a small nod.

"Like I said, it wouldn’t have gone down well with my family, or my career.”

“Ahh, yes, your job, which you quit.” Blanc looked at her. “Yes, I spoke to your boss.” He answered her unasked question. “Why would you be so worried for your reputation as a journalist, if you’re not actually a journalist anymore?”

At that she took a deep breath “I quit the paper because my boss is an asshole. His antics on Halloween were a step too far. But that doesn’t mean I have no intentions of working ever again. I'm currently taking a long overdue sabbatical.”

Blanc studied her again, almost as if he was weighing something up and she once more began to fidget and Ransom decided he’d had enough.

"Okay, I’m done being polite,” Ransom moved his arm from around his girl and stepped towards Blanc, placing himself directly between the detective and the woman. “You've interrupted out little post brunch love affair and I’m horny, so…do you need help finding the door, or can your super sleuth skills figure the way back out of it on their own?”

“Miss Y/L/N?” Blanc spoke, his eyes locked onto Ransom’s. Ransom felt the nerve in his jaw twitch, the fact that Blanc wasn’t scared of him irritated him no end.

There was a pause and then her voice came clearly from behind him as she spoke, “If you'd be so kind as to not tell my family where I am, I'd appreciate it. I prefer this time without their unwanted opinion.” Her voice was steady, measured almost. “You can tell them that you've found me, alive and well."

Blanc knew he wasn't welcome, he had proof of life and no reason to suspect foul play. He stood, his long wool coat falling into place around him. "Well, then I guess my work is done." He brushed passed Ransom and gave a quick quip, "I'm warning you...."

"What was that?" His girl wondered. She'd heard him.

"Have a nice day," Blanc nodded curtly “I’ll see myself out.”

You watched the back of the detective as he left the large living room, Ransom following him to the doorway where he stood, arms folded, watching. The sound of Blanc’s feet on the tiles of the hallway grew fainter and fainter until eventually they stopped completely. The latch of the door sounded and you fell to the closest thing you could sit on. Your while body shook with a chill that crept into your bones but not from the cold. No, you were sick to your stomach in fear and worry. The bile of deceit rose to your throat and had you not already spewed up your breakfast it would have most likely decorated the carpet of the study. Instead, you swallowed down the sour bile as Drysdale approached you and you glanced up at him, blinking whilst he studied you for a second, his face passive. As you held his gaze, something akin to amusement flashed in his cold blue eyes and a twisted smirk spread across his face.

“Your acting skills certainly improved there along the way, at the end you were almost award worthy.” He drawled, his hands falling to his hips. “Even Meryl Streep would be jealous.”

"Fuck you," your voice quivered.

He arched an eyebrow, an amused expression on his features “Already played that game Sweetheart, and carry on back-chatting me and you’ll be back in the basement.”

"Wh... What?"

"You pulled through in the end there. It was a rough start, but you convinced Colonel Sanders that you were here on your own."

“Colonel Sanders?” You blinked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Blanc. CSI KFC.” He replied. You were none the wiser as to what he was going on about and it must have shown on your face as he simply rolled his eyes. "Never mind...the point is, sweetheart, I'm in a good mood. And seeing as you behaved...”

"What?" Your voice was quiet, meek.

"If you shut that pretty little mouth for longer than a second, I'll explain." His tone was measured but you didn’t miss the underlying threat.

“Sorry.” Your eyes fell to the floor, your left hand worrying at your right.

“Eyes on me.” He barked and your head whipped up automatically and he smirked at you as you took a deep breath. “As I was saying, seeing as you were such a good girl, I thought I’d reward you, let you stay up here with me for the day.”

The notion shocked you. Your mouth went dry and you couldn't make sense of it. But then, the more you thought about it, the more his audacity irked you. He’d imprisoned you, used you, abused you…and now he was implying that staying in his company was a fucking reward.

“Wow, thanks…” you blurted before you could stop yourself, sarcasm lacing your tone. As soon as the words had slipped from your mouth you felt panic flood your system as he stepped towards you and reached out, his right hand curling around your throat.

"Don’t push me sweetheart.” His voice was low as his fingers squeezed the column of your neck, a reminder of how easily he could simply end it all whenever he chose.

And just like that the softness that he had displayed with you earlier that morning was gone, and the shutters were back up. You swallowed hard, feeling the strain of your throat against his touch, his eyes now dark and full of that familiar angry lust and desire that chilled you from head to toe. Blanc had riled him, gotten underneath his skin, that was easy to see while your mouthy comments fuelled that ire. And as such, he needed an escape, an outlet.

And he was going to get it from you.

“Now on your knees and finish what you started."

#murder he wrote #ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale #chris evans #chris evans characters #reader insert #ransom drysdale smut

178 notes · View notes

scorsoneamelia · 3 years

Text

oh my god ok so i decided to write a little smth about my girl amelia because i love writing and i used to do it all the time but i stopped and i rlly rlly wanna get back into it

so i wrote smth that takes place at the end of s17 after the amelink proposal

TW: mention of drugs/addiction/death

Sometimes --- more often that usual, it feels like the world is ending, like life will never slow down, no matter how many times she wishes and she prays that she'll be able to wake up and it will feel like a breath of fresh air; to be able to wake up and have the rays of the morning sunshine creeping it's way through the dark curtains, hitting her boyfriend's face at an angle that made him look absolutely breathtaking, an angel sent from God himself, so beautiful that it'd take her breath away, and maybe even her heart would skip a beat-- literally. And then his eyes would flutter open so delicately and the rays would make his blue eyes sparkle, looking even more blue than she ever remembered.

But instead, she woke up with the alternative.Alone--oh, ever so lonely. He had sprung up the big question, getting down on one knee and pouring his absolute heart out, even giving her four rings because the boy was worried and conflicted on exactly what he wanted the ring to look like. It wasn't like she didn't want to, or that she didn't love him because oh my god, she loved him. Loved him so much that sometimes it made her chest feel tight and it made her want to understand what she did to deserve someone like him, someone as amazing as him.

You challenge me... you-you.. thrill me. You.. impress the hell out of me.

On top of the world-wide pandemic, Scout-- Meredith's kids, her mind is going a million miles a minute and for once she wants to take a step back-- out of her own mind, her own life and just breathe.

And there's definitely nobody on Earth like you.

She can't get the image out of her head, the heartbreak that spread across his face, the absolute sadness and pain that washed away the big big smile he had previously been giving her. She didn't mean to just blank and stare at him with no words, no expression-- she just froze.

So now, she woke up alone, her boyfriend not beside her. She felt like she couldn't catch her breath and maybe it was because life sucked or maybe it was because of the nightmare that kept flashing through her head, in bits of pieces like a flash on a camera. Appearing back into her mind for a second before she completely forgets what the dream was even about. It was about her father-- it's always about her father. But this time, it was about her father-- Ryan, Derek and even Christopher. Four of the most important people to her; gone. The curtains were closed, the rays couldn't peak their way inside, or maybe it was because it was ten o'clock at night-- the room so so dark, almost as dark as her mind as been lately.

Meetings had been harder to attend, the pandemic had only been allowing them to do meetings over a computer screen, in the same atmosphere that is making her feel like she's going crazy. Scout takes all of her free time away-- actually all of her time. She loves him, more than she loves herself but for months now she hasn't been able to breathe, especially with her nieces and nephew also needing all of hers and Link's full attention. She's doing this because they're her family and Meredith is on a vent, the world trying to take even more away from her.

A day or two at work is what she needed this week to feel like she was alive again, cutting into someone's brain to give her some kind of feeling, even if it was just adrenaline. Sometimes, Amelia wishes that the adrenaline was enough. Was enough feeling for her to keep going-- god, she wants to give up so badly.

So, that night instead of waking to her boyfriend's beautiful blue eyes, she woke up to an empty room and an empty house because her sister was nice enough to take the kids for a day, the day after her wedding because hell-- she was that nice. She broke down, tears staining her cheeks and she was worried she wasn't going to stop.

You're loud and fearless and it scares the crap out of me. How am I supposed to call you up and tell you that I've been shot? I can't tell you about my pain-- I don't want you to know that pain exists.

Derek--- she missed her big brother more than she has ever missed anyone. Her father being an exception but Derek, her favourite person in the entire world was taken from her too soon and once again it felt like her world was crashing down around her. His voice was repeating in her head like a broken record and it was loud--- so loud, was she crazy?

You're my favourite sister.

She couldn't breathe, it was like she was reliving the news all over again. Her chest felt like it was caving in and Derek's voice was still ringing in her head, like he was haunting her.

"We did that." Amelia nodded, standing next to her older brother after a successful brain surgery that saved the mother of her friend's son.

"We did that." He agreed. "We gotta publish." She joked, Derek looking over at her and replying with, "Oh hell yeah we do... You ever think about doing drugs again-"

"Remember this?" Amelia interrupted.

"I was gonna say call me and I'll fly down to Los Angeles to knock some sense into you." He joked, causing them both to laugh. "But okay... remember this. But that doesn't work,"

"Yeah, you can totally kick my ass." She joked, extending her arm to shove him in the arm gently, both of them laughing while he pulled her into a tight hug. "Done. I love you." Derek said softly while he tightly held onto his little sister, and she was hugging him back as if she never wanted to let him go.

Her favourite person in the entire world was gone and she didn't know what to do anymore, grief comes in waves and it never goes away. It's true what they say about grief-- it gets better with time... because it does and she knows that better than anyone else. But what they don't say is that when it does come back, it's like a wave hitting you when you least expect it and then you're drowning, trying to catch your last breath before you're suffocating.

"You didn't kill Ryan," the girl with the dyed red hair had stated, someone that had became her friend after her first night at the treatment centre.

"Excuse me?" Amelia asked, mostly taken by surprise because it was in front of a group of people, a literal group of people.

"You didn't kill him. You might've wrote the prescriptions but he took the drugs himself." Everyone was listening now, her secrets now out in the open. Secrets she never shared with the group.

"Shut up, Hayley." Amelia snapped.

"And that guilt-- that's gonna kill you. That's what killed my best friend, it was guilt. Cause her mom was so freaked that she had a breakdown and her dad left-" It was like it was just the two of them, direct eye contact with each other. It was like everyone else that was in the room disappeared.

"Hayley... you don't know what the hell you're talking about, you're a child and you need to shut up." She cut the girl off, getting frustrated that she was even sharing her own personal secrets with everyone else. She could feel the pain rising in her chest, a tight feeling stuck at the bottom of her throat. She didn't believe that.. she did kill him.

"You didn't.. kill him!" Hayley tried again, the girl clearly wanting to get her point across. "Okay? He took the drugs himself, you didn't make him take them. He took them himself! You gotta get that, before I left here.. you have to get that. Because if you don't-- you're not gonna make it," Amelia's vision was blurry now, the tears drowning her sad blue eyes. "And I need you to make it. I know you loved him, and I know he loved you. But he took... the drugs... himself."

Amelia finally broke down, sobs taking over her body. They were loud cries, cries of pain, cries for help. There was pain all over her body, rushing throughout her body like waves crashing against the shore. Burying her head into her hands, pulling her legs onto the chair and pulling them against her chest, trying to make herself feel small because that's how she felt--- small.

It was cold in the room, and she was numb. Memories were flooding in, Derek, Ryan, Christopher-- her father. The room was cold, almost as cold as the hotel room was when Ryan died. He died-- right beside her. Her boyfriend died right before they were going to get sober, be happy together.. he died. He didn't make it. And no matter how many times she thinks back to that day in rehab when Hayley reminded her that it was not her fault, it was her fault and not a day goes by where she doesn't blame herself.

She wasn't crying anymore, she was just sitting in her bed with her legs pressed against her chest, no emotion and no thoughts other than the faces of everyone she has ever lost. The short moments she spent with Christopher, her dad getting shot and Derek holding her so tight that she couldn't move, Owen telling her the news about Derek dying. Link hadn't checked in, he hadn't called, he hadn't texted and she didn't blame him. He was hurt, like he deserved to be and she couldn't be mad at him for not showing up at the house to see her. But she did need him, she needed someone, but her one sister was in a hospital bed with machines breathing for her, and her other sister was with her husband and the kids--- her kid.

After she ended up forcing herself out of bed, her mind still loud and her entire body numb, a lump constantly sitting at the bottom of her throat--- she was walking through the front doors of a quiet, dark and small bar. Not many people were there, just a few people eating some food with their friends, some had a beer in front of them. Amelia doesn't know how she got here but she was sitting down at the bar, blue eyes heavy and sad, old makeup from earlier in the day staining her cheeks.

"You look like you need a drink," The bartender spoke as he made his way over to her. He was tall, sandy blonde hair with green eyes, he definitely didn't hurt the eyes to look at. "What can I get ya?"

Her sad eyes slowly glanced up at him and she didn't answer. She didn't know what she was doing-- a drink? She hasn't a drink in a few years, the last time being when Meredith was in the hospital for being attacked. It's been a while and she thought she was doing good-- better. She thought about Link, and Scout, who needed him. Scout needed her, more than he needed anyone. It was almost enough for her to stand up and leave the bar until her mouth opened and she was ordering a drink. "Vodka tonic."

"Coming right up." The boy winked, moving to the opposite side of the bar to mix her drink. Amelia thought she'd feel some kind of regret, but instead she continued to sit there; numb.

The glass was placed in front of her and her hands were reaching for it, as she lifted it to her lips and took a sip, the feeling of the Vodka burning her throat. Memories continuing to flood her mind, only causing her to drink back the drink faster, which only caused the bartender to place another drink in front of her.

-----

Five drinks; she already drank five drinks and at this point she could feel the alcohol in her bloodstream, already making her feel much more calm and more relaxed. The feeling of being drunk again was a good feeling; scary good. Scary to the point where she was worried about slipping again, which is what she already did. She's at a bar, five drinks in, almost onto her sixth with a young male; attractive male sitting beside her making small talk. She already slipped.

She had eight missed calls from Maggie, none from her boyfriend. Her state of mind was making her more and more angry, angry that he hasn't checked in. Sober Amelia would be telling herself, it's not his fault, you said nothing to his proposal. Give him space. But drunk Amelia, is angry, pissed, hurt--- angry that he stopped checking in. He told her he'd check in, he promised her he'd check in but instead he went to his best friend, Jo's house and she hasn't heard from him.

"Where are you headed to after this?" The green eyed boy was moving closer, his eyes trailing down her body as she sat there, body feeling like she was floating.

"Nowhere with you," she answered. "I have a boyfriend." Would Link be still considered her boyfriend even though she never responded to his proposal?

"That's unfortunate," he sighed, pulling his drink up to his lips. "Where's your so-called boyfriend?"

Jo's, is what she wanted to reply but it's not like the boy would know what she was talking about, nor did he even care, he was just wanting her to come home with him. "Just at home."

Her phone was buzzing on the table again, and she was already six drinks in. The memories that had previously filled her head were now gone and all she felt was dizzy. Dizzy, numb--- great. She felt great, amazing. Maggie was calling again and she was about to decline the call before she remembered why she might be calling. Scout.

"Maggie, hey," Amelia answered, trying her best to sound sober. "So sorry, I was asleep." She was hoping that Maggie would believe her, despite her words slurring together.

"Amelia, where are you actually? I just came by the house to drop the kids off and you're not home and I don't know where Link is, are you with him?" Fuck fuck fuck. She's so stupid, stupid for showing up to a bar knowing damn well that she'd have to take care of 4 kids by the end of the night. She had a debate with herself, debating on whether or not she should tell Maggie the truth or lie.

"I was asleep, I had to run to the hospital for a consult," she lied. "I'm on way back." Amelia thought the lie was good, even though she was slurring. But Maggie didn't sound too convinced but she agreed that she'd see Amelia at the house before they both hung up the phone.

One more drink she told herself before she was dialling a cab so that she could get home safely because even though she slipped she can't be responsible for someone else dying.

-----

It was late. Almost one in the morning when Amelia walked through the front door, stumbling is the right word to describe it. She assumed Maggie and the kids would be asleep but she was greeted with Maggie, her arms crossed in front of her chest as she stood up from the couch.

"It has been a long day," Amelia started, so obvious she was drunk. "My bedroom is calling my name."

"Amelia," Maggie said, with so much sadness in her voice. Maggie was far from stupid, she was brilliant, a genius, she could see right through Amelia.

"No questions, just bed." Amelia headed towards the stairs, swinging her bag over her shoulder before Maggie walked up to her, stepping in front of her to stop her from going up the staircase. Maggie made a face, a you smell like vodka face and then she was putting her hands on Amelia's shoulders and pulling her into a hug, a tight hug, so tight that the hug itself almost made Amelia break down into a puddle of tears. A hug is exactly what she needed, especially right now. "I'm sorry..." Were the only words Maggie could form and she just held her. One hand was pressed against the back of Amelia's head while the other was wrapped around her, it never seemed like she was going to let go.

Amelia was dizzy, and she was sad and she could barely stand so she used Maggie to hold herself up. "No," Amelia cried out, a single tear dripping off of her soft eyelashes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I did it again. I'm a mess, I did it again."

"No, no, no," Maggie said, pulling away from Amelia before brushing a single strand of hair out of her face and pushing it behind her ear. "You're not a mess."

Amelia just stared at Maggie, her eyes heavy, her blue eyes drowning in a puddle of tears and Maggie could see the pain in her eyes and it made Maggie sad, she cared about Amelia so much. Before the two could exchange any other words, Scout was crying from his crib upstairs.

"I'll get it," Amelia slurred, dropping her bag to the floor and stumbling backwards as she grabbed onto the railing of the staircase.

"No," Maggie said sternly. "I'll do it, just go lay down, I'll join you after." Maggie helped Amelia up the stairs because honestly--- she thought she was going to fall down, the girl could barely walk.

Amelia was already laying in her bed, the room spinning around her and before she had even a minute to rest, she was running to the bathroom to empty out her stomach into the toilet. Six drinks didn't seem like very many but maybe it is for someone who hadn't had anything to eat because she forgot to and she hasn't had a sip of alcohol in a long time. She was doing so well, dammit.

She wasn't alone for long because while Amelia was gripping onto the toilet bowl, knuckles turning white her hair was being pulled up and out of the way. Maggie was rubbing her back in a comforting way, trying anything that she could to help the girl.

After puking, she stayed sat on the floor, sitting with her back against the wall and the room was still spinning. Maggie slid down the wall to sit beside her, pulling Amelia into her side.

"You're going to be okay," Maggie said, pulling Amelia closer to her and since the room was spinning so fast, she had to rest her head on Maggie's shoulder because she needed to sleep. "We'll start fresh tomorrow."

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths and even though the alcohol made her feel good, she also felt regret and shame. So much shame. She hated herself, she hated that she did this to herself again.

She did this to Scout.

And to Link. And to everyone she cares about.

Everyone she's ever lost would be so disappointed in her, she knew they would be because that's what she was. Disappointed in herself.

But maybe she was right, one day at a time and even though she got to this point again, she'll try again tomorrow and hope and pray that she doesn't start spiralling.

The last image in her head before she started to doze off was Derek and her dad, the most important people in her life.

#ameliashepherd #gresyanatomy #atticus link #link and amelia #amelink #amelia #drshepherd #meredithgrey #duncan shepherd #link

24 notes · View notes

starlight-vixen-emiko · 3 years

Text

Team Miraculous Introduction

Hey all! This is coming out of nowhere.

