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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

Sin-Soaked Yearnings

phantomichaelis (orphan_account)

Summary:

There are several mediums with regards to coping up with loss. Be it the loss of innocence, something precious, or perhaps someone who may or may not mean an awful lot to you.

Notes:

I want fluff, angst, and smut for the rest of the year. So this is a start, I guess?

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

"What do you mean, he won't wake up?!" Hollered the wee Earl, his usual unperturbed tone an octave higher.

"He just won't," The nameless doctor replied. "We tried everything, my Lord. But he just would not wake from his slumber." He added, as though he himself found the situation both odd and alarming.

"Is he," Finnian swallowed. "...dead?" He voiced out the question that Ciel wanted to ask, but the bile that threatened to climb up his throat prevented him from doing so. A glare was sent towards Finny's direction but the trepidation in the young Lord's eyes dulled its effect.

After a quick glance at the aforementioned body, the doctor gave them a reluctant shake of his head. "As peculiar enough as it is, I do not think he's dead," He mumbled, afraid to meet Ciel's eyes so he stared at Mey-rin's worried ones instead. "His heart is beating without a problem, he is breathing as though a normal person would, and no sign of bleeding nor any injury could be seen on his body; both the external and internal aspect of it."

"So how come he's not waking up?" Impatiently, Ciel was quick to ask, supressing the urge to stomp a foot loudly onto the ground like the child he was.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I do not hold the answer to that, Lord Phantomhive," said the doctor, with his head sagging a bit. "It is the first that I've encountered such a case. If I were to seek the attention of my fellow doctors working in the same field, they most likely would find the case unfamiliar as well."

"Then what are we to do with him?" Asked Ciel, gesturing to the unmoving body. "I cannot have my most competent servant unavailable for even just a wee bit."

A sigh of weary came from the medical practitioner, "For now all I can advise of you is wait," He said, gathering up his belongings and preparing to leave. "I will still see what more can medicine do, or if we're in luck, perhaps he'd come around after a day or two."

He bid the Master and the servants of the manor a half-hearted farewell before rushing out to his waiting carriage, to which Ciel did not even acknowledge, as he was still preoccupied with his butler's current state.

"Luck?!" He mumbled to himself. "Did he honestly expect me to base my servant's well-being out of sheer luck?" Was the added bitter retort, as he paced the side of Sebastian's bed frustratedly.

The Earl paced a few more before halting to face the other occupants of the room. "The lot of you," He addressed. "Out. Leave me with Sebastian for a whilst." Finny opened his mouth to argue but was quick to shut it, seeing as Mey-rin and Bard were already scrambling out of the head butler's chambers.

Once alone with the stiff form, Ciel was quick to yank his eyepatch out of the way. "Sebastian," He called. "I order you to get up and start fulfilling your duties to me, this instant."

The inhuman seal etched onto his eye burned bright, sending a faint purple glow to cover his ivory cheek, and yet... nothing came of it.

"Sebastian, that was a direct order from your Master!" He tried once more, but the only indication that their contract still was intact was the glow from Sebastian's own seal that pulsed with his own.

Exhausted, confused, and irked, all at once; he took a well needed seat beside the butler's tall form and place his small palm above the Demon's chest. Taking wee comfort from the faux beating heart under his fingertips.

Anything just to keep him grounded that Sebastian indeed, was still alive.

***

Irritation and misplaced anger was how he first voiced out his frustration.

Tanaka took charge of handling the manor during Sebastian's inability, and even he, was not able to escape the young master's wrath.

"Cancel it. Their offer is not worth discussing and Funtom's better off as it is now." Said the Earl, eyes glued to his current task.

"Are you certain, young master?" Reluctance was evident from the wise butler's tone. "This could potentially benefit the company in the long run."

That lone blue eye was quick to narrow at that response, his fine brow wrinkled with irk, just as it had usually been this past few weeks.

"Last time I checked, it is my company to run. Surely I would want and know what's best for it, wouldn't I?" His response came out more condescending than what it sounded in his head, especially considering Tanaka had been a major part of the company's administration up until then.

"Very well, young master." Quick and polite, the older male replied, exiting the room with grace. Knowing when he is not needed.

Guilt rushed towards Ciel like a massive wave, but already, the damage has been done. In a span of a few weeks he managed to disrespect the man who raised him, angered two of Snake's beloved pets, more than likely traumatized Finnian, and humiliated Mey-rin to the point of crying; perhaps losing Bard's respect along the way...

Ciel never stepped foot inside Sebastian's room again ever since the day they had him checked... or so the servants thought.

At night, after every other soul is within their own rooms, Ciel pads down the butler's place and lash out all of the pent up fury inside his heaving little chest.

"Are you not at par with the Undertaker? Did you not say so yourself that no one is a challenge so long as I give you the order?!" His mismatched eyes burned as he stared at the unresponsive form. Recalling the day that caused of all that ruckus.

"We could have fled if it was too much for you! You certainly are faster than him. But I guess it was that hellish ego of yours is what prompted you to stay and fight, wasn't it? You egotistical bastard!" A pillow was thrown directly at the servant's calm face but even that did not garner any response.

"I ordered you to rest, but not for this bloody long!" Frustrated hands were thrown dramatically into the air as the once vivacious butler remained unresponsive.

Once the fury died from his eyes, left with none but the growing ache inside his heaving chest; All that he could feel was the weariness of waiting. His shirt clad form slumped ungracefully onto the floor, just by the foot of Sebastian's bed.

"It has been a month, Sebastian," He informed the lad. Sebastian's perfect human mask looking serene and far up as he stared. "How long do you intend for me to wait?" The Earl added, in a voice so small that it matched how vulnerable he felt without Sebastian by his side.

***

Melancholy, came next. Masked under apathy and the lack of will to continue.

As the months bled into a year, almost everyone lost hope that Sebastian would ever wake up.

But Ciel was never one of them.

Their contract was still intact. He argued in his head. Sebastian's human body remained as well molded as how he left it a year ago, alive but devoid of conciousness.

Eventually, whatever ill-feelings the servants held against Ciel were quick to be dismissed once they saw through his year-long facadé.

The boy appeared as though he could not care any less about Sebastian's state but some minor slip ups of Sebastian's name gave away his longing. They pretended not to notice how Ciel disappears from his room every night, everytime one of them checks upon the child.

They were able to piece everything together once Finny heard it, one night. A voice, coming from the head butler's room.

His first thought had him ecstatic, concluded that finally, Sebastian was awake, but after recognizing the familiar voice of his young master, confused, frustrated, and just a little desperate; his heart broke a little.

Immediately, the boy seeked comfort from Mey-rin arms, Snake's calming presence, and Bard's strong words as the lot of them wept a little for what their young master had lost...

Once again hoping alongside Ciel, for him to have it back.

***

This was it, he was sure of it.

He could not see it but felt how his arms tripled their effort seeking for his prize. The strain of what it felt like eons of moving, trying to outrun the pull that keeps him away, was ignored as excitement bubbled up his chest.

It had been so long, too long that even a being such as himself was left to consider the possibility that he had just imagined all of it.

But alas, the pull of their contract was not something to be taken lightly. He could feel it under his skin, pulsing and thrumming as though reminding him of his rightful place.

He could feel him...

And he had agonize long enough over the demon's return.

It took him a couple of breaths before his conciousness finally settled, the dark room proved no challenge as his eyes instantly located the very thing that he yearns for.

"Young master." The demon let out, a mix between a sigh of relief and a soft coo.

The Earl, however, remained unmoving. Wide and unblinking bicoloured eyes stared up at him from the foot of his overused bed.

Under his ivory lid, their seal of convenant was pulsing wildly as though matching the erratic beat of his heart, but Ciel ignored it in way of softly slapping both of his numbing cheeks.

"Am I dreaming again?" He questioned himself, eyes shut close, afraid that once he opened them Sebastian would be back to his state of unconsciousness.

For it had happened before...

On several occassions he would witness Sebastian waking up, finally ending the dreadful wait that the butler had put him through; but once the relief settled on him, he would harshly be woken up, gasping, and alone amidst the darkness of his room.

