#and we call having memories issues (usually when you forget something simple that you should know)

[icharchivist]

Do we know why exactly Felix lay dormant and let Troue become the dominant personality for so long, despite clearly being present enough to take his memories in each day?

I think it's mentioned that Felix just COULDN'T take over at all and the amnesia was stronger in a sense?

i need to read all of Troue's FE since i only read the intro, but one thing that was mentioned in his FE intro is that Troue has been found by the princess he used to serve, in a field of poisonous flowers, seemingly unconscious.

Those flowers were infamous because once inhaled a bit of the parfume of, you're going to lose a bit of your memories. but seemingly since Troue was found unconscious there, he has inhaled way too much, and it's why he also doesn't have regular amnesia, but an amnesia that resets every single day.

(note also that in Troue's FE it's mentioned that he didn't have Durendal at the time and Durendal was given to him by the Princess's father then. It's really difficult to figure out what to make of this information. maybe Troue was found there because Felix was coming to get Durendal back? or was it one of the "sky chart" configuration that he needed to lose his memories to handle Durandal and he thought with his gift of vision it'd be easy but he overshot it with the flowers? that said it's also why there's a theory that "Felix" is actually Durendal in some way, that became its own because of Troue's gift of vision.)

Troue's letter mentions that at night, he can feel Felix's hold on him getting stronger, and it's only once his memory reset that the haze of the amnesia puts Felix "to sleep", until he gets stronger again near night.

it might also explain why Troue was also more sleepy in general. The more he slept, the more he'd reset his memories, the less Felix could take over. It seems that Troue became more "awake" when he had worthwhile time to spend with the crew, which ultimately just made Felix stronger.

If we take Felix's metaphor, Troue is the hole of the donut right. Everyday, the bread of the donut would grow back, and would threaten to fill the hole, and once the hole is filled Felix would be back as a whole, but as soon as Troue falls asleep and forgets, the hole becomes bigger once again, so everyday, Felix has to "refill it" to try to get control back. meanwhile all the memories the "hole" made ended up passing down onto the "bread", so Felix would get the memories building up in his mind, but couldn't do anything as long as he couldn't fill the hole that was in charge of his behavior.

I would also assume that the one reason Felix managed to take over /now/ and not just in the past when Troue worked for the princess, if not just a question of time/Felix not being dormant anymore/Troue being awake more often, is the fact that Troue works on remembering his daily life on the ship much, much more than before. Troue finds way so that, once his memories reset, he's able to get at least his memories of the crew back as soon as possible. In a sense it's possible that, as Troue is trying desperately to "fill himself" with his daily routines and memories of the crew, he makes it easier for Felix to take over since it means he doesn't have to "fill the hole back" with those memories if Troue is going to do it for him.

We're entitled to doubt everything Troue and Felix tell us (Troue bc of the amnesia, Felix because he's a bitch), but both him being found unconscious in the flowers and him getting Durendal is recounted to us by the princess he used to serve, who happens to have seen those events, so it would imply that at least those two elements would be true.

So iirc it's the amnesia constantly resetting itself that caused Felix to be unable to take back control for the longest time. Because in that metaphor, the more empty Troue is, the more Felix has to fill to get back into control, and therefore by the end of the day, he fails and he has to reset the process the next morning.

(tbh i wonder if we can even call that Felix being "Dormant", maybe at some point he was, but the descriptions both of Troue's letter and Felix's recounting the facts give me more an impression of Felix kicking and screaming and fighting trying to get control back while Troue was unable to feel it until it was too late. though there's something really sad imo with that because, if Felix had ever taken over say, right after Troue woke up, perhaps Troue wouldn't have ever struggled against it. it'd be the natural order. But since Felix could only try to get control back after a day of Troue filling his own head back into becoming a person again, then it means Felix taking over is always going to be met with struggle from Troue who doesn't want to let go of the work he has made so far)

That's at least the way i read it, if it makes any sense?

#'Troue' means 'Hole' ' in french and the way it's pronounced 'Troué' means something that has one or many holes in it #and we call having memories issues (usually when you forget something simple that you should know) #(often for daily uses) to be a 'troue de mémoire' (a hole in your memory) #Troue is French Themed (Durendal is a famous magical french sword) #and now that he's basically called the Hole of a Donut i think it's important to keep in mind #like i think it's why i can't forget the hole metaphor Felix used bc i've been thinking about Troue and holes since i first read about him #(and not THOSE type of holes anons calm yourselves--) #so yeah a hole can only be removed once its filled. That's why Felix couldn't take over. is what i would say. #ichareply #anonymous #ichafantalks gbf #ichablogging vinweap

[sadprosed]

𝑳𝒀𝑹𝑰𝑪  𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

↬   REPUTATION  ( 2017 )  by  taylor  swift.

taken  from  or  inspired  by  the  lyrics  of  the  album.  some  sexual  themes  present.

+    feel  free  to  change  pronouns  !

‘  i  see  how  this  is  going  to  go.  ’

‘  i  knew  he / she / they  was  a  killer,  the  first  time  that  i  saw  him / her / them.  ’

‘  every  love  i’ve  ever  known  in  comparison  is  a  failure.  ’

‘  i’ll  keep  him / her / them  forever,  like  a  vendetta.  ’

‘  touch  me  and  you’ll  never  be  alone.  ’

‘  no  one  has  to  know.  ’

‘  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  in  my  dreams,  you  should  see  the  things  we  do.  ’

‘  are  you  ready  for  it  ?  ’

‘  i’ve  got  some  big  enemies.  ’

‘  you  and  me  would  be  a  big  conversation.  ’

‘  we  tried  to  forget  it  but  we  just  couldn’t.  ’

‘  i  bury  hatchets,  but  i  keep  maps  of  where  i  put  them.  ’

‘  in  rumors,  i’m  knee  deep.  ’

‘  i  can’t  let  you  go,  your  handprint  is  on  my  soul.  ’

‘  you’ve  been  calling  my  bluff  on  all  my  usual  tricks.  ’

‘  i  never  trust  a  narcissist,  but  they  love  me.  ’

‘  for  every  lie  i  tell  them,  they  tell  me  three.  ’

‘  this  is  how  the  world  works,  you  gotta  leave  before  you  get  left.  ’

‘  i  can  feel  the  flames  on  my  skin.  ’

‘  i  did  something  bad,  why  does  it  feel  so  good  ?  ’

‘  they’re  burning  all  the  witches,  even  if  you  aren’t  one.  ’

‘  don’t  blame  me,  love  made  me  crazy.  ’

‘  for  you,  i  would  cross  the  line,  i  would  waste  my  time.  ’ 

‘  i  once  was  poison  ivy  but  now  i’m  your  daisy.  ’

‘  for  you  i  would  fall  from  grace,  just  to  touch  your  face.  ’

‘  i’d  beg  you  on  my  knees  to  stay.  ’

‘  my  reputation  has  never  been  good,  so  you  must  love  me  for  me.  ’

‘  we  can’t  make  any  promises,  but  you  can  make  me  a  drink.  ’

‘  just  think  of  the  fun  things  we  could  do.  ’

‘  is  it  too  soon  to  do  this  yet  ?  ’

‘  sometimes  when  i  look  into  your  eyes,  i  pretend  you’re  mine.  ’

‘  i  don’t  like  your  tilted  stage,  don’t  like  your  twisted  games.  ’

‘  the  role  you  made  me  play  of  the  fool,  no,  i  don’t  like  you.  ’

‘  i  don’t  like  your  perfect  crime,  how  you  laugh  when  you  lie.  ’

‘  the  world  moves  on,  another  day,  another  drama.  ’

‘  i’ll  be  the  actress  starring  in  your  bad  dreams.  ’

‘  you  make  all  my  grey  days  disappear.  ’

‘  i’m  so  chill,  but  you  make  me  jealous.  ’

‘  i  break  down  just  a  little,  but  when  you  get  me  alone  it’s  so  simple.  ’

‘  i’m  in  a  gold  cage,  hostage  to  my  feelings.  ’

‘  you  cut  me  into  pieces.  ’

‘  you’re  so  cool,  it  makes  me  hate  you  so  much.  ’

‘  you’ve  ruined  my  life  by  not  being  mine.  ’

‘  i’m  so  furious  at  you  for  making  me  feel  this  way.  ’

‘  you  should  take  it  as  a  compliment  that  i’m  talking  to  everyone  here  but  you.  ’

‘  there’s  a  consequence  to  you  touching  my  hand  in  a  darkened  room.  ’

‘   i  feel  like  i  might  sink  and  drown  and  die.  ’  

‘  you  make  me  so  happy,  it  turns  back  to  sad.  ’

‘  i  struck  a  match  and  blew  your  mind,  but  i  didn’t  mean  it.  ’

‘  we  never  had  a  shotgun  shot  in  the  dark.  ’

‘  don’t  pretend  it’s  such  a  mystery.  ’

‘  we  were  flying,  but  we’d  never  get  far.  ’

‘  you  should  have  known  i’d  be  the  first  to  leave.  ’

‘  it’s  no  surprise  i  turned  you  in,  because  us  traitors  never  win.  ’

‘  that  was  the  last  time  you  ever  saw  me.  ’

‘  i  made  up  my  mind  i’m  better  off  being  alone.  ’

‘  all  at  once,  you  are  the  one  i  have  been  waiting  for.  ’

‘  i’ll  never  let  you  go.  ’

‘  your  love  is  a  secret  i’m  hoping,  dreaming,  dying  to  keep.  ’

‘  the  taste  of  your  lips  is  my  idea  of  luxury.  ’

‘  is  this  the  end  of  all  the  endings  ?  ’

‘  all  at  once  this  is  enough.  ’

‘  i  loved  you  in  secret,  at  first  sight  we  loved  without  reason.  ’

‘  i  could  have  spent  forever  with  your  hands  in  my  pockets.  ’

‘  you  said  there  was  nothing  in  the  world  to  divide  us,  but  i  had  a  bad  feeling.  ’

‘  we  were  dancing  with  our  hands  tied,  like  it  was  the  first  time.  ’

‘  i  loved  you  in  spite  of  deep  fears  that  the  world  would  divide  us.  ’ 

‘  can  we  dance  through  an  avalanche  ?  ’

‘  my  love  had  been  frozen  deep  blue,  but  you  painted  me  golden.  ’

‘  i’d  kiss  you  as  the  lights  went  out,  swaying  as  the  room  burned  down.  ’

‘  i’d  hold  you  as  the  water  rushes  in  if  i  could  dance  with  you  again.  ’

‘  they’ve  got  no  idea  about  me  and  you.  ’

‘  you  made  your  mark  on  me,  a  golden  tattoo.  ’

‘  my  hands  are  shaking  from  holding  back  from  you.  ’

‘  say  my  name  and  everything  just  stops.  ’

‘  i  only  bought  this  dress  so  you  could  take  it  off.  ’

‘  carve  your  name  into  my  bedpost.  ’

‘  i  don’t  want  you  like  a  best  friend.  ’  

‘  if  we  get  burned,  at  least  we  were  electrified.  ’

‘  everyone  thinks  that  they  know  us,  but  they  know  nothing.  ’

‘  even  in  my  worst  lies,  you  saw  the  truth  in  me.  ’

‘  i  woke  up  just  in  time,  now  i  wake  up  by  your  side.  ’

‘  it  was  so  nice  throwing  big  parties.  ’

‘  there  are  no  rules  when  you  show  up  here.  ’

‘  why’d  you  have  to  rain  on  my  parade  ?  ’

‘  this  is  why  we  can’t  have  nice  things,  darling.  ’

‘  did  you  really  think  i  wouldn’t  hear  all  the  things  you  said  about  me  ?  ’

‘  here  i  was  giving  you  a  second  chance,  but  you  stabbed  me  in  the  back  while  shaking  my  hand.  ’

‘  herein  lies  the  issue:  friends  don’t  try  to  trick  you.  ’

‘  i’m  not  the  only  friend  you’ve  lost  lately.  ’

‘  here’s  a  toast  to  my  real  friends.  ’

‘  i  brought  a  knife  to  a  gun  fight.  ’

‘  i’m  doing  better  than  i  ever  was.  ’

‘  call  it  what  you  want  to.  ’

‘  all  the  liars  are  calling  me  one.  ’

‘  all  my  flowers  grew  back  as  thorns.  ’

‘  you  don’t  need  to  save  me,  but  would  you  run  away  with  me  ?  ’

‘  i  know  i  make  the  same  mistakes  every  time.  ’  

‘  bridges  burn,  i  never  learn,  but  at  least  i  did  one  thing  right.  ’

‘  your  starry  eyes  spark  up  my  darkest  night.  ’

‘  i’ll  be  there  if  you’re  the  toast  of  the  town,  or  if  you  strike  out  and  you’re  crawling  home.  ’

‘  don’t  read  the  last  page,  but  i  stay.  ’

‘  hold  on  to  the  memories,  they  will  hold  on  to  you.  ’

‘  please  don’t  ever  become  a  stranger  whose  laugh  i  would  recognize  anywhere.  ’

#rp memes #rp starter #rp prompt #sentence meme #sentence starter #sentence prompts #lyric prompts #lyric starters #lyric meme #askbox meme #rp ask meme #ask memes #inbox meme #inbox starter #rp #taylor swift #reputation #rp resources

[heartless-symphony]

Spencie

Summary : Four time you called him Spencie, and the one time he really didn’t mind.

Pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category : fluff

Warnings : some curse words, semi-nudity kinda ??

Word count : 3,652 (even I am surprised)

Proof reader : @hannahjoycebanana​ (thank u for being here when i needed it and thank you for being my proof reader here. You’re one of the best friend i could’ve asked for.)

A/N : It took me so long to come back to tumblr because i had some issues, and i didn’t want to come back until i as finished with at least one of my project. Here it is, i hope you like it as much as i enjoyed writing it.

MASTERLIST

1- New friends

“Spencie !” Your excited voice pierced the silence in the almost empty bullpen, as it was pretty early. It didn’t seem to matter to you, you seemed as excited, as full of energy as usual. Your eyes were shining happily, and it didn’t take a profiler to know that it wasn’t your first cup of coffee. You were new to the team, joining it after the whole “cat adams” situation, and you weren’t aware of the meaning of the nickname to him. That’s why he tried not to be angry, but you could see his jaw and his fists clenching in a attempt to control himself. You moved closer to him, poking his nose with your fingers – you knew how he was with touches, but you couldn’t help yourself – before walking away. He gulped, frozen in his position. It was only JJ’s arrival in the room that made him move, but still. His eyes flickered to you, already focused on something other than himself, and he bit his lip. He didn’t know how to explain his situation to you, how to ask you not to call him that again, but he didn’t want to have to talk about it all over again. He already lived it almost every nights in his nightmares, remembered the prison, the games she played with his heart, his family, his everything. He didn’t want to see the look of pity on your face, he didn’t want things to change. However, he couldn’t just let you remind him of it, every day. So, silently, almost hesitantly, he walked up to your desk, were you were silently reading a report, taking notes on what to correct and what to work on. You were in your own world and didn’t see him coming, so he had to clear his throat, calling your name. You looked up and smiled softly.

“Hi, Spencie ! Anything I can do ?”

Your voice made your blonde coworker look up, and her worried eyes fell on Spencer, meeting his. He sighed and slowly shook his head. He saw your frown, your eyes swinging between JJ and him, fully knowing you were missing something. He looked up to you and you almost winced at the pain and anger in his eyes, even though he tried to hide it.

“Just, don’t call me Spencie, please.”

You frowned and were about to object when you met JJ’s eyes, and she shook her head, silently being you to accept. So you simply nodded and played with your hair, feeling sorry even though you had no idea what you did wrong. He sent you a sad, forced smile, before walking back to his desk, his fist slowly unclenching, and you could almost see the anger leave his body

2- Dance with me

The second time, you were pretty drunk. He was watching you dancing with the rest of the girl, well, he was watching you all from afar, silently sipping on his lemonade drink. He watched you move your body in rhythm, obviously singing the lyrics that you seemed to know so well. He was almost hypnotized with the way you moved, the way you held your hands up happily, or playfully danced with Morgan – Spencer didn’t want to admit it, but it made him clench his jaw. After a while, a new song started, and he knew you were up to something bad the minutes you walked up to him, moving your hips.

“Spencie ! Come and dance with me !”

He almost didn’t say anything. You were drunk, you didn’t know what you were saying and he couldn’t blame you. But still, the memories came back in an instant, the pain, the worry, the anger, and he looked away, shaking his hand.

“I don’t dance. And please, stop calling me like that.”

You pouted, tugging on his shirt. You obviously hadn’t gotten the message, and with the number of drinks you had he couldn’t really get mad, but still. One part of him felt grateful, happy even to be the one who caught your attention, but the other part sent him warning signals, remembering the last person who called him like that. He shoved you away as gently as he could, and it seemed like you had finally caught on. Still pouting, you pulled away, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine.” He could hear the disappointment in your drunken voice, and he almost stood up to dance with you. “I’ll go find someone else.” You turned around, arms down scanning the crowd for a potential partner. Before you could even take a step, you felt a hand gently wrap around your arm and you looked back, only to meet Spencer’s eyes. You smiled widely and jumped up happily. “Let’s go dancing !” He sighed and tugged you back to him. The only reason he accepted to dance with you was because he couldn’t stand to watch you flirt with someone else – no, he wasn’t jealous. Just a bit protective of his favorite girl, that was all. He almost slapped himself for his thought. You were just a friend. He had no right to be jealous of seeing you go to some other guy to enjoy your evening when he was right here. And what mattered the most was your smile, so contagious. He wasn’t jealous. He was doing it to make you happy, that was all !

“There’s one condition.” You tilted your head, showing that you were listening. Even drunk, you stayed that respectful, kind girl he liked so much. “You need to stop drinking, and you need to stop calling me Spencie. I’m serious, Y/N.” You pouted a bit, obviously not pleased by his ‘no more drink’ rule, but you ended up nodding, leading him to the dance floor. Seeing you smile made him forget, for a moment, the bad memories brought by the so simple nickname, replacing them with images of your smile.

 3- Spencie Undercover

The third time, it wasn’t really your fault. You and Spencer being the only one who hadn’t been showed on the news, you were the ones who had to go undercover. The fact that you had to act as a couple pleased Spencer more than he would admit, because the warmth of your hand against his was calming, soothing. Almost as if it was always supposed to be here. You walked in the restaurant, hand in hand, talking about some book you read after he recommended it to you. Morgan and Hotch had specified that you had to act as normally as possible, so you had immediately started a small talk. You two were already so close that acting as a couple wasn’t too problematic, except that he couldn’t really tear his eyes away from you. You were wearing a blue dress, your hair in a braid falling on your right shoulder. Your back was naked, and Spencer did his best not to notice how pretty you looked. You were wearing some light makeup, and he knew that, under your dress, your gun was ready to be fired. He didn’t even want to think about it - the way the holster was hugging your leg, and maybe you would have to lift the skirt of your dress to take it out-, but his mind couldn’t stop the image to keep coming up. You walked up to the counter, asking for your table, while he scanned the room. Happily, he quickly found what he was looking for, or who. He used his famous trick to make them change spot - the usual light problem - ending up as close as he could to the target. It was a young man, flirting with a beautiful woman who was probably going to end up to be the next victim. However, Spencer and you were here to stop him. You didn’t have enough to arrest him just yet, but all you needed was for him and his target to go outside, where he would try and attack her -like he did with all his other victims-. But you and Spencer were ready to jump in at any moment, collect some intel on him if possible. It wasn’t a date, and it seemed hard for both of you to remember that. You just liked to be in each other’s company, and Spencer continuous rants made you feel weirdly safe, just as much as he loved to hear your not-so-silent singing and your excited eyes every time you talked about a book you read. If one of you had the guts to talk about your feelings for each other, it would have been a long time since you would’ve been together.

“Should we share a fondant, Spencie ?”

The use of the nickname made him suddenly look up from the menu. You were about to order dessert - the unsub’s ‘date’ seemed to take longer than they all wished - and he didn’t think you’d think about that. He opened his mouth, frowning a bit, ready to tell you, once again, to stop using that so horrible nickname, but then he saw you, really saw you. You had on that special smile you only gave to him, a bit playful, a bit flirty and a lot shy, but your eyes were fond, almost loving. He bit down his lips, his heart skipping a bit. You were so beautiful that he almost forgot to answer. You called his name again - his name, not the nickname - and he slowly nodded. Suddenly, he missed it. He missed the way ‘Spencie’ seemed to roll off your tongue so easily, like it was made for it. The bad memories that Cat Adams had stuck him with seemed to disappear every time you used the nickname, every time you two were close. You seemed to make all the hurt, all the pain disappear, and that was probably why he couldn’t stop looking at your lips, wondering why he never kissed you before.

4- I’m tired, Spencie

 The fourth time felt totally different. You all had to share rooms and, Spencer and you ending up all alone, you had no choice but share a room. Share a bed. Which wouldn’t have bothered Spencer if it was anyone else, but it felt different with you. Everything did. You were both really tired after the days and sleepless nights you spent trying to catch the unsub – some woman poisoning pregnant women, hoping to get their baby -. The craziness of the situation had taken you both a bit longer to find her – You were specialized in linguistic, body language but, most importantly, psychology – You knew the unsub had to have some kind of mental illness, but neither of you understood how this woman expected to get a baby from a dead woman. Either way, you were both tired, really, really tired. Spencer was used to it, so it didn’t show much on you, but you hadn’t been on the team long enough to get used to sleepless nights and busy days full of thinking too much and running around. You stumbled in the room, closely followed by Spencer. His eyes were full of worry, because your brain really seemed to work differently. It was like you had held up walls all day, acting like your fatigue wasn’t having a huge impact on you, but as soon as you ended up all alone after the case finished, the walls crumbled down      . Your eyes weren’t shining anymore and you had trouble keeping them open, making you walk around like you were lost – or drunk -. Spencer kindly guided you to the bed, where you sat down, rubbing your eyes. He knew you were too tired to get changed, but staying in your dirty clothes was definitely not a good idea. You could shower in the morning, he didn’t mind, but there was no way he would let you sleep dressed like that.

“Where are your pajamas, Y/N ?” His voice made you look up, and it took you a second to answer, like your brain needed time to register the question. You tilted your head, rubbing your eyes, before pointing to your go-bag. “Pink hoodie. Do I really have too ? ‘M too tired, Spencie…”

Spencer tried not to smile. He really did, he tried to feel angry, sad or just.. Something. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he actually liked you using this nickname. He forced a sigh, before nodding and reaching in your go bag to take out the clearly oversized pink hoodie, and blushed as he looked away from your underwear. He gently walked up to you, handing you your hoodie. You shook your head, raising your arms like a child. He sighed again and tried not to blush as he grabbed the bottom of your shirt, pulling it off you. He looked away from you as he waited for you to take off your bra, handing you the hoodie, his eyes focused on the wall. He might have been very attracted to you, but that never meant he would do something so stupid. Once you were clothed again, he helped you take of your shoes  well, he took off your shoes while you laid across the bed, eyes closed and silently singing some tangled song -, before gently tugging on the bottom off your legging. He was hopping you would sit up and help him take it off so he wouldn’t have to be too close, but you were so deep in a tired, child-like mood that you simply lifted your legs, yawning. He sighed again and very carefully took off your leggings, and he was glad that your hoodie was long enough to hide your underwear and upper thighs.

“Here you go. Now try and sleep, yea ?” He watched you nod and smiled softly, shaking his head as he tried to forget how close you two were. He made sure you were looking away – you were curled up in a ball, facing away from you – before getting changed and slipping in the bed. He thought you were already asleep, but as soon as you felt the mattress dip under his weight, you snuggled up to him. He froze as he felt your head against him, pushing him to lay down. As soon as he did, you got even closer, your head resting against his chest, where you could hear his heart beat. You smiled tiredly, looking up and gently kissing his cheeks, your eyes almost closed, before snuggling back against him. “Night Night, Spencie…” Your voice slowly went silent and, very quickly, he could feel your breathing slow down. After making sure you were asleep, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you even close, and kissed the top of you head. He smiled sadly and closed his eyes. For the first time in month, Spencer actually slept, dreaming about you in a field of flowers, your light bringing a smile to his lips.

 5- Your Spencie

The next morning, Spencer woke up before you. You were so beautiful, sleeping peacefully, your hair surrounding your face in such a beautiful way. He smiled sadly, stroking your hair. He hated the fact that you were so close, but he couldn’t have you, couldn’t touch you, couldn’t kiss you. Lost in his mind, in his imagination, he didn’t realize you were waking up, slowly lifting your head up. You smiled softly. You didn’t remember much about the evening before, your brain having shut off before you even walked into the room, but you knew that you an Spencer had slept together. Well, in the same bed, at least. And you felt his hand in your hair, stroking it gently. Before you could even register what you were doing, you gently pecked his lips before snuggling back into him. “Morning, Spencie.”

Spencer froze. Was he dreaming ? He could still feel your lips on his own, but it felt so irreal. He looked down at you, frowning. After the minute of silence, you realized what you had done and looked up, ready to say sorry and die in shame. Your eyes met Spencer’s and suddenly, you felt home. It seemed so normal, so comfortable. His hand slowly, hesitantly moved from your hair to your cheek, stroking it gently.

“Good Morning, Y/N.” You smiled sadly. Was he going to avoid the topic of your kiss ? Was this the end of your very special friendship ? Spencer must have felt the worry growing up inside you, seeing it in your eyes, and he leaned down, gently kissing you. When your lips met, it felt like your two worlds collided, melting into one. He hesitantly licked your bottom lips and you shyly opened your mouth, letting the kiss go further. Your hands flew to his hair as you sat up, and one of his hand helped you both lean against the wall behind the bed, before settling on your waist. It didn’t went further, it was a simple kiss, but it felt like it was meant to be. Neither of you wanted to pull away, breathing through your noses, making sure to keep a steady pace – no matter how fast you wanted to go, no matter how many feelings you wanted to put into the kiss -. He was still stroking your cheek, your hand was still in his hair, playing with his curls, when someone knocked on the door.

“Spencer ? Y/N ? It’s almost time to go, you guys ready ?”

Spencer growled against your mouth and pulled away, the look on his face telling you exactly what he was going to say – something along the line of ‘fuck off, Morgan’ – and you gently put your hand over his mouth, smiling softly. “We’ll be down in ten minutes ! I can’t find some of my clothes. We won’t be long !”

You heard a laugh, and bit your lips, waiting to hear Morgan walk away. As soon as he did, you pulled your hand away from Spencer’s mouth, looking back at him. His eyes were shining, and where you expected to see lust – after all, you were straddling him, wearing nothing but a hoodie and underwear -, all you could see was love and deep respect. He smiled and kissed you again, but you put your hands against his chest, gently pulling away. “We need to get ready, Spencie.”

His smiled softly and you got up, grabbing your clothes and running to the bathroom to get ready. As he got changed in a corner of the room, Spencer thought about the way you talked to him, the way you called him. For once Spencie didn’t feel like a curse, but more like a symbol of good memories. Everything that had happened with Cat was slowly fading away, replaced by the images of your smile, the taste of your lips, the feeling of your skin against his fingertip. You quickly walked out once you were sure he was fully clothed, and went to pack your go-bag. Spencer walked behind you, gently touching your back. You jumped in surprise, before leaning against him, laughing softly.

“You scared me.” He laughed and you smiled even more, leaning against him. “As an FBI agent, you should definitely be ready for any threat to come at any moment.” You laughed even more at his statement, turning around to put your hand against his chest. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer. You leaned forward, whispering in his ear. “Are you a threat, Doctor ?”. You pulled away almost immediately, grinning from ear to ear. He smiled, shaking his head before letting you finish packing, grabbing his stuff and leaning against the wall.

“You know, we should talk about it.” You looked up, worry in your eyes. “Do you regret it, Spencer ?” His eyes widened and he shook his head, walking up to you. He put your go-back down, cupping your cheeks, and all you could see in his eyes was a deep, powerful love.

“I could never regret what happened today. You found a way to my heart that I didn’t even know existed, and managed to break down all my walls. After Cat, after Max, I thought I could never feel anything for someone else. Cat destroyed my thrust, Max and I just didn’t work out. But you already know all that. What I mean to say is, you destroyed all the bad memories, changed the way I felt. I couldn’t stand anyone calling me Spencie because of everything that happened with Cat but, now… It’s all I want to hear coming from you. I can’t imagine anyone else who had the power, the impact to make things change so quickly, so strongly. You are one of a kind, Y/N, and I could never regret what happened this morning. All I hope is that it won’t be a one-time thing, all I want is to keep you by my side no matter what happens. I couldn’t stand to lose you and all those amazing memories you stuck in my head. I think... I think I love you, Y/N. And I should’ve acted on it sooner, I would’ve, if I knew you liked me. But we’re here now and I promise you, I will cherish the memories of this day all my life.”

You didn’t know what to say, and could see the worry grow in his eyes with the time you took to answer. Before he could pull away, you put one hand over his, keeping it on your cheek, and put your other hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down. Pushing on your toes, your lips met, and you never felt as safe as you did in this moment. You were home, and so was he. Your Spencie.

#Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Reid #criminal mind x reader #spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #how do you tag #just criminal minds stuff #fluff #spencer reid fluff

[softtransbf]

Fresh Blood, Old Scars Part 1

You'd disappeared 15 years ago without a trace- what's Yancy supposed to do when you walk into Happy Trails Penitentiary and don't recognize him, because he's transitioned? canon compliant trans!yancy/reader

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of violence, canonical and parental. deadnaming and misgendering before either of you came out (none by anyone who knows the correct name/pronouns)

Word Count: 2,690

“Hey Yancy, I heard there’s fresh blood comin’ in today for some sorta museum heist.”