Basically I had this fanfic chapter about the Lukanette and Adrigami fankids I created becoming the new wielders of the miraculous...And Marinette and Luka’s oldest son becoming the new Ladybug.

I am posting this because @lenoraishere said she wanted to write about him so I felt I may as well post this introduction chapter.

The reason why Halloween is mentioned is because this is an introduction chapter to a Halloween fanfic I wrote last year...Speaking of which that fanfic is still in my files and I do intend to finish it and publish it once Halloween rolls around. Soon my darlings!

So anyways I hope you guys enjoy...This was my first time writing fankids and I will be humble and say this may not be the best introduction.

I hope you enjoy it Lenora...Believe me this doesn’t count as your birthday gift I have something better planned. Then again I realize your birthday is fast approaching and I have lost track of time! Eep!

~~~~~

My name is Leon Couffaine-Cheng. If you haven't heard of me, I am the son of Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Luka Couffaine, otherwise known as Ladybug and Viperion, the protectors of Paris.

The best protectors in the world. But shortly after I turned 15, my mom told me she felt a "sign from the Miraculous box" or something. I still remember it. It seemed like a typical day with my parents and little sisters. Then my mom gave me a devious smile and showered me with compliments when I just wanted to go to school early.

She told me that the box chose me to be the newer holder of the Ladybug Miraculous.

I just didn't get it. I mean, being a superhero sounds cool and all. Still, I don't know why I, in particular, was chosen to be the Ladybug. Or, as much as Tikki disagrees, I call myself Luckybug.

I figured my 13-year-old sister Marina was more suited. She is a fiery tomboy with electric blue hair and long pigtails, and she can skate and bike through anything. But my dad smiled at her and said she was chosen to carry the snake miraculous, Sass. Which she happily accepted.

Then there is my youngest sister Melanie. A beautiful little 9-year-old girl, kind-hearted, mature, helps around the house, and likes to bake sweets.

I figured Melanie would be the new Ladybug since she is Ladybug's biggest fan. She was super close to her Ladybug dolls when she was younger.

But recently, Melanie discovered a connection to the mouse miraculous.

I figured if this whole Ladybug thing did not work out for me, my little sister could take her place. But my parents are already protective of her and would prefer she not be a superhero until she is older.

It was too much for me to take, and I just wanted to go to school and have a typical day with my friends.

I met up with my best friend Masamori first.

Masamori Tsurugi-Agreste. Son of Adrien Agreste and Kagami Tsurugi. Also known as Chat Noir and Ryuuko.

They are the second greatest heroes of Paris, as much as Uncle Adrien and Aunt Kagami hate it when I say that.

Masamori lit up as usual when he saw me and said. "You'll never guess Leon! My mother told me that I was called by the dragon kwami Long!"

Long floated out of Masa's necklace and greeted me with a bow.

I looked at Masa straight in the eye with a sullen face.

"Leon, what's wrong?" Masa yelped.

I was about to open my mouth, and then Tikki appeared in front of me.

"I have been chosen to be Leon's partner!" Tikki said.

Masamori was overjoyed, but I couldn't help but vent to him about how this was a lot to take in. I question why I was chosen instead of Melanie.

We sat on a bench, and Masa gave me a pep talk. "This is a huge responsibility Leon, but I believe you can take it. There is a bigger reason for this, and weirder things have happened!"

As we walked through the crowd of students, I suddenly became self-conscious about the earrings I had to wear.

I covered my ears and said, "My dad can make earrings work, but I can't."

"You never looked better, Leon!" Masamori said.

I groaned under my breath and continued walking.

And then, just when I thought I could catch my breath.

"Leon! Take a look!" Masa said.

Up ahead was the recent transfer student Jinfeng. A beautiful Chinese girl with shiny long hair.

Now I felt even more self-conscious. I just wanted to hide my ears and run away. But I dropped my bag mid-escape and had no choice but to grab it. I had no idea Jinfeng was behind me.

"Leon," she said in a voice that made my heart skip a beat. "I love those earrings. They really suit you."

I turned out of politeness and tried to keep a benign expression, but I felt a big drop of sweat on my forehead and the back of my neck.

"Thank you for saying that!" I blurted out.

I realized it was a bit more frantic than I expected since she stepped back, looking a bit concerned.

Masamori gave me a bit of a push to get away.

"Come on, Leon, we have to head back to class!" Masamori cried.

After school, we met up with my sister Marina and Masamori's 13-year-old younger sister Erina. She is a blonde-haired Japanese-French girl, like someone out of an anime.

She spent nearly an entire summer in Japan and was lucky Marina was still best friends with her. She became the holder of the black cat miraculous. Sometimes we would team up, like my mom and Uncle Adrien teaming up back in the day, and I would joke about her being a cute kitty. Which she replied with, "Shut up, Bug Boy!"

"You're really good at scaring off girls with your cold demeanor, Lee-Kun!" Erina said.

Marina and Erina playfully laughed at my romance issues. Marina and Erina always caused mischief together. At least I had Masamori to get me out of mischief.

"Well, Erina and I are going to hang out tonight," Marina said.

Marina walked away with a skateboard in hand, and Erina had her kendo sword.

"I am not covering for you tonight!" I said.

Marina groaned and shrugged. "Fine!" She spat.

Masamori joined me in walking back to my house, where, as expected, my sister Melanie was watching movies with Masamori's youngest brother, Aiden Tsurugi-Agreste.

A boy mature for his age despite being only 9. Since Agreste-san and Tsurugi-san are usually busy with work, Aiden usually spends time here with Melanie. The two are inseparable friends watching movies here and making baked goods.

Melanie and Aiden looked at us as we came in.

"Hi Mel Mel," I said. "Hi, Aiden."

Melanie lit up. "Big brother!" She held her adorable little hands up. "I am so happy you're home safe. I hope nothing dangerous happened."

I sighed. "Nothing happened today, Mels." Just the way I like it.

"Luckybug is the great new hero of Paris!" Melanie said triumphantly. "Just like Mama was!" Melanie looked so incredibly starstruck.

Aiden smiled. "Yeah, it was great how you saved our school from The Food Fighter."

All I remember from that is bananas in my hair and stepping in gross puddles of spinach.

"I can take you home now, Aiden," Masamori said.

Aiden crossed his arms. "Five more minutes!"

Surprisingly Aiden hasn't felt a connection to a kwami. Which I guess isn't a terrible thing since Aiden is such a good boy, and I can't imagine him fighting anyone. But he is still an honorary member of Team Miraculous, so he deserves mention. That and he has been so good to my beloved younger sister.

Why am I bringing this up, you may ask? Because this Halloween is our first Halloween being miraculous holders. I just hope no weird Halloween akumatization happens that night. I just want to spend Halloween with my friends and my family. That isn't too much to ask for, right?!

"Mel-Chan!" Aiden cried. "I wonder what Halloween is going to be like for Team Miraculous."

Melanie smiled at Aiden as if she was just as excited over the idea. "Maybe the streets will be filled with walking skeletons, talking pumpkins, and ghosts Ai-Kun!"

I was flabbergasted! Melanie and Aiden treated this like this was a fun Halloween episode of a cartoon.

Akumas can make any event weird and freaky, and I am nervous just thinking about what could happen on Halloween night. It could be a scarier Halloween night than we could ever imagine.

Author’s Note: I apologize if this isn’t perfect. Honestly I didn’t care as much about making this pitch perfect because I wasn’t planning on publishing it on my ao3.

But yes I was considering writing a next generation fanfic.....Of course that sounds a bit nervewracking to me.

Yes there is a bit of a history repeats itself thing going on with Leon having a highschool crush...Granted recently I decided to make Leon bi and give him a male love rival as well but in this fanfic I couldn’t find a way to put the male love rival in just yet so I left that part out.

#pro lukamari #lukanette #adrigami #well ok adrien and kagami aren't present here sorry!#they will be present in the halloween fanfic though #endgame lukanette #endgame adrigami #lukanette fankids #adrigami fankids #my writing #my fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

staticscreenwriting · 4 years

Text

Skin deep - Chapter One || B.H.

Synopsis: Billy survived the battle of Starcourt but is left with a body full of scars. Scars that remind him of the pain he had to go trough and the horrible person he has become. In order to forget about all of that and move on, he wants to get them covered up. Good thing Hawkins has a brand new Tattoo studio and the girl who works there might just be the help Billy has been looking for.

A/N: I needed a TattooArtist!Reader x Billy story so I wrote one and you know me, I can’t keep it short and simple. There will be several parts to this. Don’t ask me about an updating schedule because I don’t have one. I try my best to be consistent but I make no promises. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Billy’s palms are clammy as he steps out of his car. His eyes wander towards the sign hanging above the door, welcoming him to “Little Bear Tattoos” as an American traditional bear face grins back at him.

This isn’t his first time getting a tattoo, by all means, he shouldn’t be as nervous as he is. But things are different now. Everything is different. Things change after you almost die because you sacrificed yourself to an otherworldly creature to save a little girl.

He had just turned 18 when he got that stupid little skull inked onto his arm. That’s now just a little over a year ago but it seems like a lifetime has passed since then. Sometimes, Billy thinks, sometimes It feels like that was another person altogether. That dumb little boy who thought he knew shit. The one that paraded his tattoo around like a complete and utter douchebag. He thought it made him look rough and cool and dangerous.

In retrospect, it just made it more obvious that he didn’t know shit about anything. Not life. Not death. And most definitely not about what it means to look rough and cool and dangerous. Sometimes he wishes he could go back to that moment and just relish in ignorant bliss. Most of the time he tries not to think of the past though because thinking of the past means thinking of all the things lost that night in July. Most of all himself.

Back then, getting a tattoo was easy. Now, it feels like the entire world is resting on his shoulders. It feels like he can barely keep it all from crashing down on him.

The bell above the door chimes as he steps inside the tattoo parlor. It’s a relatively small shop but it looks clean and the walls are covered in framed drawings of very intricate designs. If those have been drawn by this place’s artist, he’s in good hands.

A fluffy little brown dog is lazily resting on a pillow by the shop window and only raises his head as the sound of footsteps approaching fills the room.

“ Hi, welcome to little bear. “ a cheery voice calls out to him as a girl steps out from behind a curtain leading to some backroom. She has a big radiant smile on her face though it exudes a certain warmth that only genuine smiles do.

“ Hi uh — I was wondering if you have a free spot. “

“ Hmm… that depends. What are you wanting to get? “

To be quite honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it. All he wanted was something to cover up the ugly scars still streaking most of his body. When before, he felt a certain kind of pride whenever he passed a mirror, now it sends a sharp pain straight to his heart. Everything about him, from the perpetually tired look in his eyes to the scars, it’s al a reminder of the bad things he’s done. And the worst part is that he can never talk to anyone about it. Ever. No one will understand but the people who’ve been there, and though he and Max are getting along much better now, he still doesn’t fancy having long profound conversations with her about his demons.

“ I uh — I’m not sure but it needs to cover something.”

“ Old tattoo? “

Billy swallows audibly “scars.”

He’s not sure what reaction he’s expected from her but a casual “Okay, we can figure something out. “ is not it. Though he avoids wearing short sleeves these days, whenever someone manages to catch a glimpse of his damaged skin he got 1 of two reactions. Either people started regarding him with pity or disgust and he honestly wasn’t sure which was worse. At least those disgusted by him left him well enough alone and didn’t hold a million questions they expected him to answer in great detail.

“ Let’s sit down and we can talk about some things you like and see how we can incorporate those into a tattoo. Also, I would have to take a look at the area you want me to tattoo and see how bad the scarring is just so I can take that into consideration when designing the piece. Scar tissue is harder to tattoo but don’t worry, I promise I can do it. “

“ You’re gonna be tattooing me? “

It seems like a dumb question but honestly, Billy hasn’t met or seen that many female tattoo artists in his life and this girl seems to be about his age. That’s not something you see every day.

“ Yup. I’m (Y/N), this is my shop. Now, do you want something to drink while we discuss the piece? I got all kinds of sodas, I got water and I got non-alcoholic beer.

“ Dr. Pepper? “

“ Good choice. Coming right up. “

She walks behind the counter with the cash register and reaches into a small fridge taking out two cans of Dr. Pepper before leading him towards a little seating area by the window.

The fluffy little dog lifts his head once again regarding the two of them with only mild interest before plopping back down.

“ Oh, you okay with dogs? I can take him to another room if you’re uncomfortable. “

Billy shakes his head. Nah, he loves dogs. Always wanted one but Neil, being the miserable bastard he is, never allowed the kids to have any pets. Too much work, too much responsibility. What an asshole.

Though Billy is never going to admit it, the bedside drawer, that was once filled with issues of Penthouse magazine, now holds a bunch of self-help books and magazines dealing with topics of PTSD and trauma. A lot of them mention getting a support animal whether that be a specially trained dog or just a hamster to keep you company. It makes sense, it gives you someone who listens to you vent about all your problems and insecurities. If only his dad cared enough about his mental state to reconsider his stance on pets. Then again, when has Neil ever cared about him?

“Nah, it’s fine don’t worry. He’s cute.”

“Thanks. His name is Bear and he’s kind of the mascot of this store.”

There’s a twinkle of pride in her eyes while she talks about the shop and her dog. Something Billy is infinitely envious of. Everything he’s ever felt any hint of pride in is gone. His car. His looks. All of it.

“Okay so tell me a little about yourself. Is there anything you can think of that you’d like to get inked? Any interests, hobbies? Maybe you wanna tell me a little about yourself.”

Back before, when things were different, Billy would’ve packed as much ego enlarging words and compliments into it as possible. Would’ve mentioned his car and his most satisfactory performance skills in the bedroom. But now, he hardly knows who he is these days.

“ Um … my name is Billy. I’m 19, I’m from California. ‘Bout two years ago my dad packed us all up and had us move out here to the end of the world. Then … things happened.”

“You miss California?”

“Every day. The thought of going back one day is the only thing that keeps me fucking going. I miss the ocean. I miss surfing. I miss home. I miss all of it.”

She looks at him intensely for a moment, sizing him up, contemplating her next words. He can almost see the creative gears running in her head.

“Alright. I might have an idea. I’d have to see the area first though.”

He expects pity in her voice though there is none. Her words are comforting and warm and calm. Billy wonders how often she has to deal with clients like him. Those who come to her with painful and ugly reminders of their past.

His hands are shaking as he pulls off his denim jacket and reveals his left arm to her. The skin is streaked with scars. They’re the same paths that used to wind up and down his arm in inky black hues like poisonous vines. Now they’re a faded pink but that doesn’t mean he hates them any less.

Billy can feel his heart beating in a fast rhythm as anxiety floods his system. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe -

“Okay how big would you want to go,” (Y/N) asks, her voice gentle and soothing and her eyes switching from his arm to his eyes. She doesn’t ask him what happened and that’s a relief.

“As big as you can. I know you can’t make it disappear but I’d like as much of it covered as possible.”

“ I won’t be able to do an entire sleeve today but if that’s something you want we can start with a bigger piece on your upper arm today and then work our way to a full sleeve in the future?”

“Sounds good. I just want the scars gone. I need them covered.”

“Well my guy, you’ve come to the right place. It’s my specialty. You’re in luck too, I’m free all day so depending on your pain tolerance and the trauma of your skin, we might even be able to finish the first piece today.”

Pain tolerance, he wants to scoff at that. What he’s been through, the pain and the anguish and the emotional trauma, nothing will ever compare to that. Not even close. He’d get a 100 tattoos all at once and it still wouldn’t measure up.

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Cool awesome! Imma go over to the drawing board and you can feel free to keep yourself entertained in the meantime. We have an arcade machine in the back. There’s records in the corner if you want to listen to some music. I’ll even let you choose.”

“Is that an honor?” Billy asks, a small smirk on his face. Every once in awhile a flicker of the person he used to be shines through. But then it’s gone and he’s left as this shadow of his former self.

“Oh you have no idea.”

As (Y/N) settles behind a big wooden table and starts scribbling away, Billy wanders over towards the corner of the studio. A bright red record player is resting on a sideboard surrounded by several boxes filled with vinyl records. They’re sorted by band name then chronologically. There’s all kinds of genres too. AC/DC and Judas Priest but also Stuff like The Mamas and the Papas and the Monkees.

“Anything, in particular, you wanna listen to? Kinda hard to make out your taste with this selection. There’s … everything.” Billy calls out to her, leaving through the records.

“What can I say? I like a bit of everything. Don’t like to limit myself.”

Old Billy would’ve raised his eyebrow and asked her if that extends to her love life as well. But old Billy is gone and so he keeps his mouth shut.

“I know it seems like just your kinda music, but maybe stay away from the hard rock. Maybe something a bit more mellow.”

He hasn’t really listened to a lot of music since … well since everything. He mostly sleeps or reads and sometimes when it’s a good day he even attempts to do a bit of writing. It’s nothing spectacular but it’s - something. An outlet really. The stories vary from an autobiographical retelling of the incident to silly tales of young boys going on space adventures. It's a way to get lost in the save parts of his mind. The ones that can create make-believe worlds and happy thoughts. Not the ones tainted with gruesome images of the past.

The opening notes the Monday Morning by Fleetwood Mac fill the air and Billy doesn’t miss the smile tugging on the corner of (Y/N)’s lips.

“Nice. Didn’t really think you were a Fleetwood Mac fan.”

Billy shrugs his shoulders casually “they’re a classic.”

He sits back down in the seat by the window, watches as the clouds pass the sky and the people go about their day. That’s until a furry little ball of fluff settles down in his lap and demands to be cuddled.

“Oh hey, you.”

“Sorry about that. Bear does not understand the concept of personal boundaries. He thinks everyone is only here to pet him. If he bothers you just set him down.”

But he doesn’t mind one bit. In fact, combing his fingers through the curly brown fur fills Billy with a sense of calm and it grounds him a little. He really needs to adopt a dog for himself.

“It’s fine. No bother.”

Time passes with Billy cuddling the dog and ever so often glancing over at (Y/N) while she’s working on the sketch. She’s drawing then erasing then redrawing. Copying then throwing it away then doing it all again. All the while she’s dancing along to the music. There’s a lightness about her that Billy wishes he could possess. Even before the Stacourt situation, he never had this unbothered lightness about him. That’s just not the person you turn into when you grow up in a house with Neil Hargrove.

A light drizzle falls outside and Stevie Nicks sings along to it and life feels … almost peaceful right then. Billy lives for these small moments of normality. These glimmers of what life used to be.

“Okay, I’m ready. Wanna have a look?”

There’s a bright smile on her face as she looks at him and waves the sketch around. “I think I nailed this one. I hope you’ll like it.“

Billy can see that she actually means it. It's not just a silly phrase she’s tagged onto her sentence. She’s genuinely nervous for him to see it.

Bear follows Billy as he walks toward the counter, a smiley (Y/N) watching their every move. There’s something about how passionate she is about her work that makes Billy both happy and sad. There used to be things in life that he was passionate about. His car. His clothes. The music he loved. Now it’s all dull and trivial and he’s lost. So damn lost.

His eyes wander towards the sheet of paper. Delicate black lines run across the page, swirling and arching and creating a beautiful composition. It’s a lighthouse. A tall and sturdy one. It shines it’s light out into the distance to guide the ships safely around the sharp edges of the cliffs. It’s a beacon of safety and hope surrounded by the rough sea and crashing waves.

“I thought it was a nice symbol, you know. Light in the dark. Guiding ships to safety.” (Y/N) explains. She’s biting her lip nervously and Billy thinks it’s insanely adorable. This piece is perfect, to think she’s uncertain and nervous about his reaction …