"My lord." The demon frowned, finally shifting to rest his gloveless palms over Ciel's smaller ones, halting the slaps that were starting to redden those cheeks. "It is no dream, nor any illusion."

The familiar heat of Sebastian's hands, that sonorous voice confirming what Ciel witnessed were too overwhelming, enough to make his small form tremble as tears started to form under his lashes.

And yet he supressed it, refused to give Sebastian the satisfaction of being privvy to the months he had suffered because of his absence.

"You are shaking." The absolute bastard pointed out, one hand trailing down to Ciel's shoulder.

"Shut it!" Ciel shrugged the touch off, it mattered not how good it felt and how it had been missed.

"You dare have the audacity? Do you have an idea how long your absence was?!" The Earl rose to his knees atop the rumpled bed, towering over the Demon who was starting to shift from his previous position.

Sebastian shook his head, had wanted to comment how he missed Ciel's impertinent mouth but held against it as he left the boy alone with his rantings.

"A year, Sebastian!" He hollered, taking note of how the butler eyes were transfixed onto his mouth. "It certainly was a tad too long for someone who's supposed to be by my side until the conclusion of this contract." One hand reached to yank the servant's tie but lost his footing along the process, sending his chest to crash against the demon's; whom was more that elated to assist him once more.

"Apologies, young master; but it seems as though all I can reply to your frustrations are even more apologies." Said Sebastian, arms steadying Ciel as he sat them both atop the bed. "It is not by choice that I left your side. Never by choice." He reassured him, watching Ciel's features slightly soften.

"The reaper's scythe possibly had a more lasting effect than a stubborn and massive wound. It felt as though I was trapped in an endless realm as I tried to get back to you. I swam, I flew, I climbed, I ran, but there was a pull that seperates me strongly from his body." The butler explained, glad to have finally been given the chance to do so.

Slate brows furrowed a bit, his arms crossed petulantly over his chest as he urged the demon on. "You mean to say that your conciousness stayed alert over those months that your body have not?" Asked the unamused Earl.

"In a way, yes," Sebastian started. "But it is only with you. I could feel you, all of those times." A hand was boldly outstretched for he could no longer help it. "Your rage, your frustrations, every time you are irked, every desperate plea, and when you are losing faith in me, for it dims the light from our covenant every time it occurs." By the time he finished, the wall that Ciel built around himself was finally torned down. Left only with the reminiscent longing he had and all the vulnerability he felt during Sebastian's absence.

Finding consent in his eyes, the outstreched palm found its way to cup one ivory cheek, taking comfort upon feeling that soft skin once more.

"You've waited me for a year," The demon acknowledged. "It felt like I yearned you for a lifetime." For it is true, it felt like he had spent an eternity trying to get back to Ciel. With only the occasional glow from his hand to take comfort in and surge him on.

Ciel swallowed, felt himself trembling again by the unabashed confession. How was he to explain the agony he went through everytime he considered the possibility that Sebastian might never return? And the absolute joy that coursed through him now that he had him back?

"I shall alert the servants of your state. They will tend to all of your needs as quickly as possible." His voice quivered. Planning to do what he does best whenever he is starting to feel; hide.

"Mortal sustenance will do nothing for me, young master."

The presence was upon him faster than he could open that blasted door knob. Trapping him between the feable door and the familiar press of Sebastian's body behind him.

"It is you that I need," The demon breathed out, "Just you," hot breath ghosting over that small ear.

Ciel knew of that tone all too well. The breathless, desperate plea of his demon everytime they are amidst their once nightly tryst. Certainly, if he was to turn around and face the beast, he'd find Sebastian's eyes glowing malevolently with lust.

Even as certain as he was, he still had to see it for himself...

Then, he regretted it instantly.

Probably it was a mistake to do so; he tied it with how long he had last seen that expression but Sebastian had never looked so alluring before. There was something else in those demonic eyes, something that made his chest tighten. His demon's expression was that of he had never seen before, making him feel like he was most cherished and wanted above all else.

"You have no idea how I crave for you, young master." Those lips descended down his neck and up his throat, "How much I desire you," Suckling lightly at his adam's apple and licking under his jaw.

When the Devil's mouth bumped the corner of his, no resistance was made as their lips finally met. Ciel expected it to be rough and demanding in a way of releasing all of their frustrations. But instead it mimicked Sebastian's previous kisses: soft, sensual, and breathtaking in the most literal of sense.

"Sebastian," he heaved breathlessly, welcoming the sweet way the name tumbled out of his wet lips.

The demon growled, dove in for another kiss as though the mere distance pains him. This one was more ardent, tongues rolled, and teeth clashed, and without even noticing it, Ciel was on his back, sprawled beneath Sebastian atop the bed.

"It has been too long, my Lord." Said the butler, inhaling Ciel's scent, akin to the starving beast he was. "Feeling you but not being able to touch you has been an absolute Hell." Was added, recalling the times he wished naught but be by his Master's side whenever Ciel called for him.

Ciel managed a sardonic snort albeit how heavy he was breathing. "You brought that upon yourself, Demon."

"And with that I apologize," Was the quick response, "Perhaps I do not deserve such kindness but if the young master is feeling quite generous, may I please sate this longing, Master? I could not bear it any longer."

The desperation thrumming from Sebastian sent a shrill of excitement through his core, still he tried his best to conceal how much that had affected him.

"Shut up and take what you need." Ciel's indifferent reply. Haughtily craning his head to the side, as though he wasn't starting to stiffen between his legs.

The cotton shirt was ripped into two the moment he had his permission. They already lost precious time together so why waste any more?

The skin underneath was supple and pristine, lacking the usual marks that littered the small body after each one of their couplings. Still, he was more than willing to make new ones as his mouth marred the soft flesh with his possessive claims of the boy. Ciel was his canvas and tonight he'd be creating a masterpiece once more.

He worshipped that body with reverence until Ciel was hard and leaking from his show of devotion. Those inner thighs were bitten multiple of times, certain to avoid where the boy wanted him most.

Until finally, Sebastian ceased his teasing.

That scorching tongue flattened to swipe from tip to base, going as low as Ciel's scrotum where the scent of his arousal was strongest. Unabashedly, the Devil was quick to bury his nose right there, salivating as he put pressure against Ciel's perineum, lewdly inhaling his excitement.

Weakly, those small hips undulated, back arched and head thrown back. "Sebastian, more." He meant for it as a command, but regrettably came was a wanton plea.

"I've forgotten how ethereal you are like this, young master." Purred the demon, distancing himself for a moment to shed the barrier of fabric that kept him from truly feeling Ciel.

"When you're needy and desperate for my cock." He ignored the glare sent his way and took his place back between those parted legs.

"Confess to me, little one. You tried haven't you?" His wicked grin was answered with a confused look, so he elaborated further. "Tried to recreate the feeling of my hand surrounding this," The jutting erection was pumped twice, "or perhaps my mouth?"

"S-sod off. I d-ugh! did not!"

"Oh?" That silver tongue dragged lower, until his hot breath was against the boy's rosy entrance. "You mean to say that you have never tried to reach that special place," Ciel's taint was given a languid lick. "...here?"

"Sebas-" The name died on his lips once the butler started lapping at his entrance, tongue swirling, and lips suckling the puckered flesh.

"Were your fingers enough, my Lord?" Said body part were felt at Ciel's taint, how and when Sebastian had slicked up his fingers with oil was lost to Ciel. More so, when they had finally breached him.

"S-sebastian!" He could all but holler, hips unconciously shifting to allow his Demon a deeper access.

"Because the last time I recall only I can reach it."

"Ngh~ Seb!"

"Slamming at it hard until your gorgeous eyes rolled back... Ah, a most stunning sight." One that he cannot wait to lay eyes on again.

Crimson eyes heatedly alternated between the Lord's face contorting with euphoria, and the lewd way his fingers were swallowed up by the tight heat. He had gotten three inside and was happily making room for himself, when he heard it, choked out of his Master's mouth.