“Oh? Know anything else about these guys, so we can give ‘em a proper welcome, Bambam?”

“I know some. The first guy, Mark Iplier, claimed to have been in charge of the whole thing, but from what my sources said, it’s the partner that ran the show- just real quiet-like. I’ve been told that he don’t say a word.”

“Got a name for this, uh, silent partner?” He chuckled at his joke.

“Y/N L/N.” Yancy’s stomach dropped the way it always did when he heard that last name, your last name. Get your shit together. Wrong first name, and Bambam said he and his. Bambam don’t use pronouns other than they/them unless they’re sure. It’s just some guy with the same last name.

“Yance, you okay?” Tiny waved his hand in front of Yancy’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh, thinkin about how best to greet dese guys. The usual, wit Don’t Wanna Be Free ready just in case?”

“Right off the bat? You really think they’re that high of a flight risk?” Sparkles finally spoke up.

“I, uh, I don’t trust dem silent-types. They’s always schemin’, got somethin goin ahn in their heads.” And if he's anything like- yeah. Gone before you know it.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll go let the others know.” Yancy didn’t even register who was speaking; he was too lost in memories.

- 15 years earlier-

Yancy knew it wasn’t cool to be excited for the first day of school when you’re a senior in high school, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need or even want to be cool- all he needed was to be your friend. Well, maybe not just friend. You’d been gone for almost the entire summer, and he’d spent the whole time figuring out how to both ask you out and tell you that he’s a guy.

He practically skipped across the street to your house so you can walk to school together, like you had every day since middle school. He knocked- nothing. Rang the doorbell- still nothing. He checked the back door and the spots where you had hidden spare keys over the years- nothing. All the curtains were drawn, too, so he couldn’t see inside. He kept trying as long as he possibly could before he had to sprint to make it to class just barely in time. All day, he kept an eye on the door, waiting for you- the two of you made sure to sign up for the exact same schedule before you went on your vacation. At lunch, he went to the office to see what he could find out.

“Y/DN isn’t a student here anymore- Mr L/N just told us last week.”

“What? Do you know where they went?”

“I’m sorry, hon, I don’t. All I know is that Y/DN is no longer a student here.”

He’d never ditched a class in his life, but that was the last thing on his mind as he ran home, crying. He didn’t stop crying for weeks.

-Present -

He’d never wanted to be wrong more in his life, but there you were. Looking better than he’d ever dreamed, following Mark around silently as he blabbered on about wanting to rally the other inmates to try to break out. No. I lost you once, and it cost me everything. I’m not about to lose you again. He quickly spread the word to skip pleasantries with the new guys and prepare for the song. As he was, you made eye contact with him from across the room. His heart dropped; you didn’t recognize him. You looked right through him, with the same calculating expression you gave everyone else. Of course he wasn’t gonna recognize you, dumbass. You’ve been on hormones for years and have had top surgery. Usually Yancy loved that he couldn’t see anything of the person he used to be in the mirror, but today he hated it more than anything in the world. Stick to the plan, Yance. He doesn’t recognize me, but it might be better this way. This way, I can get him to stay and get to know me as I am now, and he won’t be disappointed that I haven’t become anything like what we dreamed of so long ago.

Yancy couldn’t have planned it better, Mark practically begging Jimmy to punch him through the wall right before the show started, leaving you alone.

The number went great, as always, but then you showed him a picture of your parents. He knew that picture; you took it when the four of you went on a vacation together before you started your freshman year of high school. He also knew that he had once been in the picture, but you’d cut him out. The tape and staples that had been holding his heart together since you left fell away.

He stuck with his usual response to people citing family for wanting to leave, for the most part. No one at Happy Trails knew about you, and he’d killed his parents before they could leave him, so he’d kept his true abandonment issues to himself. Face to face with you after all these years, though, he couldn’t stop himself from adding “they’re always just gonna leave you behind” and a warning about trifling with the past. You flinched a little at both of those, and a spark of hope ignited in his chest- maybe you hadn’t forgotten about him, even if you didn’t recognize him now.

Then you still chose to leave. The rest of the rather single-sided conversation was a blur to him. Later, as he was tending to his injuries in solitary, he remembered calling you handsome and/or beautiful and your blush when he did. And, of course, you knocking him flat on his ass. He’d challenged you to a fight, because he’d always been able to beat you before. The part that truly left him confused, though, was why he offered to help you break out.

All he’d wanted for the last fifteen years was to go back to the day you left and beg you to stay. He’d told himself dozens, maybe hundreds, of times that if he ever saw you again, he’d do everything in his power to keep you with him. On his darker and angrier days, he truly meant everything. But here you are, and he offered to help you leave. This is what you get for even hoping someone might stick around. Let’s just do this. I gotta stop in with the warden first, though…

“Me? Out there? With you?” He chuckled. You had no idea that, with that simple gesture, you offered him everything he’d wanted for so long. Fuck, I don’t deserve him. I still love him, but he deserves someone better than the angry, selfish man I am. The fragments of his heart splintered even more. “I, um. I done a lotta bad things. And, uh.” He made himself brighten up. “This is home! For now, anyway. Maybe next time parole comes up, I’ll, uh” take it and go find you like I should have fifteen years ago. And I’ll spend every minute until then trying to become the kind of man you deserve. “Anyway, I gotta get back to it. You take care now, you hear? And, hey, visitation! Every third Sunday!” You looked down at the box you’d brought with you, and he ran. When he got back to his cell, he cried genuine tears for the first time since that August day when his world turned upside down.

- 2 weeks later, visitation day -

He knew hoping you’d come was a waste of time, and that he was just setting himself up for more pain. He’d learned the hard way that when you were gone, that was that. But still, there he was, looking up every time a guard walked into the room. As expected, they never called his name. The rest of the inmates gave him a wide berth as he went back to his cell for the night, and they were right to. He was itching for an excuse to fight. No one gave him one, though, so he told himself he’d find one tomorrow and got ready for bed.

When he got to his cell, it took him just one second to realize there was someone on his bed, pull them off, and shove them against the wall. It took him three more to process that it was you, and then another five to step back and let you go.

“Sorry for scaring you, Yancy. I didn’t mean to. It’s just… it’s visitation day, but I’m still wanted for the escape you helped me pull off, and I haven’t decided if I want to come back for good or not.” He stood there, frozen. You chuckled nervously. “I get it, your turn to be the quiet one. I’m sorry about that, by the way. There was a lot to process all at once, and I just kinda shut down when I get overwhelmed.”

I know. I remember that you didn’t say a single word our first day of high school, Yancy wanted to say. He wanted to say something, anything, but you being there and so close was just too much.

“Okay, so, honesty time; there’s a specific reason I came back.” You took a deep breath. “I haven’t been able to shake this feeling that I know you, somehow. But I know I’d remember meeting you- no way I’d forget someone like you. Anyway, I'm probably way off base and ridiculous. I guess I just wanted to tell you?” You ran your hand through your hair. “God, that sounds even flimsier than it felt in my head. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It, uh. It means a lot that you came back to say that.”

“Uh, Yancy? What happened to your accent?”

“Shit. Um. C’mere.” He muttered, as he sat down on his bed and pulled you down next to him. He prayed that you couldn’t hear how his heart started racing when he noticed your knees were touching. “No one here knows that the accent isn’t how I always speak. Not even the warden. I’ve been here five years and haven’t dropped it once. Anyone learns about this, and you’re dead, understand?” He knew that the threat was empty, but you seemed to believe it.

“Yeah, yeah, I do, don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I gotta ask, though- why fake it? It seems like a lot of effort. You don’t owe me an explanation, of course, but since you’re heart-on-your-sleeve about your parents, it must be one hell of a reason. I bet it’d feel good to let it off your chest. I can promise to leave and never come back if you do- a burden shared is a burden halved, and if I’m gone, you can be 100% sure no one here will know.”

He took a deep breath. “Something flipped my world on its head, and I needed to distance myself from who I was before. That’s an odd phrase, though- ‘a burden shared is a burden halved’. Where’d you pick that up?”

“Oh, um. The mom of someone I loved a long time ago used to say it a lot. It just kinda stuck, I guess.”

“Loved, huh? You break their heart, or did they break yours?” Yancy was surprised he got the words out without his voice shaking or cracking. You were silent for a long time, and Yancy was sure he’d pushed too hard and you would completely shut down or, worse, leave altogether.

“Sorry, I haven’t talked about this… ever." Your voice shook. "I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t know if I was loved back, but if so, I was the heartbreaker. I didn’t mean to be- I couldn’t control having to leave, and I didn’t know I wasn’t coming back until it was too late. I couldn’t say goodbye. I’ve hoped every day for the last fifteen years that my feelings were unrequited, though. I’m happy to have the pain of an unrequited first love if it means she wasn’t heartbroken.” The incorrect pronoun stung a bit, but you didn’t know, and you’d loved him back all those years ago. He was invincible.

“Have you tried reaching out? Even if your feelings were one-sided, I think you owe it to both of you to say them, at least once.” He reached out and took your hands without thinking. You didn't stop him, and he felt like he could fly.

“I tried, actually. About eight years ago, I'd, uh, escaped and was finally an actual person again after everything that was done to and taken from me, so I started looking for her. But it’s like she vanished off the face of the earth five years to the day after we were separated. It’s actually how I met Mark- I got into some deep and shady shit looking. I only gave up last year. Nothing turned up in seven years of searching, so I have to figure that she did something incredibly stupid a decade ago and got herself killed.”

“I didn’t die. Just the name did.” Yancy breathed. A half second later, he realized he’d said it out loud, and his heart stopped. You took your hands out of his and scooted away.

“Yancy. Are you trying to tell me that you’re- that we- oh my god. It is you. I knew I knew you. Everything else is different, but I should have recognized your eyes. I guess some part of me did. But you- I- I thought you were dead.”

“As you can see, I’m not dead, Brain. And for the record, your feelings were definitely not one-sided.” He reached out and cupped your cheek with one hand.

“Shit, Pinky, it really is you.”

Yancy had dreamed about how seeing you again would go in a million different ways. Not a single one of those included you practically jumping into his lap and kissing him with a lifetime's worth of love and want.

He let out an undignified whine when you broke the kiss. “Wait, wait. You knew from the second I walked in here who I was, didn’t you? You tried so hard to stop me from leaving… but then you helped me do just that. You chose to stay here when I asked you to come with me. Then I came back, and you got me to say all those things… And we’re both trans and wound up here? This is all just. So much. I can’t- I can’t do this.” You got off his lap and scooted to the far end of the bed.

“What are you saying, Y/N? That you’re leaving? Again?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

You stood up and faced him. “You do not get to play that card. You don’t know how much I went through trying to find a way to tell you I was sorry, that I didn’t know that the trip was a permanent one until we were on the other side of the country. Dad said that I'd never see mom again, and he’d kill me if I tried to get in touch with you or anyone else from back home. He broke my arm to prove he meant it. I can’t stay here to unpack all of this. I have to go. But you can come with me. I mean it even more now than I did last time. I’m not leaving you, I’m leaving here.”

You walked to the cell door and looked back at him with a sigh. “But I know you, and you have a family here. I’ll get you my address- it’s your turn to come to me, when you’re ready. I’ve waited 15 years to be with you again, what’s a little bit longer?” Without giving him a chance to respond, you kissed him again and were gone.

#yancy x yn #yancy x reader #yancy x male reader #yancy x trans male reader #yancy ahwm #ahwm fanfiction #otp: don't want to be free #self ship fanfic #self shipping fanfiction #self shipping fic

[utterlyinevitable]

Hi! I really like your fics! Especially 'The Conference'. I have a fic request: Ethan x MC revealed to only the gang - not the whole hospital. It's totally fine if you don't do it! Thanks for considering my request! 💞

Sorry for taking a million years to get to this. Also sorry that it’s trash ♥

Telling Friends

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Rating: T+ Summary: It’s sometime after the toxin incident and Becca tells her roommates about her budding relationship. Though one of them has some issues with it... Trope: Fluff, People Find Out About Them; Platonic Gang 

________________________________________

Becca walked carefully into her apartment, immediately greeted by the sweet aroma of chocolate chip muffins and the sight of two of her roommates on their hideous, thrifted yellow couch that makes this place a home.

“Oh, good. You’re all here,” She sighed with a contented smile as she kicked off her shoes.

“Think we should be more shocked you’re here,” Jackie retorted, barely looking up from her phone.

Normally Becca would roll her eyes or respond with something snarky, but not today. Today the roommates had something to talk about; all of which revolved around why she’s barely been home lately.  

“Where’ve you been?” Elijah added, the whites of his teeth sparkling in the midday sunshine peering through the window.

“And in yesterday’s clothes,” Jackie followed up. 

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.” 

Becca dropped her bag and coat by the door before bounding across the room to take her place on the sofa between her two friends. 

“There’s something you guys should know. And I need you to keep it secret.” She glared pointedly at Jackie. 

“Did you pull a heist without us?”  

Elijah added, “Yeah because if so, no, I will never forgive you.” 

“No. I would never. It’s just…” Becca trailed, moving to settle further into the cushions. She took a deep readying breath. Exhaled. And continued; “Really sensitive and important, and I don’t want to do anything to screw it up. But I also don’t want to keep sneaking around…” 

“Are you back with Raf?” Jackie questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Since he kind of imploded his life for you?” 

After the incident, Rafael Aviero broke things off with his childhood sweetheart because of the lingering feelings he still harbored for her. Now he wasn’t moving away, he didn’t have Sora, and he didn’t have... 

“Um… no,” Becca responded, looking down at the cushion. 

Before her guilt could set in fully, the room erupted in a high-pitched, delighted squeal. 

“Oh my god!” Sienna rounded the kitchen island quickly, her battered hands clasping around the wooden spoon, “Really!?” 

“What?” Jackie asked at the same time Elijah questioned, “What’re we missing?” 

The two girls locked eyes and Becca made the slightest of confirming motions. 

Becca took a deep inhale, eyes never leaving Sienna’s. The absolute delight in her best friend’s dark eyes were giving her all the courage she needed. “I’ve been spending a lot of time at Ethan’s. We’ve been dating for a while.” 

“Since when?” 

“The memorial, basically.” 

“Shit,” Jackie lamented. “I’m happy for you, Bec. But damn” - a coy smirk appeared on her lips - “No wonder that guy’s been friendlier than usual.” 

“Finally!” Elijah exclaimed in a rush of air, like it was a breath he’s been holding in for far too long. All three pairs of eyes were on him. “Sienna and I caught Dr. Ramsey leaving the morning after her hearing.” 

Jackie’s jaw dropped past the floor and into the basement. 

The rest of the gang brought her up to speed on how that ended up happening and how no one knew Ramsey slept over, and of course the unfortunate ending to that tale.  

“How’s that going to work?” 

“Strictly professional at the hospital.” Becca affirmed the sentiment with a flippant wave of her hands and the smallest of smiles. “Nothing’s going to change.” 

“Except for how soft he is around you.” 

“He’s not soft on me. If anything he’s harsher with me because of our relationship.” 

The roommates talked more about the logistics of her relationship and how often Ethan will be staying over. Jackie set some ground rules for that, to which Becca rolled her eyes and agreed they would never ever have sex anywhere other than her bedroom when in the apartment. 

When the conversation waned Becca asked; 

“I was thinking about inviting him to Thanksgiving. Unless that’d be weird?” 

Elijah chuckled, “It’ll definitely be weird.”

Sienna waved him off and grabbed her friend’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’d be happy to have him, Becca.” 

The two girls shared a moment. It wasn’t a question that Sienna was overjoyed at Becca’s happiness - this was everything they’ve been dreaming about happening since early intern year. Though there was something quite bittersweet - Becca got a second chance with Ethan, while Sienna will never know what could have been. In their tightened grip neither could forget Danny. 

Becca’s lips parted, about to whisper condolences and affirmations that things are going to get better. But Elijah spoke first;  

“Getting to know Dr. Ramsey will be a real treat. Think he’d be down to watch the MCU in succession?”

As she turned towards him a broad smile took over Becca’s features. “As long as there’s scotch I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“I can’t believe you’ve been sneaking around with him.” Jackie lamented once more.  

“What’s Dr. Ramsey even like outside the hospital? He doesn’t seem like fun.” 

“Ethan’s a lot -” 

Aurora emerged, cutting Becca off with a disbelieving, “You’re dating Dr. Ramsey?”  

Something in her new friend’s tone threw Becca off kilter. So much so she threw up walls as quick and high as could be, ready to defend defend defend. She was afraid of her friends not taking to the news and Aurora’s tone really confirmed Becca’s worst fears. 

“Uh, yeah,” was all she could respond. 

“Gross. I’m happy for you but... gross. Are we forgetting he dated my aunt for years?” 

“Oh shit. Yeah,” Elijah muttered from the sidelines.  

Quickly Becca added, “They were never serious.” 

She was going to say ‘in love’ but thought better of it. She loves him dearly and knows he feels the same way, but they haven’t said it yet. The first time she uses that word next to his name it should be to him and him alone.  

The retort was swift and icy, “Are you?” 

Aurora didn’t anticipate the answer, she knew her friend and thought this was just another one of her impulses. Becca had a tendency to bounce from interest to interest, heart to heart; and after everything that’s happened recently maybe she’s just finding comfort in the man who kept her alive. 

Both sets of deep coffee-colored eyes met, both Aurora and Becca’s features schooled so stoic and unwavering in their position. A simple “Yes” dancing off Becca’s tongue. The word accompanied by the splendid thought that Ethan Ramsey was hers. 

Aurora Emery didn’t miss the tug of a smile tugging at the corners of Becca’s mouth.  

“Fine,” she conceded. “I’ll support you, but this is weird as fuck.”

***

Later that evening Aurora was in her room, sitting on her bed with a textbook in her lap. A knock sounded from her ajar door, and not a few seconds later Becca’s head peeked through the crack.  

“Hey, can we talk?” 

Aurora shut the book. “I think we need to.” 

She shifted on the bed to make room at the foot among all her papers. 

Once settled, sitting cross-legged, Becca broke the small flits of tension. “I’m sorry this is weird for you.” 

“Thanks.” Aurora forced a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sorry about the outburst. I don’t know enough about your relationship to comment.” 

“I don’t know enough about their relationship,” Becca admitted shyly. She fiddled with her hands in her lap. “Ethan doesn’t really talk about it. Just that he appreciates and respects the fuck out of Dr. Emery.” 

“Aunt Harper didn’t talk about it either. All I know is what I’ve overheard and saw. They go way back - I remember them together before I got into med school.” 

They let that sink in for a moment. Becca chewed on her lip as she mindfully ran through the semi-apparent timeline. “So this is weird,” she stated. 

“Really weird,” Aurora agreed with a chortle.   

Some more time passed by on a pause. The two amicably working through this oddity in their lives. Both their thoughts taking them in many directions. Though Becca’s moving further and further into territory she knew Ethan never wanted to wander back through. 

“Was he around a lot?” she finally asked in the smallest of voices. 

If Aurora picked up on her friend’s insecurity she didn’t make it apparent.  

“Sometimes,” she began. “He’d spend some holidays and milestones with the family. I don’t think he ever enjoyed it. A bunch of doctors eating and drinking all the time, everyone knows how much he hates spending time with colleagues.” Aurora tried to brush the last remark off as a joke to lighten the mood. 

She could see the ghost of a smile hanging on Becca’s lips.  

“He went for her.” It wasn’t a question  

Aurora simply nodded. 

“He’s a good guy,” Becca sighed. She looked up at Aurora with the most lovestruck look the young Emery has ever encountered. Right then and there she knew that this certainly was not one of her friend’s whims. It was, and had, the power of a whole new universe. 

“What the two of you see in him I’ll never know,” Aurora scoffed in feigned mockery. 

Becca was just about to comment - to say just how much of a different man Ethan was to Dr. Ramsey - when Aurora added; 

“But you shouldn’t worry about me, you should probably talk to Bryce.” 

Becca’s eyes went wide and her jaw stiffened. 

If anyone was going to address the other blatantly obvious elephant in the friend group, Aurora realized, it had to be her. Might as well kill two birds with one stone whilst they buried the hatchet. 

“We all know you’ve been hooking up for a while.” 

If words could kill Aurora was certain she just decapitated Becca. The poor girl went stark and ghostly. It was as if she hadn’t even considered telling her booty call she’s seeing someone else. 

Aurora trailed, “I don’t know exactly what went down but...” 

Neither wanted her to break Bryce Lahela’s heart.   

___________________

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[couchpotatoaniki]

One Year ❣︎ Seven: Never Ask Friends for Help

Chapter Summary: As San expected, he caught a cold after your little prance through the storm in Hallim Park the previous day. Luckily, you're fine, which gives you the wonderful opportunity to look after him and the even more wonderful opportunity to let your chaotic nature shine.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, (this chapter is pure fluff and crack) Word count: 3.2k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter Six For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

Silence filled your room when you woke up the next morning. It was strange, since San had said he would be waking you up, and there you were, still lying in bed by the time noon rolled around.

It wasn’t as if you were waiting for him to come and get you, but you just wanted to take advantage of the time in such a warm blanket. Yeosang often joked about how you became a cold-blooded reptile whenever you felt sleepy, body temperature dropping and your tongue sharp like that of a snake.

Basically, it was his long-winded way of calling you a cranky, heat-stealing bitch.

Not that you minded at all, since Yeosang was a cranky bitch himself when sleepy.

But then half an hour passed, and there was still no sign of San. Throwing the blanket off your form, you slipped on a pair of slippers and got ready for the day, finding him becoming the very next thing on your agenda.

And the state you found him in was certainly laughable--to you anyway.

“Did you seriously get sick after a little storm?” you chuckled, eyes taking in San wrapped in the covers as if he was a baby, sniffling every few seconds.

“Oh, shut it,” he glared at you, speaking with a nasally voice.

You took a step into his room, one looking fairly similar to yours, with little pictures or much personalisation in general. Must not have stayed here often then, or had many memories he wanted to keep.

That thought... it made you feel a little sad.

Once you reached the edge of his bed, you sat down beside him, noticing just how sickly-looking he was. Skin paler, hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, flush cheeks and nose, uneven breathing, soft whimpering.

Your smile faded slightly. “How long have you been like this?”

“Since last night,” he coughed, brushing away your hand as you reached out to check his temperature. “Don’t touch me, I don’t want you to catch whatever this is.”

Clicked your tongue at his response and did so anyway. “Holy shit, you’re burning up. More than you should be. Has anyone seen to you yet?” Instantly, you brushed the hair from his eyes, simultaneously wiping away the sweat. Was pretty gross, but you didn’t mind at all.

San relaxed under your gentle touch, finding it cool and soothing against his muddled senses. “N-No. I texted Hongjoong to tell everyone to leave me alone. Clearly didn’t do a good enough job if you’re here.”

Lightly hitting his chest over the blanket, you scoffed. “You’re happy I’m here, don’t lie.”

Grinning, he sighed. “Can’t hide anything from you, now can I, Hun?”

“Nope,” you huffed as you got up. “Now, I’m going to prepare something for you to eat since you probably haven’t had anything since yesterday.” On cue, his stomach grumbled painfully loudly, making the man visibly cringe as he was about to decline your offer so you would stay with him for a little bit longer. “Looks like Mister Tummy’s already answered for you.”

“Mister Tummy doesn’t know shit.”

“Mister Tummy knows more shit than you do. In fact, it processes all of your shit for you.”

“Gross.”

“I know. Mister Tummy’s gross. But full of wisdom.”

“You know what, just go. Leave me be for a bit.”

Evil chuckling reached his ears. “Now that you’ve said it, I’ll just be here to annoy you as much as I can. But before we do that, keep yourself bundled up and make sure you’re sweating buckets. It’s the most effective way to break a nasty fever like that.” You began wrapping him up in the thick blanket like he was a burrito.

With that, you left for the kitchen, calling Seonghwa’s number. As the ringing continued, you looked around, noticing how there were few guards and servants around the place. Not even Wooyoung, Jongho, or Hongjoong could be seen in your trek to make food.

“What do you want, troll?”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that. Whatever happened to ‘hello’? Too mainstream for you?”

“...Hello, troll. What do you want?”

Narrowing your eyes ahead of you, smirk pressing against your lips, you tried to look around for the chef. Not there either. “Much better. Now, can you give me a recipe for that soup with ‘magical healing properties’ you used to give me?”

“Bone broth?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m on adventure to nurse a sociopathic cuddle-demon back to health, now are you going to give me the recipe or am I going to get Yunho to drag it out of you? Because I know very well that he will.”

Seonghwa’s sigh was loud enough to be audible through the phone.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Just text me the recipe, thank you, love you, byeeeeee.” Immediately ended the call, looking in all the cupboards, the pantry, the fridge, and the freezer. This place was stocked to the brim.

Shortly after, your phone began buzzing, Seonghwa requesting to video call you. Swiping the green button, you were met with a (slightly laggy) picture of Seonghwa’s chin, hearing him yell off screen. “--UNHO. MINGI. I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU BETTER PUT THAT DOWN BEFORE I SHOVE IT UP BOTH YOUR ASSES.”

You could make out the response, “Hehe, kinky.” Most likely Mingi from the very nature of the comment.

“What do you want, troll?” you echoed his words back to him, catching his attention--the other boys most likely long gone into the depth of the house.

“Well, well, well, how the tables have turned,” he smirked, moving the camera so you could see him better.

“It’s ‘how the turntables’.”

He looked at you with an unimpressed expression, not pleased with your Office reference, and carried on to ignore it. “So there is no way in hell I’m sending you the recipe through text, since people can easily hack that--”

“And by people, you mean--”

“Yeosang, yes, who else? Little rat bastard keeps trying to steal my recipes.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”

“As if he hasn’t heard it already about a million times.”

You chuckled in response, knowing how true it was. “Fair enough. Now spill your secrets and bless me with the ability to cook.”

One word to describe the last hour of your life would be... Well, you couldn’t really think of a word. It was purely of Seonghwa screaming over the phone and you screaming back. And panicking. Both of you definitely panicked.

But all in all, the bone broth was made and tasted fairly decent--a worry you had after fucking up so many times in making a simple recipe.

With a pale and dreary look upon his face, Seonghwa looked at you through the phone, narrowing his eyes on you pouring some of the hot mixture in to a bowl. “You’re actually gonna feed him that? Sure you’re trying to nurse him, or was this a master plan to kill him after that ordeal? Because if it’s the latter, then there were much easier ways of doing so.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, whispering prayers in your head that it would actually help San’s fever. “And goodbye.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Is that it? You’re gonna use me and then lea--”

You hand pulled away from the phone screen, after having pressed the red button. Chuckled to yourself with your comedic timing, completely forgetting the earful you’d get of the elder the next time you call him.

Gathering a tray, you placed the bowl of bone broth on top of it, as well as a packet of painkillers, a glass of water, and some turmeric tea; why San has it, you have no idea, since he seems to be a hot coffee-kind of person.

Would’ve added a flower, because you felt like being extra, but that would seem more like a romantic thing than a... well, whatever the hell you two were right now.

This situation wasn’t exactly common enough for it to be given a name.

Wafting away the thought, you grabbed the tray and walked quickly to the mobster’s bedroom. Didn’t need to worry about any spillage since you’ve had years of practice being quick and precise with movement.

Holding one hand beneath the tray (feeling a little heavy, but again, you’ve had practice), you used the other to open the door, finding San still swaddled in his blanket, sweating like a pig.

“Y/N...” he whimpered, an eye opening at the sound of you entering. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state was different to how he usually was--and you weren’t sure if you liked it.

“I’m right here, San,” you replied in a soft tone, brushing back his hair once more as soon as you placed the tray on the bedside-table beside you. “Brought you some food too. Can you sit up for me?”

Letting out soft whines, he tried to lift his body up, but was too weak and too caged in to get his back even a centimetre off the mattress. You saw the issue, and pulled the covers apart slightly so he could move a little more, both hands pulling gently at his shoulders so he could sit up properly.

Never had you seen someone this unwell from a simple fever. Sure, you’ve felt like shit before, but San’s condition was a little worrying. “Is there some private doctor I can call?”

“What,” he huffed, a smile etching onto his face as he looked into your eyes, “makes you think I have a private doctor?”

“Oh, I dunno, you’re a rich asshole?”

Chuckling, he let his head flop to the side, neck suddenly too weak to hold it up properly. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Annoying, but funny, but sarcastic, but beautiful.”

“Okay, do you wanna continue with that word vomit or are you gonna eat?” You cocked your brow, head tilting to match his posture. “Also, you’re not gonna flatter me by calling me beautiful. That shit doesn’t work on me anymore.”

It had slightly upset San knowing that you had said ‘anymore’--upset him knowing that there were others complimenting what his. But he couldn’t blame them. You really were beautiful in his eyes, even if he hadn’t thought so when he initially laid eyes on you.

“Don’t wanna eat.”

Sighing, you fixed yourself and picked up the bowl, mixing it as you blew to cool it down a little. “You’re not well, you gotta.”

He looked at you with big wide eyes and a small pout--and you couldn’t help but think it was a little cute. “Don’t wanna... unless you feed me?”

Okay, maybe it was a little less cute.

You exhaled, still stirring. “If I do, then you’ll have it all?” He put his hand over his heart, nodding with a sincere look on his face. “Fine then.” You lifted a spoon full of the bone broth to his lips, which he look into his mouth promptly--eyes glued to yours as he did so.

San hummed earnestly. “It’s...actually pretty good.”

Eye twitching, you lightly pushed him. “Why? Did you expect it to be shit?”

“I mean, I heard faint screaming and what I assume was swearing, which could have only come from you because I let everyone have a day off for today. So, yes, forgive my assumption that it would murder me,” he chuckled, opening his mouth once more, in which you carefully put more broth in.