“I tried to incorporate the ocean and the crashing waves. You know, as a reminder of your life in California.”

Billy is speechless for a moment. Everything he wanted. All the ideas swirling around in his head. She put it down on paper, made them visible. And he didn’t even have to voice them. They were all just mushy gray clouds in his head, non forming a coherent picture. Just a feeling. A feeling of peace and belonging. Of being strong when everything around you tries to push you down to your knees.

“Do you like it? I can change it if you —“

“I love it!”

Her mood immediately changes after hearing those words. As if a switch is suddenly flipped and sunshine floods her face. Her eyes light up and her smile widens.

“Okay perfect! Wanna get started?”

“Sure, let’s do it!”

The black leather chair is soft underneath him as (Y/N) puts the stencil onto his skin. She has a soft gentle touch which only matches the tone of her voice. Very calming. A complete opposite to the rest of Billy’s life.

“Okay, so it’s not gonna be pleasant since I have to tattoo over scar tissue. If you wanna tap out or take a break just let me know.”

He’s fairly sure that whatever pain he’ll have to endure, it will be nothing compared to what he’s already been through. Pain has a completely different meaning to him now.

“I’ll be fine.”

And he means it. Not just about the tattoo, about everything. It feels like this is the first step into a new life. One that won’t be determined by his past mistakes. By the trauma.

The buzzing sound of the tattoo gun fills the air and (Y/N) starts pulling the first few lines. Short strokes. As if to test his pain tolerance. Her eyes wander up to meet his, a silent question shining through them.

He grants her a nod. One of pure determination. One that says, without question: “I’ll be fine!”

For a while, they sit in comfortable silence. There’s just the humming of the machine and the raspy voice of Stevie Nicks to lull them into a soft tranquility.

“ I’m not gonna ask about the scars but can I ask about the skull on the other arm?”

Billy lets out a mix between a laugh and a scoff. “Sins of my youth really.”

“ Oh geez, that makes you sound so old. You’re what, 19?”

“ Almost 20.”

“ See. You’re still in the prime of your youth!”

Billy shrugs his shoulder as she dips the tattoo gun back into the ink. Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like he’s in the middle of his youth. He feels so damn tired. He never got to be a kid. Never got to be a teen. Always wandering in between it all, lost and disillusioned with no one there to guide or help him.

“ How old are you?”

“ Just turned 20 a few days ago.”

“And you already have your own shop. That’s impressive.”

“Yeah well, it’s all I ever wanted to be. Worked my ass off. Spent all my free time at my cousin's tattoo studio up in Carmel. He taught me everything I know. Worked after school and on the weekends and then when I graduated my cousin gave me a little loan and I had enough to open the shop. He believed in me when no one else did and it means everything to me. Hope I make him proud. I just always felt like this is what I'm meant to be. An artist. And this way my art gets immortalized on people’s skin and in some cases it can help them overcome difficult times in their lives. I hope I can make even the smallest change in people’s lives. “

It doesn’t get lost on him, that she doesn’t mention her parents. Something must be up there but it sure as hell isn’t his place to ask about it. Families, he knows quite well, can be a touchy subject.

“Well, you’re definitely making a change in mine.”

“Yeah?”

She looks almost bashful as the question tumble from her lips.

“Yup. I … I need to make those scars disappear. They — they remind me of the worst time in my life and of a version of myself I never want to be again. Having you cover them for me with this art piece that’s so fucking cool, it means everything.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“You should be proud of yourself.”

There’s a connection there, one he can neither grasp nor explain. It’s like she understands parts of him he doesn’t even put on display. And it’s both scary and exciting. And maybe, he understands parts of her she’s not aware she’s putting on display either.

“Okay. I’m done!”

There’s an infinite sense of pride exuding from her words. Billy wishes there was something in his life that he was good at. Something to let him be proud of himself.

“Wanna take a look?” (Y/N) asks with the most radiant smile playing on her face.

“Absolutely!”

His legs are stiff from sitting in the chair for so long but he can’t wait to see the finished piece. Slowly he walks towards the full-length mirror, (Y/N) hot on his heels.

His eyes fall onto the artwork now permanently inked into his skin. There are vibrant shades of blue and dark black lines. The sea is alive, it’s unforgiving and rough. But there’s the light from the lighthouse, the hope, the safety. It’s all there’s and it’s beautiful. Where there used to be ugly pink scars thick and burning, there’s now a beautiful painting. The scars are gone. The pain is gone. All that’s left is beauty and hope.

He doesn’t realize that tears are running down his cheek until she hands him a tissue. His first reaction is to wipe them away and pretend they weren’t there in the first place. A Hargrove man isn’t allowed to cry. Not in front of people anyway. Especially not in front of women. Hargrove men are bitter and numb. They’re stoic. Silent. Angry. Above all they’re sad.

But isn’t that the person he wants to leave behind?

So he lets himself feel it. Lets the tears fall as if it were nothing.

Maybe this can be the next step into becoming the person he wishes so desperately he can be.

“I take it you like it?”

“I love it.”

And he hugs her. Pulls her close and tight as if he’s known her forever. She reciprocates the hug in no time. Softly oats him on the shoulder.

She smells like flowery perfume and clean cotton. Soft. Sweet. Intoxicating

“I can not thank you enough.”

“Billy, trust me this means as much to me as it does to you.”

He doesn’t disagree with her but he’s sure that’s not true. It means everything to him.

They talk for a little longer then he pays her, way too little if you ask him. She deserves way more and he suspects that some kind of personal sympathy plays into the price. But he’s not one to argue. Not when he’s sure he’ll come back. There are more scars. More pain. He’s not fixed but he’s at least a work in progress now.

She takes a few Polaroids of his tattoo, to put on her wall. To show people she can cover scars. Can help them. Help fix them. Make them feel less broken.

“They’re burn scars.”

Billy finds himself sharing a piece of his story. One he’s kept so close to him, sometimes he almost wondered if it was true. But it is. And there are more reminders all over his body. It feels right to share it though. She helped him cover part of it, without judging. Without questions. She deserves to know.

“Huh?”

“My scars. They are burn scars. Not — not from the outside but from the inside. Like fire going through my veins. I uh don’t know how to explain but that’s what they are. You can tell that to your clients. That you covered burn scars. That you’re that talented. “

For a moment she just stares at him, a deep sense of affection shining from her eyes. It’s comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. But he lets himself feel it. He promises himself to let himself feel the good things even if they seem scary.

“That’s … hey, would you like to grab some dinner with me? I could really go for a burger at the diner round here. It’s real good. “

And with the way she smiles, how the hell is he supposed to say no to that.

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way!”

The sun hangs low above the horizon almost dips behind the line to vanish and make room for the moon but not quite yet. They step out into the dawn, Bear pattering alongside them his leash grabbed tightly in (Y/N) hand.

As hues of red and pink and orange surround them and dip the world into a golden haze, Billy feels like maybe this is the way. Maybe this is his path leading into a new future. With less pain. Fewer scars. More color and more smiles.

And maybe a beautiful and talented girl and a little dog by his side.

#billy hargrove x reader #Billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

142 notes · View notes

mellifluousoctopus · 3 years

Text

I decided to make a character analysis post about my observations of the tv show and what i know about the comics. I’ve bolded my main points.

abuse TW, canon incest mentioned

On Diego

Diego is often mischaracterized as gruff, insensitive, resentful of all his family, abrasive and rude. Especially towards Vanya. But in reality he’s big softie, although a less emotional one than Luther. Diego hides his feelings and vents them in other ways. No matter how visibly present they are, his has a disdain for his emotions. Maybe because they are so present. He feels very strongly. (anger and love being a very easily seen example) Reginald is cold and calculating and emotion is a blindness on the battle field as well as a liability to be manipulated by Reginald and by others. Diego hates his emotions not only to appear competent in his fathers eyes but to also hide from Reginald’s wrath. No doubt that boxing and vigilantism are whats keeping him from going insane.

He will try to deny it but his father’s teachings have big bearing of who he is now. The duty of the strong to protect the weak, vigilantism, striving to to hone and train your powers and body so that you are useful a better hero. These are ideals that Diego has taken from his upbringing and we see him live by even so much as to abandon all reason and try to save a doomed man at the price of the timeline. This devotion to the teachings of his father despite Diego’s resent of him, is an ironic circle of his father’s manipulation that birth his hero complex.

He does everything that Reginald instilled in them with the same subconscious motive. He is in confliction with his own emotions and his own motivation. Diego’s strive to be something in his fathers eyes as compared to Luther, who was seemingly given extra attention and praise. As Vanya wrote in her book, they were all starved for attention, but Diego was in such close proximity to Luther, that the extra weight attention that Luther had was in stark contrast to Reginald’s neglect. This explains both his obsession with the numbering system and his connection with Grace. In an attempt to be noticed by his father and to prove himself upon comparison to Number One. Diego pushed himself harder and harder towards more and and more impossible standards of what he thought would achieve his father’s love. But Reginald has no love and Diego broke. He began to resent Reginald and what he believed was a rank system. Before the dinner we find that Diego still believes that number is associated with rank. He appoints them as Team Zero, because the number one/number two bullshit would divide them in the face of Reginald. There is no proof that any of the others believed in the rank system.( Luther obvious believes that he is the leader, but in no way does he use his false authority as a palanquin over the other others.)

Grace supplemented Diego the attention that he lacked from his father. To all the children she was fair, gentle, calm, and understanding. She was a guiding hand and beacon of love in a cold and isolating household. To Diego she was salvation. A chance at be given love and support that he so obviously was missing. Grace probably spent more time with Diego. Both from the boy’s own choosing and from the duties given to her by Reginald, A cold, commandeering, traditionalist. Diego’s stuttered was stamped out of him out of him by all means. While corrections and punishment would come at anytime, Diego’s real speech therapy most likely given out by Grace, who is the only governess the children the remember and is seen reciting tips to him when he struggled. This extra attention validated Diego and strengthened his connection with Grace. This connection opened his eyes a bit faster to Reginald’s narcissism. Grace is Diego’s mother, she is the only thing in his life that provides unconditional love. He has seen her beyond Reginald’s programming. Seen her think and feel. Shes a person him. A person that Reginald mistreats as severely as he does the children. He treats her like an object despite her humanity and she is oblivious to Reginald’s abuse of her and the others. It makes him hate Reginald even more. Grace’s treatment is confirmation of Reginald’s. He wants to save her, but until he can he will hate Reginald for her.

As I’ve said before Luther, Diego, and Allison were the golden trio, the jocks, the children which Reginald placed most of his attention as they were the first 3 and therefore the three most manipulable. Like Luther, Diego’s emotions and his powers (which require Reginald’s shaping to be a more than average threat) earned him the title of second useful.

Diego was the third wheel among the 3. When he first began training Diego was most likely like Luther. Eager to learn, eager to help, however he was most likely motivated by fitting his father’s expectation. Later on trying to exceed his fathers expectations in order to compete with Luther. Luther was his rubric, but as it become more and more frustrating to become equal to him in his father’s eyes as well as more and more apparent that Grace was tool rather than a person Diego began to hate Reginald. Luther refused to see their father’s cruelty and Diego began questioning authority as result of this blindness. He saw Allison in a similar light. At this point she was self absorbed denier according to Diego and both Luther and Allison’s relationship (they were not subtle) reduced them to moon-eyed freaks. further fueling Diego’s self isolation and defiance.

Saving Klaus is saving people. To Diego, Klaus is a civilian that should not be. They are a victim much like Grace and their(Diego and Klaus’) siblings are to Reginald, but they have the ability to do more. Klaus is representive of Diego’s frustration with the inabilty to respond to the academy’s greater purpose.

Diego shed tears on his missing brother, but there were few good memories behind it. Five is a self assured asshole, he’s pretentious and spends little time with the siblings (except maybe with Vanya). He’s also able get to dads attention with little effort which Diego wants. His powers allow him shortcuts too. Diego was bound to be jealous and feel slighted. Diego does not instigate competition with Five because Five does not bathe in the attention nor acknowledge it. Diego also thinks the attention is less of something he compete with as such attention comes from the meeting of minds.

Ben was a great friend. They had quiet and limited friendship, though as there was a rift between their motivations. As much as both hated how they were used by Reginald, Diego focused on Reginald and his experiments rather than the powers and crime fighting (which was where Ben directed his ire) but they had great times.As we know Ben and Diego played at least one prank on Allison as children however it is implied that this was a common occurrence. These pranks could have been a form of rebellion or simple play by them that didn’t involve their powers or Reginald. I’ve chosen to believe that Ben was actually a large part of these pranks creating them and doing a lot of heavy work with them, and that Diego was the enabler, willing to help, and coming up with wackier and wackier ideas. Luther, Allison, and Five were the likely targets because they were the ones that refused to have fun on their own time, or chose to eat out of Reginald’s palm.

A lot of people think that Diego hates Vanya, for some reason. He doesn’t. He loves her. She’s his (little) sister. She sweet and timid. And she’s an innocent and a bystander to the teams greater responsibility to the innocent. When Hazel and Cha-Cha broke in, Diego is mad at Vanya for being there. Not because she’s there but because she is unable to protect herself. She has no training and she is at very very dangerous site. She is still his (little) sister and he still is obsessed with protecting the innocent. The reason people think he hates her is he feels betrayed by her. He is short and sharp, but that’s his defense. It keeps her away and keeps him from showing any other emotions. To him, she first banked on their trauma. Not only is this grossly upsetting and violating. Having all your scars presented in a public sphere is wrong especially without your consent, especially when you refuse to be vulnerable. The book is also dramatic from Diego’s point of view. Diego shuts down any extra emotion that isn’t rage. In his mind Vanya should have dealt with it and kept dirty laundry unaired or at least have been direct in her grievances, especially since she had nothing to complain about. He (and the others) believed that Vanya had it the easiest. She has no training, she was not put in the ways of violence, he believes she was never subjected to experiment. She is ordinary. She has no greater responsibility. She should be fine. His distrust is granted and validated in the second season. Born of further betrayal and fear. Vanya has gone against Diego’s raison d‘etre, she has also wiped out entirety of earth and after years of underestimating her. Shock and distrust, (but not despise) are bound to arise.

#diego hargreeves #the kraken #tua #The umbrella academy #character analysis #analysis #ik this is super over due #the one on #luther #is already out #reginald hargreeves #grace hargreeves

55 notes · View notes

lozzypoz321 · 4 years

Text

Word count: 2.6k

A/N by @morizoras-cave: this was even more fun than the last fic, loz is so so funny and so so talented and i just feel so comfortable writing with her :) also so many… bad things… happened while we wrote this. I mean it was chaotic.. I hope you enjoy its LONG

A/N by lozzypoz321: this was so much fun to write and I loved it!! Honestly you do not want to know what happened behind the scenes because that was a m e s s. Vic is such and amazing writer and deserves so much love! Hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: bad language!

Sleepover (Collab)

“Kid, open the door!” your head snapped to the door of your hotel room. You recognised Sebastian’s voice coming from outside. “Open up!”

“Whatever you say, man.”

“Is anyone bringing snacks?” you asked. You, Seb and Anthony were walking down the street. You could see the set already. “Damn, I hope so” Anthony mumbled and you all continued walking.

When you got there Elizabeth was standing outside, holding the door open with what you assumed was the stolen key. She ushered you inside. “You’re late and for some reason I’m not surprised.”

“Welcome, late-comers!” Robert greeted you dramatically, standing up in his Iron Man onesie. “You’ve missed the pizzas. You know, because you’re late!”

“It’s fine, we already ate. Which is why we’re late,” Sebastian pointed nodded to Anthony. You nodded along.

“I mean, we could play hide and seek?”

“Oh!” You exclaimed excitedly, one of your first inputs of the night “I’d love to play hide and seek! My dad used to do it with me all the time!”

You both laughed silently, trying so hard to not give away your position to Chris. You were failing miserably.

“Food galore” Elizabeth expressed and was the first one to walk towards, closer to the arrangement, leaving the rest of you by the wall with your jaws dropped. “If I’m sick, don’t blame it on me” you quietly expressed, making Mark laugh from his spot next to you.

“Umm yeah, that sounds like a good idea”

“Erm. Good idea?”

For no reason at all the situation was just funny to you, so while everyone in the room was stood still shocked (apart from Hemsworth who rocked back and forth on his feet sheepishly) you began to laugh(bitch). “What’s funny? You could literally cut your feet if you move!” Tom exclaimed with wide eyes, “you can’t get hurt we need to return you to your mom the same as we got you!”

“No, it really didn’t”

Then, at the the crack of dawn, a scream came from the nearest entrance: “WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK-”

And that was the inspiring story of how body searches became a daily routine on set, so the Russos could make sure no one had gotten their grubby hands on an extra key.

@rooskaya-yelena @deephideoutmilkshake @kidney9-9 @marvel-ous-hobbit @snarky--starky @rae-is-typing @stargazingfangirl18 @canadianhufflepuffavenger @herecomesthewriterwitch @every-marveler-ever

#sebastian stan x child!reader #chris evans x child!reader #RDJ x child!reader #chris hemsworth x child!reader #elizibeth olsen x child!reader #tom hiddleston x child!reader #mark ruffalo x child!reader #scarlett johanson x child!reader #anthony mackie x child!reader #marvel cast x child!reader #mcu cast x child!reader #marvel cast #mcu cast

179 notes · View notes

cadykeus-clay · 3 years

Note

Would you mind sharing your thoughts about vex and Beau being cross campaign foils?

so!!!! first things first: apologies for taking weeks to answer this, finals + having adhd sometimes makes my brain turn to mush and forget every ask ive ever recieved. second of all, i’m assuming you sent me this bc of what i said in my vm vs. m9 how they view the world meta. and i’ll be real with you. i have exactly 0 memory of what was going through my head when i wrote that line, so i am simply going to type out a bunch of thoughts that i have on the similarities and differences between beau and vex and i hope that lives up to what you were expecting jsdflksjdksld

I'll detail some specifics in a moment, but overall, I think beau and vex share a very similar kind of trauma of exclusion in their formative years, that's caused them to have a lot of similar traits that manifest in different ways - for vex, she maintains control through her material posessions and beau finds an emotional control in her asshole-ness. I've broken this down into 5 points on which I think comparing the two really emphasizes that claim:

1. daddy issues: both beau and vex have awful no good terrible very bad dads. both syldor and thoreau can suck my ass. they both raised their kids with little love and impossible-to-meet expectations, alientating them and leaving them with lifelong feelings of inferiority and unbelonging. If beau and vex were to meet, i think they would have a very friendly toast to shitty dads, and then have a good drunk vent about it an hour later.

but, at the same time, the actual minutae of their trauma and the ways it manifests are nearly polar opposites. syldor wanted nothing to do with vex, or else wanted her to somehow become a full elf. her issue was that she would never be able to belong, despite her desire to, and as she grew up it lead to her being overly protective and even possessive of the people she found who DID accept her as she was.