"Ngh-Please!"

"What was that?" Wanting to hear that sweet voice again.

"Sebastian," The boy panted his name, eyes opening to reveal lovely lust-blown irises. "Please."

"Hmm? Please what, my darling boy?" Quickly, he removed his digits, moaning from the slattern wet sound it made.

Then, the captivating boy surprised him further when the wanton expression changed to that of one befitting his title as an Earl.

"Please shut that insolent mouth of yours and fuck me properly!" Their seal of covent burned, along with the embers of lust that all but consumed the Demon. He growled with feral excitement, making his lip bleed from a sharp incissor.

Situating himself over the panting lad, he tried to contain all of his carnal promises into three meager words.

"Yes, my Lord."

Ciel all but screamed when the Devil plunged into him, the sound quite literally being ripped from his throat. It had been too long since he felt the heat of his Demon inside him, the sweet and agonizing stretch of accomodating Sebastian's girth to the thickest part of his base.

Shallow thrusts were delivered as the whole room shook with the demon's delight, finally reunited with his most precious Master. The organ inside the boy was thumping excitedly, drooling heated liquid that slicked up the snug walls.

"...Move." Came the next order.

It did not take long for them to establish a satisfying rhythm, desperate enough as they were. Knuckles gripped the sheets tight as the Earl was railed eagerly by his excited Demon, maybe a tad too excited...

When Sebastian paused and flinched for the second time, their euphoria was halted for a whilst.

"What's the matter?" Ciel asked despite his breathlessness.

Sebastian gave a weak smile as he clutched the area where his massive wound previously was. "It appears as though I am overexerting this body, master."

The pair stared blankly for a moment, until Ciel broke the contact with a light shove at Sebastian's chest.

"Off." He commanded.

With a sigh of defeat, Sebastian carefully pulled out, perhaps his Lord would allow them to continue once he was back to his full health.

A gasp later, it appears as though the surprises for that night aren't done just yet.

Groan was all the Demon could do when he was pushed on his back and strandled. Twin moans echoed in that small space once Ciel unceremoniosly sat on his butler's cock all the way through.

"Move with me." Was all the lad said before continuing their previous chase for ecstasy.

Once more, Sebastian found himself lost to the view of how beautiful his boy was. Not that Ciel was any less lovely doing anything else, it's just that this sight of him was reserved only for Sebastian alone.

And by God did the Demon took pride in it.

"Sebastian!" The boy hissed once he was eagerly fucked from below, one of the Demon's palms tugging furiously at his erection, causing him to lose his rhythm.

"Ah, young master." Moaned Sebastian, his head thrown back. "Fall apart... for me." He purred.

"Seb-bast! Nghh" One of the Demon's hand was entwined with Ciel's smaller one despite how drunk with lust the boy was. "Never .. ah! Never leave... me again, Sebas...tian. That's an o-order!"

"'Won't," The butler's hoarse but determined reply, "I'd drag you to Hell with me." He promised and let his eyes convince the boy further.

One hard thrust was given from below before he felt the familiar and well missed feeling of Ciel's walls clamping deliciously around him.

He stared, even amidst his own peak, for how could he not? When Ciel looked as if the Demon had brought him to the realms of Heaven, instead of the pits of Hell that he had just promised.

The boy fell forward and Sebastian did not miss a beat as he captured those swollen lips into a heated kiss. He closed his eyes and felt fully rejuvinated all of a sudden, more intoxicating than being fed ambrosia by the gods.

Ciel shifted to settle more comfortably atop his Demon, noticing the almost serene expression across the butler's face.

"Sebastian?" When Sebastian kept his eyes closed and his breath started to even out once more, panic was the first thing that Ciel felt. "Sebastian!"

The demon groaned from that futile attempt to shake his shoulder, he shifted and quickly snatched the boy above, locking his limbs around the small form.

"Sometimes, my Lord," He mumbled, still with his lids shut. "Demons enjoy to partake in the luxury of what you call sleep." A smirk was formed when he felt a weak slap at his chest.

"Bastard," The boy snapped. "You can't really blame me for reacting the way I did, can you?" That one was rhetorical and the butler responded by further pressing himself to the lad, until there was no more space between them. His nose was buried amidst the tangle of slate hair.

"Sleep. I'll be here when you awake." Sebastian mumbled out, feeling serenity the likes of which his kind did not even deserve.

With that, Ciel immediately welcomed the lulls of sleep. Content and admittedly a bit giddy from the promise of waking up in the arms of the one he longed to hold.

***

The noises certainly were enough to rouse the whole manor.

How to properly react upon their new discovery was something else that the lot of them clearly did not want to broach.

"It's good to have Black back. Says Oscar." Snake was the first to speak, trying to hide the obvious flush across his pale face.

Beside him, Mey-Rin blindly nodded her head, her glasses had fogged up awfully due to her quick and heavy breaths a moment ago.

"Y-yes... Good for t-them." She stuttered out, still gripping both of Finny's ears as the lad tried to squirm in order to welcome Sebastian.

"Well..." Bard started, clearing his throat as the noises finally stopped. "At least we know he's alive and fucking-- I mean kicking!"

Notes:

Come pester me on Tumblr @phantomichaelis. Kudos and reviews are much appreciated! ❤

The Heathcliffe Murder

Viscount_Vampyre

Summary:

A young noble Lady enlists the help of The Queen's Guard Dog to investigate into the disappearance of her father. As ever Ciel revels in a challenge, but a simple case of a missing noble is never quite that simple, and as he begins his work he finds that maybe she's not telling the whole truth.

Chapter 1: The Heathcliffe Murder Chapter One

Chapter Text

Chapter one – Another morning

Bluebirds chirped loudly outside Ciel’s bedroom window. Outside in the hall the steady stride of approaching footsteps drew him from the warmth and comfort of deep sleep.

Is Sebastian late today? The little Earl thought,

It’s unusual that I woke before him.

Blinking rapidly Ciel’s body slowly began to go through its process of awakening.

Pushing the covers away from his chest and raising a fist to his eye Ciel yawned, he stretched his back slightly as he rubbed grit from his long feminine lashes.

“Sebastian? What time is it?”

Raising both arms above his head he stretched again as he expectantly turned his gaze towards the door.

There was a slight knock before a voice called through the oak.

“My lord, are you awake?”

Removing his patch and rubbing the other eye now, Ciel felt overtaken by yet another yawn, and in the middle of shuddering from it and while in the action of rubbing his eye he involuntarily nodded in response before eventually finding his voice.

“Yes, yes, I’m up now.” He eventually croaked out, his throat was quite dry, and though he had now thrown off the stronger rigours of sleep he determined that the voice calling through the door was not one he typically heard in the mornings, but he couldn’t yet place who it was. Furrowing his brow Ciel eventually called out.

“Who is that? Is that you Sebastian?”

His hand instantly made its way under the covers and towards the spot where Ciel kept a pistol, he eyed the door with increasing suspicion as it unlocked and the owner of the voice entered into view.

Tanaka moved through the doorway and smiled slightly as he pushed along the small serving cart. Upon which was an assortment of biscuits and a blue tea set.

“Pardon me my lord, but if you recall you had sent Sebastian into London last night on the train.”

Having his memory jogged and upon seeing Tanaka, Ciel nodded in agreement and loosened his grip on the concealed weapon, “oh, of course.” Quickly inventing a reason for his forgetfulness he continued with an innocent throwaway. Though it would hardly matter, what would Ciel owe Tanaka, or any servant for that matter, in way of an excuse.

“I was so tired last night I must have forgotten.”

Unexpectedly Tanaka made a remark which encroached upon excessive familiarity, something that Ciel barely tolerated even in Sebastian.

“You were up rather late entertaining my lord.”

Making his way towards the window Tanaka began drawing the heavy curtains open flooding the room in bright morning light, and bluebirds were now much easier to hear.