“Be happy that I’m doing this much for you.”

“Because you feel guilty for getting me ill?” 

“No, it was your fault for not taking a hot shower when we came back, like I told you to--and your immune system for being so shit.”

“Okay, first of all, I can’t help it if my immune system wants to act out. I usually don’t get this ill.” You sent him a ludicrous look, continuing to feed him. “What? I really don’t!”

“Tell that to the rain.”

“I-- nevermind. But the second thing is that I offered to take a shower, but you said no!”

“That’s because you wanted to shower with me. No way in hell I was gonna let that happen!”

“You have the shower room for it!”

″Yeah, and I've already passed on my grievances to you yesterday about that hell-room!”

“Well, at least with me with you, you don’t have to worry about--what did you call it? Oh yeah--’Casper the fuckin’ Perverted Ghost’.”

“I’d take a ghost over you any day.”

“You won’t be saying that in a year.”

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t be choosing Casper over you. After all, I’ll be spending time with him as well.”

San scoffed, slightly amused but annoyed at the same time. “Are you actually trying to get me jealous of something that doesn’t exist?”

“Who said Casper doesn’t exist?”

“‘Cause ghosts don’t exist.”

“Tell that to Casper. You’ll find him in my shower room.”

Amidst the conversation, neither of you had noticed how the bowl and cup was now empty, their contents now residing in San’s stomach. But when you did, you got up--ready to walk to the kitchen and put everything away--until his very warm hands wrapped around your elbow gently.

“Please don’t go. You can put all that stuff away later. Just... stay with me.”

Sighing, you decided to listen to him for once an put the tray down before tightening the covers around him again--making him whine. “Noooooo, I wanna hold you.”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?”

“I’m ill, stop taking my muddled brain so seriously.”

Your brow cocked up, amused while you looked over his flushed face. “So you’d be willing get me sick too?”

Another pout formed on his face. “Of course not,” he mumbled. “You know what, you’re right. You can go.”

He avoided looking at you, instead fixing his saddened gaze at the window. Your natural scepticism told you that he was just faking it, only putting on an act to get your attention and affection. Yet, for the first time in a while, doubt began to seep in.

Maybe... maybe you could give in. Just this once.

Sighing, you slipped off your slippers and lay down beside him, an arm and leg wrapping around his body to bring him closer to you. A stronger tint of red covered his face as he looked at you, flabbergasted, as he tried to wriggle out of your touch. “What are you doing, you’ll get sick--”

“My immune system is much stronger than yours, I’ll live. Besides, you look cosy,” you muttered, nestling your face into the soft blanket. Even his blanket smelled like a garden in the rain, despite the amount of sweat that’s probably seeped into it.

Truly, he did, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted to hug the human burrito.

San had, instead, found you cute, cheek squished against the fabric surrounding him. Let his mind wonder to the image of you pressed against him--without the covers coming between you two.

Again.

Would you look this peaceful, sleeping on his chest, on a regular day--he thought.

“Are you just going to stare at me or are you gonna get some rest?” San could feel your voice vibrating through the covers despite the thickness of it.

“Hard not to stare at you, ya know?” he relaxed himself, despite feeling like he was baking beneath the blanket, and let his head rest on the pillow, cheek pressed against your forehead.

“Goddamn, you’re hot. Did you take any medicine while I was cooking?”

“Oh, Hun, there’s no cure for sexiness,” he coughed, a smirk pulling at his lips from the joke he made.

Another sigh was pulled from your throat as you got up to look for any painkillers he could take. Sane began to whine once more, rolling over since he could barely had enough energy to move with his arms when he was this tired--a full belly of warm broth and tea not helping what so ever.

“No--wait. Come back...”

“You need painkillers.”

With a straight face, he stared deep into your eyes, slightly glossy and sparkling under the dim sunlight coming into the room. “But you’re my painkiller.”

“Yeah, I’m going to get you some meds,” you deadpanned, scooping up the tray to leave the grown-ass mafia boss whining and rolling around, throwing a tantrum.

After some hard thinking and remembering that Wooyoung had given you his number, you called him up as you stood in the doorway, looking at San’s calm state of sleeping.

“My dear sister,” you heard a voice finally say over the phone, “what requires my assistance?”

“...Wooyoung?”

“Yes, dear sister?”

“What in the world has possessed you call me your ‘dear sister’?”

“Because you’re gonna be my friend’s wife some day, so I need to get used to seeing you as my sister-from-another-mister.”

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you decided to not comment on his outlandish claims. “San’s not feeling well.”

“Is that why he sent us all away?” he laughed, somehow finding this situation amusing--since this is what his best friend tends to do; finds his weakened state as vulnerability, and if there was one thing San hated, it was feeling vulnerable.

But if he truly hated that, then why pursue this why you--when he know that it would force him to bring his guard down?

“I think so. No one was here when I came out of my room. Not the cooks or the maids or even the guards,” you said, taking another gander as if there might be someone roaming the halls to disprove your statement.

There wasn’t.

“Okay then. You want me to give you our private doctor’s number?”

Chuckling to yourself because you knew you were right (immediately confusing Wooyoung), you hummed, “yeah, that would be great.”

“O-Okay. Lemme text it to you. But do you need anything else? I know from experience San can get a little clingy when he’s not in his right mind,” he said, a boisterous giggle passing his lips.

“Nah, it’s fine.” You let your gaze brush over your captor’s figure. “Just send me the number and I’ll take it from there.”

“Okie dokie then, dear sister. I’ll leave you to deal with that enigma.”

“Alright, Wooyoung. See you tomorrow?”

“Call me ‘dear brother’, then maybe I’ll hang u--”

You shoved your phone into your back pocket after ending the call, thinking that it would take him a few minutes. Proving you wrong, the phone buzzes to life within the next ten seconds, Wooyoung sending you a couple of messages.

Wooyoung: Well that was a rude Wooyoung: No matter, I still love ya, dear sister Wooyoung: Probs should clarify that it’s platonic in case San sees it and gets all jelly Wooyoung: Anyway, here’s the number Wooyoung: XXXXXXXXXX

Y/N: Thanks, bro

Wooyoung: 🥺🥺 You called me ‘bro’

Smiling a little, you called the number--which had indeed taken you to a doctor’s clinic. After hearing of his exact temperature and other symptoms, the woman over the phone had concluded that it was as you first suspected--the common cold.

She told you to keep giving him painkillers and he should be fine within the week. Ending the call with a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, you left to get San more broth and medication, and hopefully you’d lay down with him again.

Which is exactly what you did for the rest of the day, opting to stay with him for the night too in order to make sure he really was okay. Thankfully, the worst of his fever had passed by the time morning came around and he was feeling much better.

You, however, were exhausted after looking after him, deep in your slumber as you shifted closer to San, who had broken free of his blanket prison and wrapped it around the two of you. The sunlight peeking through the window paled in comparison to the faint smile of glee San had adorned when he saw you.

Cheeked pressed up against his shoulder, and arm and a leg draped over his body like a koala clinging to a tree.

Just like he had thought the day before.

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby​​​​ , @sparklychangbin​​​​ , @shawkneecaps​ If you wanna be tagged, feel free to ask!

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez mafia au #mafia!ateez #mafia au #mafia!san #mafia!choi san #choi san #ateez san #ateez choi san #san x reader #choi san x reader #mafia!choi san x reader #san fanfic #choi san fanfic #san ff #choi san ff #fluff #angst #crack #One Year #One Year series

[moonhavenn]

Heartless

Javier Pena x Fem!Reader

Summary: Javi is ready to ruin is “heartless” reputation for you. 

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: insinuation of smut

Javier Peña was trouble like you’d never known before. On your first day of the job he’d mistaken you for an informant. He’ll never forget the sting of his cheek after you slapped him when he offered to trade sex for information. In his defence he’d never meet an agent with an ass like yours (his words). But after that encounter he learnt never to underestimate you again. You did find him incredibly attractive and extremely distracting. You wanted him. But you let your pride get in the way of that ever happening.

Javier had developed a morning ritual for you. His own way of letting you know he wasn’t a total douche. Now when you show up to work, he’d be waiting for you by your desk with his signature smirk and a brown paper bag filled with your favourite pastry. You’d yank the bag from his grasp, telling him to get off her desk with a glare, but muttering a ‘thank you’ nevertheless. You had work to do, they both did. And there was nothing more distracting than Javier and his sinful lips. Steve would always tease the man, arguing about where his breakfast treat was. Javier always brushed his comments off. When they would get too serious, he’d simply tell Steve you’d be a good time in bed and that’s it. Once he got what he wanted out of you the special treatment would stop. Steve would let out a low whistle and mutter, “That’s heatless Javi.” And Javier knew it too. But he couldn’t let people know that he had gone and caught feelings.

The workday had finally come to end. Another boring day sitting at your desk filling out paperwork had left you feeling tense and fatigued. A glass of wine, a bubble bath and thinking about a certain DEA agent should do the trick. You’d almost made it out the door when your name was called by your two partners. “What do you two want? I’m done for the day.” You groan turning around to face the pair. They both wore the same troublesome look on their faces. “We’re going to the bar.” Steve tells you, “And you’re coming with us.” Javier adds, his tongue swiping over his lips making you take notice.

That was how you ended up at the bar and ditching your bubble bath plans. The music was fine, the whiskey in your glass made it tolerable. Steve had ditched Javi and you at the bar to dance with his wife, and that was more than 15 minutes ago. You’d spent the whole time sipping on your drink wondering if you’d actually have the guts to sleep with Javier. It seemed like more heartache than it was worth for you. A girl had come up to him almost as soon as the group had arrived. But he waved her off and offered to buy you a drink instead. You had scoffed at the women’s eagerness, but only because you were slightly jealous.

Javier ordered his fourth beer as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. You hadn’t spoken much in the last 15 minutes and it was beginning to make him nervous. Steve had conveniently disappeared with his wife and now it was just the two of you, alone. Javi never had an issue talking to women. That was usually because he didn’t care what they thought of him, so long as they distracted his mind for the night. But he cared what you thought of him. So much so that he hadn’t been with a women in months. And while it was driving him crazy not being able to release the tension. It was better than having a girl run out on him halfway after he had called her by your name on accident.

Javi cleared his throat trying to get your attention, “Hermosa, you want another drink?” he asks noticing that yours was now almost empty. You shook your head causing a few pieces of baby hair to fall from your ears. “No, I’ve probably had enough.” You admit finishing the last few drops off. He had noticed that your cheeks had become rosier and you’d cracked a smile at some of his jokes which you never usually did. Taking you to the bar was the only way to get you to open up to Javier. “You feelin’ okay?” he asks wondering if there was something bothering you. You were quiet, but never this silent. Always burring your thoughts away. Never wanting them to burden others.

“Yeah, I’m just a bit tired.” You sigh, maybe you should have that other drink. Clearly the first few weren’t perking you up but winding you down. “I can take you home if you’d like?” Javi suggests now feeling guilty for dragging you to the bar in the first place. He’d done if for selfish reasons, wanting to spend time with you. You pause and think for a moment. You really do want to crawl into you bed and get some rest. “Would that be okay?” you say politely not wanting to hurt his feelings. He nods, sliding some cash onto the table and escorting you to his car outside.

The drive back to your apartment was short. Javier knew the way to go as he’d dropped you off countless times before. He always wanted to make sure you got home safe. He wouldn’t leave until he saw you wave to him from the window of your living room. You had dreaded the moment he put the vehicle into park outside your home. You weren’t ready to say goodnight yet. You gave Javi a shy smile as you felt your heart beating in you throat. “Do you wanna come up for some coffee?” You ask finally spitting the words out. Javier’s brows raise as his mind wonders and you slap his arm, “Not like that. I mean actual coffee. That’s it.” You scold him and his dirty mind. “I guess I could spare a few minutes for you.” Javier teases checking is watch like he had somewhere else better to be. In reality Javi was grinning from ear to ear. He’d never stepped foot inside your apartment and was thrilled that he was being allowed into your home.

Javier waited patiently in the hallway as you dig through your purse to find your keys. His watchful eyes made you anxious as you opened the door and let him enter first. He drank in the details of your apartment. It was simple, and much cleaner than his own. Javi shrugged off his leather jacket and took a seat on you couch as he waited for you to brew the coffee you’d promised him. He’d never gotten this far before and he could feel his emotions for you boiling over the edge. Javier gripped the side of your couch trying to push them down. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off. But all of his efforts washed away when he sees you carefully walking over to him with two steamy mugs. You gently offer him the mug, your fingers brushing against each other during the exchange. Even the briefest touch made Javi’s heart flutter and he knew he was in deep trouble this time.

You couldn’t stand the way Javier looked sitting on your couch. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned allowing you to peer at some of his chest hair. He had his arm stretched over the back of the couch, dominating the space. You took a seat next to him wanting to be close but still kept you distance. You both sipped your drinks in silence, occasionally stealing looks from one another. It suddenly began dawning on you as you sensed the tension in the room that maybe Javier was expecting something from you. He was watching you intently. His gaze burned your skin. It felt good, but what was the consequence of getting what you wanted.

“I’m sorry if you thought maybe something would happen.” You speak breaking the silence. Javi choked on his coffee at your honest approach and shook his head as he tried to recover. “Don’t worry I don’t want you like that” Javier explains putting his mug down trying to reassure you that he wasn’t going to use you.

“Oh.”

The noise accidentally slips through your mouth. You had a suspicion, but finally hearing it from the man himself that he didn’t like you that way solidified it in your mind. Javier almost jumps out of his seat when he sees the disappointment wash over your face. He’s confused at your response, he thought he was trying to make you feel better, but it was clear that had no idea how you were feeling.

“I didn’t mean it like that! I do want you. I just um – didn’t know you felt the same way” Javier stutters out taking your hand in his. He was trying to hold onto you just in case he’d already lost you.  “You do?” you reply wide-eyed, still not even sure what Javi was really admitting. “Of course, I do Cariño. You just made it very clear when we first met that you weren’t interested.” He explains his brown eyes staring into yours trying to find any sign of disgust, but all he saw was admiration.

You bite back a smile as you remember the memory. It seemed that your strategy to hide your feelings had worked too well.  “You have a certain reputation for being trouble Javi, I was trying to protect myself.” You explain squeezing his hand in yours, reminding him that you were still there with him. You had been warned countless times by other women around the office that Javier was bad news, but that hadn’t stopped you from feeling the way that you did. “Fuck that. I’d give up everything for hermosa.” Javi admits, his voice deepening from his serious tone.

“Kiss me then.” You ask boldly. You’d wasted enough time already. Javier didn’t need to be asked twice as he pounced on you pushing his lips against yours. His nose bumped against yours as he sucked on your lower lip, encouraging you to open up more to him. Your hands reached up for his hair trying to pull him closer to you. Javier couldn’t contain his excitement as he kissed you. Having you under him gasping for more was his new favourite thing. Your lungs began to burn, and you let go of Javi briefly to catch your breath. He kept littering you with kisses though, the hairs of his moustache tickling your neck. He didn’t want to miss an inch of skin. You grabbed his cheek pulling him away from his assault on you neck so you could gaze into his chocolate eyes.

“You’re mine now, you know that right.” You smile and his eyes light up as his lips turn into a smirk. “All yours.” He hums moving down towards you pants going to rip them off. You were in for a long night.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #narocs #pedro pascal x reader #ashleigh writes

[oikawasass]

i rlly couldnt get this idea out of my head so im pausing my prompt writing to do this. its also 4am and this is uneditied so sorry for any typos or grammar issues.

snapchat memories.

‣ pairing: bakugou x fem reader.

‣ drabble.

‣ synopsis: they always say you should never go through old photos after a breakup.

‣ warnings: swearing, light angst.

a loud grunt came from the blonde as he crashed down onto his matress, rubbing his face tiredly.

he stared up at his blank ceiling, zoning out into the white surface. katsuki had felt off all day, though he wasn’t able to put his finger on exactly why. he just felt...like he was forgetting something important.

today...what the fuck is today?

shitty hair’s birthday? no, thats not for another month...

parents aniversarry? no, i never remember when that is anyway...

today...fuck! what the hell is today!

pulling him out of his thoughts was the small ping of his cellphone. bakugou took his hands off his face and groaned in annoyance for the nth time, reaching to grab his phone out of his pocket while ready to chew out whoever had decided to bother him.

snapchat: (1) new notification.

opening the app, he expected to see his groupchat going off as it always did, or kaminari sending him some wack ass pictures he’d taken to avoid studying.

memories: 1 year ago today!

the thumbnail of the small slideshow was a picture of him, with his arm around his now ex girlfriend, (name.)

thats when it dawned on him, exactly what today was.

it would have been their one year.

katsuki gulped, sucking in a breath of air before tapping the screen, opening up the folder of photos and beginning to click through them.

it was some of the photos they took while on one of the many dates the two went on. the one showing up on the screen happened in the downtown, after the couple had spent most of the day trying out different food trucks and various small shops in the area.

it was the day he’d finally decided to ask her to be his girlfriend. the sixth of october, last year.

the photos hadn’t actually been taken by katsuki, but rather by (name) asking to take a few on his phone.

one picture popped up in particular that inevitably made bakugou’s mood drop.

the photo was taken from a lower angle by (name,) who was hugged up against the blonde’s chest, while bakugou had an arm wrapped around her shoulders to keep her there. his chin was rested right atop her head as he looked at something out of frame, while (name) puckered her lips and snapped the picture.

that was bakugou’s phone lockscreen for the entire ten months they were together.

the night evolved from looking back at a few photos, to albums, to old archived social media posts, text messages, videos, anything he had saved from their first date to their breakup.

he scrolled for hours, staying up way past the time he usually liked to go to bed. he completely lost track of time, getting lost in the old memories of when thinfs seemed so much more simple. he had a gentle smile on his face the whole time, despite the growing pit in his stomach.

katuski finally came back to his senses upon a battery warning popping up on his screen. with a deep sigh he turned the cell off, throwing it onto his pillow and rolling back onto his stomach.

why had the even broken up in the first place? sure they had issues, but every couple did. it was nothing that couldn’t be sorted out, right?

wrong.

bakugou, now sitting alone in his room and reminiscing was able to realize that their problems were much more deep rooted than he’d previously believed, constantly ignoring the suffocating question: “was this all my fault?”

he started to neglect their relationship at the start of their second year, getting wrapped up in his school work and hero training like he always did. that was okay, (name) always understood that his life long goal would come first to a highschool relationship.

it was the way he went about it that slowly brought them to their downfall.

rather than saying he’d be back at the dorms late, or couldn’t carry out the plans they’d made because he had extra work to do, he’d begun to ignore the girl, or blow her off completely without a word.

this of course, lead to (name) becoming extremely fed up with the reoccurring behavior, and it showed in her much more snappy attitude and temper.

they fought, they argued, they hit eachother in their weak points to make the other upset, the couple did nothing but fight, fight, fight.

bakugou was the one who said he was finished with the whole thing one night in a rather nasty argument. he stormed out after, and they hadn’t spoken since. kirishima got any of bakugou’s belongings from (name,) and mina got any of (name’s) belongings from bakugou. the two refused to utter a word to eachother now, its been that way for two months without break.

katsuki came to realize the pit that had been growing in his stomach was guilt. he felt bad for ending things the way he did, being childish and neglectful, and he missed her.

letting his head fall to the right, he stared at his phone, the angel and devil on each of his shoulders arguing back and forth.

text her.

no, dont text her are you fucking stupid?

but i feel like an asshole.

you’re gonna be even more of an asshole if you text her right now. and its midnight? it’ll look like a booty call.

well im gonna text her anyway.

dont fucking text her.

but i want to.

but you shouldnt.

text her.

dont text her!

bakugou reached out and grabbed his phone, opening up his text messages and clicking on her contact.

bakugou

| 00:12: hey.

bakugou

| 00:12: can we talk?

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #boku no hero academia #bnha #bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugo headcanons #bakugo oneshot #mha bakugou katsuki #bakugou oneshot #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou angst #mha bakugou #mha angst

[oldtowrs]

˗ˏˋ DROWNING IN YOU - obi-wan kenobi/jedi!reader

SUMMARY - after order-66 has been issued, obi-wan and the reader, a jedi and his companion, exile themselves on tatooine. the reader finds obi-wan practicing with his lightsaber, and they get into a small argument, which ends in fluff.

WORD COUNT - ~2.1k

A/N - i have a soft spot for obi-wan. however, this is my first obi-wan fic so i’m sorry if i’ve missed aspects of his character. it will come eventually though. i promise. anyway, gif belongs to @coredrive. please send me requests if you have any!

WARNINGS - none

   the familiar hum of his weapon seemed to electrify the dry air around obi-wan as he ignited it, the blue light of his kyber crystal illuminating his strong features and the sandy terrain around him. memories from as early as his padawan years raced through his mind. he smiled at the realization that many included you and the many battles you had fought by his side. it was a familiar glow and welcomed buzz, but obi-wan couldn’t help but remember all that he had failed to protect with the sophisticated saber he held in his hands. 

   his heart ached as images of anakin’s golden eyes glaring at him over their crossed, blue lightsabers haunted his memories. the heat of the lava surrounding them almost was unbearable as they dueled, yet his failures burned a whole in his heart greater than the lava ever could.

   but that’s why he had dug his lightsaber out of the trunk he had frantically shoved his few belongings into before you and him had made a frantic escape from coruscant to live out your days on tatooine, hovering just close enough to protect anakin’s son: luke skywalker. he dug it out in hopes that his skills hadn’t faltered in the few months he had been cowering in the little sandy cave that he now shared with you and which he called home. he couldn’t let them falter. he had to protect luke. he had to protect you. he was a jedi guardian, after all. he fought to protect all that was good in the world the brilliant blue of his force signature marching the glow of his saber. he couldn’t let himself fail luke. he couldn’t let himself fail you. he wouldn’t let that failure take hold of him again, not while the images of anakin burnt to a crisp and padme lying, her dark hair carefully decorated with delicate, white flowers, on her deathbed were still fresh in his mind; and he anticipated they would be for quite some time. 

   he readied his lightsaber in one of the traditional fighting stances of form iv. qui-gon’s face seemed to swim in his memories as he began the training sequence obi-wan’s old master had taught him, closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath. another face which only existed in his memories now. another failure. 

   with each heavy swing of his lightsaber, the dry air seemed to crackle and buzz about him, his anger at his failures burning up with it as he forced them from his being and into his each swing and spin. anger was not the way of the jedi-although he supposed that didn’t matter now. if he stayed true to the order, to the code, he was a marked traitor and enemy of the galactic republic. the order which he had dedicated so much of his life to could now get him killed. 

   the order. the council. another failure. another swing of his saber. another hum that broke the silence of the quiet desert and the evening which descended upon it as tatooine’s twin suns sunk into the sand. 

   he felt a presence through the force occupy his already tortured mental state, but he elected to ignore it-cut it down with another swing of the lightsaber.

   ‘obi-wan!’ a voice called, its normal tone and sweetness turned bitter with concern. it was your voice. 

   he looked up to see you running towards him from the entrance to your cave home, the linens of your dress-which you had traded your usual heavy, woolen jedi robes for, snapping in the slight breeze behind you. ‘what’re you doing?! are you asking to get caught?’

    somewhere in his confusion, he managed to sheath his lightsaber, the blade of pure light and plasma retracting with a whomsh as he clipped it to his belt-an old force of habit.

    ‘my love, somebody could see you!’ you exclaimed softly, as you stopped before him, arms entangling themselves with his own. ‘or did you forget that the whole galaxy is on the lookout for jedi to report to the republic?’ 

    guilt ravaged his features and an unfamiliar wave of shame washed over his heart. should someone see him wielding a lightsaber whose color was indicative of his rank, of his affiliation with the order, he would be reported to the republic, hunted down, locked in a cell and put on a waitlist for execution as punishment for treason.

    the concern on your face made his heart ache, how your delicate eyebrows furrowed in worry, the way your e/c eyes no longer sparkled with joy-but were haunted by fear instead. he noticed new worry lines had formed around your eyes, and dark circles had begun to collect beneath them. age had seeped into your face and he realized that the past few months had not been kind to you, hitting you just as hard as they did him. you had been one of padme’s closest confidants after all, always waiting by her side during meetings which matters of the senate and council and the galaxy at large were always discussed in dramatic fashion. you had been almost as dark of a shadow as anakin had been, always following her around, protecting her from a galaxy which wished to harm her. his failures had been yours too. 

    yet despite those lines of worry and of age, you were still as beautiful as you had been as a padawan, running around coruscant jedi training grounds and rooms of the high jedi council with obi-wan’s strong, calloused fingers interwoven with your soft ones. 

    your heart ached for the jedi you had formed a forbidden attachment to, to whom you had fallen in love with, as you watched the shining, steely blue of his irises drop to his boots. 

   ‘i’m sorry, darling,’ he said, his precise articulations and elegant accent soft and plagued with the guilt that he seemed to drown in. the sensation of your delicate fingers taking hold of his face, their tips burying themselves in the bushiness of his reddish-brown beard, was enough to pull him to the surface-to ground him in the present. he looked up through the golden spun curtain of his eyelashes, just in time to see your features soften.

   kriff- the way you looked at him made his heart melt.and the way the setting suns caught in your h/c hair made it gleam as though it was spun of the finest metals. you had braided it into a simple tatooine style and the only thought he found rushing through his mind was how beautiful you were-and how guilty he felt. 

   ‘i suppose you are right,’ he said. ‘it is reckless.’

   ‘obi-wan, what’s wrong?” you said, your fingers angling his gaze directly into yours. the concern he saw there made him want to cry, tears welling up in his eyes and inhibiting his ability to speak. 

   ‘i failed,’ he choked out. ‘i fails qui-him. i failed anakin. i failed padme. i failed the order, the council-everything.’ 

   he watched as your face fell and pain seeped into your lovely irises, illuminated by the dying light of tatooine’s suns. but he continued on. he was drowning, and your presence had been his gasp of fresh air. now the seawater couldn’t help but pour out of him, and his thoughts with it. 

   his voice became deadly quiet. ‘how am i supposed to protect luke if i can’t even protect them. how can i protect you for that matter? i thought that, perhaps, if i train, then… i’ll be good enough to at least give you some sense of security, and, when the time comes, train luke to bring peace to the galaxy that i’ve helped destroy.’

   ‘oh, obi-wan,’ you sigh, pain evident in your voice. ‘you have not failed the galaxy, and you certainly have not contributed to the destruction which palpatine helped to foster-both in the galaxy and in anakin. their downfall is not on your hands, my love. do not manipulate it to be so.’ 

   ‘you have protected this galaxy, and put your life on the line so that trillions may live in peace without ever having to experience the horrors of war.’ 

   ‘and as for me, my love,’ you chuckled, smiling up at him and pressing a kiss softer than the petals of the alderaanian flame-rose to his jawline, ‘do you forget that i am a jedi too? i may not be a guardian and a general like you, but that doesn’t mean i’m any less trained in the ways of the force than you, my sweet jedi. we protect each other now, remember?’ 

   maker-when had you learned to be so convincing? it only amplified the love that burned in his heart, melting him from the inside out. a small smile settled itself onto his lips, peeking through the beauty that was his beard. 

   ‘yes, i remember, sweetling,’ he hummed, the endearment sounding like honey on his articulate tongue. it warmed your heart, as you saw some of the light you so dearly cherished found its way back into his kind eyes. he was so lovely, in all that he was. 

   obi-wan let his hand graze the soft skin of your jaw, gently tilting your face as he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. he wished he could see the blush that he knew was blooming along your cheekbones as he did so. 

    i love you obi wan, your force signature echoed softly. a warmth seemed to cloud his heart, and he knew it was you reaching out to him through the force, transferring as much love as you possibly could through to him. it was something you had been doing ever since you had mastered projections as padawans. 

   i love you too, darling. he felt the familiar entanglement of his force signature with yours, warm and comforting. he had always used his for strength, but you used yours for more emotional circumstances. he found that he couldn’t leave your presence without a piece of your signature lingering with him, a reminder that you were with him always. 

   his calloused fingers found their way to the back of your head, tangling gently in your h/c tresses, as his other arms snaked around your waist, lovingly playing with the softness he found about your hips as he pulled you into his shoulder for a hug. he noticed there was a little more softness there than usual, and he felt his heart swell lovingly at the discovery. he adored you, but the extra softness gave him more of you to love and cherish. exile treated you well, and obi-wan couldn’t help but adore its effects. 

   what would i do without you? the projection was filled with a softness that obi-wan could only ever find in you, his one attachment, his love. 

   you’d be fine. you’re stronger than any one i know, love. a soft squeeze of his bicep accompanied your words and obi-wan knew that while yes, he was strong and resilient, he was only so because of his devotion to you and you to him. 

   perhaps, but i would be terribly miserable without you, my little dove. he felt a surge of warmth radiating off you through the force, and he smiled at the knowledge that he warmed your heart just as you did his. he pulled you ever closer, giving you a gentle squeeze, enveloping himself in all that was you. he couldn’t pull himself from your orbit, even if he wanted to try.  

   ‘perhaps, we can find a way to train without drawing attention to ourselves,’ you pondered, with a kiss to his neck, his jaw, his lips, as you pulled away from his shoulder far enough to admire the way his eyes lit up at what you were suggesting. 

   ‘besides,’ you said, a teasing tone creeping into your usually soft words, ‘i have to train if i am to protect both of us!’ 

   ‘i think you forget, i was the one who fought as general in the clone wars, dearest!’ he chuckled, admiring the way the mirth of your banter swam in the e/c pools of your irises as they glowed in the last of the days golden sunlight.