With beau, rather than exclusion, her father created an environment of toxic inclusion. He created a role for beau to belong in, disregarding her distate for actually fulfilling it. And, as such, she ended up making herself into someone who could have no expectations and pushed away anyone who tried to set them up for her. In the end, they both came to love themselves by abandoning the woman their father wanted them to be but for vex it was the laying down of an impossible dream and for beau it was the picking up of a mantle she had feared to wear.

2. brothers: now, on the topic of family, I also think its really interesting how their interactions with their brothers play out. We've got vex and vax, tied at the hip til the very end and then some; and then we've got beau and TJ - decades apart and with beau barely acknolwedging TJ's existence. But, even that distance between beau and TJ didn't stop her caring for him when they actually met. She gave him lucky Jade, and she entertained the idea of kidnapping him to get him away from her stinko dad.

And I'd espeically like to talk about what she said outside the hag's hut - "I think Luc and TJ could be best friends", in comparison to the way Vex reacted when Vax told her was going to Zephrah with Keyleth for the year break. There's an aspect to the way they interact with their brothers that lets them slip back into those bad habits they formed growing up (NOT that i'm claiming vex and vax were like toxic for each other. but even good relationships can have unhealthy moments).

With Beau, when she offers to give her happiness so TJ can grow up safe, she's trying to take on the role she's ""supposed"" to fill - the big sister, the protector - because she failed to fill the one her father set out. And with Vex, when she grows jealous of Vax, it's because she's afraid that his leaving with keyleth is a sign that she no longer belongs in his inner circle, and she falls back on that childish, desperate desire to do anything to be accepted unconditionally.

3. romance: spoilers for 5 or so most recent m9 eps (115-120) if you haven't watched them ahead!!!! at this point, both vex and beau have an endgame romance - percy and yasha respectively. Obviously as the m9's campaign is still playing out, that could change, but like. yasha wrote her a love letter and they're officially going on a date so i'm counting that as at least endgame-track rather than just random flirting. What's interesting to me is that they both seem to flip between the SAME roles between their (in-game) general perception and their actual pursual of romance.

Vex gets characterized as a pretty big flirt, right? She's got the winks, the casual "darling". She's flashed grog her boobs on multiple instances with little prompting. Beau, similarly, has easily the most game out of anyone in the m9. She's slept with two guest characters and at least one more npc in the events of the game. Caleb made her a fuck mirror in her room in the mansion. And yet, in both of their actual romantic endeavors, they became the shy, uncertain type.

Vex only confessed her feelings when Percy was laying dead before her, and not an hour of game play before percy kissed her in the woods, she had a talk with vax about how she was pretty sure he didn't like her that way and she didn't want to pursue it. Beau, similarly, spent a very long time convinced that yasha wasn't looking for love after zuala, especially not in anyone like her, asked everyone in the party if they thought yasha ACTUALLY liked her, just to be safe, and then still terrified to ask her out after recieving a literal love letter. I'd argue this shift comes from that same sense of unbelonging - they're very good at pretending they fit a role but doubt their actual right to take it when the opportunity is presented. This time, the role is the lover rather than the daughter.

4. authority: Both vex and beau grew up shunned by the upper crust of society, and grew to mistrust those kinds of people. And yet, both of their arcs result in them assuming such a position. Vex, thrown out of high society gets her place as a baronness, and Beau, running from leadership of her father's business ends up a top member of the Cobalt Soul. There's not a lot here, but I find it interesting how both of their stories involve them shedding their baggage regarding authority and power and assuming it in a way that they feel comfortable in - invitation by someone she trusts for vex, and a promise of freedom of will and control for beau.

5. their deadliest sins: this is the point at which their similarities culminate and transform to a fundamental difference. despite everything they share - shitty childhoods, the small piece of family that's still good, flirtiness masking shy love, and a mistrust of those in power - vex and beau are such different characters because of their biggest vices. Vex, both in game and out, is "the greedy one". She's stingy with money, she haggles for everything, she mourns the loss of physical objects. Beau is "the mean one". She cares little for people's feelings if they're not in her immediate circle, she focuses on her tough guy image, she laughs at things she knows she shouldn't.

And, over the course of the campaign, as they find unconditional acceptance, they grow away from these traits (I won't say they grow out of them) because they heal from the things causing these vices to begin with. I've always been vocal about vex's greed being a manifestation of her class insecurity, and beau's asshole-ness stemming from her fear of being forced back into another position of complacency. And I stand by that now - all the similarities in their backstories are what tally up to these different women.

Despite her careful tally of party funds and her reflexive bargaining, vex is not cruel. she is not angry on her own behalf. She saves two boys from the market in the city of brass at great personal cost, she relinquishes an entire dragon's hoard to the devastated city of Westruun, she took the time to save a baby bear from a cage when she could have just cut and run after escaping her own. She's the first one most people go to when they need a shoulder to cry on, and she's devastated when they don't (thinkin about when Scanlan left). She carved "forgiveness" into the bow she stole from a man after killing him by proclaiming how much she loved someone, because she knew anger had no place in her heart.

And Beau, Beau is a bitch and she's harsh, but she doesn't hoard or protect like vex did. she spends her money without much of a second thought. She pitches in to help her friends buy a ton of glowsticks, and she loves to indulge in material desires like drink and good food and the nicer inn room. She's a member of an organization that's about making knowledge public rather than guarding it. And, though this may be controversial, I think her position with bowlgate of "its not our problem what cali wants to do with it", her long-standing mistrust of their alliance with the bright queen and and more recently with the tomb takers of "i want to go in and talk, rather than assuming they're antagonistic, even if it puts us at a disadvantage" are both examples of this non-possessiveness too - she has no need or desire to get involved in controlling what other people are doing.

so, i guess the general conclusion here is: vex struggles to let go of things, of money, of people. beau struggles to let herself be known in case she gets wrongly interpreted again. they both fight feelings of inadequacy, they both fight the feelings of not belonging, of 'doing it wrong', they fight the perception of them as shitty people because of the shells they hide in despite their absolute hearts of gold. but at the end of the day, vex's story is one of having to lay down what could never be hers so she can carry what is, and beau's story is one of allowing herself to be known so a place can be made for her.

#hope this is what you and that other anon were looking for jdsflkdsajfsaldfsa #critical role #vexahlia #beauregard #long post

44 notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 4 years

Text

Love Letter - Richie Tozier

word count: 12,440 (I got really carried away) warnings: swearing request: @oceanspray5: Hi! Can you write a hc or (even better) a fic for Richie x fem!Reader (only if you want to of course) where he is deeply in love with her. She's sweet and nice but evryone says he's bad for her cuz he's a trashmouth so he would only corrupt her. Cue Richie leaving secret notes and flowers from the quarry in her locker as an outlet to try and rid himself of his heartache/feelings, not expecting anything in return, until one day she accidently finds out and it's happy ending of course. Thank you! summary: When Ben tells Richie that the best thing to help with his feelings for (y/n) is to write her a love letter, the trashmouth never expected it to turn into a full on secret admirer thing.

___

A simple note. That’s all he had to do, all he had to write. He could pour out everything he was feeling into one little letter, slip it into her locker, and get it over with.

Ben said that’s how easy it was! He’d told him that as long as he was honest, and spilled his very heart out onto the paper, then his heart wouldn’t go so crazy around her anymore. He wouldn’t feel like he was suffocating as she filled every one of his senses.

However, now that he’s looking at this letter, this heartfelt letter, and probably the most sincere thing he’s ever written, he didn’t feel all that much better.

So right away, he picked up the phone and called Ben.

“Hi, Richie-”

“Yeah hey, what the fuck is this shit?” Richie jumped right into it, before Ben could even really say hello. “You said this would help!”

“Are you talking about the letter?” Ben asked hopefully.

Richie rolled his eyes.

“No. I’m talking about fucking smoking crack- yes I’m talking about the letter. You told me that once I wrote it, it would be off my chest and I wouldn’t have to think about her anymore?”

Ben was silent on the other end for a moment, and Richie tapped his foot impatiently on the floor.

“What do you mean?” He finally asked.

“What do I- Ben!” Richie screeched into the phone, “I said that I needed to stop thinking about (y/n) all the time, because I was starting to act like an idiot in front of her, remember?”

“Right, because you’re in love with her” Ben said in agreement.

“Yeah, whatever, my point is I wrote the goddamn letter and it hasn’t helped”

“Well, what do you mean it hasn’t helped?”

“I mean I’m still fucking thinking about her!” Richie yelled again.

“Can you stop yelling? It hurts my ear,” Ben muttered. “But you're doing something wrong, writing her a little love note isn’t supposed to get rid of your own feelings”

“But that’s what I-!”

“I don’t get why you want to stop liking her, (y/n’s) awesome,” Ben cut him off. “What you should do is give her your letter”

Richie almost had a heart attack. He really thought he was going to spasm and then drop dead on his bedroom floor.

“What, the, fuck?”

“Yeah,” Ben responds, and Richie can only assume that he’s shrugging his shoulders. “After I gave Bev my poem, I felt way better! Just knowing that she know how I feel-”

“What the hell? She doesn’t even know it’s from you!” Richie shrieks.

It’s silent again.

“Sorry for yelling” Richie mumbled.

“Thanks,” Ben answers. “But you don’t have to tell her that it’s you. It still feels good to know that she knows someone really likes her. Just give her it, you’ll know what I mean”

“How do I give it to her without her knowing it was from me?”

“I dunno. Slip it in her locker?”

Richie mulls it over for a moment, thinking about how he could put a letter like this in her locker when she’s not around. He decides that no one can be around, he doesn’t want a single person on this planet to know that he’s done this. Besides Ben, he supposes.

“You sure it’ll help?”

“Yeah” Ben replies, but it’s unenthusiastic, and not convincing at all.

Richie thinks he might just have to take the chance anyways, because if he holds onto all these feelings any longer, he might just explode, and that doesn’t seem like a good idea. ___

That’s how Richie finds himself sneaking into the hall the next day at school. He’d asked to go to the bathroom in the middle of class, when he knew the halls would be empty, and it would be the prime time to put his letter in (y/n’s) locker.

His plan worked.

There was no one around, and he slipped the folded paper in between the vents of her locker.

Luckily, he met her at her locker every day after school, so he knew exactly which one was hers. And as soon as the paper disappeared and fluttered into the locker, he felt the weight lift off his shoulders.

Ben was right. This was exactly what I needed.

He lingered there at her locker for a minute, feeling more relaxed than ever. And (y/n) hadn’t even read it yet. This was going to be perfect.

Maybe she’d wonder who it was for a couple days, maybe even for a week. But eventually she’ll get over it, and Richie hoped he could get over his feelings for her too.

Then they could go back to being friends, and he wouldn’t feel so awkward all the time. Perfect. ___

“Do you know anything about this?”

Beverly turned to (y/n), blowing a rather large bubble of bubblegum as she glanced at the paper in her friend’s hands. Shrugging, she shook her head, and her bubblegum popped.

“Nope” She answered.

(y/n) let out a short sound of disappointment as she looked back at the paper. It had been stuffed haphazardly in her locker, and as soon as she’d put in the combination and opened the door, it had fluttered down to her feet.

It was exciting at first, from the moment she opened it, she hung onto every word spilled out on the page. It was definitely the grandest gesture anyone had ever done for her, not to mention the most romantic thing she’d ever read. And to know that someone had written this for her, it made her heart pound in her ears, and her whole face had turned pink.

She read it over three times, before gathering her things for her next class, and racing off. She’d hoped, she’d crossed her fingers that Beverly knew who the boy was that had forgotten to sign his name.

She even said a little prayer in hopes that it was the boy she wished.

But if Beverly didn’t know about this note, then she probably didn’t know who it was from.

“What’s wrong?” The red haired girl asked, realizing that (y/n) had deflated in her seat.

“Oh, nothing, I just…”

“You want it to be from someone, don’t you?” Beverly asked, a smirk spreading across her lips.

She’s been friends with (y/n) for years now, and knew exactly what that longing look on her face meant.

“Well, maybe,” The girl admitted softly. “But it’s just so… carefully written, you know? I just feel like… like whoever wrote it should tell me”

“It is odd that it’s not signed,”

Beverly furrowed her brows, eyes skimming over the page skeptically. Her mind drifted to the beautiful poem she’d gotten on a postcard a couple years ago, and how that hadn’t been signed either.

“That means they don’t want you to know who it’s from”

“But I’m dying to know, Bev”

“Yeah, well, unless you want to interrogate the whole school, you’ll just have to accept it”

(y/n) frowned.

“That’s horrible advice”

Beverly laughed, and shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Or you could always do a little investigating. Match up the handwriting, see if there’s anyone who talks to you like that,” She suggested, gesturing to the paper. “Wanna talk after school? Maybe flip through the yearbook and look at possible candidates?”

“Sure,” (y/n) lets out a small laugh at the idea. “Making lists always helps”

Of course, Beverly knew that.

“Great, I’ll call you after I finish this essay I’ve been putting off?” The redhead asked.

(y/n) nodded in agreement, thinking this was probably the next best idea they had.

She read through the note one more time, before carefully folding it back up by it’s original creases, and tucking it carefully into her bag. Class was going to start soon, she’d have to put off her investigation for another time. ___

Richie Tozier always met (y/n) at her locker at the end of the day. Mostly because it was the only time none of their other friends could drag her away from him. They had a tendency to want to put distance between the two.

Stan and Eddie had told (y/n) time and time again that she shouldn’t get too ‘exposed’ to Richie because he was such a trashmouth. She didn’t get it, and ignored their stupid warnings anyways. She was a big girl, she could make decisions for herself.

Besides, whenever she’d get to her locker to find Richie leaning against it, her knees got weak, and her heart would soar.

“Hello, Tozier” She greeted with a wide smile, one that she didn’t even bother to try taming.

“G’afternoon, m’lady” He responds in a dumb and not too great accent, but she laughs anyways as she spins in her locker combo.

Richie’s tapping his foot, staring at her anxiously. The good feeling he’d had earlier today getting eaten up by his nerves. What if she knew?

“Hey, are you doing anything?” She asks him, glancing up at him as she puts her books away.

“Besides standing here and breathing? I guess not” He retorts.

Jesus fucking christ that was the most embarassing thing you’ve ever said, what are you? A dad? Because that was a dad joke you dumb fuck-

“I mean after school,” (y/n) giggles, slinging her backpack over her shoulder, and shutting her locker. “I want a slushie”

“And I’m the only fella in the land that you want to accompany you?” He asks.

He mentally face-palms again.

For fucks sake would you get it together?

But again, she laughs, and nods her head.

“Sure, something like that,” She tells him. “Wanna go?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely”

They walk side by side out of school and into town. Normally they’d go to the quarry together to meet the others, but pretty much everyone had something going on, and couldn’t make it.

Some of Richie’s nerves had calmed, but he still found himself tapping at his leg when it would get silent between them.

She had a way of easing his nerves, but still making his heart pound like it was trying to get out of his chest.

(y/n) looked over to him, and leaned over to bump her side against his, bringing him out of his stupor.

“You sure are quiet today, Trashmouth,” She commented. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

“No, I just like hearing you run your mouth” He replied, hoping that she brushed his awkwardness as just him teasing.

She rolled her eyes back at him, but a smile curled on her lips.

“You’re funny,” She says nonchalantly. “I didn’t mean to talk so much”

“No really, you ramble a lot, it’s hilarious and adorable”

Her face got hot immediately after the word left his mouth, and so did Richie’s, but he did his best to hide it.

They get to 7-Eleven not too long after, and finally Richie seems to be his usual self.

He mixes a bunch of slushie flavors together, like an animal, and (y/n) can’t help but stick her tongue out as she watches him mix blueberry, cherry, orange, and lemon lime.

“What’s your problem?” Richie asks, adding banana slushie until it’s reached the top of his cup.

(y/n) shakes her head and scrunches up her nose in mock disgust at the action.

“How can you drink that?” She asks, filling her own cup with her usual cherry and blueberry mix. The way you were supposed to drink them.

“I like to live dangerously, toots” Richie replied with a wink that made her roll her eyes affectionately.

He brought his cup to the counter, giving the clerk the money for it and then some to cover (y/n’s). Just as she’d walked up to the register, sipping on her perfectly mixed drink, Richie was already grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the store.

“But I have to-”

“I already paid,” He told her, and cut her off just as she opened her mouth to protest. “Too late now, it’s already paid for, now come on”

She made a face, because she did not need him to do that, but it was still kind, so she thanked him quietly and followed behind him as they went outside.

They sat on the curb, setting their bookbags down and enjoying their cold drinks.

“It’s weird that we don’t hang out” (y/n) said, and Richie looked over to her, but she was staring down at her cup.

“Yeah,” He agreed. “But it’d be pretty humiliating to be murdered by Eddie, so…”

She laughs, but it’s half-hearted.

“Still…” She trails off, and dares a glance over to him. “We should just hang out anyways” Her eyes can’t meet his as she speaks, too bashful, but she waits for him to respond.

Richie gives her a wide grin, and when he chuckles, she finally looks up at him.

“How devious of you, breaking rules and shit” He says before sipping on his horrible concoction of flavors that shouldn’t taste good together.

“It’s not a rule,” She says, scolding him just a bit. “It’s just… I don’t want to upset my friends, our friends,” She says carefully, and then peeks up at him nervously. “But… you’re my friend too you know”

Somehow she did that thing again. Where his heart skyrockets, and then crashes so hard in his gut he thinks it might make him barf.

That might be his slushie talking, though.

“Yeah, I know,” Richie responds, staring downwards so he didn’t have to see her expression. “You’re my friend too”

A small smile quirks on her lips, and then she scoots closer to him, setting her drink down to grab her bag.

“As my friend, would you like to help me on a very top secret investigation?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at him excitedly before opening her backpack, and rummaging in it.

“I want to ask more questions but how can I say no to an invitation like- oh fuck”

She pulls out a folded piece of paper that Richie recognizes instantly, he almost spits out orange flavor from his nose, but he’s quick to swallow and sets his cup down.

As (y/n) excitedly hands him the opened note, he grabs at it frantically, eyes scanning over the words he thought he’d memorized. He hadn’t, apparently, because reading it now made his gut wrench and he wished he had just gotten a plain cherry slushie.

“Isn’t that fucking awesome?” (y/n) squeals, latching onto his arm with both hands, and reading along with him.

Richie’s eyes probably scanned over the paper four times before he finally reacted.

“Holy shit, toots,” He mumbled. “You’ve got someone whipped”

She blinked at him, her smile still on her face, even though with every passing second, she was confirming her worst thought.

It wasn’t Richie.

A part of her heart longed for him to say ‘to be honest… I wrote you this’. But the longer Richie stared at it, analyzing the text, the harder reality struck her. It couldn’t be him.

When he handed her the note back, she frowned for a moment, but just as quickly plastered on a smile.

“Something wrong with it?” Richie asked, a bit too impulsive, but he caught her look and freaked out at the thought that she was disappointed in it.