Turning back towards his squinting master, Tanaka made for the serving cart and began pouring tea. Though slightly blinded by the light, Ciel fought through the spots in his eyes and threw off the sheets before sliding himself towards the side of the bed. Turning his attention towards Tanaka’s meticulous movements in serving, the little Earl spoke with an uncharacteristic level of haste, and caught the butler in mid pour.

“No milk this morning” Ciel announced, without losing a beat Tanaka ignored the small pitcher of milk he was about to add to the cup. Removing the spoon from the saucer, and placing it on the tray Tanaka raised the full cup and saucer and extended them towards their owner. Speaking in his usual, soothing, manner the old butler punctuated the action.

“Here you are my lord.”

Gracefully accepting the saucer Ciel inhaled some of the steam rising from the cup before smiling and letting out a satisfied sigh.

“As Sebastian is away I shall take the liberty of assisting you in dressing this morning my lord, and to that end I must ask what your lordship would prefer to wear?”

Making his way towards Ciel’s massive wardrobe, Tanaka opened the ornate mahogany doors and began selecting fresh underclothes and socks, giving Ciel time to think. After a few sips, he spoke.

“What do I have scheduled?”

Placing the selection on the edge of the bed Tanaka spoke quickly without having to think, as one would expect of a butler of his tenure. “There’s a meeting with a solicitor from Funtom at eleven o’clock, and then Lady Elizabeth will be joining us for luncheon and shall be staying with us for the remainder of the afternoon, it’s my understanding that she will be leaving before evening in order to attend a gala with some of her friends from York.”

Ciel nodded again upon reaffirming his assumptions.

Tanaka continued as he searched the drawers for Ciel’s garters,

“In light of last night’s festivities a light day to recuperate would be most appropriate; one wouldn’t want to overexert one’s self.” Tanaka turned towards his master and smiled slightly. Ciel smirked at the recognition,

“Indeed.” Finishing his tea Ciel sighed and feigned frustration, “As for the clothes I don’t know what to choose, Sebastian always picks for me.”

He placed the empty teacup and saucer on the end table while Tanaka turned and quickly assembled something suitable for the little lord to wear. It had been quite a long time since Tanaka had assisted Ciel as valet and he couldn’t help but remark at how much different his young master was when compared to a few, short years ago.

Ciel’s nearly flawless porcelain skin had been marred in several places from his captivity and Tanaka took extra care to not allow his lord to see his eyes looking over the scars on his back, or the unsightly brand, which despite the passing years, had yet to show any sign or intention to fade. Tanaka shuddered as he began to think, what horrors this poor boy was subjected to?

Ciel must have caught sight of Tanaka’s gaze because his eye stared intently at the butler, and his top lip curled ever so slightly, a famous telltale indication of Ciel’s displeasure at something.

After knotting Ciel’s tie Tanaka was about to straighten and wipe any ruffles or wrinkles away when Ciel broke the growing awkward silence,

“I can manage.”

Tanaka knew from the tone and the abruptness of his voice that Ciel had indeed seen Tanaka’s show of concern and was not going to be in a pleasurable mood for the foreseeable future. Tanaka briefly entertained the thought of apologizing but resolved that it would only further exacerbate the issue.

“Before I see to your breakfast is there anything else you would ask of me my lord?”

Ciel sat himself on the edge of the bed and adjusted his cuffs, gracefully spidering his thin fingers with a determined look upon his brow.

He deigned it unnecessary to vocalize a response but instead offered a slight huff. Tanaka bowed and ushered the morning tea tray with him as he exited the room.

Standing up quickly Ciel closed his eyes tight and breathed in deeply, steading himself and making ready for another day.

Meanwhile, somewhere between London and the Phantomhive estate, Sebastian was traveling back towards his master as instructed, but with a curious companion in tow.

Chapter 2: Chapter Two

Summary:

Sebastian arrives with his companion, Finny introduces himself, Ciel makes his decision, and Snake scares Bard.

Chapter Text

Chapter two – Sebastian’s return

Steam and smoke bellowed upwards from the cooling engine of the train. Straightening his tie the noble butler Sebastian stepped through the doorway of the passenger carriage and landed solidly onto the stone platform.

Turning back towards the train car he extended his hand to assist a young lady out of the car. Lifting her skirt with one hand she took Sebastian’s in her other.

Upon landing on solid earth the young lady let go of her skirt and brought her hand towards her mouth, as she did so her grip of Sebastian’s hand waned and the butler raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Are you quite alright Miss?”

The lady adjusted her hat and swallowed her obvious discomfort. She nodded before leveling her eyes at the butler.

“Yes, motion sickness you see. It is always at its worst when I get in and out of carriages, or on and off of horses.”

She offered an assuring laugh to add credence to familiarity of the sudden malady and though it would have worked on most any other man; Sebastian was not one so easily fooled and was keenly aware of her true condition since the moment he had met her acquaintance in London the previous evening.

“That seems a most inconvenient condition, if I may say.”

She smiled awkwardly, as she agreed. “It is, truly. Though I am quite recovered,”

Sebastian and the young miss began walking down the platform towards the waiting line of coaches and open top carriages before she continued, “Shall we make for the estate?”

Opening his mouth to respond Sebastian was cut off by a high pitched loud yell.

“Sebastian! Over ‘ere!”

Nearly every head at the station turned towards the young man who had yelled and was now frantically waving his arms above his head.

The young miss brought her hand to cover her mouth and became struck with genuine laughter.

Turning his attention towards the colourful chap who had called his name he saw Finnian standing on the Phantomhive carriage. As he returned a slight wave Sebastian remarked that Finny’s smile had always struck him as being too earnest.

Finnian laughed heartily as he jumped from the driver’s seat and moved through the horses to make his way towards his waiting passengers.

“How was the train Sebastian?” He spoke in his characteristically oblivious manner. Sebastian gave a displeased huff.

“Lady Heathcliffe, this is our head gardener and groundskeeper of the Phantomhive estate, Finnian.”

The young lady nodded and extended her hand towards Finny.

“How do you do Finnian?” She said earnestly, curiously taken by the handsome young man.

Finnian regarded her extended gloved hand with a large degree of discomfort; one this was the first time a Lady, and a noble lady at that, had extended her hand to him and two he grew worried at the expectation of what he had to do next.

His eyes grew wide as beads of sweat were forming on the back of his neck under his straw hat.

I… I’ll crush her hand! I-I’m sure of it! He thought.

To Lady Heathcliffe she began holding back an involuntary giggle at the comical expression before her.

“I… uh...” Finny began before Sebastian interrupted.

“Finnian’s hands are at present quite dirty I should expect, you wouldn’t want your white silk to be soiled would you my lady?”

Finny breathed a sigh of relief at his rescue, and Lady Heathcliffe reluctantly withdrew her hand in such a way so as to avoid any appearance of awkwardness to an onlooker. She looked at Sebastian and nodded.

“Quite, I do thank you Mr. Michaelis. And I must apologise to you Finnian, I hate to have made such an imposition on you.”

She laughed to alleviate the mood.

Finny rubbed the back of his head as he laughed as well, relief flooding his chest. Regaining himself now he looked towards Sebastian and the Lady’s feet for any luggage he might carry for them before remarking with surprise.

“No bags Sebastian?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“We do not, now can we make it to the estate as quickly as possible?”

Finny nodded and vocalized his affirmation, “Mhmm, right!” before withdrawing back to the driver’s seat. Turning back towards his passenger, he spoke.

“Shall I assist you into the carriage my Lady?”

As her eyes followed Finny, Lady Heathcliffe seemed to have ignored Sebastian’s words. Leaning towards her shoulder Sebastian spoke again, “My Lady?”

“Is he an Irishman?” she said suddenly.

“Finnian, Uh,” Sebastian had to admit he was taken aback by the question, “I can’t say I know his background enough.” he lied.

After Sebastian spoke the Lady nodded positively before answering his earlier question, doing so without missing a beat.

“I’m quite well now; I expect I can manage the carriage on my own.”

Sebastian nodded, “Very good my Lady.”

The odd couple then made their way from the platform towards the waiting carriage and entered on either side of the passenger’s cabin. From the station it was a conveniently short trip to reach the estate, of which Sebastian was always thankful when he had to move as if he were human.