   ‘oh please, i designed your battle plans,’ you said, gently tapping his chest with one pointed finger in protest. ‘as much as the council loved to boast about their intelligence, you know i was the one behind it all.’

   the velvety tenor of obi-wan’s laugh filled the dry tatooine air with joy, radiating through the force. and soon it was joined by the sweet tones of your own happiness as obi-wan peppered your neck and face with endless kisses, holding you lovingly against the strong, muscular build of his chest. the galaxy may have been drowning in the chaotic wake of the fall of the jedi order, but obi-wan found himself drowning in the deep, warm waters of your being and the comfort of your love. it was an endeavor he would gladly embark upon, for he knew that at the end of it all we would drown with a smile on his lips and your love filling his heart.

— fin

#obi wan #star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan imagine #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #sw #revenge of the sith #star wars prequels #prequel series #prequel trilogy #star wars fanfiction

[donaidk]

Eyes Off You - Mick Schumacher

*Repost as I wanted it in a separate post rather than an ask, to make my blog organized. Hope you guys don’t mind :)*

I have changed things up a little but I hope you will still enjoy this! I loved writing it and tried to use everything you mentioned. Thank you for requesting and also reading!

TW: Body image issues (mild)

Note to Anon: Please never ever think like you’re not worth it just because you’re ‘out of someone’s league’! I wasted years of my life hating myself and feeling like crap just because people made me think I wasn’t worth anything. You’re unique and they’re just blind to see it. Rock on and show them that they’re the ones who are not worth your worrying, anxitey and thoughts! Love you! ❤️

Masterlist | Request

Links - Inspiration song | Dress (in deep red) | Jewelry

When Mick asked me to dress up and meet him in the park close to our house, I can’t lie that it wasn’t a bit confusing. I didn’t remember the date to be anything special really, and I couldn’t get myself to remember if we had anything planned for the day previously. He just got back home for their usual longer summer break between race weekends, which we usually spent laying around in bed for a few days before we felt energized enough to spend time outside the confinement of our home. But now he was up on his feet already on the first day, making us take a walk around the city and as it turns out he had plans for the following days as well. I couldn’t lie, it made me excited but at the same time so confused, about where all of this energy was coming from. Normally I waited with my vacation time off work for him, and only took out days when it was sure that he was going to be free. This meant I was quite busy with work during the remaining days of the year, making me tired and grumpy for the first days I had off in between. It was lucky that on most occasions we had at least a week together, which meant I could lay around lazy for a few days before we would get on with our planned activities. He did surprise me by not letting me just waste a day or two.

My mind started running at the speed of light when I found the little note on our bed, telling me to dress up pretty because he would take me out as soon as he’s gonna be back from his family’s place. I always loved surprises, even more the ones he planned out for us, but knowing we had to go out or it stepped onto a territory that made my anxiety skyrocket. I was never the social type, as I felt content with the group of friends I had since our high-school years. I knew I could trust them and never really tried to meet other people, be it a party or any kind of set up where you had to communicate with strangers. That’s probably why I never really accompanied him to any ceremonies or team parties when I had the chance. It was clear to me that I would just be an anxious mess, and I really didn’t need his friends and colleagues to realise how much Mick and I didn’t match. It was enough when my own brain stood against me and tried to persuade me into believing what we had would never truly work out in the long run. In moments like that I couldn’t even make out how we went from meeting at the beach in Hawaii to today.

° ° °

I didn’t really know how my friends got me to go with them to Hawaii as a summer vacation, and having been here with them for the past half a week I have felt a bit of regret. What was strange that I did enjoy myself and all the plans we had, even if every night I felt like I would rather be home and just relax in my own bedroom, maybe going out with my family for walks or meals at max. That was enough for my social side usually for a whole year. Having people around me 24/7, that tried interacting with me all the time was exhausting. The only thing that made this holiday bearable was that they knew all of this and gave me space when they saw I would need it, but pushed me to take part in the original plan when I was just making up excuses.

Our usual plans consisted of sleeping, eating, going to the beach, taking walks and repeating all four of those activities until our holiday would end. It was usually the beach that I missed out on when I needed a bit of time for myself, but still made sure I spent more time with them than I did alone in our rented house. It would have been a waste of time and money if I didn’t challenge myself a little bit, to be more outgoing. I still wasn’t adventurous enough to for example be in front of them in only a bikini or bathing suit, but I luckily never felt overdressed with my shorts and sleeveless shirts while playing some kind of sports in the sand. Thanks to the boys in our group it was usually football as there were some goals set up in the shade, but we sometimes could get them to play some volleyball too. I probably looked out of place next to all of them wearing their bathing suits or pants and then there I was in full clothing. The only way I could distract myself by only paying attention to the games we played trying to win for our team.

It was maybe our fifth day when we started to see another group of people around our age attending the beach every day. We spent a day just passing each other before one of them challenged us for a volleyball ‘tournament’ and then the next day a football one. It turned into a daily activity and even I was surprised how much I enjoyed it, both the games we played and the conversations we had. They seemed really cool and with several of them I felt like we would be quite good friends outside this holiday. One of them stood out to me even more than the other few guys, by the name of Mick. The girls of course saw it from the outside and I was teased for until the last day when I got myself together and in the end swapped phone numbers with him.

I still didn’t think too much into it, knowing we will probably just forget about even meeting each other. I can still remember how surprised I was when just days after getting back to my usual home routine he texted me, announcing that he’s gonna be in my hometown soon and that he would live to meet up with me. And he didn’t disappoint, going for lunch and a walk around the city with me in just a few weeks time. I can still feel how fast my heart was beating when he revealed to me why he was here and how I felt like a complete fool for thinking he was just a normal kid. I couldn’t have been farther off the truth. That was the first day when I could laugh at my own stupidity whole heartedly, as I couldn’t hold back my embarrassed chuckling at hearing him laugh. If someone told me I’ll get the chance to listen to his laugh almost every day in our future, I would have called them crazy for sure.

° ° °

Putting the little note aside onto the bedside table as I sat down on the mattress, laying back still trying to figure out what he could have planned for us. I was just turning a bit to get my head on my pillow, with my hand sliding under it as I usually liked to sleep when my fingers met with something there that felt like paper. Pulling it out my eyes met with another now purple colored post-it, with his handwriting on it, saying ’It’s gonna be just the two of us, don’t stress about it’ and a little kissy face making me chuckle. He knew me too well and this note showed that he really did think about any possibility so he wouldn’t have to be home to get me out of the house. With a sigh I pushed myself off the bed so I could open up the wardrobe and in a way I knew there would be a twist even before I could see inside. Next to all my usual dresses and blouses hanging under the shelves was another black hanger with a white protector fabric encasing the dress it was probably holding up. The note on it was a simple winky face and I took it out with my head shaking at his antics and how I should have known he would get me something to wear.

I laid it onto our bed, opening up the protector’s zipper and my smile grew wider as my eyes caught the deep red colour of the silk that was hiding under it. Seconds later I was already lifting up the hanger, the dress itself following it flowing through the air with such an ease it made you think it was probably made from it with how light it was. When I turned it around my mind was just about to go into panic mode again at how open the backside was, but the note I discovered stuck to it made me take a deep breath and calm down instantly. ’Remember Hockenheim in 2018?’ I read the words slowly and couldn’t help but smile at the memory it brought up in my mind.

° ° °

When Mick invited me to the Hockenheim GP, the last three races of their season, everyone knew it would be a weekend for celebrations as whatever would have happened he was winning the Championship and no one could stop him. His point advantage put him into a position where not even the driver who was in second place could switch him out, even if they won all three races and Mick would miss out on them. Everything seemed relaxed around his part of the team as everyone knew this last weekend was like a celebratory run for them after all the hard work they put into the season.

The first race wasn’t his best ever but then took second place in both the second and third one, securing his title for the season. As soon as he was out of the car it was all about celebrating both his and the team’s performance. I had the widest grin of my life on my face as we watched him step onto the podium receiving his P2 trophy  and  then later the one for the Driver’s Championship. It took us three times the usual time to get back to the hotel as everyone was taking pictures with him. Even I got one with him, with which I couldn’t hold back from posting about his achievement. It felt like eternity until we were back at the hotel, and the P2 trophy was still in my hand as we entered his room. I was holding it right until he swept me up into a tight hug and I rather placed it onto the coffee table, before I would drop it.

It wasn’t a surprise when after dinner and a couple of drinks we ended up in the bed together with his shirt already off and mine pushed halfway up my torso when I came to my senses. My mind panicked immediately at all the imagined scenarios coming to me, about him leaving after seeing how I actually look. I was always insecure about my whole body, but mainly my back as my skin there was always full of spots and scarring. The thought of him seeing it freaked me out, don’t even start me on thinking about him touching it. Coming back from my thoughts I took in a shaky but deep breath making him glance at me, pushing himself up a little. I just tried kissing him, to get him to continue but there was worry in his eyes and even though he quickly pecked my lips once again he wasn’t getting back to his previous actions.

“ I’m not going any further until you tell me what got you so out of it. ” He stated, still looking me in the eyes and making me gulp. “ What’s the matter? We don’t have to do anything, there’s no musts here. Just tell me what’s wrong, please. ” He asked again, making me just shake my head as I didn’t trust my voice. I felt like his eyes were boring into me so deep he could see my soul.

“ It’s stupid… but I’m just not… not perfect in any way? ” I finally spoke up, making him furrow his brows in confusion as one of his hands came up to my face to get my hair off my cheek. I knew he was trying to get more info out of me.

“ What isn’t perfect? ” He asked like I just told him something stupid, that doesn’t even exist. I debated telling him or just  making a run for it and maybe never talking to him again as anxiety made my throat close up for a second.

“ Everything? Mostly my back. ” I answered him in the end, my next blink lasting longer than usual as I needed a second to compose myself. “ It’s just bumpy and gross. ” I added, not really knowing where my sudden courage came from. When my eyes opened up he was still looking at me but then pushed himself up a little, my hands falling onto my stomach from his sides.

“ Turn around. ” He said, making my heart miss the next beat and my eyes widen. “ Please.” He added with a sigh, sending me a calming smile and my body moved on it’s own sitting up before I turned my back to him. “ Can we take this off? ” I heard his voice as two of his fingers came under the material of my shirt. I was about to shake my head but then it ended up as a nod. If I trusted someone it was him.

After helping me pull my t-shirt off he let me lay back down and I turned my head to the side as it was back on the pillow. Like this I could also see him, giving me the possibility to stop him he was about to do something I wouldn’t have liked. He first just left a little kiss on my cheek, making me smile contently and almost forgetting what was happening, before he went down my neck and my back with his lips. My breath was stuck in my throat until his face came back to mine and I forced some air into my lungs.

“ There’s nothing wrong with you, your body, your back or your skin. Yeah? Nothing wrong. ” He told me again, laying back down next to, with his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. “ The only thing wrong here is the idiot who made you think you’re any less than perfect. ” He added, kissing me and I felt like I would never be able to separate from him. Lucky I wouldn’t have to for at least the next month.

° ° °

As I took the little slip of paper off my fingers ran over the silky fabric, the delicate little chain catching my sight with the sparkling diamonds following each other for the whole length of it. It was a strange jewelry and took me a second to understand it was deliberately placed at the back and not in the front of it. The image inside my head made me gasp as I imagined how it would look on someone and how it would accentuate their back, the shiny metal catching everyone’s glance. Even though my skin was in it’s best ever state I was still quite conscious about it, and made sure most of the time to wear things that I knew would cover any imperfection of it. I knew that his plan with this was to make sure I finally embraced it, how I should have then even back then.

I fought with myself for a bit but then took the dress off the hanger and laid it down onto the bed. I still had to take a shower and do both my makeup and hair. I stayed with the most minimal amount of makeup, mostly focusing on my eyeliner and mascara with some nude colored lipstick that wasn’t far off the original color of my lips. I didn’t spend lots of time on my hair either, letting it flow freely after going through it with a brush and parting it at the usual place. The last step was getting into the dress and zipping it up on the side. When I felt like I had everything with a last check in the full body mirror I was about to change my mind at my reflection when I noticed one more little note from him. ‘You look perfect, don’t question it. Car waiting for you in front of the building.’ There was the time too, when the car would arrive at ours, which was minutes away and with a last sigh I took a thin blazer from the wardrobe before putting on my heels and leaving the house. I locked the door, making sure I won’t be able to get back inside easily, so I couldn’t change my mind.

I didn’t even have to wait a minute longer for a car to park down in front of the exit and I got in without a question when the driver called out my name. I wasn’t even anxious anymore when he restarted the engine, more like excited. So much I felt like I couldn’t sit through our drive. We were waiting at a red light and from my seat I could see the park, which was Mick’s and my favourite place for morning runs or even picnics, making me reach up to my neck, my fingers immediately wrapping around the little pendant that was hanging there on a delicate gold chain.

I remember seeing him crashing into a tyre wall and waiting for him to finally confirm that he was alright. It was the first time since I started watching the races that I saw him getting so close to being hurt and I wasn’t looking forward to any more of these. He probably knew that I would be a bit upset, worried about his well being after realising how dangerous their job actually was. It was just two days later when we were already home and he gave me a little box. It contained a medium sized pendant, quite similar to his. I knew his was from his family, to bring luck to him and I hoped mine would bring some more luck not even just to me but him too. From the moment I put it on, I never took it off again for longer than an hour.

“ We’re here. ” The driver’s voice made me blink away the memory that came up for me, making me turn my head towards him. “ He’s waiting. ” He added with a smile, pointing towards the entrance of the little park that I knew so well.

I quickly thanked him for getting me here before leaving the vehicle and going towards the open gates. We usually just walked by this place and I always found it astonishing as it looked like a fairy land with the lightning all around the place and the pagodas, where people could just sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee or tea with some desserts. However, now it was empty, and the only thing that I could hear was soft music playing in one of the small buildings. Having no clue about where I should go my only hope was following the sound to one of the more hidden pagodas, that was lit up outside even more than the others. I was getting confused and almost giving up when he finally stood up and I could let out a relieved sigh. There was a huge grin on his face, making me smile too although I felt a little embarrassed even though it was only him standing in front of me. I knew he would never give me a reason to feel bad about myself or what I was wearing.

“ You look stunning. ” He came up to me, pulling me into a hug and leaving a kiss on my lips. “ I’m really happy you stayed with the dress. ” He added, making me smile up at him as I initiated another kiss between us, before I let him lead me into the little building.

“ Thank you. This is fabulous as well. I knew it was beautiful, but never thought it’s this cozy. ” I looked around again, not even paying too much attention to him, completely missing him taking my blazer off my shoulder so he could hang it on the wall next to his one.

“ I've wanted to take you here since we first saw it. It was just never the perfect timing. ” He let out a sigh, his hand coming up to my back and it sent a shiver down my spine as the jewelry’s colder chain got in contact with my skin. I knew he saw and maybe even felt it, but never commented on it, deeming it a normal reaction.

“ It would have made it the perfect timing. ” I shrugged a little, sitting down on the chair he pulled out for me, before sitting down opposite me. “ Other than it being too cold to just sit around, I can’t really think about anything that would make me wanna leave early. ” I looked around again. My eyes followed the fairy lights’ cable running all around us and up a tree next to the pagoda.

Having the place for ourselves made it even more magical than how it would normally feel like. Even though we weren’t served by a waitress he had everything we could need, next to the table. He prepared sandwiches with little fruit salads and also our favourite drink. I’m sure we would be having coffee if we were here in the morning, but I also knew we would never sleep if we got caffeine in our systems now. From the outside it probably looked funny as we ate the sandwiches while wearing clothes that would fit into the poshest restaurants but I wouldn’t have changed one bit about tonight. Everything was part of what when considered a perfect date, even if it wouldn’t mean the same for another couple. Everyone’s taste is different and that’s what made it even better, that I could see how much Mick knew my favourite details. I still couldn’t believe what I did to deserve the life I had now and all the changes Mick brought into it by being next to me whenever I would need him and the support.

I was about to thank him for everything, that he made this happen, when he pulled his phone out and I could see as he opened up his camera started recording a video. Instead of lifting it up to record us, he propped it up on the table in a way that it would take in the space next to our pagoda, before standing up and going to the music player that controlled the whole system around the garden. I followed him with my eyes, curiously waiting to hear the song he would choose. I recognised it just two seconds into the start of it, making me not even think about it when he reached out his hand towards me. It was our song, however cliche that is, that we danced to in Hawaii, at the beach party that we attended on the last day of my holiday. Back then I thought we would never ever meet again in person, thought we would be parting ways forever as I had to leave with my friends. It would have been a perfect last memory for the few weeks we spent there, but it became even more magical when there was a text waiting for me to turn on my phone that turned into us talking on the phone constantly and then meeting again in my home town just a few months later.

Even though neither of us was a good dancer we made it work, swaying left and right to the slow beats of the song with my arms around his neck and his circling my hips and resting on the small of my back. I let my eyes close and my head slowly fall forward until my forehead was resting on his shoulder. I felt as he rested his head on mine for a second before his lips left a kiss on my jaw and then neck, followed by several on the skin of my shoulder.

“ This is perfect. ” I sighed out, and I was sure my mum would tease me about how I was beaming with a smile so wide the Cheshire cat could be jealous. I wasn’t ready for it to end and was glad of his choice when the song restarted, meaning the silence didn’t break the moment.

“ What do you think about making our forever this perfect? ” I felt his breath on my neck from his whispering, and I nodded with a smile, not thinking much of it. It was when he stepped back a little and I could see the little box in his hand when my hand came up to cover my surprised expression. “ I know you never thought a silly holiday with friends would end with something like this, but I’m planning on making that just one of the things that worked out quite well in our life. Will you be my partner in making everything better and marry me? ” He asked, already on one knee and opening up the top of the box, revealing a ring that was shining in the light coming from the lanterns and fairy lights.

The only thing I could remember after that was him standing next to me again, the both of us enveloped in a hug while I could already feel the comforting weight of the ring on my finger. The song was still flowing through the air around us, making me feel like I was part of the imaginary world built up inside my head, that I thought would never be my reality. I couldn’t wrap my mind around all the images and thoughts that were running around my head about our future, but feeling his embrace around my body I knew it would all workout. I already had him and that was everything I needed to live my life happy. Or should I say our life now?    

#mick schumacher #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher oneshot #mick schumacher imagine #f1 #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 oneshot #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #formula1 #haas f1 #haas #prema racing #f2 #bydonaidk

[fe-semi-decent-scenarios]

How do the BL students cope with missing their s/o? (like they're on a mission or something and won't be back for a long time) Bonus points for including how they react to seeing them again lol. Congrats on the big 100 btw

[Thank you! This is a little late but I was amazed to see so many people reading these posts.I’m pretty proud of this one.I wrote this as a ‘first time they’re apart’ kind of scenario. Hope it is to your liking! :3]

Dimitri: 

Karma really does bite, and boy does it do so hard

More often than not it is Dimitri leaving you behind for missions. Being the leader of the Lions meant that he was stationed at almost every important battle. Sometimes you’d join, and others the professor would decide to have someone else take up arms. No biggie, you know? He never complained since it guaranteed your safety.  

He didn’t even think of the possibility of a role reversal. One where you’d be sent out while he’s left behind. Up until now he was always by your side, but Manuela knew his limits better than anyone. She insisted he take the month off to rest. 

Once again, no biggie. He’d much rather be productive but with some convincing he easily gave in. Everyone departed for the monthly mission and he decided to invest some of the extra time on his hands into an evening with you 

He was about to search for you, but then memory did it’s job.

“Ah, that’s right. They departed with their battalion this morning...”

Dimitri wasn’t used to the silence of an empty Monestary. Was it always this hollow when the army was deployed? There were some people, yes. However most areas appeared almost lifeless. 

It brought up some unpleasant memories to say the least. Ones of a dusk castle, strangers on every corner, empty dinner tables, and cold nights spent staring up from his balcony. 

The time he spends without Dedue glued to his side is full of reflection. Once he’s trained, eaten, studied up, etc. He’ll stroll around the monastery and think of what his life has become 

How fragile the peace is. How much longer will it last?  

He wanted to talk with someone. The silence was deafening and he wished for a distraction before the voices made their appearance. 

They did.

He wished for you to come home. Despite the voices screaming that he had no right to long for your comfort, the desire still remained.  

 Was it the same for you when he’d depart? This...lonely? 

He hoped not. 

Since when had Dimitri become assimilated to the daily nonsense that was his life? 

Dedue had caught on to his highness’ feelings instantly. Dimitri was more reminiscent than usual, and often his walks would take him to your room. He wouldn’t enter, just look at the door as if expecting it to open. He wasn’t one to talk of the past as it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes Dedue would catch him smiling at nothing. It was a welcome change to have happy memories. 

When you come home it’s as if Dimitri has a new aura. Well, maybe not entirely but he has a more solemn look in his eyes when they meet yours. He spends the first day being caught up on politics with the Professor and Seteth, but for many nights beyond the return he seeks your company 

He wants to hear your voice. The one he craved for when the silence became intolerable 

“I’ve returned my beloved, would you care to tell that story from the other night again? I know it has only been one day but I would love to hear it.” 

Dedue: 

Time alone with you was already a rarity, so your complete absence didn’t dieter him as much as one would think. Dedue’s schedule rarely has a slot for free-time, and so the days pass on like seconds 

As long as there is no specific reason to worry then he refrains from doing so. Dedue genuinely believes in your strength and capabilities so he won’t needlessly fret over nothing. He has his own duties to attend to just as you do. 

However, this doesn’t mean he feels nothing on the matter. Others can gossip about him all they want but his nationality doesn’t define his personality. Not that he cares, since his stone exterior hides signs of weakness 

Let’s get this straight: he does miss you. While not in surplus, your time together is precious to him. He notices how your seat is empty during lessons and meetings. He unconsciously checks the training hall’s door during his regime, impatiently waiting for you to pop in and say your daily ‘hello’. He’s painfully aware of the extra pair of gardening gloves in his tool pail. Dedue knows that you are gone and it has an impact. 

He just ignores it. Dedue knows that when duty calls it must come before personal issues. Even if there is no contact between you two, he would rather no letters than one relaying distress 

If his highness asks about his feelings Dedue’s replies are short and curt. He does not wish for any worry or pity. 

One small sign that Dedue is off-put is that he becomes forgetful. It’s something only those who know him well can pick up on. For example: he won’t bring any writing utensils to a meeting. To a stranger this is a common mishap that happens to everyone. Only people who know Dedue well will see that someone as responsible as him wouldn’t forget something so minute 

Another is the short sighs he lets out. Nothing drawn out or dramatic, just quick puffs of air through the nose- kind of like a huff. They’re very difficult to catch and are a habit when he feels impatient or restless 

The day you come home isn’t a large extravaganza. Prince Dimitri accompanies him to greet the returning troops, but it doesn’t take a wise man to see that he mainly came for moral support. You were his friend as well, and he also wanted to see Dedue happy. 

When you come into sight Dedue approaches as if it’s a normal day. Your appearance is a bit too worn-down for his liking, and he says so. He asks if the journey went well, and whether it did or not he gives a minuscule smile 

If you return it he’ll pat your head. A welcome home, if you will 

“Come. Let us speak of the time we were apart. I would like to hear of your travels” 

Felix:

Simple solution. Whenever Felix feels as if he’s missing your presence he’ll go find you. 

Oh wait 

He can’t lmao 

It doesn’t hit him how big your role is in his life until you’re forced to be apart. All it took was a few days for Felix to feel like something was missing

At first he’s in denial. What is he, a child? A grown man doesn’t need someone to lean on, or keep him company, or check on him...or to give him encouragement......make him laugh....listen to his problems............okay. Maybe he does. 

At the beginning he seems put together but gradually as the days go on Felix becomes socially intolerant. The only person he wants to talk with is you, and you’re not there. Anyone else can buzz off or they’re getting snapped at

No one says anything either. Sometimes you can’t when the only solution is so far away 

Felix works extra hard when you’re gone. No one’s there to force much needed breaks onto him. From morning till dusk he’ll train and only stop for meals.

It’s his distraction. Every time that familiar pang shows up the training dummy gets another slice 

What’s happened to him? He was never so dependent on another person. Yeah, he has people that he cares about but their presence was never a necessity in his life 

The pain only intensifies as he thinks of what you’re doing, the dangers you’re facing, other (men/women) making you smile-

Oh....Oh no. Dear god he’s in love que the dummy’s head being sliced off

He’s waiting in your room on the day you get back. You’ll walk in to see him reading at your desk, only for the book to snap shut when you open the door 

A bit roughly he’ll pull you in for a hug. Not too tight, if you wanted to escape it you could

“Look. I’ll only say this once so you better listen...don’t leave for that long ever again. If you have to then I’m going with. No arguments”        

Ashe:

He’s fine. It’s okay. Ten days in and life goes on, you know? Today he played with some of the stray cats in the monastery like he normally would. The only off part was that he forgot to bring fish treats, normally you’d do that. 

Then he ordered some sweet buns for dessert after dinner; it was his usual order on your rare dates. Those days you’d snatch one but this time they were all his

He had them in the garden with some mint tea and watched the sun set. The last time he did that you decided to braid his hair while he told bad puns about his patchy facial hair fiasco. This time he viewed in tranquil silence 

Later in the evening he practiced archery to unwind. Lately Caspar agreed to be his training partner with you gone. He’d collect the arrows shot and help reposition the targets. You would normally do the same and in turn Ashe would wake up extra early to help you in the morning. 

At night he curled up in bed with “Loog and the Maiden of Wind,” picking up from where he left off. It was easy since you had given him a copy with a built-in cloth bookmark for his birthday. He loves it to pieces. 

Please come home When his eyes began to feel heavy he tucked it under his pillow for the day. 

Under the covers he shifted to get comfortable, and just like every night he ended up cuddling one of his pillows 

How much longer 

He closed his eyes 

....

..........

What was taking so long? The professor never mentioned that the journey would take weeks? There haven’t been letters either...

Where are you? What are you doing? Do you miss him? Are you eating properly? Are you sleeping right? He should have asked Seteth to let him accompany you. Are you on your way home? Should he go ask? No, it’s late. Asking now would be a bother-

 He misses you so much. No amount of time spent absorbing himself in different hobbies makes the discomfort in his chest go away. Everything reminds him of you. 

When you come home he’s front and center at the gate. The professor had taken pity on the boy (courtesy of Flayn’s plea) and arranged his schedule to be free all day. He spent it chatting with gatekeeper until troops appeared in the distance 

The moment you’re in sight he’s skipping down the stairs and greets you with the warmest embrace. The second you pull back he’s peppering kisses on your cheeks. 

“You’re back! I’ve missed you so much I can’t even begin to explain. Let’s go eat dinner and you can tell me all about the trip” 

Sylvain:

Is it weird that with you gone Sylvain actually begins to be a productive human being?

He spends the newfound spare time at the stables with the horses, or helping with chores around the monastery. Very rarely is he found goofing off 

Weird. Most would expect him to let loose considering how you have him on a ‘ball and chain,’ as he puts it 

So???? How come he chooses now to be responsible. 

Simple. He only acts rebellious to get a rise out of you

Just kidding lol. Only partially

While he does get a free show out of your nagging, it isn’t the reason he behaves like that. Neither why he’s suddenly ‘turned over a new leaf’

Sylvain highly respects you. Not only do you work hard but you’re also one of the most genuine people he knows. He’ll never say it to your face but before he loved you Sylvain looked to you as a role model. He never could have imagined that someone with such an authentic set of emotions would become his partner 

He also puts you through hell with all the trouble he gets in. Anyone else would have ended the relationship by now with so many FALSE rumors of adultery on his end. Yet you never gave up on him.  

In short, you’ve stood by him through thick and thin. From daily mess ups to the more deeper problems. You’ve been a major pillar that he leans on.

So that’s what he’s going to be for you. While you’re away he’s going to pick up the slack and make sure there’re no messes waiting for you to come home to 

Just him and maybe a few snide jokes. You know, a couple of dramatic whines about all the trouble he went to in making sure your room stayed clean 

Sometimes it gets difficult to turn down the invites from his peers, but he holds strong. The change is so drastic that Byleth even jokes about sending you away more often. 

He takes it with a grain of salt. They’d never exploit their students like that and he knows it 

When you arrive home he’s waiting patiently in your room. In one arm there’s a blanket and in the other a feather duster c’mon he has to make this believable

“Well there’s the (man/woman) of the hour. Do you realize the horrors that I’ve endured these past weeks? I cleaned this room EVERY DAY. You owe me big time!”  

Sylvain demands that for all the worry, strife, and hard labor you put him through; he deserves an afternoon nap with his partner. Will you let him slack off?

Annette: 

Busy, busy, busy!!!

She has so many chores to get done, books to read, people to talk to, and songs to sing 

She hated to say goodbye, but eventually you’ll come home. This isn’t like before. You’re not like him. 

Annette trusts you

She loves you 

While you’re gone she’ll think of all the things you can do together when you get back. What’s a better way to use the time, right? 

She 100% plans to blackmail you into treating her for lunch. How could you leave her behind to watch over everyone by herself? So cruel...

There are mild worries that fill her heart. Thoughts on your health for one. Whether you’re skilled in faith or not it doesn’t matter to her. 

She kind of wishes that the professor scheduled her to fight as well. However, things were better this way.

Annette will make sure you have somewhere wonderful to return to 

She even writes a small ‘welcome home’ jingle! Anything to bring out your smile 

People will occasionally ask how she’s holding up. After all, if Annette doesn’t worry about herself then of course others will do it for her. 

And yeah. Sometimes it does get rough. She’s human and naturally her partner means the world to her. Who the hell would be okay with sending their loved one away? 

It’s just that if she isn’t optimistic than who will be. Who’s going to give you encouragement when you need it most? Isn’t that what being a couple is about? To have faith and believe in each other? 