“No, actually, it’s entirely perfect,” She admitted softly, holding onto the edges of the paper as not to put a single crinkle in it. “But Bev says that whoever did write it, had no intention of coming forward”

“Well, yeah, isn’t that the point?” Richie asked.

“The point?” (y/n) repeated unsurely.

“Yeah, that now you know someone out there… loves you… that much”

He cringed at his words, but (y/n) stared up at him, waiting for more of an explanation.

“I don’t understand,” She told him. “If I loved someone that much… I think that it would be very difficult for me to hide that,”

She wasn’t wrong, but Richie almost shivered as a chill went down his spine.

“I mean, wouldn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t I what?” He asked, too lost in thought to focus on her words.

“Well, think of it from my perspective,” (y/n) angled her body towards his as she spoke. “If you’d gotten a note like this, wouldn’t you expect someone to come out and just- I don’t know, profess their love to you? It feels like a pretty grand gesture to me,”

Richie contemplates it for a moment. He thinks about declaring his love for her, loudly, in front of the whole school, the whole world, and just pouring his heart out in ways he couldn’t have done on paper. Telling her every beautiful thing about her that he loves, every wonderful thing that has changed his life, and his view on what it truly means to be alive-

“I’m daydreaming way too much,” (y/n) draws him back from his thoughts with a short laugh and a shake of her head. “Wow, I really thought I was in a romance novel for a second there”

She laughs again, but Richie can barely hold a smile.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” He says, picking up his slushie. “And I think it’s normal for you to want to… um… know who wrote it”

She gives him a sad sort of smile, and finally lets go of his arm so she can grab hold of her own slushie.

“I don’t think I’m gonna figure it out,” She sighs. “But if you hear anything, you’d tell me, right?”

“Absolutely,” Richie answers without hesitation, and the smile that takes over her lips is genuine this time. “Trade?” He asks, holding out his slushie for her.

Her nose crinkles again, but she curiously leans over to take a sip from his straw.

After swallowing, she smacks her lips, tasting the remnants of the strange flavor.

“Okay. It’s not that bad” She admits, and Richie beams at her victoriously before drinking from her own plain slushie.

“I knew you’d like it, toots”

They hang out on the curbside until their slushies are gone, and then Richie walks her home.

She does an odd thing as she says goodbye though, something she’s never done before anyways.

She hugs him.

It’s quick, and he doesn’t even have the time to reciprocate the action before she’s pulling away, smiling as she waves, and heads inside.

It’s simple, but he thinks about it over and over as he walks home. ___

(y/n),

I want to keep this simple, because honestly if I get too into it I think I’ll keep writing until there’s no more paper in the world. Or at least no more paper that I have.

So, I’m in love with you, take that as you will, but writing it has been surreal, let alone feeling it for the last year or so. I just wanted to let you know, because it’s been weighing on me for a while now, and I think I’m going to die soon from feeling it all the time.

And it’s not artificial either, it’s real love, and I’ve felt it long enough now to know that it's a complete and total infatuation I have for you, I’m not just romanticizing what we have. Which isn’t much to begin with. But still, I love you.

I thought you deserved to know. It doesn’t feel fair to you, for me to have this all-consuming feeling and not let you know, even though it concerns you. I think you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met, and the greatest one I ever will meet, and I think that you deserve to be loved like this, the way I love you.

Yours,

Empty.

(y/n) stared at that spot like if she waited long enough, a name would appear. Of course, after ten minutes of laying in bed and staring, nothing happened.

Besides the sudden spikes in her heartbeat of course.

But she’d figure it out eventually. Even if it took the rest of the year, hell, even if it took the rest of her life, she was committed to finding the author. ___

Richie woke up earlier than usual the next morning. Maybe because he couldn’t sleep, maybe because all he thought about was (y/n) and the fact that he’d poured his heart out to her, and she didn’t even know it.

And he was just dying to do it again.

It may have been too early to go to school, but he got himself ready and left the house anyways.

He decided that it was a good idea to collect flowers on his walk to school, stalling and plucking any of the prettiest ones he could find.

Dandelions are weeds, Richie, his mother’s voice scolded in his head, but he pushed the thought away.

By the time he made it to school, he had quite an abundance of dandelions, clovers, bluebells, and some tiny purple flower that he knew she’d think was pretty.

He was pretty proud that he was able to tie the tiny bouquet with a broken dandelion stem. And he thought that (y/n) would find it cute too. She was always picking dandelions and cattails and other strange plants from the quarry, either placing them in Bev’s hair, or fashioning them together in a crown.

Once he’d made it to the school, he had just enough time to stick the flowers carefully into the vents of (y/n’s) locker, so that they would stay in place without falling. ___

(y/n) almost squealed with delight when she’d found the gift at her locker this morning. Beverly had to remind her that it was too early in the day for such high pitched sounds.

“But they’re so cute” (y/n) murmured.

“So is this a regular thing then?” Beverly asked, drawing (y/n) out of the trance she appeared to be in while staring at the flowers. “You know, the notes and flowers and… shit”

(y/n’s) brows furrowed, but Beverly just smirked back at her.

“I hope so,” She answered. “I mean, it should be easier to figure out who it is that way, right? They’ve got to slip up at some point”

“I guess that makes sense,” Beverly shrugs. “Hey, how come you didn't call me yesterday? I thought we were gonna flip through yearbooks and list the options?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” (y/n) exclaimed. “I completely forgot, I just got caught up with…”

“With what?” Beverly asked.

(y/n) glanced around the busy halls, making sure that Stan or Eddie was nowhere around.

“Okay, don’t tell the others… but Richie and I hung out yesterday” (y/n) admitted, a bit more shy than she needed to be.

Her cheeks turned pink, and she had to bite back a grin. The action only made Bev’s smirk widen.

“Oh did you?” She mused, crossing her arms and leaning against the locker next to (y/n’s).

“Yeah,” (y/n) mumbled, almost dreamily. “We got slushies”

“Well isn’t that just romantic?”

“What? No- no it wasn’t like- no no no-”

“You’re stammering,” Beverly laughs. “Besides, I already knew you had a thing for him”

“What-!?” (y/n) hissed, but it didn’t matter, because Bev just shook her head.

“Yeah, it was pretty obvious. But anyways, how was it? Did you show him the note?”

“I did…” She said through a small huff. “ANd um, it wasn’t from him”

“Oh” Beverly said with the same disappointment.

“But that’s okay, it’s Richie, he would never do something like that,” (y/n) brushed it off with an awkward laugh. “Besides, you know how Stan and Eddie are, always trying to keep me away from him”

Beverly rolled her eyes, but she could tell that she’d hoped Richie had been behind all this, so she tried to move past the sensitive subject.

“Speaking of those idiot boys, we better get to class” ___

The next day, (y/n) found another small string of flowers tucked into the vents of her locker.

And the day after that, multiple small bouquets.

And the day after that, her locker was blanketed in dandelion and lilac heads, taped carefully to cover the whole door. She probably gawked at it for five minutes before putting in her combination as delicately as possible, not wanting to make any of the pretty decorations fall off.

“Wow,”

The voice made her jump, and she swiveled around to see Richie grinning at the current state of her locker.

“That’s… a lot” He said, it was all he could think to say.

“Yeah,” (y/n) answered bashfully, letting out a soft giggle. “Whoever did this must have come to school really early,” She mumbled, mostly to herself.

Maybe that’s how she’d get him, and it dawned on her, that it was the only possible solution.

Her eyes noticeably widened as her jaw dropped open at the realization.

“Oh my god, Richie, you’re a genius”

“Um-”

“Before school, they’ve got to do all this before school! In the morning!”

She grabs his shoulders and shakes him excitedly without thinking. The poor boy looks so confused, and worried, but he gives her the best smile he can manage. It’s not pretty.

“You want to come with me?” She asks him.

She looks so hopeful, her eyes are bright and she’s pushing her lips together to keep from smiling too wide, but Richie can tell she wants to.

Well. Fuck.

“Want to, um, what-?”

“Want to catch him with me?” She asks, trying to talk quietly, but the eagerness in her voice makes it go up a couple octaves.

He thinks she looks like a six year old on christmas morning. And how is he supposed to say no to her?

“Sure,” He says, and it takes a lot for him not to let out a sigh as he agrees. “How early though? Because I like to sleep until I absolutely have to-”

“Thank you, Richie!” (y/n’s) enthusiasm was bubbling over the top, as she practically jumped up to kiss his cheek, before grabbing her things to head off to class.

He’s stunned to frozenness, of course, by the quick action.

“I gotta go, but I’ll call you tonight to talk about the morning!” She calls after him, and waves goodbye as she makes her way down the hall.

Even when the bell rings, he’s still standing there, the spot on his face where her lips had brushed burning hot on his skin.

But the sweet moment is quickly washed away as he realizes what he just agreed to. ___

Richie isn’t surprised to hear (y/n’s) voice as soon as he picked up his phone that night. It was late, far too late for him to be up and talking on the phone, but he’d keep his voice down so his parents wouldn’t wake up.

Luckily, he had his own extension in his room.

“Alright toots, what’s your plan?” He asked, sitting back on his bed while she began her rambling.

“Okay, I’ve thought it out perfectly,” She starts, and he expected no less. “The perfect hiding spot- and stay with me here- is the girl’s bathroom across the hall from my-”

“Yeah, no,” Richie disagreed right away. “I’m not going in the girl’s bathroom, I’m not that much of a perv”

“It’s not pervy!” She argued. “No one else will be there, it’s fine. Now hush and listen,”

Richie rolls his eyes, but manages to keep quiet so she can continue explaining her plan.

“I say we hide out there for half an hour, and catch him in the act!”

The boy can’t help with wince, feeling guilty, since she won’t be catching anybody.

“Alright then,” He exhales. “You’re telling me I have to get up at 6:30?”

“No, I’m telling you we have to be there at 6:30,” She corrects him politely. “You should probably get up around-”

“Why don’t you swing by here on your way, and then we’ll just go together,” Richie suggests. “Just ring the doorbell, and I’ll wake up, and we’ll go”

“Richie, that won’t be nearly enough time-”

“Trust me toots, it’s plenty of time,” He cuts her off, and she’s quiet on the other end of the line. “Well, I best be getting to sleep since you’re getting me up so early for this scheme of yours”

“It’s not a scheme, Tozier, it’s a plan!”

“It’s a scheme”

“Plan!”

“G’night toots” Richie laughs, and he can hear her mumbling in frustration.

“Goodnight” She answers, and then hangs up the line.

Almost as soon as he puts the phone down, Richie’s confidence disappears, and anxiety strikes him again.

He really was going to kill Ben for getting him into all this. It was way out of hand.

Although he supposed he could’ve just written the note and left it… but he liked getting the flowers for her, he liked seeing her face light up in the mornings when she’d find them.

He needed a plan of his own. ___

The following morning, (y/n) had been at Richie’s door at 6:15 sharp, giving them just enough time to walk to school… and then some because she figured Richie wouldn’t be out of bed and ready to go as he thought he would be.

And he wasn’t.

He was a slow morning person too. Even just changing took him way too long. But eventually he dragged himself out of the house, his backpack barely hanging on one of his shoulders as the pair walked to school together.

“Whatcha starin’ for?” He mumbles out, before yawning.

He didn’t have to get up this early before now. (y/n) really was dedicated to this mystery.

She’d been trying not to laugh as she looked at him. His hair disheveled, he’d probably haphazardly combed through it, the curls poking every which way. He’d hardly been able to put on sweats and a tee shirt, with a jacket loosely thrown over it to keep warm. It appeared he’d started to zip it up but gave up before he even reached halfway and left the house.

Even his glasses sat crooked on his face.

“You, you dork,” (y/n) laughs, and grabs his arm to stop him for a moment. “Do you look at yourself before you leave the house?” She asks as she zips his jacket up for him, and then adjusts his glasses to fit properly over his nose.

“Sorry we don’t all wake up hours early to pick out an outfit and do our makeup” He teases back, before playfully swatting her hands off him.

(y/n) rolls her eyes.

“I picked out my clothes the night before, dummy,” She tells him, matter of factly. “And I don’t wear makeup”

Richie’s brows furrow, and his nose scrunches up.

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” She laughs back at him. “Now wake up more! This morning is important”

“Right right, I’ll work on that”

But you see, Richie hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in four days now. He’d be up all night thinking about (y/n), and then get up early to enact his plan of the day for her locker. He couldn't have gotten more than six hours the past few nights.

So by the time they got to the school, he was already done for the day, and it wasn’t even 6:30 in the morning yet.

He followed sluggishly next to (y/n), who had never been more wide awake and perky in her whole life. And once they reached the girl’s bathroom, he nearly collapsed onto the tiled floor.

It was a good thing that the entrance to the bathroom itself didn’t have doors- a choice made by the principal, who thought that it would help them detect if anyone were smoking in the stalls.

(The students had long ago figured out how to crack the windows so they could just smoke out of there, but in this case, (y/n) was glad that there was an opening to the hall to spy through)

The pair sat just inside of the bathroom, across from each other. (y/n) was leaning against the space next to the entrance, where she could easily peek her head around the corner and see her flower covered locker. Richie sat against the brick panel just across from her, which acted as a barrier to see the bathroom from the outside.

It was just then that (y/n) realized how ridiculous her school’s plan to combat underage smoking really was. Especially as Richie pulled out a cigarette and lit it right then.

“Richie!” She scolded in a hiss, but he shrugged innocently.

“There’s no one else here” Was his answer, and she didn’t argue it any further.

She didn’t care much, she was far too excited about the events this morning was going to unfold. Richie, however, slumped further against the wall, about to fall asleep with his cigarette still in his mouth.

“Oh, I brought snacks,” (y/n) told him, pulling her backpack around, and opening it up to dig for what she packed. “I knew you wouldn’t eat before we left. And in every cop movie, they eat during the stakeout”

He thinks that his heart might explode, because never before had he heard the simplest of things sound so cute.

As she pulls out two jumbo oatmeal cream pies, which are the perfect substitute for breakfast, his eyes catch a small plastic bag inside her backpack.

“You kept all those?” He asks, recognizing the flowers sealed inside.

“Oh, yeah,” (y/n) answers, adjusting the small bag so the flowers wouldn’t get crushed. “I thought they were pretty” She told him, before shrugging a shoulder.

Richie watches her while she’s focused on these flowers, these weeds that he’d gotten for her. There was a small smile on her face as she examined them, even though they were dying, and there was a pile of petals at the bottom of the bag. But still she’d kept them.

“What are you gonna do when you find him, anyway?” Richie asked, and right away she put the flowers away and zipped up her backpack.

“I guess get to know him,” She answers, but she sounds unsure.

They simultaneously open their plastic wrapped breakfast cakes.

“Go on dates, I have to give him a chance, don’t I?”

“You say that like you don’t want to” Richie chuckles, eating in between puffs of a cigarette.

“I do,” She tells him, but it’s faint. “I do, it’s just… I don’t know what to expect,”

Richie only hums, because he doesn’t know what to say to her. There’s nothing he could say, or so he thinks.

“Can I be honest?”

“I’m sittin’ here either way, toots” He teases back.

“A part of me doesn’t really want to know” She admits, and takes a rather large bite of her breakfast snack.

“What? Why?” Richie asks.

“Um, well,” She sighs through a mouthful of food. “I’m nervous”

You have no idea the amount of anxiety I’ve been through this week, Richie thinks, but he nods his head in understanding.

“You don’t think it’s gonna be who you want it to?” He asks, and she chuckles humorlessly.

“I know it’s not who I want it to be,” She says, which only confuses him more. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give whoever it is a chance, it’s only fair, he’s done nothing but- but shower me in all these flowers and this declaration of love, you know?”

Richie nods, but it’s a very small movement.

He’s forgotten both his breakfast and his smoke in his hands as he stares at her, hanging onto every word she spoke.

“Yeah, I know” He agrees quietly.

(y/n’s) quiet as she continues to eat, the gears in her head turning almost as fast as her heart is beating. Richie can almost see her processing through every boy in school, and wondering if any of them could be the one.

He wondered if he crossed her mind when she went through this mental list.

“Hey,” Richie whispered, and kicked at her foot. “Someone’s coming down the hall”

Her expression changed in a split second, and she wiggled with excitement, before peeking out the doorway to see who was coming.

Richie felt his gut churning, he thought it might just be mush by the time this was over.

Her anticipation grew and grew as the footsteps got closer, and just when the person rounded the corner, all that came to mind was oh?

Bill Denbrough walked right up to her locker, slipped a piece of paper in the vents, did a scan to make sure no one was around, and then walked away.

And that was it.

She physically deflated in front of him, and he could see the disappointment coming off her in waves.

There was a furrow in her brows, and her grin fell to a slight frown. Even her eyes had a sadness and a confusion to them that Richie’s never seen before.

“Bill?” She mumbled, mostly to herself. “Bill Denbrough?”

Richie didn’t say anything, the guilt he was feeling eating at him from the inside.

(y/n’s) eyes meet his, but still, he’s silent. She takes his contorted expression as confusion and she shakes her head a bit.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” She continues to mumbles, slowly taking bites out of her oatmeal cream pie. “Bill? Bill’s my friend”

“Well- do you- do you want to go talk to him?” Richie asks, but it does nothing to ease her perplexed state.

“Um…”

It’s all she says.

She peeks around the doorway again, watching Bill as he walks down the hall, probably towards his first class. The buses would arrive in a few minutes, and classes would start not too long after.

“(y/n)?” Richie asks, starting to feel even worse. “Are you alright?”

“I- yeah” She stammers back, which proves she’s lying through her teeth.

“Are you sure?” Richie asks, and the look she gives him pretty much assures him that he’s going straight to hell when he dies.

She just looks so disappointed, lost and confused, and Richie didn’t think that unless Bowers himself had been at her locker, then she wouldn’t have been let down.

Clearly, this was worse.

All she does is nod her head, and toss the rest of her treat in the trash.

“(y/n)-”

“I’m gonna go to class,” She tells him, quiet, and shaky. “I- I’ll see you after school?”

She glances at him as she grabs her bag and waits at the doorway, and Richie nods his head back at her.

And then she takes off.

Richie wished that some greater force would just kill him now. ___

“I’ve got a question for you, Big Bill,”

Beverly sits down at the lunch table, and just from the look on her face, the boys are already nervous about how this conversation is going to end.

The redhead crosses her legs before leaning over the lunch table, staring at Bill almost threateningly.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Wh-what?” The boy stuttered back helplessly.

“(y/n) told me today that her little secret admirer… was you,” She said, eyes narrowing. “But… that doesn’t make any sense”

Bill cast a quick glance to Richie, but he kept his eyes trained on his food, which he was only poking at.

“W-well, I-”

“Because,” Beverly continued to explain herself, “I know that you don’t like her, not like that, not in the way her little note says”

“B-Bev I-”

“So,” The redhead cuts him off again, “Either you thought this was a funny joke, and I’ll kick your ass. Or, someone put you up to it”

The others at the table are on the edge of their seats, eager to see what happens next.

Besides Richie, who is still moping.

Ben, however, was probably the most excited one to see where this went. Seeing as he knew that Richie was the true writer of the notes, and he’d been the one to pick the flowers. And he realized that Richie must have asked Bill to do his dirty work, to throw off (y/n). But Richie could not have anticipated this chain reaction.

(y/n) herself didn't even come to the cafeteria for lunch today. She’d made plans with a teacher for an extra credit assignment just to get out of seeing Bill. She’d told Bev about this morning, and then went on to try and find a way out of every class she had with Bill. Not because she was upset with him- she could never, Bill was one of her best friends- but because she didn’t want to make it more awkward than it already was.

“I- I wasn’t tr-trying to hurt h-her,” Bill said. “I w-was just-”