When obligated to fulfill the role of a mortal being it always jarred Sebastian at how few things he was permitted to do; cooking, cleaning, even traveling was made all the more tedious and annoying by the added stress of having to appear ‘normal’ before an almost ever present audience.

Though in the grand scheme, it’s not too much of an imposition on my time. He thought whilst he took his seat opposite Lady Heathcliffe.

“All in and settled?” Finnian asked through the small window in the roof of the carriage, Sebastian looked towards the young miss before answering. She nodded and Sebastian replied,

“We are. Now make it to the estate hastily, but do try to avoid the larger lumps in the road.”

Finny nodded before shutting the window pane and setting them on their way, the horses whinnied and began their clopping down the lane.

Sebastian offered an assuring smile, “Finny is very good with animals; the horses respond quite well to his piloting. We’ll arrive shortly.”

Lady Heathcliffe brought a fan out from her handbag and eagerly began fanning her neck as she took several deep breaths.

“That is well. I shan’t be comfortable inside a carriage for much longer.”

Sebastian nodded and opened both side windows, a welcomed breeze soon passed through the stuffy cabin and one could hear the shouts of labourers working in the nearby barley fields.

“Oh, heavens that is delightful… Thank you sir.” Ceasing her fanning Lady Heathcliffe allowed herself a slight breech in etiquette and leaned backwards allowing her back to enjoy the soft cushion of the seat.

“I must remark to your master that you have been the absolute pinnacle of a conscientious servant”

Sebastian smiled and placed a hand across his chest, “Please you’re too kind. I am simply, one hell of a butler.”

After his breakfast Ciel made his way to the drawing room to await the arrival of both Sebastian and the representative from Funtom.

Which would be first however gave him a slight case of unease, the meeting with the solicitor was of course a trifle, something that wasn’t exactly a pressing engagement, but the arrival of Sebastian was much more important. There was the secret guest accompanying him, one whom demanded to meet Ciel in person, who had information for him pertaining to the recent disappearance of a prominent Lord.

Who this person was of course would be a secret even to Ciel, until they arrived alongside Sebastian their identity could be anyone.

This was all to say that Ciel was mulling over and fretting at this case of terrible timing, as Elizabeth had been invited to luncheon and there was definitely no time to write her a valid, or believable, excuse. He felt entirely on the left foot without his butler to assure and to alleviate.

Though with Sebastian in Ciel’s service he doubted that there was going to be much of an issue with the timing, but even with the unlikeliness of failure Ciel did not like uncertainty anywhere close where Lizzy was involved.

As he sat and lounged in his favourite chair Ciel lost himself into thinking, options, and inventing different possible scenarios before eventually making his decision.

Grabbing hold of the nearby servant bell rope he rang for Tanaka.

It was less than two minutes before there was a knock at the door and the aged butler appeared.

“My lord you rang?”

Nodding Ciel then spoke, “I did.” He took a breath before continuing, “When the Funtom representative arrives can you take care of the particulars? I’m sure the green sitting room will suit to meet with him. Make the pertinent excuses for me.”

“It is not your intention to receive him then?”

A curt “No.” was all Ciel had left to say. His lazy and disinterested gaze indicated that he had nothing else to ask of Tanaka, and therefore defeated the necessity for the elder butler to enquire.

“Very good sir.” Tanaka nodded and bowed before exiting the room.

On the side table adjacent to Ciel’s chair was his chess set, the pieces all aligned and waiting for a game to begin. Out of habit, and to a lesser degree, boredom, Ciel took up a piece from the side facing him; it was the black knight. A slight smirk began to form in the corner of Ciel’s mouth.

Sebastian.

A peculiar feeling came over Ciel, as his servant’s name ran through his mind. Looking upwards from the board and towards the great bay window of the drawing room Ciel was surprised to see two carriages making their way down the lane of the estate’s grounds. The front carriage was being driven by Finny, and the other by a local man whom the solicitor must have hired at the train station.

Hastily Ciel replaced the piece on the edge of the board and stood from his chair before making his way closer towards the window.

“Speak of the devil…” he thought aloud.

“Though I suppose think of the devil is more accurate…” He continued to himself.

What are the odds that they were all on the same train? He thought. Regardless, I am quite eager to see just who this secret guest is.

From where he stood he had a wide view of the front courtyard and watched as Tanaka made his way from the front staircase across the gravel towards the slowing carriages. Finny began waving as soon as he saw Tanaka appear; Ciel imagined that he also began yelling hello to him as well.

Out of the first carriage exited the familiar, tall and handsome frame of Sebastian, clad in his ebony tailcoat. He was accompanied by a figure that Ciel most certainly did not expect. At first his mind wanted to exclaim ‘Lizzy’ but his reason quickly dismissed such a possibility.

Though the young lady certainly did bear a close resemblance to Elizabeth in terms of her complexion, hair colour, and similarity of hair style; her height, size, and unique poise most certainly distinguished her as a separate person. This is to say nothing of the colour of her attire.

While she carried herself and appeared to an onlooker as a quintessential member of the fairer side of the aristocracy, the colour of her frock, hat, and travelling coat were peculiarly plain in Ciel’s opinion. An indicator, to him at least, that she dressed so as to appear inconspicuous on both short notice, and without a professional’s advice. To anyone who may have been looking for her, it was her obvious desire to not be noticed which quickly made Ciel take notice.

Tanaka had made his way to stand closer to the solicitor’s carriage, speaking to the local man who was driving, giving him permission and instruction no doubt, to park the carriage at the side of the manor, near the stables and the servant’s entrance.

The young lawyer who exited the cabin looked eagerly at Tanaka and removed his hat before closing the distance between them as he spoke.

By this time Sebastian had made his way alongside the young lady to begin ascending the front stairs.

Turning away from the window and back towards the room Ciel walked across the parquet floor to resume his place in his chair. He eyed the doors to the drawing room intently, waiting impatiently for his lady guest and faithful butler.

The ticking of the clock on the wall opposite him gave Ciel’s already thin patience extra testing, as he began switching his eye from staring the clock down to observing the white ornate doorway.

The ticking grew in intensity yet further in pace as the seconds drew ever more painfully on, till finally Ciel received reprieve when there was a strong knock upon the wood. Taking a breath he switched strides and took on his ‘mature’ voice, invoking, as best he could remember, the professionalism and command of his father.

“Yes, come in.” he managed to call out confidently.

The doors opened gracefully and Sebastian presented himself through the threshold to announce the entrance of Ciel’s new guest.

“I present the daughter of the right honourable Baron Heathcliffe of Dorset, my lord.”

Upon bowing his head Sebastian stepped to the side and the young lady entered, she was quite beautiful and her hair was even more like Elizabeth’s then Ciel previously thought. After taking a few steps past Sebastian into the room, the young Miss Heathcliffe dispelled any comparison to Elizabeth by curtsying to her noble superior before offering her hand.

Ciel stood up from his seat and softly took her hand into his; he leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips to her knuckles before bowing his head at the neck in response and acknowledgement of her curtsy.

“I am absolutely pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Heathcliffe.” He said, turning his youthful charm as high as he could before it became comedic.

She smiled as she reciprocated the pleasantry, “As am I, lord Phantomhive.”

Looking upwards in order to match her gaze an unfortunate fact dawned on Ciel. Standing at the average height of a young woman, Miss Heathcliffe was several inches taller than Ciel, and his previous attempt to assert a confident command of the room was, in him at least, rebuffed.

As if he could read his thoughts Sebastian stifled a smile. The whole situation was not helped by Miss Heathcliffe’s exclamation.

“My lord, forgive me but… You’re so much smaller than I expected!”

Ciel’s eyes widened in surprise as he struggled to find his voice, he was so surprised that he slightly staggered a half step backwards.

“I… I regret disappointing you.” He said, struggling to hold back his anger and maintain decorum.

Sensing she had quite plainly agitated a sore point the young lady immediately set herself to salvaging her blunder.