That’s why she’s okay. She’ll sing those fear demons away and take comfort in knowing you’ll come home with everyone else

And when you do she’s there with a few of your favorite flowers. She’ll congratulate you on a job well done whether the battle was a win or lose, and literally force you into her dorm to talk the hours away.

“Welcome home! I had plenty of time on my hands while you were away so I wrote a small song...i-if it’s okay then can I sing it for you? I promise it’s not about tasty cakes this time haha!” 

Mercedes:

The daily church hymn lifts her spirits. Mercedes’ devout faith is what supports her during moments of weakness 

You’ve probably guessed this, but every day you’re in her prayers. 

Not that you weren’t before, but now she spends a little more time mulling over possibilities of danger. Some extra blessings couldn’t hurt either 

She does find her thoughts trailing over to you often as well. Not anything negative but instead the happier memories. Saying goodbye was a rough blow when realization hit that your return date wasn’t definite 

Alas, the goddess will protect you. Mercedes steels herself to be patient and invest her energy into more productive things 

Mercedes is sort of like the big sister of all her friends. The doting type. Without you around she has all this pent up affection, and the lions get the blunt end of it

They’re an outlet that she uses to distract herself from not having you around. Not that they necessarily mind it (maybe Felix but he’ll get over it)

The time she’d spend with you is used to bake for the monastery children, or help with chores. She uses it wisely and also works on some of her own hobbies. 

You may or may not find some well-stitched embroidery on your socks. She goes all out and even offers to help mend Dimitri’s battle-worn cape. That thing needed a literal miracle to return to it’s former glory 

Life isn’t much different aside from your lack of presence. With each day she finds herself looking forward to your return, and occasionally she’ll inquire with the professor about it. Mercedes is known for her patience, and it truly is a virtue in many cases. Definitely in this one. 

When note of your future return arrives she can’t help but smile. If allowed she’ll ask to read the letter of notification herself and will do so with incredible focus. She’ll clutch one hand to her chest in relief before giving it back and leaving to return to her duties 

and so it goes until your return. She might not be able to come meet you at the gate, but at first sighting she’ll engulf you in an embrace. 

After a once-over for any injuries, she’ll insist that you have tea together. Hell, Mercedes would be happy if you two could just chat together on the nearest bench. There’s so much to talk of and now you two have all the time in the world 

“It’s so nice to see you again! Oh my...it feels like forever since I have seen you smile. I almost forgot how contagious is is haha” 

Ingrid: 

If it was up to Ingrid than she would be positioned right at your side. You two work well as a duo both on and off of the field. The army would benefit from your skills being magnified as a team 

She also wouldn’t have to deal with this ungodly sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. Don’t misunderstand- Ingrid isn’t the protective type. She trusts in your capabilities both as a fighter and person. It’s only that being away for so long is a rarity, and she needs time to adjust. 

She’d just have to trust in the other people stationed at your side to do what she can’t  

If she knows any of them personally then Ingrid 100% approaches to ask that they watch your back 

That takes care of any worry, but not of the crack in her daily life 

Ingrid has much on her shoulders. Her family, Fargeus’ future, her friends, what food’s being served in the dining hall, if it tastes good or not, the church, the ‘flame emperor’, and you of course.

She’s also the type of person who likes uniformity: a schedule. You’re a part of that and being so far disrupts it. She’s afraid that her personal emotions will tap into her ability to fulfill her duties  

Everyone else assures her otherwise. Ingrid is known for always giving 110% so a while of just 100% is no big deal. She is allowed to be human 

She’s allowed to miss you. Her friends assure her of it 

She’s allowed to worry. There’s no need to sear shut her fears. After losing Glenn...well, it’s understandable. 

She’s allowed to ask for news updates. The professor has encouraged this. 

She’s allowed to go in your room if she needs alone time. You said so before leaving. 

However, Ingrid doesn’t allow herself those comforts until days after your departure. When you said goodbye it unsettled her stomach in more ways than one. It took some time to sort through her emotions while still maintaining her responsibilities

It took everything for Ingrid to move on from the past, and this experience set in a sense of gratitude for all that she’s been given. It also was an opportunity for her to reminisce over what she has lost, and still has to do. 

Needless to say, when you return Ingrid has gained a newfound confidence and comfort in not having a set schedule for life. Everything has always felt as if it needed to be rushed, but meeting you wasn’t something she had planned nor sped into. Spending some time to focus on her own personal goals aside from the ones preset for her before birth aided in Ingrid coming to terms with that. 

“Hello. It’s been so long that I hardly recognize you! What? It’s a joke!...Yes, I know how to tell jokes- hold on this is supposed to be a heartfelt reunion so don’t ruin it!” 

#fe3h #fe3h imagines #fe3h scenarios #fe3h fanfic #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem three houses imagines #fire emblem imagine #fire emblem scenarios #dimitri x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dedue molinaro #dedue x reader #felix x reader #felix hugo fraldarius #sylvain jose gautier #sylvain x reader #ashe ubert #ashe duran #ashe x reader #ashe ubert x reader #annette dominic #annette x reader #mercedes von martritz #mercedes von bartels #mercedes x reader #ingrid galatea #ingrid x reader #omg I can't take these tags #save me

[eveningstar1516]

Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 10

Rise of the Demon King Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~A/N: I gotta Discord server guys! It's primarily Obey Me but other fandoms are welcome as well. It's kinda baby and dead so me and the other members are looking to revive it and we'd love for you to come join us. A roleplay area is included :) https://discord.gg/F3YEmDZCPS Please remember to read and accept the rules once you join for access to all the channels. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously: Satan spent the rest of the night by his brother's side, cleaning his room and slowly, step by step, bringing back how his brother usually looked like. A glowing masterpiece, worthy of both envy and praise. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ CHAPTER 10 - A Strong Bond (1616 words)

I was sitting at Lucifer's desk in his old room. After spending 3 sleepless nights in a row, Simeon helped me move into Luci’s old room which thankfully had some really good blinds to block out the celestial sun. The paperwork seemed as endless as it had in the Devildom only this time, it was the archangels' work. While they did their share and dealt with their department’s issues, the majority of the work still fell on my shoulders. I’m starting to understand why Lucifer felt this way towards paperwork. I put the pen down as I finished up the last of this week’s paperwork. Looking at the time, I realized I’ve been working for the past 9 hours straight. Getting up, I stretched my back and felt my joints popping. I filed the rest of the work and got dressed in something more comfortable. A simple dark blue turtleneck and white jeans. I made my way to the kitchen, having missed dinner, I wanted to get something to nibble on before bed. Upon entering, I found Raphael at the table with a cup of celestial berry tea. Noticing me, he looked up and waved me over.

“What are you still doing up Raph?” “I could ask the same. Here, we have some leftovers.” Raphael got up and got a plate from the fridge placing it in the microwave before getting another mug to pour more tea in. “Thank you” I took the mug with both hands and slowly sipped it. Relishing the warmth flowing down my throat. Taking the plate out of the microwave, Raphael set it in front of me before ruffling my hair and sitting back down. Laughing I retaliated back.

“H-hey! I’m not a child”

“You are compared to us. An overworked tired child that despite being in over their head, is doing an amazing job at keeping us running.”

“Thank you. It is hard though. I have no idea how Lu did it, still does it.”

“Yeah, Sammy would work himself to exhaustion. You actually remind me of him. Your determination to get the work done flawlessly and your dedication. Are you sure you’re not supposed to be an angel?”

“Heh, thanks Raph, but you and I both know I’m only doing this to go back.”

“Do you have to though? You’ve been here for a full millenia now. Don’t you want to stay?”

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely up here and you guys are the absolute best, but I don’t belong here. My heart is in the Devildom with the brothers.”

“Why though? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not criticizing, but why would you rather stay in the Devildom than here?”

“I guess the Devildom just grew on me. The Devildom, and the bro’s. I like the way Belphie looks when he’s sleeping peacefully, his head on my lap. I admire the way Beel protects his twin and his brothers, sacrificing everything to make them happy. I envy the way Asmo can change a tense atmosphere into an up beat one effectively dissolving any tension. I find myself thinking about Satan and the late reading nights we’d have and the discussions about cats and our books. I wish I had as much passion as Levi does with his games and shows. Confidently ranting on about them without caring what others think. I’m amazed by Mammon’s love for his family. Everything he sacrifices to make them happy. He even puts himself in the line of fire and would redirect the attention to himself by doing something stupid to distract them from their suffering. I love Lucifer. I love how much he cares for his family. All he sacrifices, all he endures, all the pain he hides from them to keep them happy. To keep us all happy... I miss them.” Tears started pooling as I reminisced about the brothers. Raphael leaned over and pulled me into a shoulder hug.

“I know you do. If it’s any consolation, I’m sure they miss you too. It sounds like you created a strong bond with them. I’m sure you’ll get to see them soon.”

“I hope so. Thanks Raph.”

“Anytime Y/N. I think you should get some rest. Don’t forget we have a-”

“Y/N, Raphael.” Michael walked into the kitchen. He had a look that closely resembled contentment and relief.

“Michael, how can we help you?”

“You should be in bed Raphael. Father wants to see Y/N. Now.” Raphael and I exchanged a look. I finished off my tea and hugged Raphael goodnight before heading to my room to change into something more appropriate for my meeting with God. 5 minutes later and we were on our way to the palace. In the Devildom After they lost Y/N The day they lost Y/N was the hardest day in their life. After they got back to the house, they both went straight to their room, not talking with anyone. Behind the relative safety of a locked door, Belphie crawled into bed and tried to escape reality. Beel sat on his bed and closed his eyes. He didn’t try to sleep, he didn’t go to the kitchen, he didn’t move. He just sat there, the pain numbing him. They stayed like this for a while before Belphie started tossing and turning, his slumber becoming a restless nightmare. Beel got up and changed into something more comfortable. He moved Belphie over and got under the covers, pulling his twin into his chest. Belphie felt himself being pulled into his older brother's embrace and leaned into it, grief evident on both their faces as they both fell into a dreamless sleep.

The days following weren’t much better. Beel wouldn’t eat as much, practically starving himself and he was rarely found. When any of the brothers would go looking for him, they’d either find him in his room or the gym. Belphie wouldn’t wake up at all anymore. He’d go weeks sleeping, if you could call nightmare filled nights sleeping. He wasn’t any better awake either. When he did wake to attend school or fulfill an order from the king, you could practically see the waves of pure wrath and resentment surrounding him, only dispersing when Beel was close by. There were days where neither of them would leave their room, both just staring into space, little words exchanged. Although they didn’t need to. Their shared bond conveyed more than words could express. The pain amplified by this bond. When Belphie was awake, the twins would practically be inseparable. Neither going anywhere without the other.

This went on for a few months. One day after being rudely awakened from a nap, Belphie found himself wandering the house for a quiet place to sleep. Normally, he’d just head up to the attic, however today, he found his feet leading him down to the catacombs, towards Lilith’s, now Y/N’s casket. He doesn’t know what brought him here, but as soon as he saw it, his eyes started watering. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the memories he has assorted with the casket or if it was because Beel was sitting next to it, leaning his back against the side, crying. Sensing Belphie’s presence, Beel opened his eyes and turned his head towards his twin. He cracked a small, tired smile as Belphie moved to sit next to him. This was the first time Belphegor had seen Beelzebub cry since Y/N’s execution. Sitting next to his brother, he leaned into the larger demon letting his own tears flow. Their hands gravitated toward each other as they took hold. For the first time since the trial, they sat together in silence; tears flowing down their cheeks. Eventually, they fell asleep like this, holding each other's hands. It was Levi that found them. The 3rd born having come down to place the gift he got for Y/N from the convention on the casket. He spotted the twins sleeping with tear stained cheeks and left. He came back down a few minutes later with a blanket and a few snacks for when they awoke. Not wanting to disturb them, he set down the Ruri-chan kit and carefully draped the blanket over them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was envious of the twins connection and devotion to be there for each other. Then he remembered about their connection. He knows the twins can feel what the other is feeling. He realized that they were probably taking this the hardest, their shared connection amplifying the pain. His envy for them left, replaced by something resembling pity. He left them in the catacombs and retreated to his room. The twins awoke at the same time. They took notice of the blanket draped over them and the fruit tray placed next to them. They exchanged a smile as Beel leaned over to grab the tray, offering the fruit to Belphie first. Belphegor grabbed an apple slice and held it towards Beel. Beel opened his mouth accepting the slice and repeated the action with a clementine. They continued like this, feeding each other until the tray was empty. They stayed down in the catacombs for a little while longer, their bond conveying the vows they made to each other. They’d never leave each other's side. Always be there for their other half.

After that day, Beel would take responsibility for waking the youngest whenever he slept for too long and Belphie took responsibility for making sure Beel ate whenever he was awake. From that day forward, you’d never find one twin without the other close by. Their relationship strengthened, one relying on the other. Always being there when needed.

#obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me #obey me x reader #lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #mammon x reader #obey me mammon #leviathan x reader #obey me leviathan #satan x reader #obey me satan #asmodeus x reader #obey me asmodeus #beelzebub x reader #obey me beelzebub #belphegor x reader #obey me belphegor #obey me micheal #OMFIC #Soft 👏 Beel 👏 And 👏 Belphie 👏 Moments 👏 #Check out my Discord

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Four

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: @dragonballluver (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Previous

“27 down is ‘falafel.” 

Alfred looked up, shooting a glare at Demetria. Her lips curved into a childish grin. 

“The bloody hell is a falafel?” he asked, unamused at the word. 

“It’s a fried ball made up of chickpeas and beans. It’s actually delicious.” 

He shook his head. “You Americans and your fried food.” He returned his gaze back down to the Gotham City crossword. Demetria snuck another glance at the crosswords, looking for another one she knew right off the bat. 

“14 across is ‘David Cassidy.’” 

The old man shot her another dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders, desperately trying to hold in her laugh. “I’m sorry.” 

Across the yacht, Bruce shifted his attention from the newspaper he was reading and watched the two with an amused smile on his lips. None of the girls he ever brought home acknowledged Alfred (with the obvious exception of Rachel) and if they did it was to ask for something. Demetria had made an effort to get to know and befriend the old man, knowing how much Alfred meant to Bruce. Their friendship and playful banter was something Bruce could get used to for years and years to come. 

Demetria made eyes with Bruce and walked over to him, her white babydoll dress blowing with the wind. She pat his legs, motioning him to scooch over. He obliged and she curled up against him, propped up on his lap.

“You looked a little lonely over here,” she said. 

He smirked. “You pushed Alfred to his breaking point, didn’t you?”

“I forget how seriously that man takes his crossword puzzles.” 

The couple chuckled as Demetria played with Bruce’ slick back hair. The salty aroma filled her nose as the noise of waves crashing against the yacht filled her ears. 

“Feels so good out here,” she sighed. “Definitely one of your better ideas.”

“My better ideas? Since when did I ever have an idea that wasn’t good?”

“The one time you took me to that new restaurant and I got food poisoning.” 

He laughed, the memory coming back to him. She refused to let him see her in such a state, but he came over anyway to make sure she was hydrated and functioning. 

Needless to say, they never went back there and he owed her big time.

Bruce lifted the newspaper up and continued reading, Demetria reading along with him. 

“Anything interesting going on back home?” she asked. 

“Nothing but the usual mobster activity and an editorial piece about the overwhelming amount of Batman copycats.” 

She hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if Batman feels bad about the copycats.”

“I’m sure it gets annoying after awhile.”

“Do you think he feels responsible for them?”

There are times he wants to tell her he’s Batman, but he wants to keep her away from that part of him. He’s been successful so far, why bother bringing her into it now?

Then she changed the subject.

“What’s this?” She pointed at a section of the paper. “‘Witnesses say clown robbed downtown city bank?’”

Bruce took a quick glance at it. “Must be about that bank robbery downtown from yesterday.” He looked over at her to find a disgusted look on her face. “What?”

“I just...clowns...ugh.” She shivered. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’re afraid of clowns?”

“How could you not be? They’re creepy. Didn’t you ever see ‘It’ or ‘Poltergeist’?”

He chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Well they scare the shit out of me.”

“So I should cancel the clown I hired for our wedding?”

She slapped his arm. “You’re an ass.”

Bruce set down the newspaper. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you had any ideas or preferences in terms of location?”

She shook her head. “Zero. You?”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking Wayne Manor.”

Her eyes lit up, a huge smile slapped across her face. “I would love that!”

“Really?” He cocked his head back.

“Yeah! I mean the property is beautiful, plus it’s something that would be comfortable and simple for us.” 

“You’re sure you want to do it at Wayne Manor?” Bruce asked. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, we could go to city hall and get it done and I would still be the happiest woman alive. I don’t care how we get married, I just want to be with you.”

While he never needed a reminder of why he loved her, it was times like these that did. He’d never come out and say it, but underneath the wealth and the vanity he used to mask an protect his true self, he valued the simple things that money could never buy. Demetria shared those same values. Both longed for a quiet and intimate life together which was more than enough. 

“I only ask two things,” Demetria said. 

“Anything.” 

“One, we plan this together. This our day, not just mine and not just yours. It’s ours.” 

“Not an issue at all.” 

“Two, this wedding is as small as possible.” 

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done deal.” 

As they leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the helicopter landing drew their attention from each other. They watched as it made a graceful landing. 

“The plan has arrived for you sir!” Alfred called out. 

Demetria pat Bruce’s knee as she got up. “Have fun breaking off this deal in China.” 

Bruce threw off his white shirt, handing it to her.  He grabbed the duffle bag and threw it overboard. 

“Please be careful, Bruce.” 

“For you, I will.”

He gave her a quick kiss before diving into the water. She watched as he swam over to the helicopter before climbing aboard.

She watched as the helicopter flew away before turning to Alfred. 

“What number are we on, Alfred?” 

“Eighteen across. The clue is ‘Get your own bloody crossword.’” 

_____________________________________________________________

A couple days later, Demetria found herself at the entrance to St. Swithin’s Home For Boys. She was grateful the orphanage had taken her call and allowed her to come visit. 

She made her way to front desk area, smoothing out her pants. She smiled at the elderly nun at the desk. 

“Hi, I’m Demetria Gallagher,” she greeted. 

The nun smiled back. “Hello there! We’ve been expecting you! My name is Sister Agatha. You’re here for the tour, correct?” 

“Yes! I was hoping to speak with the Mother Superior or Monsignor O’Malley.” 

“Unfortunately both were unable to make it due to prior commitments; however, they asked that Sister Mary Ellen give you the tour.” 

“Sounds great!”

“Please a seat while I phone her.” 

Demetria sat in the bench across from the desk, eyeing around the orphanage. It’s old age was definitely showing. She made mental notes of the broken down wood, the cracks in the wall, and the lingering dust. Her mother would love a project like this. 

“Miss Gallagher?” 

Demetria looked up to find a nun in her late thirties with kind brown eyes and a welcoming smile. “My name is Sister Mary Ellen. How do you do?” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Demetria said reaching out her hand. 

Sister Mary Ellen shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re so excited you’ve taken an interest in the orphanage.” 

“Bruce has told me so much about this place and I’ve always wanted to come see it for myself.” 

“The Wayne Family is such a big part of the orphanage’s history. Bruce has been so generous to us in the past.” 

Sister Mary Ellen first took her to the library, named in memory of Martha, Bruce’s mother. Despite it’s broken state, the walls were covered in old books stacked in the shelves. 

“Not a lot of boys spend time in here,” Sister Mary Ellen said. “We’ve been trying to get them to, but some are harder to persuade than others.” 

“Understandable,” Demetria assured.

Next was the kitchen, then the chapel, and then some of the dorms. While the building was historic, its structure and the components inside were out of date and almost out of function. 

There were a a good amount of kids staying in and they deserved a better home. 

“May I ask you something?” Sister Mary Ellen questioned. 

“Of course.” 

“There’s been a lot of talk amongst the nuns about what it is you plan to do and I just...well...what is your intention exactly?” 

Demetria chuckled. “It’s ok. I can completely understand the curiosity.” She sighed. “Bruce has always told me how much this place has meant to him, especially after the death of his parents. I know it’s hard for Bruce to give attention to this place and so I wanted to step in and make sure you’re getting not only what you and the boys need, but what you deserve. You all deserve to be living in better conditions and I can guarantee you Bruce agrees with me.” 

“What is it you can do for us?” Sister Mary Ellen asked. 

“My mother works as an interior designer and would be more than happy to help redecorate. I also know a lot of people who can help make sure this place is functioning properly and is up to all health code standards. I want to make sure you all are taken care of and are given the attention you all deserve.” 

Sister Mary Ellen couldn’t help but smile. “What about finances? I know the monsignor and Mother Superior would ask to be kept apprised.” 

“They would be. That’s something I’m currently working on, but I want to know what I’m at least working with here.” She smiled. “Although, my mother would do this for free. I know that for certain.” 

Sister Mary Ellen chuckled. “Let me take you outside.” 

She led Demetria to playground where Demetria noticed four boys playing basketball. She couldn’t help but notice that no matter how hard they tried to dunk the ball in the chain basket, they kept missing. 

“May I?” Demetria asked. 

“By all means.” 

Demetria made her way over to the boys. One boy had black hair with blue eyes, another was African-American with glasses, another boy had blonde hair and freckles, and one with brown hair with glasses.   

“Hey guys!” Demetria greeted.

The boys stopped and looked at her. “You guys playing basketball?” 

They looked at each other, confused and unsure what to say. She cleared her throat. “My name’s Demetria.” 

“I’m Travis,” the boy with black hair said. 

“I’m Jonathan,” the African-American boy said. 

“I’m Reid,” the boy with blonde hair said. 

“I’m Harry,” the boy with brown hair said. 

“Nice to meet you all,” Demetria said. “So what are we playing here? One-on-one or Horse?”

“Just some one-on-one,” Reid answered with a shrug. 

“You know how to play?” Harry asked. 

“A little. My dad was a high school basketball coach so he taught me a few things. Can I see the ball?” 

Travis passed her the ball. She dribbled it for a bit before shooting the ball into the basket. The boys stared in amazement, letting out some “whoa”s. 

“Alright, so who wants to be able to dunk a ball?” she asked. 

They all raised their hands. “That’s exactly what I thought. Ok so watch my hands.” 

She picked up the ball and demonstrated the throw with her hand. “See the way my hand curves, like I’m flicking my wrist? Try that.” 

Reid took the ball first. He dribbled the ball before throwing it up. The ball went through the basket. The boys cheered. 

“See? That was awesome!” Demetria said. She held up her hand for a high five which he reciprocated. “Alright, who’s next?” 

Harry went up and threw the ball, making it into the basket. 

“Way to go dude!” Demetria cheered, the two high diving. “Who’s next?” 

Jonathan went up and threw the ball, the ball circling the basket before falling off. Demetria caught it and threw it back to him, seeing the dejected look on his face. 

“You almost got it. Try again.” She smiled at him. 

He gave her a nod. He tossed the ball up, this time the ball landing into the basket. The boys and Demetria cheered. 

“See! You got it!” she said. 

They high fived and Jonathan passed the ball to Travis. Travis dribbled before the ball hit the back of the basket. The ball came back toward him as he caught it, tossed it again and then tossed the ball inside the basket. 

The other boys and Demetria cheered. 

“Ok, ok,” Demetria said. “Now you guys trying playing.” 

The boys then began playing one-on-one, Demetria coaching them and cheering them on. She couldn't help but feel her dad would be proud of her. Sure, she wasn’t an athlete, but she learned a lot from watching him coach from the sidelines all these years. 

She then saw Reid pass the ball to her. “Your turn,” he told her. 

She smiled. “Alright.” 

She dribbled the ball before tossing it into the basket. She grabbed the ball and said, “Who’s next?”

“What’s going on here?” 

Demetria turned around to see Bruce walking over. Her smile grew. “Just playing some basketball.” 

She watched as the boys’ eyes stayed on Bruce, wide in amazement and wonder. He acknowledged them with a warm smile before gazing at Demetria. 

“Tell me, boys, how she doing?” he asked. 

The responded, each voice overlapping the other. 

“She’s pretty good.” 

“She’s good.” 

“Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Demetria tossed the ball to Bruce as he caught it in his hands. “Let’s see you’ve got, Wayne,” she challenged playfully. 

“Those are fighting words,” he responded, dribbling the ball a bit. 

He turned his back to her and tossed the ball as it went into the basket. The boys cheered and clapped as Bruce turned to her, throwing his hands up. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was just a lucky shot.” 

Bruce looked over to one of the boys. “Can I have the ball, please?” They tossed him the ball. He showed it to Demetria. “Why don’t you try and steal it, Gallagher?” 

Demetria went over to him as he lifted the ball from her. She jumped, spiking it from his hands. Jonathan caught it and tossed it back to her. She went to shoot it into the basket when Bruce spiked it out of her her hand and picked her up swinging her around. 

“Are you kidding me?! I almost had it!” Demetria screamed. 

It was then something caught her eye. A figure watching them from across the street. 

“Hold on, hold on,” she told Bruce. 

He stopped, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Give me a sec. I think I see something.” 

She walked toward the gate, getting a closer look at the figure. It was a caucasian male with a black baseball cap that said ‘Gotham Times’ on it and a tee and jeans with a bulky vest. Across his neck, a camera. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she called out to him. “There’s kids here!”��

The man reached up to his camera as she continued to get closer. 

“Stop it!” she growled. “Stop!

Bruce rushed over to her, pulling her away. “Demetria, don’t.”

She turned to him. “He’s photographing the kids! He can’t be doing that!” 

“Listen, we’ll take care of this when we get home,” he told her. “Right now, just ignore him. The more you go after him, the worse it’s going to be.” 

She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be a line drawn, Bruce.” 

“We’ll take care of it home, alright?” 

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He kissed her forehead. “You were protecting the kids. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll fix this.” 

He rubbed her arms. “Let’s go back, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

She took one more look at the photographer before walking away. Bruce had a point, they were going to take care of it. 

She was going to take care of it. 

#bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman imagine #batman fanfic #the dark knight #the dark knight fanfiction #the joker #christian bale

[petrichxxr]

fateful coincidence [2] | l.jh

A/N: here I am yet again wondering if people still read the things I write... I started this series a year ago (I think) and finally have gotten around to updating it...

Word Count: 12,552

Genre: chaebol/heir!au, supernatural elements/deal with the devil, slice of life, romance (slow burn/soulmates)

Warnings: reader (fem) x lee jooheon (monsta x) pairing, mature/suggestive themes, language

Summary: Lee Jooheon is a well-known heir to a global hotel conglomerate, and is next in line to take over the family business. You’re a journalist, aspiring for more, but barely managing to pay your own bills at the end of the month. The two of you are from entirely different worlds, yet fate somehow tangles your threads, and Jooheon seems to know an intriguing amount more about you than he lets on.

You’re forgetting things.

  Like pockets of memory, it starts off small. Miniscule things throughout the day that slowly progress into more important issues. There are holes, you reach in and grasp for something that you know should be there, but nothing comes out. It’s an irritating feeling—to know that something is misplaced, forgotten, but to be unable to identify what it is. It feels as if it’s only gotten worse since the night of the hotel opening, but a part of you is suddenly aware that it’s been going on for much longer than that.

  It’s only after the event, waking up the next day with the taste of alcohol lingering, that you wonder how serious your memory displacement might be—because you realize, waking up, that it’s not even the alcohol that’s making you forget. Yet despite that, you still push everything down. You lock it and the dashing Lee Jooheon away in the depths of your mind, forcefully making yourself forget this one thing. You didn’t have the time to keep constantly turning his words over in your head, attempting to sort through the shrouded mystery that they presented. Not just that, but he was from a completely separate world—even if you allowed yourself time to do just that, he was still untouchable.

  Plus, you didn’t want to relive every single detail as you described the event to Kihyun. There were some important factors that could be conveniently left out—he had refused to talk to you for almost three days, annoyed you’d hung up on him and given him the cold shoulder that day. Despite having a job to do. But you were just as irritated in his behavior and lack of thoughtfulness the day of the event when you’d called out of work. He hadn’t bothered to check on you at all, and you had needed to get to your job. It was as simple as that, but he’d taken it out of proportion and was being childish.

  His childish behavior had dropped after the three days—after he seemed satisfied he’d gotten whatever point he was attempting to make (there was none) across, and after you got some decent recognition from Minhyuk due to the article you’d written. You tried not to consider the fact that it could have been some of Jooheon’s doing that the piece was performing so well, another thought you pushed out of your mind and locked away.

  After the hype of everything between the event and article died down, your daily routine fell back into place. Kihyun was back to his normal blunt best friend act, Minhyuk was as bossy as ever and overworked you, and your daily headaches returned.

  The daily headaches. You wonder if it has anything to do with your missing pockets of memory.

  “Are you forgetting anything?” Kihyun’s voice suddenly breaks through the slight throbbing just beyond your skull, silencing the thoughts that were just about to make everything worse.

  You glance up from your suitcase to see him entering your room, eyes scanning over the piece of paper you’d typed up. A gray cloud of fluff, fondly known to be your cat Silas, expertly weaves his way through Kihyun’s feet. Whenever he did that to you, you’d trip and fall—yet for some reason, he and Kihyun had it down to an art. No matter how much Kihyun multitasked, he was always used to the feline being just underfoot.

  Silas breaks apart from Kihyun and trots across your bedroom to you. “Hey, bub.” Smiling, you reach out and give the cat a few chin scratches. Looking up to Kihyun, you add, “I don’t think so. You’ve taken care of him before though, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  Kihyun frowns. “Not for this extended length of time, though. Does he get separation anxiety?”

  “With how much I work and am away from home, anyway? Doubtful. But who knows, he may miss my presence. Just sleep over here. I have food that’ll go bad and you still have a roommate.”