“Then who is it?” Beverly asked. “Someone must have told you to do it, who?”

Richie hated that she was too smart for her own good.

“I- I can’t t-tell you,” Bill huffed. “I-I p-promised”

“Uh-huh, look, (y/n’s) my best friend, and you’re gonna have to tell me, so spit it out”

“I p-promised”

“I don’t give a shit, just spill-”

“It was me”

It only took three words for the attention of the whole table to focus on Richie. And usually when he opened his mouth, the others had a knack for completely shutting him out.

If he thought Beverly was upset before, oh boy, this was an unfiltered rage she’d just tapped into.

“What?” Her voice was low, and pissed.

“Yeah” RIchie shrugged.

“You did what?” Stan shrieked, but Richie ignored him, still staring straight at Beverly.

“Where the hell do you get off? Do you think this shit’s funny-?”

“It wasn’t a joke,” Richie said, calmly, and the red in Bev’s cheeks started to fade out. “It was real, I wrote that note for real, and I wanted to give her all the flowers and stuff”

Beverly blinked, completely baffled.

“You did what?” Stan repeated.

Richie just shrugged his shoulders, and went back to eating his lunch.

“You- but you-” Beverly shook her head, completely thrown off. “You?” Was her final question, and it wasn’t much, but it was all that she could articulate.

“Yeah. Me,” Richie responded. “You gonna go tell her now?”

Beverly shook her head, surprising him.

“Really?” He asked. “Two minutes ago you were gonna kill Bill-”

“You have to be the one to do it,” Bev told him.

Richie snorted.

“Right” He said sarcastically.

“No way” Stan interjected, but he was still being ignored.

“No, really,” Bev continued. “Right now she thinks that her friend is into her-”

“I’m her friend too” Richie said with furrowed brows.

Beverly nodded her head from side to side.

“Eh, yeah, but…” She trailed off, because she couldn’t tell Richie that she knew (y/n) liked him. “I feel like her knowing the truth is more important right now”

“Yeah, because I want to ruin the barely-friendship we have now” Richie rolls his eyes.

“Come on-”

“I’m not telling her” He deadpanned, before Beverly could try to convince him.

“Yeah, he’s not telling her” Stan chimed in, mouth full of pot pie.

“Not because of you, dingbat,” He muttered with a dirty look towards his friend. “Because I like her, and I’d like to be friends with her”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Beverly said, finally opening up her lunch bag. “I guarantee it’d be worth it if you just gave in”

Richie shook his head, and didn’t bother to argue with her anymore. He doesn’t want to have to argue something so stupid, especially when this was something unchangeable.

He was in love with a girl he knew he didn’t deserve to have, and so he’d just have to live with it. ___

As he was waiting by her locker at the end of the day, Richie wondered if he’d be able to live with this, knowing that he’s maybe ruined her whole world- or at least just her friendship with Bill.

When she finally makes her way to her locker, she seems better than this morning, and offers him a kind smile as she reaches him.

Richie grins back at her, completely out of relief.

And then he hugs her. She’s about to turn to put in her combination, and the action takes her by surprise, but she pats his back sweetly before he lets go.

“I’m really sorry about this morning,” He told her, and she tilts her head to the side a bit. “I wasn’t- I was just tired and didn’t know how to act, I’m so sorr-”

“Richie, don’t be sorry,” (y/n) cuts off his babbling. “It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong”

She gives him a genuine look, a kind look, convincing him that there was no need for his guilt, and still, he felt like a piece of shit.

“Well, Bill, I mean, you guys are friends, and-”

“It’s no big deal Richie, I overreacted,” (y/n) shook her head, before putting in her combination to collect her things. “I just wasn’t expecting him is all”

“Wh-who were you expecting?” Richie stammered out, and then cringed.

“I don’t know,” (y/n) hummed. “Just… not him”

She puts her books away, and gathers what she’d need to do her homework tonight, before shutting her locker and looking up at him readily.

She notices the crease between his brows, and he seems very zoned out, because he’s just standing there, instead of heading out.

“Rich?” She asks, holding onto the straps of her backpack. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, sorry, yeah” He nodded, and moved out of his stiff position to walk by her side down the hall.

She kicks his foot gently, not to trip him, just to tease.

“Stop with the apologizing,” She says with a small giggle. “Hey, do you want to get slushies again?”

He looks down at her, but doesn’t really answer, just stares at her.

Her hair is in a messy bun resting at the back of her head, and more strands have fallen out than are still being held in the hair tie, but somehow it’s still perfect. It’s a very (y/n) look.

She kicks at his foot again.

“Yeah, sure, sounds good” He finally snaps himself out of his daze.

“You okay upstairs?” She asks him playfully.

“Are you asking me if I’m crazy?” Richie asks, just as they make their way out of the school, and down the front steps.

“No, never,” (y/n) laughs again. “You just seem out of it..?” She speaks like it’s a suggestion, as though she’s asking him.

“You’re right, and I completely blame you for waking me up so early”

“Blame me?” (y/n) repeats.

“Yes! You were the one that made me wake up at the crack-of-fucking-dawn!” Richie retorts, whilst giggling because he can’t help it when he’s joking with her.

Somehow when he’s cracking jokes with the others, he always laughs loudly, his friends find it annoying. But with (y/n), his boisterous laughs faded into childlike giggles.

“Well excuse me for being a romantic,” She said, playfully narrowing her eyes at him. “I thought you would understand”

Richie’s brows crinkle, and he looks down at her with an amused smile.

“Me? You thought I’d understand?”

“Yes!” She answered enthusiastically.

“And what in the fuck makes you think I’m a romantic?” Richie asked with a snort, but he was starting to blush.

“Obviously because you bothered to come with me this morning,” (y/n) answered, a bright smile on her face. “If you weren’t a romantic, then you wouldn’t have come”

“That doesn’t-”

“Awe Richie, you can admit it,”

He thinks his heart stopped in his chest, and he’s about to die.

“You wanted me to find loooove” She sing-songs the word, and it made him roll his eyes.

“Oh toots, you think far too highly of me” He tells her in his poor british accent.

“No, I don’t think so,” (y/n) shakes her head. “I just think you don’t want to admit it. You just wanna be the cool guy”

“So you think I’m romantic and cool?” He asks, and now she’s the one to roll her eyes, but it’s an affectionate action, and accompanied by a bright smile.

“Don’t be so full of yourself” She says, before sticking her tongue out at him.

“I’m just repeating your words toots,” He responds. “You flatter me”

She laughs, despite herself, and he beams back at her.

“Yeah, well, you’re also a dummy” She murmurs, but it doesn’t hinder Richie’s good mood.

He already knew that. He just sure loved hearing those other things from her.

Once at the 7-Eleven, (y/n) made her same cherry and blueberry slushie, and then raced to the counter to pay for both of their drinks while Richie was too busy with making his terrible drink.

Just as he turned to head up to the register, he found her standing there, a smirk on her face while she sipped on her drink.

“You didn’t” He groaned, but she lifted a shoulder and gave him a knowing look.

“I did” She replied with a grin, and nodded her head for him to follow her outside.

“You’re the worst” He mutters as he sits next to her.

She hums, holding her slushie between her hands and giving him a shit eating grin.

“That’s fair,” She responds, poking his arm teasingly. “And you should know that you’re also the worst”

“That’s fair,” He mimics, and taps his cup against hers.

They drink in silence for a bit, besides a few jokes from Richie here and there that he can’t help. But eventually she just has to get it off her chest.

“So, did you know?” She asks him, nervously looking over to him. “About Bill? Did he ever… say anything?”

Richie knows then that the mistake he’s made is catastrophic.

“Um, no, he didn’t” He said, which isn’t technically a lie.

But then again, if you have to argue that it’s not a lie… it definitely isn’t the right thing to say.

“Oh” She mumbles, and moves her straw around in her cup, mixing the red and blue flavors.

“He’s probably just shy,” Richie blurts out. “You know, otherwise he would’ve just handed you all that stuff”

“I suppose,” She agrees in a mumble. “It’s just odd, you know, since you’re his best friend”

“I mean, best friends don’t always share everything”

“That’s not true, there’s nothing I wouldn’t tell Bev,” (y/n) tells him sincerely. “And even when I have hid things, she’s always figured it out anyways. She’s always had a way of reading me,” She giggles softly as she reminisces on how good of a friend she has. “Don’t you tell him everything?”

“Well- kind of,” Richie’s still stammering, as a result of him bending over backwards to keep his secret. “I know that, um, well he’d do anything for me,” He says. “And I’d do the same for him too”

“That’s what best friends are, aren’t they?” (y/n) asks, looking back at him again. “Someone you can trust and put before anyone else in the world? Someone worth fighting for?”

“You’re cheesy,” Richie says with a nervous laugh.

He has to stop himself from tugging at his collar, because fuck, he felt like he might just overheat.

“But that’s a good thing!” He adds impulsively.

(y/n) smiles.

“Mostly I think they’re secret keepers” She hums.

“I can’t imagine you have that many secrets” Richie replies, and again, she smiles at him.

“You’d be surprised,” She says, so softly he thinks she’s trying to tell him one, but he doesn’t understand it. “But no, there’s not many”

“Tell me one” He says before he could think of something more suave.

She glances over at him,and one of her eyebrows quirks up in surprise.

“And what makes you think you’re so deserving of one of my secrets?”

“I just dare you to” Richie says, and a smirk tugs on his lips because he’s a piece of shit like that, but it makes (y/n) laugh.

“Well, if you dare me to, I suppose I’m obligated then, hm?”

“You absolutely are toots,” He says. “So, are you a man or mouse?”

“I’m but a humble girl,” She says in her best horrible british accent, leaning over to him dramatically.

She can’t contain her laughter, which makes it all the more adorable to him, and he gazes at her fondly while her hands pat against his arm softly.

“But if my deepest darkest secrets are the entertainment you seek, then that is the entertainment you shall receive” She continues in her accent.

Richie rubs his hands together in a maniacal fashion, and he scoots closer to her with anticipation.

A part of her is screaming to tell him how she feels, that’s probably her greatest secret after all. But she looks at him and reminds herself just why she can’t.

It was too hard just to become friends, to get past the barrier that had been (and still is) Eddie and Stan’s disapproval, so a friendship is just what she’d have to accept right now.

“Well, this isn’t exactly a secret,” She sighs, “But I guess you don’t know, it’s kind of a secret from you”

Richie’s brows furrow, but his lips turn into a smile as her hands wring together nervously.

“And what could you possibly have to hide from me, toots?” He asks, his smile still stuck on his face.

Her fingers are still fiddling as she meets his eyes, and she licks her lips before taking in a deep breath.

“Well, so, um, so you know how Stan and Eddie are always being… well, I think they’re overprotective for some odd reason, but they used to always drag me away? Whenever I was around you?”

“Yeah?” Richie asked, wondering where the hell she could be going with this.

“Yeah, well…”

“Well what?” Richie asked, dying to know. “You realized they had good reasons?”

“What? No!” (y/n) swatted at his arm. “Of course not, just the opposite, actually”

“The opposite?”

“Yes…” She responded in a huff. “They told me that they weren’t going to invite you to movie night one time, and I… maybe… yelled a little,”

Richie smirked, enjoying the image in his head of (y/n) chewing out Stan and Eddie.

“And… well, I told them that I wanted to be friends with you whether or not they were happy about it. And maybe they still like to cover my ears whenever you talk, and they still talk shit, but I- I don’t care,”

She realizes she’s rambling, and her hands are moving around rapidly in front of her, and suddenly she pauses to collect herself, before looking at him.

“Anyways, that’s why I asked you to walk me home from school” She finishes softly.

“Wait,” Richie shakes his head, and his brows furrow. “I thought you said that Bowers started following you?”

(y/n) gives him a sheepish smile, before shaking her head.

“Nope,” Her voice was barely a mumble. “I tricked you into being friends with me”

Richie let out a scoff, before his lips pulled into a wide grin, and he nudged his shoulder down against hers.

“You sly little devil,” He teased, and he couldn’t miss the blush spreading over her cheeks. “You deceived me?”

“Yep,” She shrugged. “That’s how desperate I was” She adds with a shy laugh.

His heart is soaring, and for a minute, he forgot about the mess he’d gotten himself into.

“Well you must have been lonely seeing as you were looking for my friendship” He teased, but she shook her head at him.

“Don’t talk like that, you’re one of my closest friends, I love hanging out with you,”

Oh fuck, this girl will be the death of me.

“I don’t regret any of it, not at all” She adds sweetly.

And goddamnit, the look on her face is so sincere, so kind, and if he weren’t such a fool, he probably would have kissed her right then and there.

“You are a romantic,” He tells her instead, and her small smile widens.

Richie reaches his hand out, offering to take her empty cup to throw away. She thanks him as she hands it to him, and watches him as he gets up and tosses it in the bin at the front doors.

When he comes back to her, he extends his hand again, but this time his silent offer is to help her stand. She takes it, without hesitation, and he pulls her to her feet.

“Ready to go?” He asks, letting go of her hand after lingering for just one extra second.

(y/n) nods, adjusting her backpack as she walks with him in the direction of home. She doesn’t ask him to walk her home, and he doesn’t offer, but they both know he is, because he always does.

They talk more, about anything they can think of, really. School, their friends, random rumors going around that can’t be true but sure are fascinating to talk about. They cover anything and everything- except for Bill, except for the notes and the flowers, and for the ten minutes it takes to get (y/n) home, Richie lives in a world where it doesn’t even exist.

It’s not until they reach her doorstep that he remembers. Not by choice- but he can’t help but be reminded of it every time her eyes meet his.

“As always Tozier,” (y/n) sighs, her hands latching onto his wrists as she smiles up at him, “Thank you for walking me home”

He smiles back at her, but it isn’t his typical shit eating grin. It’s small and soft, it’s loving.

“Every time, toots” He tells her sweetly.

There’s a small laugh that comes out of her in a breath, and she squeezes his wrists gently before letting go.

“See you tomorrow Rich” She says, and turns to her door.

He starts to go, but the further he gets the more of a weight he feels on his shoulders, to the point that he knows if he doesn’t turn around, he might collapse on her driveway.

So he does just that, he spins around, and walks back up to her.

“Wait, (y/n/n)?”

“Yeah?” She asks, blinking at him, waiting patiently for him to continue, which for some reason it’s taking him a moment to speak again.

“Do you want to walk to school together in the morning?”

Her head tilts just barely to the side at his odd and sudden request, but a smile blossoms on her lips, and she nods her head.

“Sure” She agrees delightedly.

“Okay,” He nods back at her, and some of his guilt washes away. “I’ll pick you up this time”

“Okay,” She repeats. “I’ll be waiting”

Again, he’s nodding, but it’s rapid and nervous and he can almost hear his own heart beating inside of his head.

“Okay, bye” He says, stepping back to leave this time.

But goddamn it he can’t do it, he can’t move, not a single muscle, he’s frozen there in front of her doorstep, nearly a statue, struck by anxiety and guilt and worst of all, love.

He can’t stop himself, the words tumble out before he even thinks about their consequences.

But this is what happens when it comes to (y/n), he can’t control his actions whatsoever. His heart takes the wheel and does whatever the fuck it wants, and it wants (y/n) more than anything in the whole fucking world.

(Richie agrees with this, but he thinks maybe if his heart could dial it back a little, then he wouldn’t be so scared all the time, like he is right now)

“It was me” His heart speaks for him, without warning, without a plan. It just wants to speak the words into existence.

Not just to his friends at the lunch table, that wasn’t enough. It needed (y/n’s) own ears to hear. Richie wanted (y/n) to hear.

“What?” She asks, turning around to face him.

Her question is genuine, she doesn’t understand what he’s referring to, but something about the look on his face, the one of sheer guilt from the short confession, tugged at her deep down. And deep down, she knew exactly what he was telling her.

She could translate what he truly meant just from the way his eyebrows creased, and how he was chewing at the inside of his cheek, and grinding his teeth.

“All of it, everything, it was all me” He went on.

“Richie, what do you…?” She starts to question him, but as she stares back at him, her words fail her, and she can only let out a soft breath.

“I just- I wanted you to know the truth, and I didn’t want to fuck up your friendship with Bill, I’m sorry for that”

“He… he wasn’t…?”

Still, she’s slowly going mute, as she drops her bag to the ground, and rummages through it for the most recent gift, the note that she’d seen Bill put into her locker.

“But I… but we… I saw…”

She knows she sounds idiotic, and she wished she’d been able to properly collect her thoughts and ask him complete questions, but she’s just so shocked.

She had been so certain that it couldn’t have been Richie.

Her hands are trembling as she opens the folded note, eyes scanning it swiftly.

“What’s it say?” Richie asks, and her eyes flicker up to his, before going back to the paper in her hands.

“It-” She starts, but her throat swells up and she chokes for a second. “It says- um,”

Her brows are furrowing, eyes trained on the few words scrawled across the whole sheet of paper. The writing is haphazard, but still, whoever had written it had done so perfectly, as it fit right in the center of the page. The longer she studied it, the more she realized it just had to have been Richie.

“It says I’m- I’m so-”

“I’m so fucking in love with you,”

Richie speaks up, and she looks up from the page, staring at him with her brows knit together, and her lips parted in shock. She’s taking in short little breaths, trying to calm her eager heart.

“That I don’t know what to do with myself” He finished, and promptly kicked his shoe against the ground.

She’s still staring at him, waiting for more of an explanation, or waiting for him to tell her he was kidding and then run off down the street.

It couldn’t have been more clear to her that he was being absolutely sincere.

“Yeah,” Richie huffs. “Um, it really was all me”

(y/n) blinks at him, before folding up the note again, and sliding it carefully back into her bag.

“Then what about this morning?” She whispered meekly. “And you looked at them all- talked about it with me like- like-”

“I didn’t want you to know,” Richie shrugged, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “That was… it was the point of it being anonymous”

“Richie…” (y/n) starts, and he braces himself, staring down at the ground, silently praying it would swallow him whole right now. “I… I really thought it wasn’t you”

His head shoots up, because that’s not what he expected.

“What?”

“I- yeah- that first, um, note, I kinda thought that maybe you’d… you know, written it,” She says softly. Her hands start to wring together again. “But from the way you’d reacted to it I just thought there was no way and… it sucked”

He shakes his head in disbelief, and the action makes her crack a smile, because he looks so confused and it’s so cute and utterly Richie.

“You- you wanted it to be me?” He asks, brows deeply furrowed as he stares at her skeptically, unsurely.

She bites down on her smile as she nods her head in confirmation.

“Yeah. Yeah of course I wanted it to be you,” She whispers. “I just really didn’t think it could have been, especially when you went on that stake out and the flowers-”

“(y/n),” He cuts her off, stepping forward until there’s the smallest amount of space between them, and she has to tilt her head back to keep their eye contact. “I have to know, do you have feelings for me too?”

His glasses are sliding down his nose as he stares down at her, the look in his eyes intense as they flicker in between hers, searching for any sign at all. He needed to know if this was the single greatest mistake of his life, and he’d live the rest of his days a lonely fool-

“Richie,” She murmurs back, a slight shake in her head as her own eyes wander the features of his face, mapping out every freckle, every dip, every crease. She’s consumed by her own love for him and he didn’t even know it yet.

She doesn’t finish her thought, because she can’t help but lean in and capture his lips. It’s a tentative kiss, because it’s new and she’s never kissed someone that she’s liked this much before.

Her hands were slow as they lifted from her sides, and pressing lightly against his shoulders.

When she pulled away, it took a second for her to process what just happened. Meanwhile Richie was staring at her intensely, trying to get a read on her.

She’s starting to smile, and finally her eyes flutter open.

And all at once, he doesn’t feel like this is such a catastrophic mistake.

His fingers reach up and brush against her jaw tenderly. Her eyes are half lidded, and trained on his lips.

“Sorry,” She mumbles. “I just wanted to-”

“I get it” Richie shakes his head, cutting her off.

His hands slid up her jaw before cupping around her cheeks, and then slammed his lips down against hers. She didn’t even have time to take in a breath before their lips connected, and she stumbled back at first but when she threw her arms around his neck she caught her balance and kissed him back passionately.

She’d never felt such a clarity though, and she thought she was going to float right off the ground.