“T-that is to say, I. well… from what I have heard of your reputation, I- expected someone, tall- older! I said older!”

Sebastian audibly laughed and immediately brought his hands to cover his mouth.

For a split second master and servant locked gazes and the intense glare in Ciel’s eye caused Sebastian to immediately swallow his laughter and recompose himself.

Regaining his role as a host Ciel spoke in his practiced tone cultivated to diffuse such tensions as this, “That issue aside, do please sit down my lady.”

Extending his hand, palm upwards, towards a couch Miss Heathcliffe daintily adjusted the frills of her skirt before sitting down. After she had made herself comfortable Ciel spoke again.

“Sebastian would you serve us some tea?”

Sebastian bowed his head and spoke, “Certainly sir.”

Turning back towards the young lady in front of him Ciel continued,

“Or perhaps you would prefer something else? I am sure you are famished from your journey.”

“Please, you are too kind my lord.”

“Sebastian can assemble most anything I assure you. In any case you will join us for luncheon I’m sure?”

Taken aback Miss Heathcliff struggled to respond,

“I would not wish to impose my lord!”

“Nonsense. Sebastian, inform Baldroy to prepare enough for another guest”

Sebastian bowed his head again and echoed his previous statement, “Very good sir.”

Meanwhile a slight cloud of black smoke was rising from the kitchen.

“You’re burning those!” Snake announced, punctuating the exclamation by indicating which of his companions had hissed the remark, “Says Gothe”.

Baldroy wiped the sweat from his brow and attempted to move the side of cod which had begun to fuse itself to the bottom of the cast iron pan.

“Oi! That’s enough out of you! D’you and those vile creatures wanna try cooking?!”

“It’s not as if we’d do a worse job. … Says Oscar…”

Turning from the stove Baldroy raised his spatula and angrily pointed at Snake.

“And stop doing that! Snakes can’t bloody talk!”

Snake furrowed his brow and his companions adorning his shoulders began hissing at Baldroy.

“We most certainly can! … Says Wordsworth…”

Upon opening the kitchen door Sebastian audibly sighed and brought his palm to his face.

“Why must I always pull you two away from each other’s throats… Baldroy have you burned yet another side of fish?”

Baldroy began struggling to find his words, “Uh, heh, well I was tryin’ to just sear it ya see.”

Sebastian began walking towards the stove, shaking his head and removing his tailcoat.

“Did you even remove the scales as I had indicated in my note?”

Bard became more flustered and dropped the spatula before stepping away from the stove.

“Naturally, I leave for one evening and things fall to pieces…”

After unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his shirt sleeves, Sebastian took up Bard’s previous position and began his attempt to salvage the entrée of the luncheon. Behind him Snake and his pets began hissing and giggling in laughter at Baldroy’s expense.

“Hey that’s enough out’ah you!” Bard roared in response, cigarette smoke circling his head.

Without averting his eyes from the pan Sebastian called towards Snake, “As the Phantomhive footman I should expect you, Snake, to offer our Lord and his guests ample refreshment as I do battle with this…” Huffing in frustration “…monstrosity.”

Snake nodded and located the kettle on the counter adjacent the steel kitchen washbasin. After filling the large copper kettle he apprehensively stepped beside Sebastian and placed the heavy, slushing, orange container on the long black stovetop.

Nodding in approval Sebastian watched out of the corner of his eyes as Snake began going about the kitchen doing his best to remember where the tea tins were kept and which set of china was appropriate. Without error Snake appeared to have remembered everything that Sebastian had taught him after they had returned from their recent, ill-fated, ocean trip.

“Baldroy how is it that after two months of service here Snake knows the layout of your kitchen better than you?”

Bard became even more flustered and his cigarette dropped from his lips as he began his response.

“HEY!”

Before continuing Sebastian raised a hand and cut him off, “That was a rhetorical tease, it requires no response Bard.”

Furrowing his brow and crossing his arms Baldroy started pouting like a scolded child.

“Come here Baldroy, I believe I’ve repaired the worst of the cod.”

Peering over Sebastian’s shoulder Bard’s jaw dropped as he saw what became of his previously charred side of fish.

“W-what? How’d ya bloody do that Sebastian!?”

The side of meat in the pan had been inexplicably transformed from a charred, dried out, husk, into a tantalizingly appealing cut of quality meat.

Turning to face Bard, Sebastian punctuated the action with an eerily calm smile.

“If I couldn’t salvage a side of cod and rescue a simple luncheon, well… What kind of butler would I be?”

Chapter 3: An Odd Luncheon

Chapter Text

Chapter three – An Odd Luncheon

After sipping her tea gingerly Lady Heathcliffe returned the cup and saucer from her lap to the end table beside her chair. Unease was painted across her face prior to speaking.

“Before I begin my lord, I must explain a concern I have with regards to propriety.”

Ciel’s eyebrow rose as he looked up from his tea.

“Oh?”

Lady Heathcliffe nodded, “Yes, it is just that, what I have to say regarding the events leading up to my father’s disappearance are…”

She paused, and averted her gaze. Lowering her voice she squeaked in embarrassment.

“Matters of confidence…”

Ciel nodded politely and looked upwards towards Snake standing quietly to the side of the doorway. But before he could give a signal the lady continued.

“Yet my lord, as we are both unmarried it would be most risqué should we continue unchaperoned for too long.”

Ciel, smiled slightly.

“Lady Heathcliffe, my fiancé will be joining us shortly for lunch and I can assure you that each of my servants is of the upmost character.”

“Oh! Goodness my lord, I! How silly of me, I did not wish to accuse your man of being low in character.”

Rather flustered she turned towards Snake and was immediately forthcoming with apology,

“My good sir, I do so apologize! I meant no insult to you, especially because of your affliction!”

Snake’s face did well at making no indication of irking, but his eyes revealed his hurt quite plainly.

While the other staff, Ciel, and even Lady Elizabeth, had become very kind towards Snake it always seemed to be his misfortune that one guest or another would remind him, unduly, of his ‘affliction’.

Irritated the footman’s thoughts immediately started up, ‘why can’t they see I’m no bloody different than they? I don’t have an affliction, and I don’t need to be professed to like a leper!’

As if he could read Snake’s thoughts, Ciel interrupted the lady.

“Please, it is quite alright.”

Turning from Snake back towards her host the young noblewoman gave an expression which made obvious her lack of ability in controlling her speech.

“Snake, might you send for Sebastian?”

The footman bowed his head and left the room quietly.

“Sebastian is my most trusted confidant and he is integral to my work. Above all he may be trusted.”

The lady seemed to become a little more at ease, though she was no less flustered from her having put the Phantomhive footman on the spot.

As soon as she looked back upwards the handsome butler had entered the room,

“You sent for me my lord? If this regards the meal I-“

Ciel raised his hand and shook his head indicating quickly that this didn’t.

Sebastian switched tact and nodded, he raised an eyebrow quizzically as he spoke.

“Then how may I be of service?”

Ciel moved his head to the side and his hair moved slightly, he slyly smiled and replied.

“The young lady was just about to begin revealing the events immediately preceding her father’s disappearance.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened and he immediately perked with interest. He quietly announced his surprise with a barely audible “Oh?”

Ciel turned from his butler and silently agreed, ‘Indeed’.

Beckoning with his hand he waved Lady Heathcliffe on, “Please, my lady, continue.”

She took a deep breath and paused. The clock on the wall quietly clicked along for a few seconds before she finally began her tale.

“It was just a few days ago…”

-1-

‘In London, we were at the city house; he, Father, had some business in the city… He had to meet with someone at his club I believe’

‘What was the meeting for, do you know?’ Ciel inquired.

Lady Heathcliffe nodded, ‘Father was picking something up from him… A gift? No, no… it was a package though I do know that.’

‘From the way Father was acting I,’ she pursed her lips and her eyes took on a pained expression. ‘At first I thought, rather selfishly, that it was a gift for me…’

‘The whole production, the way Father was acting, at first I thought he was being overly secretive on purpose, you know?’