  “True. Hyungwon just sleeps, anyway. It’s not like he’ll really notice I’m gone.” Kihyun lowers the paper of instructions for caring for the flat and Silas while you’re gone on your trip, eyeing you. “Are you going to get that checked out, by the way?”

  You practically scramble to lower your hands from your neck, realizing Kihyun had spotted you attempting to massage away some of the pain throbbing at the base of your nape. He was always so watchful, it was almost annoying. You understood the headaches were something to be concerned over, but he didn’t have to nitpick so much.

  “It’s not really a work trip, nor a leisure trip. I’ll see if I have time.”

  “Still, you’ll be visiting home while you’re there. You may as well fit in a doctor’s appointment,” Kihyun pointed out, giving the paper in his hand a small wave. “Plus, you’re there a little over a week. Family matters to take care of or not, you’ll have plenty of time. Make sure to get some rest, too. Maybe you just need some decent sleep.”

  You sigh. “Yes, mother, I’ll try to.”

  The sound of Kihyun’s scoff immediately follows, along with his footsteps. Silas, who had been sprawled out on the floor this entire time, scurries away at the sudden weight reverberating across the floor that startles him out of his catnap.

  “Anyway, did you forget anything?” Kihyun asks once more, eyeing your open suitcase in front of you.

  You glance back at your suitcase, a little haphazard with the contents but sorted and all together nonetheless—you just had to figure out how to make everything fit between your checked and carry on baggage—and shake your head. “No, I think I’m good. If I do forget anything, at least I’m going home. There’s usually spare stuff available, or I can just buy it if it’s something small.”

  Kihyun frowns. “You were literally just complaining a few weeks ago about having to spend money on a dress, and now you’re saying you can just buy what you need.”

  “Well, I figure if I forget anything, it’ll be something cheap like shampoo,” you cut him a look, rolling your eyes. Not a gown, you want to say. “Anyway, let’s get some sleep. Flight leaves at two in the morning, and I’m sure that’s going to be a lovely time waking up for the both of us.”

  If possible, Kihyun’s frown deepens. As quickly as you possibly can without making any mistakes, you finish organizing your belongings between the luggage and close everything up, creating a pile to easily collect upon your departure. Kihyun bids a soft goodnight and makes his way back to the makeshift bed he’d created in your living room. You were already dreading the sixteen hour time difference and having to reset your internal clock for your visit to the States. At least all Kihyun had to do was wake up at an almost-unholy hour of the night to drop you off at the airport, then return to home and bed. You hoped sleep would come easily to you on the plane—because as the lights in your apartment are shut off and you close your eyes, the pounding of your headache seems to increase and rear its ugly head in full force—making sleep almost impossible for the five or six hours ahead of you.

—

Sleep comes, at some point—though not easily. But as long as it took to come, it ends in an even shorter amount of time. When you finally do fall asleep, it feels as though only a few moments pass before your alarm begins to go off. You groan, your head still pounding, and roll over to bury yourself further under your covers. The blaring song of your alarm does nothing to ease the throbbing within your skull, and you wonder how you’re supposed to get into an airplane and make the trip. Will the climb in altitude make your head hurt worse?

  It’s Kihyun’s groaning from the other room, followed by his annoyed stomps—that finally wakes you. He silences your phone alarm before abruptly pulling your covers off you, making you groan again.

  “Wake up,” Kihyun orders, and you feel your shoulder shoved at. “You don’t want to be late.”

  “I don’t want to be at all…” Comes your sleepily mumbled reply.

  “We are not having an existential crisis at twelve in the morning. Get up. I will not hesitate to drag you out of bed,” Kihyun warns. “And your apartment floors are wood.”

  Letting out a sigh, you push yourself into a sitting position. Giving your eyes a rub, applying a slight pressure in hopes to ward away the throbbing headache, you drop your hands then blink a few times and allow your sight to adjust to the darkness of your bedroom.

  “You still have a headache?” You see Kihyun frown in the dark.

  “Why are you surprised? It’s a constant thing nowadays,” you sigh once more, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed. “Plus, it took forever to fall asleep. I’ll just sleep on the plane, though. Do you mind packing the car and I’ll get ready?”

  You don’t really wait for Kihyun to answer, knowing he’ll do so anyway without you having asked, moving around to collect the clothes you’d set out the evening before and heading to the bathroom. One of Kihyun’s pet peeves was being tardy, and while you lived close enough to the airport that it wasn’t a huge deal to leave a little later—it had been Kihyun’s idea to at least get there an hour and a half earlier than your flight. Which honestly made sense on any normal occasion, but the airport was sure to be a bit on the dead side considering the time of night.

  It doesn’t take you long to get ready. Your warm morning shower does nothing to ease the tension in your head—a last ditch effort you had hoped might work. By the time you’ve finished a very shortened version of your morning routine brushing your teeth, drying your hair, and applying your facial care—Kihyun already has the car packed and is pouring some food into Silas’ bowl, before pulling a hoodie on and getting ready himself. You gather the last of your toiletry items that need to be packed, and when the two of you head downstairs and you bid your farewell to your beloved feline, you stuff your toiletry bag into the top zipper of your luggage.

  Kihyun was right to urge you to leave earlier rather than later. Despite the distance to the airport, there’s a decent amount of midnight traffic due to it being a weekend. You close your eyes as he drives, the blinding city and street lights glaring against the glass window of the car and burning your pupils and head. Kihyun’s smooth operation of the vehicle makes it easy to doze off a couple of times before you arrive. While the traffic may have been on the heavier side, you still make it early, and with plenty of time to spare.

  “Make sure to tell me when you land,” Kihyun orders as he helps pull your bags out of the trunk of the car.

  “I will.” You’d be sure not to have a repeat of the hotel opening night, where he hadn’t checked in on you when you’d called out, and out of spite you hadn’t bothered to reach out to him. “Make sure you send me plenty of photos of Silas while I’m gone.”

  “He’ll be fine, he’s a cat.”

  You jut out your bottom lip into a pout. “That’s not what I said.”

  Kihyun scoffs, but reaches up to pat your head gently. “I’ll send you photos. Please try to see if you can get into a doctor while you’re there.”

  “You’re going to keep pushing that, aren’t you?”

  “As much as I possibly can,” Kihyun lowers his hand to give you a one-armed hug. “I’m going to miss pestering you. I don’t think we’ve been separated for a week since we met in college.”

  “You could just say you’re going to miss me like a normal person would.”

  “There’s no fun in that though.” Kihyun grins down at you, before nodding towards the entrance to your gate.

  Giving a small wave, you gather your luggage and head inside. In total, it takes about thirty minutes to get your bag checked, get yourself checked in for your flight, and to go through security. Just as you’d suspected, the airport is practically dead at this hour and the lines are nonexistent. However, the traffic had been enough to make a dent in the time, and you thankfully don’t have long to wait before they start calling for your gate to board. There’s exactly enough time to grab a quick pastry from a nearby coffee shop that happened to be open before making your way onto the plane when your seat section is called.

  You board the plane, stow your carryon in the overhead compartment, and then claim your seat and fasten your seatbelt. Having flown before, you stick your earbuds in your ears—figuring you’ll listen to the flight attendants’ usual spiel when the time came—but more eager to make yourself comfortable and attempt some more sleep as quickly and as soon as possible. Especially since you’d been lucky enough to snag an unclaimed window seat. This meant you were tucked away in your own little back corner, hopefully left alone for the sixteen hours ahead by whoever decided to take up being your seat partner.

  Hopefully left alone was too much along the lines of wishful thinking.

  As you stare out the window, watching workers move about below in the dark as they load and prep the plane for takeoff—you suddenly feel an uncomfortable tug on the cord of your earbud, before it’s pulled straight from your ear. You can’t help but grimace, feeling the bud tug at one of your many piercings.

  “What the hell—”

  Just as you speak up, a voice that’s all too familiar asks, simultaneously, “What are you listening to?”

  You blanch as you turn in your seat, coming face to face with none other than Lee Jooheon. He quirks a brow at you, tilting his head to the side as he inserts your stolen earbud into his own ear. You can just barely make out the dimple impressions on his cheeks, his mouth pressed into something along the lines of a smile suppressing an amused smirk.

  “How—” The word falls from your lips, empty and confused. How, what? You wonder. How did he get here? How was he on the same flight as you? How did he recognize you? Not that you’d chosen to sit too far towards the back, honestly—anyone walking into the plane after just boarding could easily recognize a familiar face with an empty seat next to them. You liked sitting toward the front-middle of planes when traveling; apparently, in this case, that was your downfall.

  “Business trip,” Jooheon just shrugs, replying simply. “Why didn’t you ever text me that night?”

  You turn away from him, pursing your lips. Text him? You briefly remembered him handing you a business card, though couldn’t remember where it had slipped off to—too many drinks made it difficult to keep track of something that small. He’d only asked for you to notify him you got home safe, anyway, so what was the big deal? His bodyguard that had escorted you home surely passed that bit of info along to him.

  Had he—a possible multimillion dollar heir—really expected you to text him, unannounced? And why would he expect such a thing?

  Copying his shrug, you glance away from him. “I lost your business card.”

  It wasn’t a lie. As much as you wanted to admit, it was easy to forget the business card and it’s whereabouts. It was easy to forget the possibility of texting him as he’d asked. With the alcohol that had coursed through you, it was easy to forget that entire night. That was something that would probably irk him if you did choose to admit it. However, what wasn’t easy to forget were his words that randomly popped into your mind and turned over in your head, playing like a broken record—Do you really not remember me?

  That, on the contrary, was something that irked you.

  What was there to remember? Had you really forgotten something? It was a question that burned into your mind, day and night, even when you attempted to suppress all thoughts of him. You tried not to allow yourself to think of the events of that day, or him. While the former was fairly easy, there was something about Jooheon himself that made the latter next to impossible. There was no way for you to fight off the burning curiosity he’d created, as much as you tried. You could forget everything but him and his mysterious words.

  “Well, we can fix that,” Jooheon’s reply doesn’t miss a beat. Before you even have a chance to react to his words, you feel your unlocked phone slip through your fingers and out of your grasp.

  “H-Hey—”

  But Jooheon is paying no mind to your protest, and you watch as he swipes out of the Spotify app on your phone to open the dialing screen. His fingers glide across your screen as he inputs his number. He even goes a step further as to open your messages and start a new text to himself—ensuring he also had your number.

  As he hands your phone back to you, you frown, feeling your jaw tense. You glance down at the screen briefly, which he’d returned to your playlist, before looking back up at him. What would he do if you blatantly deleted his phone number? A part of you felt spiteful enough to do so just for the mere fact that he had taken your phone without asking and entered his number. It’s fine, I’ll just delete his number after the flight, you decide. Even if he has my number, I can just block him.

  Whatever kind of coincidence this was—it was just that. A coincidence. Nothing more would amount after this. It was rather unlucky you were stuck here for sixteen hours with the given circumstances, but you reminded yourself that this wouldn’t be happening again, and to just suffer through it for now. But there was a small part of you that wasn’t quite convinced it was merely just a coincidence, like you hoped… his words from the hotel opening night, like a broken record, continued to replay in your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing. Something you really had forgotten.

  “I like this song,” Jooheon comments off-hand, and you only hum in response, finally turning away. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t really in the mood to engage him. Maybe he’d only spoken up and said that because you’d been staring for so long, taking your gaze the wrong way. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be completely lacking in common sense. Jooheon doesn’t push for more of a reply out of you, allowing the two of you to sit in silence as the rest of the flight occupants take their seats.

  It’s almost more unnerving to sit next to Jooheon without saying anything. During the hotel night, before things had gotten weird with what he’d muttered, you two had been able to freely talk without much difficulty. There was something about his energy that made it almost comfortable, yet invigorating, to be in his presence at that time. But now the invigoration has twisted and warped into an unnerving feeling. For the most part, you feel on edge—yet there’s still a high energy, a curiosity, that sparks between you. While the flight attendants review the usual plane and flying regulations, you find yourself glancing at Jooheon. The music still plays between the two of you, having not reclaimed your earbud and he having not offered to return it.

  Despite your better judgement, you’re aware of the way that the wire of the headphones rests against his shoulders, and how in normal, casual clothes—he’s actually quite broad. It’s something you feel like you should have noticed when he was dressed to the nines in a suit, yet so many suit jackets have padding you weren’t actually sure you would have trusted it. But in the simple hoodie he was wearing, you can see the breadth of his shoulders, and you’re positive it’s not because it’s oversized. He looks so simple, the outfit rounded together with some black sweatpants and a white shirt peeking out from underneath the hooded sweatshirt. So simple, and so unlike an heir or someone of his financial status. You try to ignore the fact that your brain keeps yelling at you that he looks good. It’s not important right now—or right ever, actually. Why did your mind feel the need to supply such an observation?

  You’re about to pull your gaze away from your attention on Jooheon, when you notice something as you do so—where his hand lays on the armrest, his finger taps incessantly. The tapping seems to pick up speed, even becoming more sporadic, as you feel the plane beneath you pick up speed with the takeoff. For a moment, you lose yourself in the background noise of his tapping—the tiny sound overtaking your senses and demanding your focus, a rhythmic and hypnotic thing. Don’t worry about him, you tell yourself. But there’s a part of your mind that is just too curious.

  “Are you okay?” You suddenly ask, dragging your eyes away from his fingers. The action seems to feel as though it takes slower than it should. 

  “Huh?” Jooheon blinks at you in surprise, having not expected you to acknowledge him for the rest of the flight. It’s then that he realizes what he’s doing, and he stills his hand. “Yeah, fine.”

  But when you glance down, you notice the way he grips the armrest instead—forcing his muscles to be still. You think he might start vibrating with the anxiety.

  “Are you sure?”

  Jooheon nods, though the action is terse. “I just don’t like flying.”

  “Don’t you have to do it a lot, though?” You ask, surprised. He was the heir to an international hotel chain. Wasn’t he meant to do a lot of flying? Plus, he could be considered a businessman… the idea of him not liking flying and being used to planes confuses you.

  “I—” Jooheon starts, though his words are immediately cut off as the plane picks up, pulling itself off the ground as it officially takes off. Jooheon intakes his breath sharply, the takeoff pushing both of you back against your seats. It’s not a rough takeoff, per se, but you’d definitely had smoother.

  Despite that, Jooheon isn’t handling it well. Something within you pulls toward him—an innate need to protect that you can't quite explain. It’s like a little tiny flame, you feel it stir within you and you can’t help but want to feed it. The combination of his intake of breath, and the way his jaw clenches when he closes his eyes, causes you to reach out without thinking—practically prying his hand off the armrest to take hold of it.

  You wrap your hand around his, giving a reassuring squeeze.

  Jooheon is surprised by the contact—enough so he stills for a moment, opening his eyes to peer down at your hands in curiosity—before he’s caught by surprise by something else. It’s in that moment that your hand folds around his, skin touching skin and your warmth flooding into his system through shared palms—entwining itself around every nerve—that everything stills. The sensation of everything within him simply quieting—the black, reverberating anxiety that shook at his core like a thunderous stormcloud, and the way his stomach twisted with nausea at every jerky movement the plane made. But it wasn’t just that, it was everything from that to standard stresses, a whirlwind of things that needed to be done for work, and the tormenting voices he often had to deal with within his own mind—they all just silence at your touch.

  He finds his gaze locked on your hands, confused and curious all at the same time. He’d never had this happen before. Was this something that was supposed to happen? Even if he wanted to, Jooheon feels as though he’s unable to pull away from the warmth there. Like your palms are magnetized, connected, and something he shouldn’t pull apart. There was a warmth just beneath his hand, where his skin met your skin, that he could feel building like a little fire. But instead of overtaking everything in the way that a wildfire might, Jooheon finds the warmth to be soothing. Comforting, like a warm drink that fills you up—or perhaps closer to the sensation of sinking into the warm water of a bathtub. The silence within him is a welcome sensation that he’d personally like to drown himself in, if only to escape reality for just a little bit and stay suspended where he was in that strange sensation of lulled time.

  For you, the skin to skin contact with Jooheon is scalding. You immediately feel that electricity you’d felt the night of the hotel opening shoot across every nerve in your body like a cosmos, the tiny flame you’d been curious about flare up with a vengeance. The heat that floods through your system at his contact in places you’d never even imagined—the pit of your stomach, the cavity of your chest, the back of your throat, is parching and suffocating and entirely overwhelming. It overtakes you in such a way that you feel your chest seize up, like you can’t breathe. But for some reason, you hang on to him. You wonder if you’ll start shaking from the sudden pressure that feels as though it’s been placed on your body, hyper-aware of the contact of him.

  Yet, for some reason you don’t have the answer to, nor the mind or focus to think about—despite the way his skin contact is scalding, the nerves in your body ignited and burning from his touch—you still find yourself reaching out to him during the flight. It’s almost like it’s instinctual, though you aren’t quite sure how that would even be possible. Every time you notice Jooheon tense or become physically uncomfortable, the incessant tapping of his fingertips against the arm of the seat picking back up—you reach out to him. Your touch stills the anxiety from pouring out of his body in a physical form. It always happens when there’s turbulence, Jooheon seemingly seizing up every time the plane acts up in any way. You find it an odd fear or worry to have, considering he should be someone accustomed to flying so much, but you suppose people don’t get to pick and choose what it is that they’re afraid of.

  For a good majority of the flight, Jooheon opts to leave you alone. As much as he has questions and curiosities, and a need to hear your voice, he doesn’t want to push his luck. Every time your hand finds his whenever the turbulence of the plane gets to be too much for him—everything within him stills after a shock of electricity passes through his system from your touch. It’s like that single strike flashes through his system, piercing through every bit of thick, smoky anxiety in its wake. But beyond that touch,  Jooheon doesn’t ask or prompt for much more. And as the turbulence settles the longer the sixteen-hour flight drags on, the less Jooheon feels your touch that acts as a solid comfort to him. Instead, he relies more on the music the two of you listen to together. You never ask for the earbud back, and the cord of the shared headphones acts as the main thing linking you together the more time passes.

  Jooheon only pushes his luck a little bit every time food or snacks come around. He takes these moments to chat with the stewardess, asking some questions, and pulling you into the conversation with ease. It’s then that you find yourself stuck in small chats with him as he passes you snacks, drinks, or your meal. Luckily, it’s easy conversation that—for the most part—doesn’t push any boundaries, and always has something to do with the food being passed around. Questions like, How does that taste? What’s your favorite food? And barters to trade snacks. They’re interactions that don’t require much of a thought process otherwise, just meaningless words to fill the silence and help pass the time. While most of your interactions with him up until that point had been begrudging, to put kindly, Jooheon couldn’t help but be surprised at how receptive you could actually be.

  In between conversation, you spend the flight trying to get some shut-eye in, as you had originally planned—to no avail. You aren’t sure if it’s the presence of Jooheon being so close to you, his flying anxiety, or the sensation and sounds that came with flying that make it difficult to find sleep. From the corner of his eyes, you’re unaware of Jooheon watching you nod off every now and again, unable to ignore the way your head starts to bob or fall back against the seat suddenly. At these times, you barely manage to catch just a few fleeting moments of rest, something you couldn’t quite place your finger on always stirring you back awake. 

  It’s during one of these brief moments when you stir back awake that you notice Jooheon working on a tablet. At first, you think nothing of it, wanting to go back to sleep—even though you’re almost certain it’s impossible at this point—but, then it dawns on you that Jooheon is focused and quiet, and most importantly: Working, and not bothering you. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d become accustomed to Jooheon pestering you every time you moved even an inch. His silence almost disturbed you.

  You blink a few times, blearily at first, refocusing your gaze and quietly straightening in your seat to peek a glance at the tablet. It sits in Jooheon’s lap, propped against one of his knees that he has raised and crossed over the other leg, where he drags the stylus against the screen, moving a specific item back and forth across the piece he’s working on. You can’t tell if he’s being erratic or indecisive. For a moment, though, you stare—studying what you assume to be some sort of pamphlet being put together for a hotel—before a yawn overtakes you.

  When the yawn subsides, you shift in your seat, leaning closer to Jooheon. You give his elbow a nudge on the arm rest as you peer further over his shoulder at the tablet. “There’s too much white space.”

  You bite your lip to keep from laughing when Jooheon startles in surprise at your sudden intrusion into his space—having thought you were asleep still—letting a curse in Korean slip from his mouth under his breath. Cute, you can’t help but think, offering up a sheepish smile as if to apologize when Jooheon turns his head to stare you down, his eyes screaming offense. Jooheon lets out a small sigh, turning away and lifting a hand up to pat his chest and clear his throat—attempting to settle a heart that had almost tried to jump out of his chest.

  “I can’t get this layout to work,” Jooheon says as he returns his attention to the tablet in front of him.

  You reach over the armrest, and over his arm which holds the tablet, pointing at the screen as you speak. “You should resize these things, and then move this font here, and this image here. You could also do an overlay with a neutral color to offset the layers of this.”

  As you point to what you’re talking about, careful not to touch the tablet and accidentally move something, Jooheon watchings your index finger carefully. You don’t notice the way his brows knit in focus, hanging on every word you say and carefully listening to you. You also don’t notice the way that, as you speak, he’ll find himself losing focus for just a split second to allow his eyes to flicker to your face—so close to his as you lean over the armrest—taking a fleeting moment to admire the way you seem so serious and concentrated, your eyes alight with determined focus. Jooheon glances away from you, and back down to the tablet as you speak, feeling the corners of his lips twitch with amusement. This is what you liked doing. It was the part of your job that you liked, and he could tell. A stark contrast to the night of the hotel opening, which just seemed stressful and forced on you.

  It’s Jooheon’s turn to shift in his seat, leaning closer to you as he pulls his arm back and puts the tablet on the armrest between the two of you. You feel yourself freeze slightly at the proximity, having been so focused on what you were telling him. He lifts his hand, holding out the stylus to you. You blink, glancing at him and meeting his gaze—brief enough that it makes your chest clench—before glancing at the stylus.

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to retain any of what you just said. I got a bit of it. You take over.”

  “You… want me?” You blink in surprise, glancing at the screen of the tablet, and at him again. “This seems important though. It’s for your work, I could mess it up—”

  Jooheon scoffs. “Please, if anything—I’m the one that’ll mess it up. You’re the journalism major here, I’d say you’re much more qualified.”

  “Then why are you doing this?” You ask, relenting and taking the stylus from Jooheon.

  “We acquired a hotel in Los Angeles a few months back that’s been undergoing renovation—for the line of hotels I introduced at the grand opening the other night. The one in Seoul was built from the ground up, but we’ve slowly been expanding and we took a historic hotel and made it our own,” Jooheon explains, watching as you finally touch the stylus tip to the tablet and begin to work. “Anyway, long explanation shorter—the opening for that and the reintroduction of the new management is soon, but we recently lost our marketing manager. We haven’t been able to find someone else to hire, and we’ve got deadlines to reach. I’ve been trying to help out by taking over half of the job duties from the general manager.”

  “That’s very… responsible of you.”

  “Well, this whole chain is my responsibility,” Jooheon muses. “So, yeah. But also my best friend is the GM and his ass is getting kicked. Neither of us are any good at this, we’re just good at the business portion of it.”

  The conversation falls off there, Jooheon realizing you’re focusing. Hearing he and his general manager were struggling made you feel more pressure, and you can’t help but mentally chastise yourself for stepping in and helping, despite how clearly he had been struggling. Luckily, Jooheon stays close to you as he watches you work, leaning against the armrest. You try not to focus too much on the way your shoulders touch, or the way his scent flows into your space as he delegates a little, giving you technical hotel terminology to include and add in as the pamphlet comes to life on the tablet screen and the white space that had been taking up the majority of the screen before slowly melts away. When he challenges something you do, he allows for you to explain your reasoning behind it and listens carefully as you do so. You find yourself surprised at how well he listens, and how easily it is to compromise with him on certain things.

  You two spend a couple of hours working away at the project together before determining it’s finished, Jooheon and yourself both pleased with the outcome. Jooheon is smiling with enough force that his dimples show on his cheeks, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling along with him—his happiness infectious; you’re happy he’s happy, and you’re happy to have helped. Yet even with the happiness, you find your eyes stinging because of staring at a bright screen for so long, and are acutely aware of your beloved ever-present migraine rearing its ugly head even more than it had at the start of the flight. Jooheon takes note of the way you lift a hand to pinch your nose, attempting to suppress the pain throbbing from your skull.

  “Get some sleep. I won’t bother you anymore,” Jooheon comments, lifting the tablet up briefly to give it a small wave. “Thanks for your help though.”

  “No problem,” you mumble, suppressing yawn. His thank you catches you off-guard, enough so that you lower your hand from the bridge of your nose to blink at him a couple of times. But he’s not paying attention, turning away from you to put the tablet back into a carry-on he’d had stowed underneath the seat ahead of him. You shift in your seat—away from the position which had you closer to him—attempting to make yourself comfortable again as you close your eyes.

  Sleep seems like a fever dream to you. Something you’re aware that you’re receiving, but never feeling quite satisfied from it. As if it’s there, but simultaneously not; all a figment of your imagination. You begin to doze almost immediately after closing your eyes, the migraine practically pushing you to do so, because keeping your eyes open hurt too much. The intensity of the migraine doesn’t relent, though, which has you dozing and waking just as you had before you’d begun helping Jooheon with his work. Just as before, you find yourself going in and out of consciousness, nodding off and startling awake when your head begins to bob or tip too far. You sleep in increments—none of it restful.

  Jooheon is aware of your restlessness next to him, but he’d promised not to bother you—and he has to remind himself of that. But the way your head tips and bobs makes him feel anxious for you. Especially because he could briefly recall a mention of a constant headache the night of the hotel opening, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the reason sleep wasn’t coming to you easily was because of that. Had you been serious about it? You had a dry sense of humor, which he found quite amusing, but it had him often wondering if what you said was the truth or not at certain times—and did a decent job to keep him on his toes as he attempted to figure out whether you were being serious at times.

  He gives in to listening to himself constantly telling himself that he had said he wouldn't bother you, though, after too much time passes watching your head nod as sleep attempts to overtake you. That has got to be uncomfortable on the neck… he thinks to himself, completely giving in when he watches your head fall forward a bit too far. Jooheon reaches out to catch your head, guiding it gently toward his shoulder. As he does so, he sinks lower in his seat just a bit, so your head can rest more comfortably against him. He’s a little disappointed to find that the instant calm and quiet that had overtaken him earlier during the turbulence from your touch doesn’t envelop him warmly again—he is, however, surprised to find that after a few moments pass, you shift in your seat closer to him. When Jooheon glances at you after feeling the movement, he finds you still asleep—thankfully—slumping to the side to lean towards him more comfortably, snuggling against his shoulder.

  The way you nuzzle against him has him tensing in surprise—a heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. The action from you and the heat he feels overtake him with a sudden ferocity are familiar. Too familiar. A type of hunger he’d rather not put a name to.

  No, Lee Jooheon. Not right now. He clenches his jaw, glancing away from you and swallowing roughly, feeling parched suddenly. It was strange how different actions elicited different reactions, his body responding in such stark contrast to each. As Jooheon turns away, he carefully lifts his hood up and over his head, closing his eyes.

  He should sleep, too. There was still quite a bit of flight left.

—

You’re met with silence when you finally wake.

  The plane is bustling and alive, a quiet hum of sound that reverberates through the cabin as people speak in hushed tones and get ready for their landing. These sounds all come to you, slowly seeping into your consciousness. Before your body fully wakes—before you begin to tense your muscles and stretch, and a yawn overtakes you while your eyes crack open—your mind wakes first. And you notice something that seems a little off.

  Everything is silent.

  Your headache is completely gone.

  You stay still for a moment, reveling in the odd silence, though your mind is reeling as to why the migraines which had been plaguing you for months were just suddenly gone. The cavity of your skull where your mind rests feels empty, but in an oddly good way. What had changed? What had happened? Was it the ascension in the plane to a higher altitude? Was that even something that could stop chronic migraines?

  It almost felt too good to be true, considering your migraines also came hand-in-hand with your pockets of disappearing memory. For all that to just suddenly stop felt too good to be true.

  Furrowing your brows, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. You want to stay here—suspended in silence and the darkness behind your eyelids—forever. There was no ache just beyond your temple that caused nausea; the pain so bad sometimes you felt like you might pass out. There was no ache behind your eyes that typically brought about the stinging sensation of tears, and made the glaring brightness of any sort of light hurt. There was nothing. There was just silence. No thoughts, no suffocating pressure, no pain.

  “Are you awake now?” Abruptly, Jooheon’s not-so-welcome, yet familiar, voice breaks through your silence.

  Begrudgingly, you open your eyes, blinking a few times to readjust to the light. And then, you blink again, realizing the tilted angle at which you’re resting.

  “Sleep well?” The hint of amusement in Jooheon’s voice has you jolting upright—and off his shoulder, where you’d been resting your head. You take a moment to stare ahead, refusing to meet Jooheon’s curious gaze that you can feel burning into you. Silently, you swallow down your nervousness and glance to your side, avoiding his gaze for a moment to stare at his shoulder—your makeshift pillow for who knows how long—then you lift your eyes to meet his.

  Without prompting vocally again, Jooheon simply raises an eyebrow.

  You almost hate to admit you did sleep well, considering the push and pull you kept experiencing towards Jooheon. There were too many unanswered questions about him, too many things that made you curious and worried at the same time. He was too mysterious. Admitting something like this to him almost felt like you were placing a playing card right in his hand. There was a small part of you that wondered if his presence had anything to do with it, but you immediately pushed that thought out of your mind, writing it off as absolutely absurd. You barely knew him, how would he have any sort of effect on you such as that?

  Letting out a sigh, you nod finally in answer.