It was like she’d been waiting for this one amazing kiss for a long time now, and it was everything she’d hoped for and more.

Richie’s fingers slid into her hair, cradling the back of her head and pulling her impossibly closer to him, as close as he could get her without picking her up and clutching her body against his.

He was dying to do that though.

“I can’t believe it,” (y/n) mumbled in between kisses. “I love you too,” She added, her lips moving against his before attaching again, kissing him just a bit harder. “And I-”

“You do?” Richie pulled away, and his hands dropped back to cradle her face sweetly.

She beams at him, before nodding her head in a choppy fashion.

“Yeah,” She mumbled, smoothing her hands over his shoulders, before gliding down his arms. “I do”

His grin matches her own, and it's hard to bite it back so that he can kiss her again. ___

It was two weeks later when (y/n) found herself placing flowers in Richie’s curls while he was passed out.

The Loser’s Club had gone to the quarry, planning to spend the whole Saturday there. And it was the first group thing that Richie and (y/n) were officially a couple at, but they also hadn’t all hung out properly in about a month, so it was a big deal.

Mike, Stan, and Bev brought all the food and snacks they could find that would keep in coolers.

Eddie and Bill brought drinks, sodas, waters, Eddie provided juice boxes that everyone made fun of but still drank anyways.

Ben brought a bunch of blankets for everyone to sprawl out on.

That left Richie and (y/n) in charge of the alcohol for the night, which pretty much meant Richie stealing as much as he could while (y/n) kept a lookout. They had a system of bringing a bag full of empty bottles into a store, and sneaking liquor into the bathroom to transfer it into the bottles.

It was a skill they perfected on their first try. Maybe it wasn’t moral, or legal, but they were seventeen, and stealing from their parents just wouldn’t get them enough alcohol for all eight of them.

They’d spent the whole day doing whatever they wanted. Which was mostly swimming and drinking at the same time, despite Stan letting everyone know he would not help them if they drowned. But now that the sun was starting to set and everyone was dwindling down, their party turned more into a calm night.

Maybe too calm, because Richie had passed out on one of the blankets.

But he had drunk quite a lot quite fast, spent twenty minutes picking every single flower and weed-that-looked-like-a-flower in the area, proclaimed them to be beautiful but never as beautiful as his girlfriend, and then pretty much dropped dead.

(y/n) was currently using the plants he’d picked now to lay them in his hair while he slept. She laid on her stomach by his side, admiring how pretty he was as she did so.

“Are you making me a flower crown?”

Her eyes flickered down to his, not having expected him to say anything.

“I thought you were asleep?” She hummed.

“I was, but then the strangest thing happened,” Richie said, squinting up at her. “I felt this- this presence, like an angelic, godly presence. And next thing I know, there you are”

“Shut up,” (y/n) giggled, poking his cheek before rifling through her pile of flowers again. “You’re such a nerd”

“I thought you liked that” He teased.

“Of course I do,” She murmured back. “I just also think you should be reminded”

It was quiet for a moment while she focused on threading the stem of a dandelion perfectly through one of his curls. After she’d made it as structurally sound as she could, she grinned, and gave him her attention again.

“And it’s not a flower crown,” She told him as she rolled onto her back, staying right next to him. “But there are, like, a shit ton of flowers in your hair. I had to do something with all the ones you picked for me”

He could hear Stan and Eddie making fun of him, while they sat not too far away taking turns drinking juice boxes and taking shots. But it didn’t matter. They would always tease him and (y/n), it was normal, and he came to terms with that the very day that (y/n) told him she loved him too, and they started going out.

It simply didn’t matter anymore. Nothing they could say could matter.

“You want a juice box?” (y/n) asked, poking his cheek again because he had clearly zoned out. “You drank a lot and then kinda just took a nap, you need something else in your system”

He smiles at her and nods.

“Sure” He answers, and starts to get up but (y/n) gently pushes him back down.

“Don’t move, you’ll mess up your flowers” She tells him, and then gets up to get them juice boxes.

Richie’s pretty certain he’s died and somehow was lucky enough to go to heaven. He didn’t know how he pulled it off, but that made more sense than his reality.

I’m (y/n’s) boyfriend, he thinks, and then he repeats it to himself again and again.

She collapsed next to him again not a minute later, before handing him one of the juice boxes.

“Eddie’s kinda hoarding them,” She mutters, settling her head against his upper arm, which he wrapped around her to pull her closer. “But he also accidentally got drunk, again, so I just took them when he wasn’t looking”

Richie chuckles, sipping away on the cheap drink, still lost in his own hazy thoughts.

(y/n) looks up at him, noticing his quiet state, and sets her box down.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” She asked softly, gazing into his eyes lovingly.

“Take a wild fuckin’ guess sweetheart,” Richie chuckled, and (y/n) rolled her eyes affectionately. “I know, I’m a nerd”

She nods her head, and once again, pokes his cheek. But her fingertip glides over his cheekbone and then along his jaw, tracing over his skin delicately.

“Yeah, but I love you for it”

His lips turn up into a cheesy grin, and he gives her a quick kiss that makes her cheeks flush pink.

He’s had two (amazing) weeks of watching her blush like that every time he kisses her, and it’s his new favorite thing.

“Richie,” She hums. “I’m so fucking in love with you that I don’t know what to do with myself-”

“Ha ha,” Richie can’t help but roll his eyes while (y/n) giggles, thinking she’s so funny for repeating his own words back to him. “You’re gonna do that all the time now aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” She nods her head seriously. “All the time. Probably every day, hell, I’ll start calling you before I go to bed to remind you”

He finishes his juice box so that he can wrap both arms around her.

“I’d be okay with that”

“Good” She mumbles back happily.

“But you know that makes you a nerd too” He tells her.

She tilts her head back to look at him, before kissing him fully, her lips lingering against his for a second after she pulls away.

“That must be why we’re so perfect together” She says with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah yeah, you cheeseball,” Richie teases, and tugs her against him.

They lay and enjoy each other’s company, and the atmosphere of their friends.

Ben’s telling Beverly about how he helped Richie write his first note, and Mike and Bill are drunk wrestling horribly in the grass. It’s an odd mix of things to listen to while one is trying to enjoy the sunset with their significant other, but something about it still felt right.

Richie breaks the silence just as (y/n) is considering napping with him.

“You’re right”

___

taglist: @lemonypink @darling-egg @fiantomartell

a/n: this was um really fun to write even tho it took me a month lmao

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier scenario #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier fanfiction #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard x reader

222 notes · View notes

the-resurrection-3d · 2 years

Text

@bittersweet-optimism, I decided to copy-paste your ask under the cut so I can respond to it section-by-section -- and, hilariously enough, I got your other ask right as I was wrapping up this response, so congrats on the timing! I’m still feeling pretty tired and there’s a lot to cover, so these answers aren’t as in-depth as I would normally go, but I hope they clear up some things!

OKAY so I am still slightly struggling to form a single complex thought that’s anything but “oh okay I guess that’s happening now” so I might come back to this in the morning when I’m less tired. Also I’ve never had a hot take on something in my life so uh

So, the first thing that comes to mind is that that body horror truly was Something and I am Vaguely Confused. And daddy long dick is the correct interpretation of Luca’s character.

Yeah, I wrote that more as a vent piece when I was honestly kinda spiraling, so don’t worry to much about it—the body horror stuff is not “canon,” though everything about Nick teaching Alberto how to play tennis certainly is. Also thank you, lol.

So first actual thought: the whole thing with Nick’s… fixation on Alberto’s claws. Like. Huh. There were a lot of times where using them for Violence in bed was implied. And directly referenced. Which. Doesn’t necessarily confuse me, but it did surprise me. Didn’t really expect Nick to like being the one in pain. And Alberto always seemed so hesitant, too. Was Nick making him do that?

Yeah, Nick’s whole pain kink comes out very rarely – and yes, Nick is making him do it.

Also! The fact that it is unclear when nick is doing something out of genuine affection or to try and guilt trip Alberto into staying with him and doing what he wants. Gross.

Lol, true! Sometimes I forget that y’all’s perspective on Nick is different than mine insofar as I know when he’s being genuine, but obviously you guys don’t. Honestly, half the time Alberto can’t really get a good read on Nick, either.

Alright, now we’re moving onto the big one.

I may understand both timelines, but I do not Understand both timelines. In other words, the logistics and actual order of events has been lost on me (although I would probably be able to clear some of that up if I went and reread some of your more recent actual published works but I am Too Tired). Like. Did anything happen in between the end of the movie and Nick,

Not really, beyond what “Ciao Alberto” already touched on—i.e., Alberto is trying very hard to fit into this new life, but there’s a lot of stuff he just doesn’t really know how to do. So he’s struggling to really make any new friends and, even though his relationship with Massimo is getting better, it doesn’t undo all The Trauma.

Honestly the way “Ciao Alberto” just reinforced how Alberto is totally the type of kid to get groomed. But we can talk about that later.

when/how did Alberto and Nick meet,

I’m thinking that Nick comes around in the Spring after the movie’s end, because he’s taking a gap year off school (though why exactly he’s doing that will be better explained in the Berlin fic). Because Ercole’s dad and Nick’s uncle are kinda old friends/in the same business area, Ercole and Nick have met before, and so Nick hangs out a bit with Ercole just kinda to have someone around while he gets his bearings in Portorosso again (he hasn’t been there since, like, the start of high school). Nick’s first encounter with Alberto would be him breaking up a fight between Alberto and Ercole, but his first real meeting with Alberto is when he asks Massimo for help supplying the fish for his upcoming birthday party. Nick invites Alberto to drive with him over to the venue since it’s too far away to reasonable bike with all that cargo.

I know I’m hedging my words more than usual, but that’s because I know myself well enough to also know that writing this all out as a story would probably force me to change my mind another 50 million times. Another reason I’m glad I’m not writing out the full Grooming Fic TM, lol. To be completely honest, I don’t have any real Nickberto Backstory Content planned beyond the Berlin fic. I dunno. Obviously things can change but. you know.

was it immediately a sexual/romantic thing or did that take a minute,

Nick takes a little bit just to kinda observe Alberto and weigh his options, but yeah, he makes his actual intentions clear pretty early on.

how long were they together before nick left,

Most of a year </3

was there a moment when Alberto realized how not okay he was treated or was he always aware that this was unhealthy,

In my mind, Alberto always knew this wasn’t “right,” but there are a lot of reasons he still stays—such as how Nick is incredibly sweet and patient in the beginning, even if he still does stuff that make sirens go off in Alberto’s head, or how Alberto doesn’t really have friends his own age to reach out to—especially not ones who “get” his issues the way Nick does.

when you referred to “Nick Ruining Everything” do you mean just the entire time Alberto and Nick had any sort of relationship or was there a specific incident,

It’s a specific incident that really throws a wrench into Alberto and Luca’s blossoming relationship. The Berlin fic will touch on it more but. Yeah. It’s bad.

when did Alberto get together with Luca, etc etc.

In my mind, reg.! Alberto is obviously already in love with Luca by the time Nick rolls around, but he doesn’t really hook up with him until after Nick is gone.

I feel mostly the same slight confusion about modern timeline like, what’s the backstory for how Alberto got adopted by Massimo,

Massimo found him after Alberto got tangled up in a fishing net and almost got killed by hunters :P

how long between that and Nick,

Roughly the same amount of time as in Reg. Timeline, so let’s say about half a year.

how did Alberto and Nick meet, how does the timeline being modern affect their relationship while they are still in it,

A lot of things about Nick’s year in Portorosso are the same, with the exception being a) that Alberto is going to a regular high school while Giulia still goes away to Genova (as per Massimo’s custody agreement with her mother), and b) Massimo has encouraged him to keep being a sea monster a secret. (Of course Nick eventually finds out, but he’s really the only other person who knows.)

The fact that Alberto is actually in high school makes it more realistic in all the worst ways, such as how Nick helps him with homework and coaches him so he can get on the tennis team. As the body horror fic kinda touched on, Nick was the captain of his fancy private school’s varsity tennis team, so coaching Alberto is very exciting for him. I hate it.

were they officially broken up during bandingo or what,

you cant be officially broken up if you were never really dating! :’) Technically yes they were on one of their “off” seasons, but Nick refuses to actually let Alberto call them boyfriends, always keeping this relationship in this weird undefined zone that makes Alberto just feel more insecure. yes I'm your first love yes I’m your daddy yes I'm the only person you're allowed to rely on or fuck or even look at but no I'm not your boyfriend, get real. God I hate him.

how/when did Alberto and Luca find out about each other being sea monsters, yada yada.

Godddd I need to write this outttt. Right now I’m thinking their third or fourth date, but I do definitely want to write out how they find out because it’s very sweet <3 And that’s all I’ll say about it right now.

And now thinking about bandingo has me thinking about Giulia and now I’m thinking about how while I kinda know what her deal is in modern timeline, I don’t think you’ve said anything on her place in regular timeline. What does she think. Does she know Nick exists.

Not really, at least not until Nick’s gone – and obviously it upsets her because she can tell it hurt Alberto deeply, but she’s doesn’t really know how to approach Alberto and comfort him, so she kind of shoves it onto Luca. She WANTS to help, certainly, but her and Alberto really haven’t had time yet to get to know each other without Luca there as a mediating factor.

This bit is a me thing and is therefore difficult to explain to someone that isn’t me but. You know that first piece that you put out on here? I’ve read it a few times (I said that I read the entirety of the nick tag but it would be more accurate to say that I reread most of it and got caught up on what I haven’t) but this time it completely broke my brain. Like. If i see horny or otherwise adult content, I will assume that the characters involved are adults. Like. logically I knew that I was reading a 20 yo grooming and abusing a 15 yo because you specifically reminded us but it never clicked until now and now those little jabs about being an adult feel like actual physical punches to my gut (specifically the 3/4 an adult one. That’s LITERAL, not just him being teasing. I know that’s the point and it’s my own fault it kept going over my head but Oh My Fucking God. Jesus Christ. 3/4 of 18 is 13.5 and What The Fuck. Oh my god.)

God, I was so fucking angry the day I wrote that, to the point where it was genuinely hard to even sit still. It’s not really my place to say what actually happened, but – yeah, I think you can feel some of that energy in the piece itself. Even when I’m writing now, there’ll be little things that highlight the age gap (even in the Berlin fic when Alberto is 18), and I’m just like Jeeeesus H. Christ, Nick.

Kind of off-topic, but something I kinda funny about Nickberto is how, in comparison to a lot of other age-gap relationships in media, their age difference isn’t actually that bad. 5 years between adults is really nothing, especially when Oliver and Elio from CMBYN have a 7-year gap, and Brian and Justin from Queer as Folk have fucking twelve. (I think my own parents have nine years between them, though they didn’t meet until they were both already out of college.)

But Elio and Justin are both 17 when the relationships start, old enough to either be technically legal in their home state or for people to try and justify it by playing the “well he’s almost 18”/”he’s mature for his age” cards. Alberto’s too young for all that—even in my state, where the age of consent (between minors!) is 16, Nick is still too old to be covered by our Romeo and Juliet clause. Obviously I’ve heard the whole “aoc in Italy Is 16” thing before, back during the heyday of Call Me By Your Discourse, but TBH I have not fact-checked that and I don’t care to.

Also also, it was mildly funny to see my own asks that I’d lost track of because I’d been too much of a coward to go off anon again. Like yeah. That dumb ask about a nick death loop wad a good one. Good job, me.

I liked that one too c: As for your comment about Alberto playing tennis, Nick’s influence aside, I think he would really like it! He needs a good outlet for all his energy.

I hope that cleared some things up! thanks for the asks <3

#nick tag #2d asks

4 notes · View notes

tamsong · 3 years

Text

pull you from the tide - keefitz

summary: in which fitz tries to hammer it into keefe’s head that he deserves to be loved.

notes: this is half vent, half fix-it. this my first time writing fic for kotlc since i was like 13, so let me know what you guys think?

warnings: swearing, very vague references to homophobia and bad parents

***

keefe doesn’t come home.

a week passes, then two. a month. three. everything is weirdly silent on the neverseen front, despite sophie’s daring act of burning down the waterfall hideout. it feels like time is standing still- keefe’s absence hangs heavy in the air like ozone in the hour before it rains.

fitz has barely spoken in those three months. in another world, he might’ve been angry like he usually is. in this world, though, no one’s around to be angry at, and fitz feels like his roots have been ripped out of the ground.

at the next black swan meeting, fitz quietly asks to speak to mr. forkle alone. the black swan leader nods resignedly, like he already knows what fitz is going to ask. sophie raises her eyebrows at him from across the room. i’ll tell you later, he transmits to her, but he doesn’t plan on it. sophie’s been hurt enough, and if she knows about this and it doesn’t work, she’ll be devastated.

mr. forkle walks him down the hall. he doesn’t say anythin

“i want to go look for him,” fitz says, trying to sound confident. but he’s anything but. he doesn’t feel like anything more than the desperate, frightened child that he is.

mr. forkle opens his mouth, but fitz cuts him off. “please,” he adds. “i... i don’t know what else to do. i know he said he doesn’t want to be found, but i- we can’t go on like this. i know the forbidden cities better than almost anyone, so i might as well try. please.”

“i can’t promise you’ll find anything, mr. vacker,” mr. forkle replies. “but if it’s really what you want, i can give you a leaping crystal.”

fitz sighs. “i know. trust me, i know. but if there’s any way i can get him back, i still want to go.”

the black swan leader nods in response. “very well. i’ll meet you at everglen tomorrow morning, and i’ll monitor you to ensure your safety. now, go on and meet your friends, and put this out of your mind for the rest of the day.”

he thanks mr. forkle profusely, then does as he’s told. only a few minutes after he leaves does fitz realize that his request was granted far too easily- mr. forkle, while certainly not a cruel man, expects him to fail. there would be a lot more lecturing and protocol if he didn’t.

fitz doesn’t blame him.

***

the next morning, fitz takes the blue crystal from mr. forkle, his hands trembling. he’s dressed in the same jacket, jeans, and boots from when he first found sophie. he thought the memories would be calming, but the sense of deja vu only unsettles him, really. on that pleasant thought, fitz holds the crystal up to the sunlight and steps into its path, holding his breath.

he arrives in an empty park, hidden between two trees. freezing rain is pouring down from the sky, a sharp contrast from the eternally pleasant weather at everglen. fitz shudders, puts his hands in his pockets, and steps out of his hiding place.

he roams the streets of san diego all afternoon and evening, ducking in and out of stores, cafes, and libraries, all of it to no sign of keefe. finally, when the sky is nearly dark and the rain has slowed to a drizzle, fitz stops in front of a building with sign reading san diego youth services. he shrugs and opens the door. it’s as good as anything, i guess.

“have you seen my friend?” he asks one of the staff in heavily accented english. “he’s tall and skinny, has blond hair and light blue eyes. about my age, doesn’t speak much english.”

the woman squints and brushes her wet hair out of her eyes. “we had someone like that come in a couple months ago, and he comes here to sleep most nights. fidgety guy, looks sad all the time?”

fitz pulls his jacket hood further up. “that's probably him, yes,” he answers, trying and failing to keep his voice steady. may i see him?”

she nods. deep frown lines run down her face, like she’s seen too much tragedy in her short life. “sure. last i saw, he was out back.”