She rubbed her eye with a thin finger, and continued, ‘Like it was a play or a story in ‘Punch’; the act of being clandestine for the sake of it just to build anticipation.’

Ciel nodded and leaned back in his chair, wheels turning quickly in his head as he began to theorise already.

‘Who was it he was meeting? Do you recall?’

Here the Lady seemed uncomfortable as she began to respond, her hands now stationary over top of one another in her lap.

‘It was a Mister Massey, or a Master Mercer, I can’t recall… It seems so trivial, I had heard the name a number of times before but now of course I can’t recall!’

‘For certain at least…’

She looked towards the carpet underneath their sitting area and traced some of the design with her eyes before shamefully speaking,

‘I’ve even met the man a few times…’

Ciel and Sebastian nodded and the young Lord perked back up in his chair, ‘What did he look like?’

The Lady paused, ‘He wasn’t English that was for certain… He seemed… foreign but… He didn’t at the same time? It was most odd now that I think of it.’

She looked downwards as she shifted her hands, ‘The whole ordeal is queer to be quite frank…’

She took a breath and looked back up towards her host, ‘Anyway… he was large, young, closely shaven, and he smelt clean… He wore very smart clothes on each occasion I met him. Well spoken…’

She closed her eyes as she began to picture him as best she could.

‘His hair was greying… Though he couldn’t have been older than your butler my Lord…’

Ciel and Sebastian shared a knowing look between the two at the joke.

‘He could have been continental, but he didn’t have an accent I could place and he didn’t speak any other language…’

Ciel furrowed his brow, and the Lady explained,

‘At first I thought he was Dutch! My governess was from the Netherlands, my whole childhood, and for whatever reason I felt inclined to greet him in Dutch the first time I met him.’

‘He looked at me coldly, which I thought was rude and then responded in English…’

‘Father was embarrassed at the time as you could imagine, but…’

She trailed off, ‘He was remarkably fit I know that, at least he looked like it… In all honesty I thought he was a new foreman or employee of my Father’s when I first met him, despite his dress, but then when Father introduced he and I he made it out like they were…’

‘Friends?’ Ciel injected.

The lady shook her head, ‘No… colleagues.’

Sebastian raised his head and looked down his nose while he too thought about the possibilities of the unfolding story.

‘They worked together?’ Ciel asked.

Lady Heathcliffe looked at her host and pursed her lips again,

‘Do you know it what capacity?’ He continued.

She shook her head, ‘Not at all my lord…’

Ciel furrowed his brow and brought his hand to his mouth, rubbing his lips with the ridge of a knuckle as he thought.

‘So that day he left the city house, he went down to the club,’

She looked to Sebastian as she continued, ‘he walked there, since it’s just a short stride away Father would often walk there, and then take the club carriage back home.’

‘I thought nothing odd about this as you can imagine, since it was typical of him. I was with the housemaid at the time… she’s teaching me to play cards actually…’

The young Lady held a hand to her mouth as she stifled a momentary laugh of embarrassment.

‘It’s scandalous I know! Women playing cards… but I saw her in a game with some of the other staff one night and from what I discerned she seemed rather good… So I’ve since implored her to teach me.’

Ciel nodded at the secret but wordlessly allowed her to continue.

‘We were playing together when all of a sudden our footman announced that dinner was to be soon. We had ended up playing for several hours and yet Father hadn’t returned.’

‘I was as distraught as you can imagine that… well I didn’t know what to do other than go out to the street and look for him.’

‘My housemaid came with me, as it was getting late and she believed that no Lady ought to be out alone in the evening. No matter how virtuous her intent…’

‘So the two of us went down the street to the club, I’ve seen it before having dropped Father off there in the carriage a number of times previously… But here’s where it takes a turn and… well, I became most unsettled…’

‘I bid my housemaid wait outside as I entered the establishment alone.’

‘I knew the rules, women were not allowed membership or general entry to the building, but Father had always told me, if there was an emergency in London and we were separated, his club would look after me and provide assistance if I ever needed it…’

Ciel nodded, ‘I should expect most gentlemen’s clubs would jump at the chance to assist a young Lady such as you.’

Smiling Lady Heathcliffe agreed, but quickly her expression changed.

‘But my Lord… as I said here’s where it takes a turn…’

Sebastian leaned in slightly, bending at the waist as her voice quieted.

‘When I spoke with the gentleman at the front and I explained who I was and who I was looking for… He told me.’

She paused and shook her head in disbelief, ‘He told me that my Father hadn’t been to the club in almost two months…’

Ciel furrowed his brow and brought up a leg as he crossed and adjusted how he was sitting.

‘Strange…’

The Lady agreed, ‘Strange indeed sir!’

‘So I left, perturbed and beginning to grow scared.’

‘My housemaid was waiting for me and I told her that we were going to search the streets for him, block by block…’

Ciel’s face changed, he was impressed at the young Lady’s courage.

‘The two of you searched alone, in the dark?’

She nodded and her eyes crinkled in the corners as she held back emotion.

Ciel’s curiosity got the better of him and he had to speak, lest her emotion escalate. ‘…for how long?’

She sobbed slightly, ‘Hours… we went street by street… Into alleys…’

‘I kept having visions that I would find him, attacked… or savaged by ruffians…’

She wiped her eyes, ‘but I didn’t stop…’

‘I wasn’t about to give up…’

Sebastian moved a strand of hair from his vision and continued to watch the young Lady.

‘We enlisted a Constable to help us… I described what he looked like and the officer was so kind… He stayed with us, asking locals if they had seen my James…’

‘Hours the three of us searched… Calling his name… looking down corners, into alleys… We even tried talking to shopkeepers along the street, but they were all closing as you can appreciate and if they hadn’t yet closed the workers explained that they hadn’t seen him before…’

She stifled another sob as a tear fell down her red cheek.

‘Eventually one of the men on the street the officer asked did say that he had seen my Father… or at least someone wearing his clothes…’

‘So I was hopeful… The man was seen entering a public house near the end of Hallam-Strand. By now I was deeply concerned… What could my Father possibly be doing that far from the city house? And more than that! What was he doing at such a… a…’

She stopped, looking down she quietly collected herself, and she was almost whispering now, ‘…such a low class place.’

Sebastian nodded, ‘Hallam-Strand is a rather, questionable, area to say the least.’

She looked away from Ciel to the tall butler, ‘Oh you know it?’

‘I know of it…’ he clarified.

Ciel agreed and he explained, hoping to quickly put his guest at ease, ‘We make it our business to know of as many places as we can in the course of our investigations.’

She nodded, ‘Of course…’

‘You didn’t go to the pub then, did you?’

Lady Heathcliffe nodded, ‘Damn what others thought… My housemaid pleaded with me not to go, but she couldn’t stop me, I said.’

Ciel’s eyebrow arched.

‘The officer was all one could have hoped for in a gentleman though… He said that he’d go with me if I wanted to check the place.’

‘So he led us there, and I swear I shan’t forget the smell or the sight of that place till the day I die…’

‘It reeked of rotten fruit, and… and stale sickness. Ale and wine burned the nostrils and the whole building was filled with a cloud of smoke.’

‘I covered my mouth with my dress and followed the officer closely through the crowded mass of people within.’

‘I held my housemaid’s hand the whole time.’

‘The officer reached the bar and spoke with the barmaid, and then he waved me over to talk with her. She told me that my Father had indeed come into the building earlier that day.’

‘At first I was relieved… I didn’t care that he lied about where he was going, I was just relieved that someone had seen him…’

The young lady tilted her head as she carefully recalled the next details.

‘This is important… because I don’t want to forget it… and I don’t want to tell it wrong.’

Ciel uncrossed his leg and shimmied closer in his chair, ‘Take your time, please.’

Nodding she took a slow breath and continued.

‘She told me that he had met a man there… and before he arrived my Father had told her that should I come to the bar to give me this.’

Lady Heathcliffe reached a hand into the collar of her blouse to pull out a thick, darkly coloured, iron pendant.

She unclipped the chain and removed it from her neck, holding it out towards Sebastian she continued speaking as he tentatively picked it up.