  Jooheon takes the silent answer with a small nod of his own, turning away to gather his belongings which had been at his feet to begin putting in the backpack he had, before pushing it back under the seat before him. “That’s good, you looked like you needed some decent rest.”

  “Apparently so. My headache—or rather, migraine—is gone.”

  When Jooheon straightens in his seat, he turns to look at you again. “You mentioned once you had a constant headache. Was it that bad?”

  You nod. “It would vary. Sometimes it was a headache, sometimes a migraine. Anywhere from manageable to incapacitating, but always constant. It’s been going on for almost three months now, I think?”

  “That long?” Jooheon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and the corners of his lips immediately follow in the opposite direction, pulling down into a frown. “You mentioned during our first meeting you were stressed, but that sounds like something more than just stress. Have you been to a doctor?”

  “Please, finding the time is too difficult. Don’t start nagging me like Kihyun.” Out of habit, the borderline pushiness of his words has you reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. There’s no headache there to attempt to subside—which has your hand just as quickly falling down from your face. You frown at your palm, studying it. The habit had been built on stress, and as stressful as Jooheon’s miniscule attempt to nag had been, there was no physical representation of that stress like usual.

  Maybe Kihyun is the problem, you muse to yourself. He did have a tendency to nag to the extreme. Almost like a mother.

  “I’m starting to think Kihyun might be on to something,” Jooheon grumbles from next to you, causing you to lift your gaze from your hand. “You seem to be stubborn, you need someone to nag you, it seems like. You should find the time. Three months almost certainly implies there’s some sort of underlying health concern.”

  “My headache is still gone, don’t ruin the moment. If you keep it up, it’s almost certainly going to come back.”

With a scoff, you look away from him and nestle back into your seat. As you do so, an announcement over the intercom notifies everyone aboard the plane of the oncoming landing. Instructions to start preparing for landing by putting away and stowing all belongings follows, and the stewardess over the speaker ends the announcement by asking everyone to return to their seats and begin buckling up.

  “Fine. I won’t ruin this moment. But I can’t promise for any future moments,” Jooheon declares. When you glance at him in surprise, he looks over at you with a small dimpled smirk. You end up rolling your eyes—rolling your gaze away from him. How the heck was he so annoying, yet somehow charming?

  As if someone hears the word charming cross through your mind—the plane hits a bit of turbulence just before it begins to tip to the side, turning to make a circle to land. It’s a very slight maneuver, almost unnoticeable. In fact, you were so accustomed to flying that you really wouldn’t have noticed it yourself, if not for the fact that Jooheon, next to you, was visibly tensing as he had earlier. His hand, lying on the armrest between you, grips the edge so hard the skin pulls taught and translucent over his knuckles.

  Even Jooheon’s unusual fear and his reaction to it, something you had become accustomed to during the flight, was somehow charming.

  Wordlessly, you reach out, pushing your hand beneath his where it grips the armrest. It takes a bit of urging before he feels your fingertips pushing against the base of his palm near his wrist, attempting to push your way underneath. When Jooheon does, he glances at you in surprise, lifting his hand just enough for you to slip yours beneath to take hold of him as you had before.

  When your palms connect, fingers wrapping around his and him returning the gesture, that scalding feeling from before returns. You knew you’d be burned, touching him—yet for some reason, as you had so many times through the flight already—it was a risk you were willing to take. That same electricity that you’d felt before, and felt from the night of the hotel opening, shoots up your arm from where your palms connect and shoots across every nerve in your body again. This time, though, it feels so much stronger—and now you wonder if the clarity of your migraine being gone is a good thing, or a bad thing. Without the heavy, leaden fog that rests over your mind with the migraine, you’re suddenly aware and feel everything. So much so that the contact this time and the reaction your body has to him makes you flinch in surprise, though very subtly.

  Jooheon, of course, takes silent note—his eyes never not watching you curiously.

  That electric fire that swarms through you happens in such a brief amount of time that it takes you a few moments of staring at your hand, connected with Jooheon’s, to realize that it at some point quiets down to something more akin to a simmer. Warm, and somehow pleasant. Something like sitting in a window, where sun filters through, your eyes closed against the sunlight that warms the glass and warms you.

  You really had to be going crazy, you think. Jooheon was handsome but there was no way you were attracted to him—right?

  Meanwhile, the same warmth floods through Jooheon, euphoric and soothing. He draws his eyes away from you, clenching his jaw and trying not to physically react to the fuzzy feeling that overtakes him, filling him up  yet again. The welcome silence of everything stopping within him returns. If he isn’t careful, he’s sure he might let out a sigh of contentment that would give everything away. And so, he clenches his jaw a little tighter, pursing his lips.

  “You’re going to break the poor armrest,” you say, past a knot that forms in your throat. Your throat feels dry, seizing up again. You feel awkward just holding his hand—especially as you try to make sense of the sudden fire that had built up just as it had before, before slowly dying down into something more manageable. This time, it wasn’t as suffocating. Yet you still felt somehow nervous and small next to him, that unnerving edginess he causes settling over you again. Your body was starting to feel as though it was experiencing whiplash.

  A little over sixteen hours spent in his presence was starting to confuse you. Were you still irked by him, yet somehow intrigued? Or were you actually starting to soften up to him? You had to admit that his mysterious riddled words and overly generous actions had made you immediately throw up a wall… but he hadn’t been that bad during this flight. He’d been much more normal, still as charming, but besides taking your phone for himself—he hadn’t pushed any boundaries or said anything weird.

  “You’d rather I break your hand, then?” Jooheon retorts good-naturedly, which has you suddenly snorting out a small laugh.

  “Please don’t actually break it. I need to return to work after this trip.”

  “What are you on this trip for, anyway?” Jooheon wonders, and when you look at him with a frown, he shrugs. “I told you what I’m going to LA for.”

  “Family reasons.”

  “A vacation, then?”

  You shake your head, grimacing at the thought of what awaits you when you land. Although Jooheon has made the flight a little more bearable, despite everything you thought about him prior, a small part of you wishes you hadn’t even boarded the plane back in Seoul. Knowing what you were walking into when the plane landed—you wished for everything that, somehow, you wouldn’t have to. If only you hadn’t been pressured into taking this trip. You wanted to stay suspended here, with your migraine gone and a bit of peace from everything in life and just spend some time not thinking. Not thinking about work, not thinking about family, and not thinking about how much pain you were constantly in. Kihyun had told you to get your migraine checked out while you were near your family doctor, but you wondered when you’d have time for that—wondered how long this peace from the head pain would last. Which is why you wanted to keep it, for as long as possible. It was so nice to have some silence and a break from it all. Soon, you’d be walking back into more pain. Unwillingly so, but that was the outcome, nonetheless.

  “It’s not going to feel like a vacation.” Comes your answer, just as the plane lands. It’s at that moment that Jooheon squeezes your hand, the impact of the plane hitting the runway jostling everyone inside just a bit. But there’s something in the way that he gives the squeeze—almost reassuring instead of to comfort himself—that has you staring at your hands, yet again, in silent curiosity.

  Jooheon keeps holding your hand up until the plane reaches a complete stop once it pulls up to the jetway. It’s only then that he relinquishes his hold, and the both of you silently gather up the belongings which you’d brought as carry on items onto the plane. Other passengers begin to do the same, standing in their rows and slowly beginning to exit the plane. Jooheon, once he has everything in his backpack he’d brought with him, soon stands in the row you share, turning to glance over his shoulder. As you finish gathering your things into the backpack you’d brought on the plane with you after claiming it from the overhead bin, you look up at him—noticing him searching.

  You peek over the top edge of your seat just as Jooheon appears to have found who he was looking for, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll meet you outside,” he says, nodding over his shoulder to signal when they exit the plane. You squint, studying the people, before your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, instantly recognizing the larger built man a few aisles back from you who seems to nod a reply to Jooheon.

  “He was here too?” You blurt out,  without thinking, memories immediately flashing back to the night you’d been drunk and that man had taken you home. You grimace, sinking down in your seat a bit and hoping he doesn’t see you.

  Your outburst causes Jooheon to glance down at you in surprise, lips twitching in amusement at your reaction and the way you attempt to hide yourself. “Of course. Hoseok’s my bodyguard. And kind of an assistant, since he keeps track of all my schedules.”

  “Why’d you sit with me instead of the person you came on this trip with?”

  Jooheon shrugs. “You’re much more interesting. Plus, I see him every day.”

  You frown, but before you can reply, Jooheon reaches down behind you where you sit, backpack on, and gives the hook strap on your bag a tug, urging you to your feet. The two aisles ahead of you move to make their exit, marking it as your turn next. Jooheon turns away as you stand, stepping out of the aisle—and his next action catches you by surprise. He steps out enough to block others from cutting out and ahead, nodding for you to go first. Blinking in surprise, you almost trip as you rush out of the aisle so as to not hold up the line, feeling Jooheon keep close behind you as he follows.

  You don’t realize until you’re off the plane that Jooheon has an ulterior motive by letting you exit first. As soon as you’ve cleared the bridge connecting the plane to the terminal gate, and have stepped out into the waiting area, Jooheon steps forward from behind you and slips his hand into your own. He takes a firm hold, tugging you along as he leads you off. 

  “Hey!” Surprised, you stumble after him, having not even had a chance to figure out what your next step after arrival would be—you’d traveled back in time, and it was almost nine o’clock at night on a Friday in Los Angeles. You needed to figure out a form of transportation home, first and foremost, before things started to close down. “J-Jooheon!”

  The sound of his name slows his pace down, and Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you with a quirked brow—but he doesn’t stop walking. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name.”

  You frown, staring at him. Had he been counting such a thing? You hadn’t really been aware you’d said his name so little… but you had been avidly avoiding the use of it. You didn’t want to give him too much power by using his name. It was better, you thought, to just keep him as a stranger. That’s what you’d thought the night of the opening ceremony and the nights following where he’d constantly tormented the gaping hole in your memory. Unfortunately, he’d pushed past that boundary line already—something you were well aware of. Lee Jooheon was more like an acquaintance now, and as much as you hated it—it was too late to turn back.

  “We’re going to go get food,” he announces when you don’t say anything to his statement, turning away from you to keep leading you on.

  You give your hand a tug, attempting to pull it back to yourself. “We don’t need to, though—”

  “Nonsense, I’m starving. The plane meals weren't that filling.” Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you again. “And like I said, you’re much more interesting to spend time with. I’m not done doing so yet—as soon as you leave this airport, who knows when I’ll see you again, or if you’ll even use that phone number I put in your cell? LA’s a much bigger city than Seoul, we might not cross paths at all while we’re here.”

  “Why does that matter?” You grumble. You wanted to keep things at the acquaintance level.

  Jooheon shrugs. “Matters to me. But please, just indulge me for a bit. I’m stuck here for at least a week having to do work. I might not get to see anything outside of a hotel for the entire time.”

  You sigh, but give up trying to pull your hand back to you. Jooheon doesn’t free you of his grasp until you’re being seated. As you stop outside the restaurant he’s chosen, you can’t help but stare up at the sign on the wall for the Mexican food eatery, grimacing. Jooheon catches the face you make as you sit across from him—and when your eyes meet as you take your seat, and you realize he’d seen you make the face, you let out another sigh.

  “Did we really have to eat here? Airport food is so expensive.”

  “It’s quick and convenient. Plus, I’m paying.”

  “What?” You shake your head. You already owed him, you didn’t want more added on. “No, definitely not.”

  “You’re indulging me, so I’ll be the one to handle the bill.” Jooheon reaches across the table, tapping the menu that had been set down in front of you by the waiter before they had disappeared. After doing so, Jooheon pulls his phone out of his pocket and busies himself with it.

  You purse your lips, scanning the limited menu options. The downside to airport food, besides the price, was how little there was to choose from. That being said, it made making a final decision a lot easier and faster. When the waiter comes back around—the two of you being among the very few people sitting to eat at that time of night—you both place your order with ease.

  Just as the waiter leaves, Jooheon’s phone rings. He glances at the phone face to see who’s calling, before answering in Korean. While the voice on the other end of the line speaks, you decide to pull your own phone out of your bag that you’d brought with you. Having been dragged away by Jooheon, you hadn’t had a chance to turn your phone off airplane mode. You do so, and then wait for the onslaught of messages to pour through.

  “Hey,” Jooheon says from across the table. You glance up from your phone to look at him, just as your finger pushes the little slider to turn airplane mode off. “What does your luggage look like?”

  For a moment, you just stare at Jooheon, confused.

  “It’s Hoseok, he’s at baggage claim.”

  “Oh.” The word falls from your lips slowly as his words settle into your mind, realization dawning on you. That’s right—you’d been dragged away so fast you’d also forgotten about your checked luggage that you had to pick up. “Uh, it’s a larger black suitcase. I have a yellow ribbon tied to it.”

  Jooheon nods, repeating the information to Hoseok. As he does so, you overhear him follow up by telling his bodyguard-assistant that the two of you are eating, and apologizing profusely for running off. It’s clear from the tone the conversation takes that Jooheon isn’t going to be let off easy, despite being the boss. You zone out, then, instead returning your focus back to your own phone. But the screen contents are empty when you tap the screen to wake the phone from sleep, unlocking it.

  The lack of any sort of notification causes you to frown. Of course, it was past nine now, so you doubted anyone here that was waiting for you to arrive actually cared about you arriving. This entire trip had been a guilt trip, and was an inconvenience for you. You were sure drama would start as soon as you arrived home. It was likely no one had even stayed up to greet you, so why would anyone bother to check and see if your flight had gone well? There had been minimal communication leading up to your departure, anyway.

  Doing the math in your head, you count back, figure that it’s a little after one in the afternoon back in Korea. The fact that there was no message from Kihyun, either, was a little deterring—considering it was a weekend in the middle of the afternoon. But then you remembered he had asked you to call him when you landed. Mentally chastising yourself, you open your text messages and send him a quick text, letting him know you’ve landed and were grabbing some food, and would call him a little later.

  “You okay?” Jooheon asks, now off the phone. He’d been sitting there quietly for a few moments, watching your expression turn increasingly sour.

  Hearing his voice, you startle in surprise—having not even realized he’d gone silent. You fumble with your phone, locking it quickly—slightly guiltily—and pull your gaze back up to him. Not long ago, you’d been trying to get out of eating with him and slip away as fast as you possibly could. But, now you realize it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

   “Yeah, fine,” you mumble sheepishly.

  Jooheon clicks his tongue, reaching for the glass of water the waiter had set on the table when seating the two of you. “That’s a lie,” he says, before taking a drink. “But I won’t press.”

  Before you can react to that, wondering how Jooheon would know such a thing was a lie, your waiter returns with your food. The way you can feel your expression instantly lighten on your face, your stomach growling in response to the delectable scent—you realize that’s how Jooheon had known you were lying. Thinking about what you were returning home too had dampened your mood enough that it was visible on your face. But the smell of the expensive, yet delicious-looking, airport food had lightened it back up.

  Jooheon smiles softly, watching you, amused at how easily food motivated you seemed to be. He gives a quiet thanks to the waiter before joining you, taking a bite of the tacos that had been ordered. The two of you eat in silence, for the most part. The only questions Jooheon asks are if you like the food, just as he had done on the plane, and how long you’ll be in Los Angeles for. Neither answer illicit much of a further reaction from him, or push him to speak more—and so you finish your shared meal together quite quickly—and thankfully before things get awkward with the staff as the restaurant nears closing time.

  You wait by the entrance while Jooheon finishes up paying. As he turns away from the counter, he sticks the receipt he was given in his wallet, before shoving that into the pocket of his sweatpants, walking over to meet you. You offer up a smile as he stops next to you.

  “Thanks for the food.” “Thank you for eating with me,” Jooheon replies, returning your smile. He can’t help but take note of how soft, and slightly shy, the way your lips appear to be turned up on your face. It’s cute. Before much more can be said, his phone goes off in his pocket.

  The sound makes you a bit jealous, and you watch as Jooheon pulls the device out and studies the name on the screen. He lets out a very long sigh before he answers the phone—and you’re almost surprised it’s in Korean, again.

  “I just finished eating,” you hear Jooheon say, and you turn away as he speaks on the phone.

  As you do so, you blink, catching sight of something—or rather, someone—peculiar.

  “Daniel?” The name falls from your lips with confusion, but with a raised-enough voice that the owner of the name—the person walking towards you—lifts their head in answer, confirming your suspicion.

  Jooheon, standing behind you, hears your voice not only against his ears—but he also hears it echo within his phone receiver, as well. Blinking in confusion, he pulls his cell phone away from his ear just enough to stare at it, surprised and confused, before turning around slowly. Jooheon looks at you, first, then lifts his gaze up to see what you’re staring at with such a surprised expression.

  “Changkyun.”

  You glance over your shoulder at Jooheon, hearing a name fall from his lips that isn’t a question—but rather, a statement. Seeing where Jooheon is staring, you look back.

  Daniel—or Changkyun—stops dead in his tracks where he’s walking, the cell phone he’s holding to his ear frozen there. He stares, dumbfounded, looking between you and Jooheon. After a few moments, your name falls from his lips in surprise—out of breath and nostalgic, the familiarity of it hits you like a wave. And then, his next word that follows has you blanching in surprise, looking once again back over your shoulder at Jooheon.

  “Uh, hi, Boss.”

  Jooheon purses his lips, lowering his phone from his ear and hanging up the call. He shoves the device back into his pocket. “You’re late.”

  “S-sorry, you know how LA traffic is.”

  “You two know each other?” You blurt, suddenly, just as Daniel nears the two of you, slowly coming to a stop.

  “I want to ask the same thing.” As he speaks, Jooheon quirks a brow at you.

  “Actually,” Changkyun clears his throat. “Same.”

  “This is the best friend-general manager that I was telling you about on the flight, for our LA location,” Jooheon explains, before nodding in your direction. “And she’s my favorite small-time journalist in Seoul.”

  Favorite small-time journalist. The words ring in your head, and you’re suddenly propelled back to weeks ago when you had found yourself wondering if Jooheon had a hand in how well your article had been doing. You purse your lips, but decide not to say anything.

  It’s Changkyun’s turn to quirk a brow, but you’re too busy turning the rest of Jooheon’s words over in your head to react. It takes a moment before your eyes suddenly widen. Your head snaps up in the direction of Daniel, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and mouth falling open. “You?! A general manager?!”

  “Wow, the lack of faith in your incredulous reaction is a testament to your faith in me,” Changkyun mutters, tone dripping with sarcasm. All you do is shake your head, still in disbelief, before looking back at Jooheon.

  “We went to high school together,” you reply simply. “And middle school, actually. We’ve been friends since then.”

  “Speaking of, why are you back? Are you here for—” Before Changkyun can finish his sentence, you loudly cut him off.

  “Oh! Look! Hoseok has the luggage!” And before waiting for either of the men next to you to react, you push past Daniel in a rush, heading towards Jooheon’s bodyguard. Changkyun blinks, surprised, meeting Jooheon’s eyes before looking over his shoulder at you. Jooheon simply shrugs, following after you a little more slowly.

  “How are you getting home?” Jooheon asks as he catches back up to you, watching as Hoseok relinquishes your luggage back to your own possession.

  You give Hoseok a small thanks, turning back. “I’m just going to call an Uber or Lyft.”

  Jooheon frowns, before looking at Changkyun. “How close are you two?”

  “Uh… close, I guess? Our families know each other, and we keep in touch, albeit inconsistently because of work.”

  “Perfect. Let her borrow your car.”

  In unison, you and Changkyun both blurt out, “What?”

  “It’s late, and it’s safer. We can just get the Uber. This way you can just head home,” Jooheon explains, matter-of-factly. “And if you two went to  school together and your families are familiar with each other, I’m sure you know where to pick your car up.”

  “Hey,” you mutter, scowling at Jooheon. “That’s not really for you to decide—”

  Changkyun sighs, waving you off. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. He has the right idea. You live like twenty minutes away from here, anyway.” 

  You frown, wanting to argue further—but you feel Jooheon’s intense gaze on you and figure it probably won’t get you very far. But to just make that decision on his own, without asking… you cut Jooheon a look of annoyance before turning your attention back to Changkyun as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket, pulling the car key off and taking the remaining keys on the ring. He hands it over to you, briefly explaining he’d left the car in the loading port after convincing the attendant outside that he’d only be a short amount of time, urging you should likely go soon so as to not result in his car being towed. You nod, thanking him and giving him a quick hug, before turning to Jooheon.

  Lifting Changkyun’s car key menacingly, you glare. “Don’t you dare use this as an excuse to see me and come with him and pick the car up, got it? I appreciate your concern and I’ll accept it this time—but I’m not happy about it.”

  And before he can answer, you gather your things and turn on your heel, heading away. You hear Jooheon let out an audible laugh as he watches your retreating figure. He smiles, watching you leave, and waits until you’re out of earshot before turning to Changkyun.

  “High school friends, huh? What a coincidence.”

  “That’s the girl you’ve been bugging me about?” Changkyun crosses his arms, frowning. “If so, I don’t think coincidence even begins to cover it.”

  Jooheon tilts his head to the side, curious.

  “She’s the one, right? The failed contract you mentioned?” Changkyun prompts, before letting out a bitter chuckle as Jooheon nods. He shakes his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Ha… I can’t even be surprised, with the divorce and all…”

  “Divorce?” Jooheon echoes.

  Changkyun frowns. “My statement that she dodged earlier. Why she’s back here… her parents are getting a divorce. Long time coming, honestly, and she probably got dragged back into it. There’s… a lot in that household that’s worth escaping, to be honest. Which makes sense why she sought you out.”

  “If it makes so much sense, then why’d the contract fail?”

  “Do you really not know?” Changkyun wonders, quirking an eyebrow as he levels his gaze with Jooheon’s.

  “I’m not here to play guessing games, Changkyun,” Jooheon mutters. “It just happened to be convenient that you showed up to see who I was referring to, and coincidence that you know her and we were on the same flight. But I’ve been venting all this to you for the past few months because I’m at an utter loss as to why the contract would have failed. I’m not all-knowing, despite what people may think. Now that you’ve seen her, I’m assuming you have an answer. So, spill.”

  Changkyun smirks, stepping forward to place a hand on Jooheon’s shoulder. “My Lordship… that girl is your soulmate.”

  Soulmate.

  Before the word even processes, Jooheon is scoffing, to which Changkyun tsks.

  “You were human at one point, too. We all have one. Even you, the King of Hell,” Changkyun chastises. “I’m guessing you probably can’t see it, or you would’ve caught on much sooner—but her aura, it reads totally differently when she’s next to you in comparison to when she was walking away. It’s quite interesting to see this in person, I’ve only ever heard of it happening a few times through sources.”

  Jooheon frowns, studying Changkyun’s face for any sign of a lie. Soulmate. Another person with which one had a natural affinity and deeper connection toward. The connection was often instantaneous and natural—and strong enough that one would feel themselves drawn to that other person in every single way while simultaneously bringing about a sense of peace and calm. Jooheon wanted to scoff again. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in them. He’d seen the magic at work for others. But, for himself?

  And yet, so many things made sense. His anxiety eased when near you. The entire plane trip, everything had been calm. A sort of calm he’d never experienced before. Just as much as things had been calm, though, every touch had set ablaze his nerve endings. He hadn’t experienced such a nervousness in someone else’s presence in years.

  What an ironic twist of fate this had to be—the universe was definitely playing games with him, now. He was well aware he’d pissed off many higher powers over the years… but to do this to him? Send him his own soulmate, on a silver platter, begging to make a contract with the Devil? Begging for release? Begging to forget?

  To forget…

  Jooheon blinks, realization dawning on him—the migraines you’d mentioned. He lets out an audible groan, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course that would be a side effect. While he had never had a contract fail in the past, unless a soul really wasn’t set on release—a broken contract could amount to many side effects, some more serious than others. In most cases, Jooheon had witnessed the failed cases simply go insane. But since your request had been so definite and simple, it made sense that it would backfire with a physical manifestation like this.

  That’s why she doesn’t remember me.

  “Changkyun, I need a drink,” Jooheon mutters, brushing past both him and Hoseok. The two share a look, and Changkyun stares after Jooheon in confusion, before trailing after in a hurry.

#jooheon fanfic #monsta x fanfic #mx fanfic #jooheon scenarios

[dr-dendritic-trees]

What exactly are executive dysfunction, how does it manifest and is it only present in ADHD ? I’m curious because I seem to have it but I don’t have ADHD.

I will happily do that Anon! This is going to be a very long explanation. The most important part, if you don’t want to read it all, is the first paragraph, everything else is details for people who want more information, feel free to send another ask if this isn’t clear or you have another question:

Executive function is basically a term that refers to all the things the brain does to achieve a specific goal, and executive DYSfunction is any time those functions don’t work right, so you have a goal you want to achieve, but you can’t. Executive dysfunction occurs in a huge range of conditions. Its definitely not only ADHD, most neurodevelopmental disorders and mental illnesses are associated with some executive dysfunction, so are dementia or neurodegenerative conditions, and so are brain injuries that affect the parts of the brain which are used for executive functions. 

Healthy neurotypical people will experience symptoms that are very similar to executive dysfunction when they’re very stressed or sleep deprived and for similar reasons; the parts of your brain you use for these functions don’t work as well when you’re tired or stressed. We typically call that executive dysfunction, because its typically less severe and also limited (it’ll go away once you take a nap or leave a stressful situation. So if you’re feeling these, but don’t necessarily have other mental illness symptoms, that could be it, especially right now as we’re all dealing with pandemic stress. The exact boundary when you tip from “not doing as well as usual” to “executive dysfunction” can be a bit tricky to know without a lot of background.

We group all the executive functions into one big umbrella term for 2 reasons. 1) They are rely on a similar set of brain areas. 2) You need them all for good executive function. The primary part of the brain involved with executive function is called the frontostriatal system; the frontal lobe, the striatum, and the white matter tracts that connect the two. Things that disrupt these parts of the brain will typically affect executive function. There are some other brain things going on, but that’s the core part, and the part you should look up if you want more information. That bit’s pretty simple. The complicated bit about executive functions, is that they have a lot of moving parts. There are A LOT of executive functions, and so, there are a lot of ways that someone can experience executive dysfunction.  There’s a lot of different systems for grouping executive functions you can find summaries that list there as being anywhere from 3, to over 12 different executive functions, and most of these systems are actually pretty similar, they just either group things together, or split them apart. But here are a basic list of executive functions to get you started. For each one I’ll give an example of how they work, or don’t work, for someone who’s trying to make themselves dinner, which is a good example of a task that needs a lot if executive functions.

Decision making (I need to choose what to have for dinner, or I might get stuck and find its way past dinner time and I’m still trying to figure out what to eat).

Task initiation (I need to get off tumblr and start cooking, this is the executive function most commonly talked about here, but its definitely not the only one).

Planning (I need to know what I need, what steps will be involved in making my dinner, and what order to do them in, or else I might either not be able to start, or make errors because I’m doing tasks out of order (I need to get out the ingredients, prepare them, then cook them; and I need to start with the things that take longest).

Cognitive flexibility (I need to be able to adjust my plans and change what I’m doing if something changes, like, my vegetables have gone off and I need to choose a different one, or the smoke alarm goes off, or someone invites me out).

Selective and divided attention (I need to pay attention to all the components of the, the meat, and the vegetables and the potatoes, as the same time, but I also need to ignore the dishes from lunch, and the alerts on my phone while I’m cooking, or I might end up either not doing all the parts of my tasks, or some other entirely different task).

Task switching (some people lump this in with cognitive flexibility in general, but its specifically moving from specific task to specific task, I might, for instance, need to move from cutting peppers in strips, to chopping peppers in cubes, and trimming whole chicken breasts, or I might end up with everything chopped in the same, wrong way). 

Inhibition (not just getting take out, although there are actually quite a lot of nuances to behavioural inhibition I won’t get into here)

Working Memory (holding all the parts of the meal in your mind, otherwise you might forget which bits have got done and which haven’t)

Time monitoring (how long have you been cooking, otherwise might end up steaming your vegetables for an hour and turn them to mush).

Self-Monitoring (how hungry are you?, if you don’t know its going to be hard to make the right amount of food, or you might struggle to cook while ravenously hungry, one of the worst experiences ever).

Emotional Regulation (coping with frustration or upsets, otherwise you might get really overwhelmed if you, for instance, accidentally drip meat juice all over the floor and have to clean it up, to give an example of something I just did). 

On top of all these, there’s some other issues which can look a lot like executive dysfunction, and occur with executive dysfunction, but aren’t, here’s 2 examples but there are others: 

Amotivation this is something that is pretty common in depression and some types of brain injury and dementia. And it basically means not having the will or interest to do tasks at all, even ones you previously liked. It can seem similar to failures of task initiation, but with task initiation you want to make dinner, you just can’t start, with amotivation, it just doesn’t seem worth it.

Sensory Overload very common in ASD, also happens in ADHD and can be a free-standing issue (you can just have plain old sensory processing disorder), when this is an issue, your motivation is fine, you want to cook dinner, and your executive function is fine, you know what you need to be doing but what’s keeping you from doing it, is just keeping up with the sensory information that its generating, when the kitchen is hot, and the pan is hissing and spitting oil on you, and the oven timer is beeping and etc.

And yes, if you experience both executive dysfunction and other symptoms like amotivation, knowing which one is involved at any given time can be hard.