the staff woman walks fitz through the building out to a secluded area adjacent to an alleyway, protected from the public eye. fitz doesn’t see anyone at first, but on second glance spots a flash of blond from further down the alley. he hurriedly thanks the woman and dashes over, heartbeat picking up.

he skids to a stop when he sees keefe there, sitting on a step and dripping with rainwater. he looks up, startled, at the sound of fitz’s footsteps, and his mouth opens and closes in shock once he realizes who’s in front of him.

fitz expects a snarky comment, something like well look who we have here! or wow, guess i’m famous, but keefe says nothing. on one level, it’s terrifying, because fitz has rarely ever known his friend to be silent. on the other hand, though, he gets it. even without keefe’s strange new ability that makes speaking a risk, what else is there to be done in a situation like this? two years ago, they both would have laughed if told this would be their future.

they hover there for what feels like hours, neither boy knowing what to do.

finally, fitz breaks the quiet. “hi,” he says lamely, and then slaps himself mentally. really? is that the best you can give him?

he tries again. “keefe. i...” no. that wouldn’t do either.

“you couldn’t even bother with a goodbye?” he finally bursts out, trying to muster up the anger he doesn’t feel. this isn’t the right way to approach it either, but fitz doesn’t know how else to communicate. “did you think i wouldn’t care? sophie’s not the only one who was fucking sad, you know. biana can barely do anything but cry. dex isn’t talking to anyone, and neither is linh. even tam- i know you guys never got along, but he wants you home just as much as the rest of us.”

he shakes his head. “i know this can’t be easy for you, but we want to help you. even if we can’t, then we can find someone who can.”

“i’m not even mad, really,” fitz continues, looking up at the sky. he can’t bring himself to make eye contact. “if you didn’t care to say goodbye to me, i get it. i haven’t exactly been best friend material lately, and i wouldn’t blame you for never wanting to speak to me. but i read what you wrote to sophie, and it’s the biggest bullshit i’ve ever heard. be happy? forget about you?” he scoffs. “do you even hear yourself? i- she- we could never do that. you’re giving yourself too much credit.”

he turns around, fists clenching so hard his nails cut through his skin. “so this is my goodbye, i guess. i meant to bring you home, but you deserve a choice after everything. stay away, if you must, just know that we- i care for you, keefe. you deserve to be cared about. and if you don’t come home... i’ll miss you. i want you to know that.”

fitz finally exhales. he’s said his piece, laid all his cards out on the table. it’s keefe’s move now, and fitz will respect it, even if it fucking kills him to do it.

“fitz.” keefe speaks for the first time since fitz arrived, his voice hoarse and miserable. fitz whips back around, searching for any sign in his best friend’s face that might signal a change of heart.

“fitz,” keefe repeats. the expression he wears is downcast and resigned. “i want to come home, more than anything i’ve ever wanted. but i can’t. it’s not safe, not for you or anyone else.”

“then tell us how to make it safe,” fitz begs. his hands twitch, desperately wanting to reach out. “anything you ask. hell, we could even hide you in my closet at everglen like the time when we were little and your dad was coming to take you home.”

keefe’s mouth twitches, and even if it’s not a whole smile, fitz counts it as a victory. “that’s... nice of you to say.”

fitz softens. “of course,” he replies, not hiding how choked up he is. “anytime.”

keefe taps his fingers against his thigh, looking down. after a long moment of silence that seems years long, he lifts his face and speaks again. “you’re not making this easy.” his eyes gleam with unshed tears. “maybe if you make it a little harder...”

fitz’s hands move of their own accord, resting on either side of keefe’s face. the other boy’s cheeks are warm despite the bitter, freezing rain.

fitz... actually has one more card he could play. it’s one he’s kept in his pocket since the middle of level three, never shared with anyone, not even with sophie.

there’s never been a world in which revealing it would be acceptable, but maybe things are different now. more complicated and painful, yes, but if there’s even the slightest chance that this secret could bring keefe home, then he’s willing to accept that pain.

fitz lays his final card on the table.

he kneels in front of where keefe is sitting on the step, never breaking contact for a second. keefe’s wide eyes follow him as fitz lowers himself down, his expression open and vulnerable. fitz leans in close, but pauses just inches before his friend’s lips, giving keefe time to move, time to reject him and run away.

when keefe makes no effort to resist, fitz closes the distance and kisses him.

it’s a short, soft thing, the connection as fragile and fleeting as a candle flame in a windstorm. but to fitz, this kiss is everything. it’s a representation of his enduring care for keefe, the affection that sprouted when they were children and has only blossomed since. despite everything standing in their way, fitz has loved keefe and always will.

he just hopes it’ll be enough for keefe.

fitz pulls away, not letting himself linger too long. he resists the urge to look away, instead gazing into keefe’s eyes and smiling gently. he’ll wait as long as it takes for keefe to make his move, and he’ll respect it. he just wants his friend to know the truth.

suddenly, keefe bursts into tears.

he throws himself forward, nearly knocking fitz over. he buries his face between fitz’s neck and shoulders, his body wracked with sobs. fitz hugs him back, running his fingers through his friend’s tangled hair. keefe cries and cries, holding tightly to fitz until his sobs fade to tremors and there’s a wet patch on fitz’s sweatshirt from his tears.

“okay,” keefe finally whispers, sending shivers down fitz’s spine. “i’ll take us home.”

keefe shifts and moves his hand up between them to fitz’s shirt pocket where fitz always keeps his home crystal. he plucks the crystal out, scans the area, and raises it up to the last dim sunlight trickling through the rainclouds.

fitz holds keefe close as the two boys dissolve into the light, leaving san diego behind.

#keefitz #fitz vacker #keefe sencen #fitz x keefe #kotlc #kotlc fanfic #keeper of the lost cities

47 notes · View notes

staruplatinum · 4 years

Text

Stay With Me

I co-wrote this with @risottostitties a while back, and I just got around to posting it now. She’s a god at writing Abbacchio btw, and this was written for my oc/Leone but I edited it so everyone can enjoy 🎉

summary: reader comforting drunk Abbacchio after he confesses his past.

It’s angsty but has a cute ending. (abbacchio says I love you for the first time!) enjoy!

3.2K words

Abbacchio was on the floor, surrounded by bottles of alcohol. Was he crying? “Jesus Christ.” You panicked, dropping your things on the floor and rushing to his side. What the hell happened? He must have been doing this for a while now because you could see how bloodshot his eyes were, even though they were only opened a little bit.

“Fuck! Leone ! What -“ you were so confused, and scared. You worried he might have gotten alcohol poisoning, but that was just your “worry-wart” mind and you knew you were just overreacting. You took deep breaths and calmed yourself down, taking a deep breath before laying down on the floor across from Abbacchio.

You understood it now, he obviously had some sort of unresolved trauma. If there was one thing you knew about trauma survivors.. it was to never touch them in a state like this because they may not want it. You had to respect that since you didn’t know what you were dealing with here. It broke your heart to see him cry, but he needed someone right now and you needed to approach this cautiously.

“I don’t know what happened, but when you want to talk, I’ll be right here. “ You said, smiling softly at him. You needed him to know that you were serious about.. helping him through whatever this was. You wanted to be there for him, to be the girlfriend he needed.

“I’ll lay here all night, if I have to.” Frankly, while this was something you didn’t expect, you were just happy to see him alive. You were so worried that he might have been dead. Your mind started going to the more logical side of things. He needed food and water or else he’d be puking soon if he hadn’t already. That, and he’d have an awful headache in the morning. You weren’t going to leave his side though. Instead, you reached your hand out across the cold floor, hoping he’d hold yours and ground himself, in a sense. You didn’t think he was sober enough for that, though.

It took Abbacchio a second to even register the fact that someone had come into his apartment. When did you get here? He must have made you worried... he could add that to the ever growing list of why Leone Abbacchio was a disgusting waste of oxygen.

"You shouldn't stay. I'm a filthy ex cop and a pathetic excuse of a man. I'll only drag you down and make you hate me if you stay. You deserve someone better, not someone who got a good man killed because he took a fucking bribe and ruined his life." Abbacchio choked out, the alcohol causing some slurring of his words and also removing his filter.

It took a minute before he realized exactly what he said to you. Fuck, he told you about it. He told you about his partner and now you were going to fucking hate him. Would it have been better to keep lying? Probably. He could have at least prolonged your relationship, instead of sabotaging it less than a month in. He really was a pathetic piece of work, wasn't he?

"You deserve better, you deserve so much better. Fuck I'm... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I don't deserve you, I don't deserve to be here while a good fucking man is dead. He had a wife and a kid! Fuck, its my fault that kid is growing up without his dad. I should have been the one shot, not him. Fuck!"

Abbacchio was starting to talk in circles, tears leaking from his eyes as he sobbed and curled in on himself. He didn't deserve your kindness. He didn't deserve you right now, laying on the floor with him and being so heart breakingly kind.

"I'm going to fail you too in the end. You'll get hurt if you stay, I know you will. I fuck up every good thing that's ever happened to me and I know that you'll hate me eventually. So just... please, don't let me do that to you. You deserve so much better-" Abbacchio's words were cut off by a heaving sob.

He wanted to beg you to stay though, beg you not to leave him and not to hate him but he couldn't do that. He didn't deserve to be happy and he knew that, and he didn't want to guilt you into staying with him by being an emotional pussy. You deserved better than someone who needed alcohol to work through anything like this. You deserved a good man who could give you a house and children like you wanted.

Anything Abbacchio gave you would be tainted by him. A house, a marriage, children, he'd somehow find a way to ruin all of that. Someone as kind and beautiful as you didn't deserve that. All he ever wanted to do was help people. Even joining the mafia he wanted to help people. But he managed to fuck everything up no matter what he did. He was a loser who couldn't even keep his one dream in life after he achieved it and you didn't deserve that.

"Fuck, I-... Fuck!" Abbacchio didn't know what else to say, having already made a fool of himself. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I fucking... dragged you into this. You shouldn't be here right now you should be having fun. Not fucking... laying on the floor with some alcoholic loser..."

Ah. So that’s what it was. You listened to him, and sat up, pulling his head into your lap as he cried.

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay. I have you.” You said, trying to help him control his sobs. You knew it was falling on deaf ears though, as he continued to go on about everything. You remained silent though, letting him vent it out. “Leone.” you said, your tone more serious than any other time you had spoken to him. “Leone listen to me. You aren’t a bad person and you aren’t a corrupt cop. What you did was not something that every other police man didn’t do in the past.” You began to say. While you didn’t know the context of what the bribe was for, you could tell that deep down Leone was reluctant about it. “Your friend getting shot was not your mistake. If he chose to take a bullet for you, then that’s on him. When you are in that line of work you should expect death at every corner - the same as you do now with being in the mafia.”

It honestly wasn’t your place to say any of this but the more he went on about it the more you realized that he didn’t need to feel as guilty. He wasn’t blowing it out of proportion and losing someone was never easy, but you didn’t want him to have to cry like this constantly when his partner chose to save him.

“I don’t know what exactly happened that day, and I’ll never know exactly how you feel either. I have my own traumas to deal with. But what I do know is that your friend wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this. He saved you for a reason. If that reason is for you to join the mafia and protect Bruno? Then so be it. But you have a purpose here, Leone. As much as you don’t think you deserve anything ‘good’ in your life - you do.”

You ran your fingers through his hair as you heard his sobs start to die down a little. That was a good sign, at least. It was quite honestly making you tear up a little, seeing him cry like this. You had loved him for a while now and you wanted to be... so much more doting. But what could you do? They had only dated a month, at that.

“And you can try your hardest but I promise you I am one stubborn girl. You make me happy, even at your worst so it’s gonna be hard to scare me off or make me leave.” It was true. You could be stubborn at the best of times. Maybe a lesser woman would have ran away after seeing Abbacchio like this. But not you. This only proved your love for him.

Frankly, if anyone left him in this state then they’d be the lowest scum of the earth. He needed someone right now, and you wanted to be here.

“I want to help you, Leone. I want to be your girlfriend. I don’t care what the future holds for us I just want us both to be happy. I’m not going to let anything get in the way of that. You deserve happiness. You aren’t dragging me down in the slightest ”

There was more you wanted to say, but what? What could you say? You loved him, - that she knew -but he probably didn’t want to hear that right now - and that was fair. You knew your words were coming out choppy anyways, but now that he was somewhat calm, your concerns were on something else.

Leaning down, you placed a kiss on the top of his head before brushing the hair out of his face. His sobs died down completely, only various sniffles echoing in the room.

Abbacchio reacted to you putting his head on your lap by turning over and immediately trying to hide his face by pressing it into your stomach as he clung to you. He didn't want you to see how pathetic he looked as he shook and sobbed. Your words were too kind, he knew he didn't deserve them. Couldn't you see how much of a fuck up he was? Or maybe you did, but then why were you being so heartbreakingly kind? You couldn't seriously be accepting of all this, could you? The thought made him choke out another sob, clinging tighter.

Did he want you to hate him? To leave him? Or to stay? He didn't know any more, but for right now all he wanted was just to be here with you. He felt your hands start to card tenderly through his hair and despite himself the tension began to fade from his body. Your soothing voice and gentle affection starting to coax the sadness from him, causing his sobbing to eventually wane into the occasional hiccup and sniffle. His tears dried too, but he knew his face would be red and puffy and ugly to look at so he still tried to hide as best he could. " 'M sorry..." He mumbled again, half muffled by your clothes. He didn't want to move, he didn't want to go anywhere. This felt too nice, too safe, to even consider getting up.

“I’m going to get up and get you some water, yeah? I don’t want you having an awful hangover tomorrow.” You said, gently moving his head up and standing from the floor. You tried your very hardest to lift him up. He was sluggish from all the booze he drank but he could still move around. That was a good sign, at least.

He could feel you carefully freeing yourself from his grip and standing up. "Wait! Where..?" Were you really going to get up and leave him like this? He still had no idea what he wanted but if you left he'd definitely break again. His breathing started to pick up again until you explained that you were just taking him to their room. Their room. He liked the sound of that. Their room, their apartment, it was all really nice. He allowed himself to be helped up, leaning on you heavily as you guided him to their room. It was difficult to walk right now, swimming in alcohol as he was, but he tried not to let himself become too much of a burden on you like this. You were so small compared to him.

“Come on, baby.” He was heavy, but you let him rest his weight on your shoulders as you heaved him over to the bedroom. Once he was on the bed, you laid him back, taking his pants off. You knew he didn’t really sleep in Pyjamas because he got hot easily. Hell - sometimes he didn’t even wear a shirt. It was little things like this that you remembered, and you wanted to make him as comfortable as possible. You covered him in the duvet, before heading to the kitchen for some water. You knew he should probably eat something too.. but what? You knew Abbacchio would crash soon, so you opted to make him something light and easy on the stomach - some toast. That was easy enough anyways.

He knew he should be the one helping and protecting YOU, not the other way around. But he didn't complain as you helped him out of his clothes and helped him get comfortable in the bed. It was cold without you there, but it was comfortable. He supposed he could handle this for a bit. He watched you get up again, opening his mouth to protest when you explained again that you were just getting him some water and something to eat. Right water. He hadn't had anything to drink except alcohol all day, and barely ate anything too. He needed to have something otherwise he'd be sick tomorrow. He knew this, and so did you. So he waited.

When the toast was ready you put some butter on it and tossed the knife in the sink, you’d clean it up afterwards. Walking to the bedroom you placed the toast on the nightstand, helping him sit up.

Abbacchio tried his very hardest not to sleep until you came back so he could make sure you stayed, and when you returned with toast and a glass of water he sat up. Abbacchio felt his head spinning at the sudden movement, but he tried his best not to get sick, leaning heavily on you for support while he nibbled on the toast and sipped at the water. He didn't have an appetite at all but he knew he needed to try and finish this otherwise you would be disappointed.

“You have to drink this okay?” you said. You felt a bit better when he drank some of the water. Good. “I un- I Made you toast. I don’t know what you like to eat on it but I just put some butter. You need something in your system or you’ll be puking everywhere - which I don’t mind, I’ll clean it all for you. I just.. want to make this easier on you, if I can.” you hummed, placing a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You looked at him as you sat on the edge of the bed. Your heart hurt, genuinely. You loved this man and it bothered you that he was so hurt by this. You just wished there was more you could do.

"-re too good for me." He slurred, resting his head on your shoulder for a minute while he took a break from trying to eat.

"I love you so much. You're so... perfect. You're too nice. You deserve the world and I... I want to give it to you. I'm trying. I promise I'm trying I really-" Abbacchio felt himself choking up again as he took a drink from the water, coughing slightly before righting himself. He was trying. It might not look like it now but he really was trying. He'd been trying for a long time and he needed you to know that.

"I promise I'm... trying. To be better. So please don't leave." He repeated, vision growing hazy as he looked down at the half eaten toast. He felt... so tired after everything. Exhausted really. He just wanted to lay down and sleep it all off.

You tried to be as calm as you could, helping abbacchio drink the water and eat. He didn’t have to eat the whole thing, considering his stomach probably would hurt or it could cause him to puke, but you were still happy with what he ate. You almost dropped the plate when you heard Abbacchio utter the words I love you.

Fuck. You didn’t know what to think. Your heart was telling you to drop everything and kiss him passionately!! Tell him how you’ve loved him since you first laid eyes on him and how you want to marry him! But you stopped yourself.

Instead, you smiled and rubbed his arm gently before standing up.

“You’re drunk baby.” you said softly, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead. You tried not to “believe” what he said anyways. People say a lot of things when they’re drunk. Doesn’t mean they’re always true. Still, you wanted to believe.

“Hey hey.. it’s okay it’s okay. I know you’re trying Leone - that’s what matters.” you said, hugging him gently. “I’m not going to leave you, ever. Alright? I promise.” your hand brushed some stray hairs out of his face, and you smiled at him. He looked.. so sad.

It hurt you , to see him like this.

“I’m just going to put this dish away and turn the lights off, then I’ll come to bed. Okay?”

You needed to make sure that he understood you weren’t leaving ; but you couldn’t just drop here

When he nodded, You quickly disposed of the remaining toast and put the dish in the sink. There was a small pile up of dishes, and while that was a pet peeve of yours- you’d do it tomorrow. Right now abbacchio needed you. The dishes could wait.

You returned to the bed, quickly slipping on a t-shirt and taking your pants off before cuddling Abbacchio. You were the big spoon this time and that was fine, you really didn’t mind at all. As tired as he was, he still seemed somewhat agitated. Which was fair considering everything he went through. You paused for a moment - unsure of what else you could do, but then you had an idea. Leaning up on your elbow, you used your hand to gently caress his head while humming a soft lullaby to him.

When you were sure he was “almost” out, you pulled away and kissed his head once more.

“I love you too, Leone...” you whispered.

#cw: alcohol #Leone Abbacchio #Abbacchio x Reader #angst with a happy ending #angst #cowritten

245 notes · View notes