#Anonymous

[ruubles]

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairings: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 7,234

“It has been quite some time since I was last in this room, four years if my memory serves me correctly.” (Y/N)’s hands entwined themselves with one another, nails digging harshly into the subtly soft skin along the back of her hand. Across the table were numerous pairs of eyes trailed along every movement as if at any moment she would seize the opportunity to kill. If it had been back before her leave, then perhaps she would’ve taken the gamble and gone for such a kill; But time has its way of weakening even the strongest of wills

“I believe you’re right. The last meeting you attended was just before you had taken the position in Russia.” There was no helping the sharp laugh that scratched through her throat, bleeding into the air as if it were a snarl from a wild beast. Ogai quirked an eyebrow as he took his rightful spot at the head of the table, it was as though he hadn’t remembered that day the same as she had.

It had been merely a week after Oda’s passing and without Dazai, Mori knew of no way to keep her ability under his control: Everyone in the Port Mafia was under high pressure with the sudden disappearance of an executive. The people under her command during that time must have informed Ogai of a sudden increase in impulsive decisions because before there was time to fix it she had been called to his office. There wasn’t room for objection when he informed (Y/N) of her new position, a reassignment to the Russian wing of the mafia effective immediately. That same night she was on a plane flying two thousand miles away from the only home she’d ever known. 

That was four years ago and the most that had been heard from the boss were small orders spread thinly across the months, each one less and less specified until he had eventually stopped communication all together. It had been for the better benefits of both parties, without Ogai constantly looking over her shoulder she was truly able to help the mafia flourish and even go as far as berading the Russian Mafia into equal standing. Without the threat of her abilities looming in his ranks, Mori had taken over a large deal of the weapons smuggling in Japan which in turn had nearly doubled the yearly profits.

“Taking the position would imply that it had been offered, where I am certain it had been ordered. You hadn’t given me the choice to stay or to go before you handed me an executive order and told me to make my way to the headquarters.” Their gazes met from across the table, his eyes as cold as the continuous fall of snow that occured on a daily basis in Russia. Her words seemed to have sparked a memory in his steelin eyes, glossing them over as he recalled what the happenstance for her leave had been.

Russia wasn’t that bad of a place, it was actually quite the opposite once she had managed to sort through the chaos that was the mafia. It had only taken a month to reclaim almost all of the Far East and once that area was under her command, SIberia was quick to follow suit. Though Ural had been a warzone for a year before they managed to snuff out any traces of the Russian Mob, but by defying odds, they managed to come out of it with the lesser amount of casualties. As of now there are attempts to make connections in Volga, though it is slow moving since the mob seemed to know every move that had been planned to make. The northwestern, central, and north regions are still under the unwavering control of the mob: People loyalties didn’t seem to change even as they watched the rise in strength of the Port Mafia.

Southern Russia was a whole different tale for both sides. It was a no man's land filled to the brim with rats. No matter how long they fought with the mob, both sides had come to terms with the liabilities faced with the presence of such insullant people in what had been claimed as their land. Both could kill each other ruthlessly for months, but in the end they’d both agreed that the destruction of Dostoevsky was to come first and foremost: He posed a greater threat even with such slim numbers.

“My apology, it must have slipped my mind at some point since your departure. It was quite a hectic time for us all.” Ogai lowered his gaze, no longer holding that insufferable chill but instead what resembled some sorts of regret. For the seven years (Y/N) had been working under him, she hadn’t seen him hold such a sorrowful look since the Dragon’s Head Conflict. Even then it was more ruth than regret, he hadn’t been sorry for the lives that were lost but for those who survived to hold their memory. Ogai Mori focused on the future and honored those that had paid for it with their lives, he hadn’t time to mourn their passing.

“Hectic is an understatement. It was chaotic.” Her hands fiddled with the fork, a chunk of chocolate cake still sitting soundly on its tip. It had nearly forgotten as they’d moved to a topic she’d tried so desperately to forget. Now it seemed to be the only thing that could capture her attention. “Any word on Dazai? Last time he and I spoke was before Oda’s death and then he was gone.”

“He resurfaced two years ago working under the Armed Detective Agency.” Ogai seemed delighted to change the topic, but he wanted even more to return to why she’d been brought back to Japan. He wouldn’t be as rude as to force the conversation to go back to it but eventually they'd need to delve deeper into the issue they were facing. For now, a sense of normality should be rebuilt to keep everybody in the organization calm.

“Yukichi been giving you a hard time Ogai?” Yukichi Fukuzawa and Mori Ogai had both done a large favor for her shortly after she’d agreed to work under the mafia’s guidance, though the two fought for opposing goals. Her situation had managed to bring them to a mutual point of interest- one that brought reward for both parties involved. If it hadn’t been for their aid then both her and Isaac would likely be far different people than the ones who work so diligently to protect the few things they’d managed to so selfishly cling to for these years. “That old man is as hard headed as ever I assume. It must be difficult for any of you to make any progress in furthering your goals.”

Ogai nodded and with nimble fingers took off his gloves, the white material slipping off digit after digit to reveal the pale skin that seemed to radiate with a grim promise of light. If it wasn’t for the blood that stained them red he would surely be seen as an angel. Usually Mori preferred to keep his gloves on, but in the presence of someone who could now be considered of equal status it was more so a show of distrust. This was his motion to return the conversation to the topic that has been standing still in the room, even if we diverted the people’s ears to something else their minds would still be clouded with the possibility of losing their abilities. A simple gesture that spoke so much if you had the skill that was required to read the motions of other people. She had been taught that skill for longer than I could remember, it had become more of a curse than a blessing.

“Everyone’s been briefed on the bare minimum of the situation we’re facing and I’d like to know if you could add anything to it (Y/N).” Mori had already given as much as he knew of what they are up against and finding more was difficult to say the least. Information brokers had their loyalties but fear outweighed even the motion of getting paid for a job, but that fear gave hints as to who exactly could manufacture a drug like this one.

(Y/N) put the final piece of cake down, it had been on her fork for several minutes and yet she hadn’t found the heart to take the final bite. So many thoughts had found their way into her mind and dug into scorned memories that it made it difficult to even consider stomaching the delicious sweets from Ms.Young’s bakery. 

Information was an important detail when it came to dealing with any affair, but finding any regarding this new threat would be more difficult than anyone could have thought. Assumptions made by (Y/n) always had a habit of playing out in one way or another. but with something so dangerous threatening to cut at our numbers, it was important that they worked more on fact than fiction.

“I’ve contacted seven brokers in the past twelve hours, none of them have any news on this drug you’re talking about. If it actually does exist then it’s a miracle you even found out about.” She grabbed the papers she’d brought with her and pushed the near finished plate of cake to the side. Fingers ran along the edges of the sheets filled with useless nonsense that wouldn’t help formulate even the simplest of plans. “Mori I need you to be honest with me, how did you find out about this drug.”

“One of our members got shot during a raid this week.” Her eyes moved up from the paperwork to the elder man sitting by Koyo, Ryuro Hirotsu. The black lizards were skilled members of the Port Mafia so being able to take down one of their members was an accomplishment to say the least. “Whoever manufactured that type of bullet knew what they were doing: She had completely lost her ability within five minutes of it being administered.”

“Where are they now?” 

“Gone. Assassinated in her own home last night .” Everyone in the room could practically feel the anger radiating from Tachihara, his fists clenched the edge of the table as he gave his enraged answer. The Mafia was seen as cruel and heartless but even they cared for the lives of their members, their friends. Even people like (Y/N) who hadn’t found a close comrade would still take the time to learn the names and faces of those they would be working with: She herself had taken several hours to do so last night in hopes of knowing the majority of the people who would be attending this meeting.

A deep sigh rasped through her chest, chipping at the calm demeanor she’d managed to hold to since her return. Her head fell back and a loud smack was heard as it came into contact with the wooden back of the chair. Things never seemed to work out in favor of the young executive: You could see as such by the way her (E/C) eyes flickered with such hopeless pain and then returned to their usual gravely glare.

Chuuya watched his new partner with interest, his curiosity from last night now coming to a peak as he learned new bits of information about the woman who he’d only briefly spoken with. It seemed as though she was on good enough terms with Mori but that still didn’t gain his trust: In his line of work, it was important to hold his hand close to his chest as to not allow any scurrilous people to see who he’d become close with. For now he would hold his complaints with an overstrung tongue until she did what he expected from anyone who came close nowadays; Leave him to rot without a second thought as to how much of a pain it would be to fill the void they’d created.

“Have you moved the body?” Her head still remained laxed as she asked the question, addressing it to anyone who had an answer to give. It was as though such simple words had deflated her hopes, jabbing at any resilient confidence that she’d held to throughout the restless night. 

“No.” Tachihara was quick to answer with a stern but simple response that left no room for doubt.

“There it is.” (Y/N) leaned forward, (H/L) hair masking her face in a cascading shadow. Her eyes trailed along the table as though she was placing pieces of a puzzle together, each one falling into its designated place as all those sitting around Mori’s table awaited her explanation. Chuuya leaned forward in anticipation to hear what this new comrade was saying. “The first lead.”

Around the table people collected their ideas and made harsh implications as to who exactly this mystery executive was. Out of the dozen people sitting solemnly in the room, only three had any prior knowledge of her and they made the correct decision not to hold a crude attitude towards her. Mori had, of course, known of (Y/N) for the longest time of the three: Having met her when she was only fifteen, several months after he’d taken the place of the former boss. Kouyou had shared little words with her but knew of her abilities to maintain such a high position in the mafia with what seemed to her as little effort. Hirotsu had merely known her name and had been tasked with keeping her under guard until this meeting, though he had ultimately failed, seeing as she managed to slip away only an hour after their first conversation.

 (Y/N) pushed her chair away with a loud screech that seemed to push away the silence still filling the room. Her hands made deft work of the paper, their corners aligning in mere seconds as she ran her hands along their sides. The final piece of cake still laid untouched on the plate that now sat abandoned atop the table. Without a second glance, she turned, (E/C) eyes set sharply on the door, feet moving with gentle clicks of her heel; Her motions could be deemed practiced as she so confidently strode away from some of the most heinous criminals in the city. “Do you fear me?”

The room's quizzing thoughts seemed to come to a stop all at once, everyone’s eyes drifting back to the woman who was only inches from the door. Chuuya was prepared to follow her from the room, as they were now partners, but he stayed still with a significant interest in what she was saying.  Of course she hadn’t meant to address any of those around the room as they had seen nothing of what abilities she truly possessed; Mori had.

“With your vehement skills I doubt there are many who do not fear for their life in your presence. I’ve been lucky to keep your loyalties under my reign, so I will not make the mistake of giving an answer to this question.” Mori stood, gloved hands folded behind his back in an almost arrogant manor. “I must commend how powerful you are (Y/N). Far beyond what I’d expected when I’d first had the pleasure of meeting you.”

Her laugh was gentle, like the crimson petals of a rose dripping with fresh morning dew in the fields of Elysium. It was a pleasant sound that caught any person’s ear and forced their head to her. “You are far more reserved than many of the people I’ve met in my lifetime, but I quite like that quality. Mori Ogai, may your rule over the mafia be beneficial to this city.”

Without another word, she left.

~ x ~

Chuuya hesitantly looked over to the passenger of his car, his vermillion eyes trapped by her hunched figure. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned over the passing city, lights twinkling in the gloomy darkness of the night. The two hadn’t spoken to one another since (Y/N) had made her departure from the meeting; Their current situation had come about when she’d seen Chuuya leaving and he motioned for her to join him. He’d had a plan to speak with her but the silence that followed his gracious offer had swatted away that idea near instantaneously

This scenario hadn’t gone to either of their likings, Chuuya had wanted to go alone without the burden of another partner weighing him down. Yet when he saw her standing still in the setting light, waiting for something,  he had the urge to strike up what would hopefully be another exhilarating conversation. Perhaps that was his desire to know who he’d be working with in these coming days in fear that they would become someone similar to his last partner.

On the other hand, (Y/N) didn’t mind either way if he were to accompany her or not. She’d been standing before the mafia’s headquarters waiting for a car that Mori claimed would pick her up soon, but after ten minutes she’d given up hope and decided instead to join Chuuya. Personally, she’d wished to make her way to the scene as soon as she’d left the meeting, but Mori hadn’t given her the go ahead until the sun began to set. It had been an annoying situation in her opinion but with the added hours of recreational time she’d managed to check-in with the mafioso who’d taken to running the Russian portion of the Port Mafia in her absence. Everything was going according to plan, which would mean that hopefully she’d be flying back to Russia within the week.

A quiet ring fluttered through the stifling silence but neither of them made a move for their phones. Chuuya could see his dark screen, without any sign of contact from his underlings. He knew it had to be her who was receiving a call but never did she move to answer; Instead her eyes, hollow and void, stayed trailed on the passing buildings. Soon those towering works of architecture would turn to natural tree’s of a forest as they neared their destination. After several minutes, the phone’s ring stopped only to start a moment later.

Sighing, (Y/N) reached into her pocket and pulled the phone to where she could see it. Her hands made quick work to silence the ringer but she didn’t ignore the call. Instead she pressed the answer button and brought the device to her ear. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Isaac was quick to the point, annoyance obvious in the way his loud words stabbed through her ear. Chuuya heard mumbled shouts through the line but couldn’t quite make out what was being said. “Dinner’s ready and I’ve yet to even receive a message from you, so I’m going to make the assumption that you haven’t even left the office yet.”

“I’ve left the office.” (Y/N)’s eyed the street as Chuuya made a sharp right turn, it was a clean motion that made it clear he was well acquainted with his car. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to make it in time. Mori has me doing some recon with a new partner.”

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Isaac snapped through the phone, she could only imagine the look of anger that had likely appeared on his face from her honest claim. Her plan had been to take her time checking out the scene then be back to town in time for Isaac to take her home, but Mori had put her in a bit of disposition. Instead, it was late and she wouldn’t be back in town for a while. “If I had my ability connected to you then I’d drag you here myself, but I guess this can’t be helped. You better make it up to them though; Disappointing me is a usual occurrence for you but they deserve more than that.”

Chuuya felt a bit bad as he could see the tiredness on her face and he knew that whoever was shouting on the other end of the line wasn’t helping. He watched as she took a deep breath, chest beginning to rise and fall in a pattern. “I’ll find a way. Have a nice night.”

Not long after she’d wish him a nice night did Isaac hang up the phone, two beeps signaling the ending of the phone call. She pocketed the device and leaned into the window once more, heat from her body causing fog to slowly creep along the once clear glass. Chuuya opened his mouth as if he wanted to ask a question, but there was little he could think to say as he watched her dissociate from her surrounding environment. Part of him believed she was naive, joining him in his car without even asking a question and the way she trusted him enough to turn her back to him in such a confined space, but he didn’t see her reflection. Though the latter was far different, her eyes had been glued to his reflection in the window from the moment she’d situated herself in his passenger seat; She waited for the moment he’d make an attempt to do something, anything, but it never came.

“Thank you for the ride.” It had taken a half hour for either of them to brave past the awkwardness inside the car and her tone was quiet as if she didn’t truly want to say them, but Chuuya took the moment to continue on. 

“It’s no problem, I’d just finished up some paperwork and thought you could use a ride if we’re going to the same place. We are going to the same place, right?” The sudden realization hit that he hadn’t a clue where she wanted to go and he wanted to be sure that their destination was agreed upon. “The crime scene?”

(Y/N) chuckled at his distressed words, “That would be correct.”

Once again a silence overtook the car, their momentary conversation coming to an end after only a short share of sentences. (Y/N) had taken to her phone, it's screen alight as she scrolled through what seemed to be countless messages. After several minutes of reading she began to click away a very sternly worded message to one of her subordinates. Chuuya went back to driving, his eyes ever so often glancing at his GPS to ensure he was still driving in the right direction.

“You never answered my question.” (Y/N) slammed her phone down on her lap and Chuuya pretended not to notice her obvious anger. Chuuya quirked a brow at her question, head turning to meet her (E/C) eyes in the darkness. She was obviously tired with the way her eyes sunk into her skull and the bags presented them self so sternly. “Did you enjoy the wine?”

“Oh. Yeah, I did. It was quite the bottle, didn’t think I’d be drinking anything that fancy last night.” His face turned sour at an unpleasant memory. “Also didn’t think I’d be drinking as disgusting as the one your friend offered me.”

“In Isaac’s defense, I did ask him for the shittiest bottle he had on the shelf. Apparently it’s the one he gives to people he doesn’t like.” She smiled and turned her phone over when a message made the screen turn on once again. “Might explain why he gave it to me.”

“I thought you two looked close, was my assumption of friends not correct?”

(Y/N) dropped her head, skull smacking against the headrest as she let out a bitter laugh once again. “Isaac and I are a lot more than friends, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t hate him a majority of the time. He’s quite pretentious.”

“You’re different from that woman I met last night; More uptight, scrutinous. That woman who stole my hat wouldn’t have asked a mafia boss if he was scared of her.”

“What can I say, I have many different faces. Same could be said for you Mr.Nakahara.” (Y/N) jabbed at his last name, using a formality that he didn’t truly enjoy. Not many called him by his last name, though it was seen as informal in Japan, and he preferred it that way. “You seem a lot more relaxed than when you were yelling at that young man in the hallway this morning.”

Chuuya’s face fell as he recalled this morning's events: The hangover had only heightened his senses and formed a brutal knot that attacked his head throughout the day. While on his way to the meeting he’d had a run-in with a newer mafioso who had purposely bumped shoulders with Chuuya thinking he was better than the executive himself. That had ended in quite the outburst on the executives half, it had been loud but it got the point across. Disrespect was intolerable in Chuuya’s eyes and the ache in his head had only been nurtured by the yelling he’d done, so of course his anger at the newer member only increased as the day went on. He knew it was wrong but there was little he’d have done differently.

“He was a little punk.” Chuuya grumbled.

They both fell back into a silence, but it no longer rang with an unsaid tension or insatiable curiosity. Instead it seems to flutter with a peaceful wisp of camaraderie as both parties came to a mutual understanding: Neither of them wanted to be partners but until they could find a way out of this arraignment, they might as well do the bare minimum and get along with one another. It would be better not to build any new alliances to the core of the port mafia considering as soon as this was solved, (Y/N) would be flying back to Russia and likely wouldn’t maintain contact with anyone she’d met during her time here.

Finally, after what seemed to span the length of hours, Chuuya made the final turn into a large driveway. Whoever had passed was surely paid well during their time at the mafia. The driveway was circular, encasing a large tree with withered branches that seemed to scratch the star filled sky. Two cars were parked in front of a large house that seemed to hold remnants of classical French architecture, several hints of Japanese style building melded nicely with the classical look. It stood tall, enclosed by shorter surrounding trees, but it was still welcoming; Every part of it held a feeling of home as if someone had spent their whole life building wonderful memories inside the building.

(Y/N) was the first to leave the car, not waiting for any gestures of chivalry from the man who had been kind enough to drive her so far from the city. She’d realized quite a long time ago that people would do the bare minimum to help you but would ask for the world in return. Chuuya was quick to follow her lead, hand working to take the key from the ignition before leaving his car and being sure to lock it. The two walked fairly far from one another, their eyes wandering in case there were any unwarranted guests still lurking in the area. 

The steps to the front door were quickly scaled, Chuuya using an unnecessary amount of his ability to propel himself up the half a dozen stone stairs. (Y/N) took the steps in pairs and in a moment was standing beside her newly assigned partner: Her eyes began to wander along his body, gathering every bit of his appearance to her memory- from the choker wrapped snugly around his neck and down to the slight heels of his boots. A light red coated his feet for a moment before eventually dissipating; She was left to assume it was his ability, Gravity Manipulation.

She’d spent her night researching the many new people who’d been taken to working under Mori in her absence; Many of them had dark and depressing tales, but she didn’t judge for her’s wasn’t much better. Instead she took note of which part of their past might have pushed them to be considered a vain and villainous member of the Port Mafia: Motives often told if someone would inevitably betray you. Yet the most elusive of them all seemed to be her partner himself, even if he were an executive she should still have had access to any documentation of his early life. Nothing. No mention of a family, no close friends, no reason to live a life like this.

All she got from an hour of scouring documents was his ability, an address, and several mission reports that when looked at through her perspective made little to no sense. Perhaps if she had been closer with Dazai around that time frame then some parts of it would have made more sense: King of Sheep, Arahabaki, Rando. Her only connections to Dazai during those few years were their shared title of executive, several miniature missions during the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and Oda. None of it had made for long, friendly conversations; She was much like him in some ways, never attending the meetings where she might have met Chuuya, but unlike him she never was one to take to a partner or a trainee. Another person would only get in her way.

She was a shadow, faceless to all but those closest to her, feared by those who knew of her power: Mori made sure that her true identity remained furtive. One thing every person opposing the Mafia knew was that trust was never an option, it would only take a single wrong assumption before they’d be stabbed in the back by what was thought to be their friend. Once the Dragon’s Head Conflict had come to an end anybody who knew of her true identity had gone missing under what is still considered ‘Mysterious Circumstances’, of course there were several who still knew what she was capable of but those were the people that there was no need to kill: They were either an ally or to far in her past to matter during that time.

Lost in thought, she was only returned when Chuuya attempted to open the door, soon to realize that it remained locked, a disappointed groan rasped through his chest. He had thought that whoever had been here last might’ve had the common sense to leave it unlocked for when the next investigators were to arrive. The house didn’t officially have an address so supposedly the only people who knew of it were those in the mafia; Well now that list would also include whoever had taken her life. Perhaps it was best that they didn’t have a way into the building, it was very late and (Y/N) seemed to be tiring rather quickly. Chuuya was in a similar stance, his vermilion eyes sunken with the pain of an unending headache.

“Well this is a major bust.” Chuuya made a turn and began to make his way back to his car, its black nearly hiding it in the darkness of the night. After a moment he realized that the presence beside him was missing as (Y/N) still stood rooted to her spot before the large doors. The two waited in silence, Chuuya’s eyes on her and her eye’s on the door blocking her from completing the job. 

(Y/N) reeled her leg back, jumpsuit clutching to every inch of her body except for her hands and face- (S/C) fingers balled into fists as she prepared for the incoming impact to the door, face rigid with seriousness but still being just as beautiful as it had been gleaming in the bar light. She was the definition of perfect with a body handcrafted by whatever god pulled the strings of life, it was strange to see how all her little imperfections came together to make something so stunning. Chuuya hadn’t time to admire any of that, instead his focus remained on the fact that she had only the need for a single kick to take the doors down. Their hinges creaked under the force before the doors well flat to the ground with a loud thud.

“No need for a door if she’s dead.” Her words would come off as heartless to anyone, but Chuuya understood what she meant by it. To the latter it was merely her way of saying that they’d come this far and without anyone living inside the building there wasn’t much of a need for a door anymore. Perhaps he should have been angry with the way that she’d worded it, so cruel to a fallen friend of his, but there wasn’t a need to strike an argument over something so trivial. He understood well enough that people in this line of work weren’t ones to usually feel remorse at the loss of a life.

She was first to enter the house, not waiting for her partner to say anything more as she set out to find the truth as to what exactly was the reason behind her return. Mori had given her little information and no broker in the city seemed to know anything so the last hope was dissecting the body of their fallen comrade. Of course she felt forlorn, she hadn’t known this woman but yet was asking her to sacrifice her body for the sake of others. (Y/N) had killed, there was no denying that, but even after all the lives she’d taken, she still wasn’t numb.

Numbness would only succumb when the light of her own eyes dwindled from its constant flicker to a mere ashy stare. Hundreds have died at her hand and she felt little remorse, but every person was like a scar- digging their scared nails across her skin as she killed without mercy. The first scratch always hurts the worst but with every new person falling to their knees before her, the pain slowly begins to fade; But it was still there, in the very depths of her mind. After so many years she might as well just be considered numb; Her dither long since gone and any guilt for the torutre she’d put people through had slowly leaked from her mind as if it were an open drain. Their lives meant little to her, only stepping stools to allow her to climb to her status at the top.

The house was dark, itching with a silence that crept along the corners in fear of being smothered by rattling steps. Chuuya noticed the uneasy air as he walked mere steps behind (Y/N), it was as though the silence itself had taken a conscious form and was preparing to strangle them in a single moment. Their steps mixed to one in a dance of paired solitude and both their breaths seemed to do the same: In seperate bodies they became one to make the sounds of their presence near indistinguishable. In that moment their minor disagreements had faded and they became a team made in heaven but fallen to the hellish life of the mafia. If anyone were to still be in that house then their life would likely soon be ended.

(Y/N) was the first to come to the end of the hall, her steps coming to a halt in a matter of seconds as she scanned the large open area. The hall they passed through had only been twenty paces through the door, meaning that whoever had broken in to commit the crime had either been very quiet or came in via a different route. They had passed several doors along their way but nothing inside them had caught her attention; An office in pristine shape with papers stacked high atop its glimmering wooden surface, a closet only half full of shoes and clothing that likely belonged to a mixture of genders, and a bathroom with a set of standard mission clothes laying on its tile floor. In her mind (Y/N) could see what had happened that night: She had entered her home and quickly stripped from her blood soaked clothing, as for the rest she would likely find more the further she explored the house.

Whoever this woman had been, she had quite the taste in architecture. The hall led into an area that seemed to act as a living room of sorts, a couch and television situated by a large wall of windows. On the other side of the glass was a large garden with paths leading further into the depths of its secrets. To the left was a floating staircase that led to the second story and to the right was a kitchen, only separated from the living room by a marble island.

“I’ll search upstairs and you can take it down here.” Chuuya pushed by (Y/N) as he spoke, his voice low enough so that only she could hear. He doubted that anyone was still in the house, even if there were then they likely knew of their presence, but being cautious in these times would not only keep himself safe but his partner as well. “If you need help then don’t be afraid to call.”

He didn’t wait for a response as he climbed the stairs and disappeared into the depths of the darkness. Standing alone in the center of the house made her surroundings feel so much larger, the space behind her was no longer radiated with warmth. Upstairs she could hear the creak of the floorboards as Chuuya walked down the halls, (Y/N) focused her sights on the kitchen and slowly crept over. Her hand ran along the smooth white walls and finally, upon stepping foot on the kitchen tiles, she felt the light panel beneath her fingers.

She flipped the switch and the light hanging from the ceiling lit the room with a brightness that not even the moon could provide at this hour. Without the darkness lingering through the air (Y/N) was finally able to properly see the area around her. It was sparkling and clean, pristine as though it had been cleaned thoroughly the day before. No blood, no body, and certainly no danger. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

(Y/N) could see the splatter of blood drenching the cushions of the light gray sofa, the red looked almost black from so far away but she knew the truth behind it. When blood is dried then it darkens and the stain is likely to never be clean from the surface. The woman had rid herself of her blood stained clothes and used a towel to wash away the visible streaks on her skin (It was impossible to erase the ones along her soul) and had rested upon the couch to recuperate from such a burdensome mission; Then she had been killed. Mori had said the body would be covered with a sheet in preparation of dissection, but yet there was no sheet in sight.

Someone had been here long before their arrival, and that person was no friend of the mafia. Whoever had come here and disturbed the scene had taken the body as to prevent any information from being extracted: With the blood having been left out for so long there was likely little remaining information to be collected from it. The body was gone and so were any of the leads that had been left with it. The only hope they had now was if those that had discovered the body before them had been wise enough to at least collect some samples of their DNA.

(Y/N) sighed and left the kitchen, light still fluttering throughout the bottom most floor of the house. Her feet clicked gently against the wooden floors as she slowly walked towards the blood stained couch. The blood clashed violently with the white cushions and it was obvious that her death had been the cause of blood loss, one large pool and several surrounding droplets proposed the idea of a knife wound rather than a gunshot.

She turned away from the stain in an almost defensive manner and scanned the rest of the area, eyes clawing through the darkness searching for something that wasn’t quite there. “Did you find anything down here?”

“Missing body. Cause of death likely a knife wound.” Chuuya jumped down the last two steps and stalked towards her, hands in his pocket. He walked past her and to the couch, his hand trailing along the top of the cushion and down to the stain.

“You figured all of that out from a couple of blood stains?” He nearly chuckled at the confidence that laced itself through her analyses. 

“If it were poison there wouldn’t have been a blood stain. Gunshot wounds would be more splattered and less centered around a focal point. Whether it be a stab or a slice across the neck, a knife would cause the blood to drip to a specific point. It’s simple enough logic.” (Y/N) wasn’t paying attention to Chuuya as she spoke, her explanation dripping methodically from her mouth as her (E/C) eyes locked onto something. 

The back doors gleamed with reflections of the kitchen's light, but through that bright light were shadows. Dark and dripping with mystery they encased the gazebo in an unnatural darkness. Chuuya continued to talk about what they were to do now, but his words fell on deaf ears as (Y/N)’s hand reached for the door handle. With one hard pull the door slid to the side and made an opening more than large enough for her to pass through. It seemed as though Chuuya hadn’t noticed as he continued to look around the lower floor to look at the stains on the couch.

With little hesitation, (Y/N) left the warmth of the house's walls and stepped into the cold breeze of the autumn outdoors. Her shoes had a different click as they went from the hardwood floor to a pathway of large rocks. The backyard was large and spiraled with countless flowers that danced in the moonlight, hundreds of bushes that still seemed to bloom even in the coming winter. Rows of Lilacs scatter around, their purple clashing violently with the numerous roses bushes scatter about, the red petals dancing with the color of blood and making (Y/N) cringe. They were such beautiful flowers, but they lulled people in with their beauty and then painted their petals red with their victims blood.

The closer she stepped to the gazebo, the more she noticed the shadows retreating as her eyes adjusted to the environment. Finally she was able to see what she had actually caught sight of from the house.

A head, severed from its body laid in a small pool of dried blood, far less than there should have been. It was clear that the head was from the victim, her long hair was matted with blood and the area where her neck met the concrete had gnarled skin and cuts that had scabbed with dried blood. Her eyes were open, glossed over as though she were still alive and trapped in a trance. Her mouth was slightly agape, trails of blood running from the corners of her mouth and down her face.

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