‘She told me that he had said I was to; ‘wear this until you meet dog…’ she paused and closed her eyes tightly, ‘No, it was…’

She shook her head and quietly snapped her finger… ‘Wear this until you meet the dog or the spider…’

She nodded again, and repeated herself, ‘the dog or the spider! Yes… that’s it!’

Her eyes opened and Ciel was staring intensely at her with his eye.

‘That was it?’

‘Yes actually… It was so unbelievably strange I couldn’t help but remember it… After that I asked if my Father had left with the man and she said that he hadn’t… In fact she told me that she didn’t see him leave at all.’

Ciel looked at his butler and then at the pendant he was now holding in his white, gloved, hands.

‘It was very busy so I could understand if she didn’t see him leave but… After that the officer announced to the patrons we were looking for him and he asked them for their help.’

‘I implored them and I even offered a reward, all the money I had on me; ten pounds if they could help.’

‘That’s a hefty sum to be offering in that place.’ Ciel said.

#black butler fanfiction

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castleamc · 3 years

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a broken promise

Pairing: Javier Peña x GN Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: 18+, kinda angst (I hope at least), established past, same age, using sex to cope (in passing), mentions of food, heartbreak, no use of y/n, and no physical character description for reader. Lmk of anything else bby!

Summary: Javier sees you again after his return from Colombia.

A/N: I got angsty once at 3AM, it was unprovoked and here we are. If there’s any mistakes lmk pls🤡 idk what this is, enjoy bbys!

Main Masterlist ⭐️

Returning back home was a change of pace Javier wasn't looking forward to in the slightest. He knew people would be watching the news, keeping up with the latest arrests, even his father would occasionally check up on him passing someone's best regards for his safety. It was kind of them yet the nonstop questions and meddling was becoming more to handle. Since his return, he's made it a priority to check on his dad first and foremost, help around his ranch whenever he needed it.

That's when word really got around that the famous DEA agent that helped bring down Escobar was in town. They all wanted to know what he was like and how it all really went down.

Javier gave them polite but short responses, avoiding any if all conversations that gave any glimpse to prompting that topic. He wanted nothing to do with that life he had in Colombia anymore, leaving it behind was almost as hard as when he left the love of his life.

Being back home, he thought for a moment that maybe there could be a chance for a new long overdue beginning, something else to give his life actual purpose.

Which is why when he saw you, the one person that he had left behind and wanted nothing more than to hear their voice again leave the bookstore, he must've guessed there could be a chance for that purpose.

In those months leading up his departure you were supportive, encouraging, and most of all understanding when Javier said he needed take this job in Colombia.

As much as it pained you bidding farewell to the man you'd started falling in love, it didnt become apparent until those finals months. The prospect of his departure only heightened your feelings and you knew he had to take this opportunity. You weren't going to be the reason he stayed behind and watch him live with regret.

You loved him too much to ever think of being the reason you held him back from achieving his great potential.

During that time you put up a front, shut down any feelings you ever had for the sake of his happiness. Javier could always pick up on your emotions, like you were a poem that had to be analyzed by him only.

As you both packed up his belongings into boxes out of his apartment, went shopping together to always remind him to make sure he gets breezy shirts to feel refreshed in Colombia's weather, sneaking in his luggage small packets of Duvalín candy for the plane ride, everything, but mention how much you loved him.

Hearing him one night explain after walking you home that you should move into his apartment back home, "I won't be back here anymore and it's paid off already. Someone should use it, like you.

"You practically live here anyway."

It was true, you both did spend a lot of time together. You accepted his offer knowing his apartment was in walking distance to everything. What your heart couldn't accept were his words, "I won't be back here anymore." That was the final nail in the coffin giving up any intentions of ever telling him.

The adoration you had for Javier to be great was stronger than anything, he deserved this chance. Hearing the passion in his voice day by day was just as equally exciting for you.

Of course, it didnt stop you from crying every once in a while. Not because he'd never know you loved him that was only part of the reason, but because you knew you'd be losing your best friend.

You forced yourself to never give him any sort of grief, instead you focused all your energy into making those final few months last.

Helping him pack shirts to take, ranging from pastels to dark collared shirts and patterned designs. Your favorite had to be the white buttoned down collar shirt that had two pockets, one on each side.

Two pockets, that he said trying them on, "That goofy picture of you is going right in here, staying with me always." He promised after that to call you as much as possible that your phone bill would skyrocket.

Javier loved you with every fiber in his body, you were that someone he could count on for everything and never once had to explain things because you understood. It was an unspoken connection that could be seen closely enough just by look. At parties, if someone was being nosey he'd walk over to gossip with you warning you, and he'd point to the person pouting his lips with a head nod. Or give a slight side eye to each other at something funny that only you both would get.

You always had way of understanding him, so when took the job you'd been obviously the first person Javier called.

Yet realizing you weren't going to be there anymore filled him with dread, it didn't quite hit him until the final week. Finishing a card game as a reward from moving everything out, he started collecting the cards in his hand, "Next week we should try that new restaurant that sells Honduran pupusas, what do you think?"

Speaking low, "Javier..."

He looked up at your silence giving him a moment to catch up, his lips tightened hiding under his mustache making you smile. Both of you feeling that insidious bittersweet feeling surging out of each of you and finding residence in the air around you both.

No more nightly walks, drinks at the bar, family cook outs, and each other.

That was it.

Javier repeated his promise from that night again, that he'd never forget you and always call you to update on what he's been up to. You heard the sincerity in his voice, the longing in his eyes that sparked the small burnout flame in your heart fueling it's hope that maybe he loved you back.

So he kept his promise.

Until it became a hinder in his work.

It started out with weekly calls, Javier's first night was spent talking for hours on end about how it's like, describing how beautiful the city is at night, how badly he wanted you to see it, even mentioning how you should visit him one day.

Taking you by surprise he told you after the call ends to check your room, he'd left you something behind.

Javier wasn't the best at expressing his emotions, but he did take notice of yours. Going to your room you saw on your bed Javier had left you the CD of your favorite artist's newest album with packets of your favorite candy to last you the whole month.

It was his way of saying, I'll miss you too.

You both called each other like clockwork, even listening to some songs on the CD together on speaker.

It was every week, becoming an unspoken commitment you both had.

Although, the longer he stayed trying to fight the drug war the fewer calls you’d start to receive.

Whenever he had the chance to call, it’d wound up being late at night for him and morning for you. You didn't mind it at first, beggers can't be choosers and he was genuinely busy as were you.

Javier would always give you time to talk when you both did call, he longed to hear your voice speak so passionately about what you've been up to. As well as, bringing up his favorite memories of you, like the time you fell of the chair wheezing trying to get a hold on his arms. Or when you'd tease him about his mustache, his pride and joy was your #1 target never failing to make him laugh.

Gradually, the conversations started to become more about you, old fun memories, and rarely about him or his work.

To anyone else, it was a one sided conversation, but to you both it was all you could manage. Further darkening that cloud reminding you, this isn't the same anymore.

Javier didn't want to talk about his work at all, it'd break his heart to know that you might despise him for what he's done, or who he's become. The things he's had to sacrifice foolishly to get one step ahead in the game only to be pushed back 10 steps.

On the days he felt too exhausted coming to his empty apartment you were on his mind. He hoped you were happy and feeling the love you so deserved, he wished it was him.

With enough liquid courage he’d still call half hoping you wouldn't answer and the other begging to hear you. Javier's voice was distant from yours judging by the tone of his voice you started to believe you were no longer a present thought to him. It began to feel as if you were a chore for him. A chore that Javier didn't want to end, but you were worthy of better. You should be someone's first thought in the morning-not work, a treasure to look forward to coming home after a long day-not a dreading feeling.

He wasn't worthy of you anymore and he knew this.

Perhaps that was Javier's way of loving you, finally letting you go to achieve your own greatness and happiness like you once did for him.

One random night, near the end of your strung out friendship, while having dinner with some colleagues Javier called dawning a desolate tone you'd never heard before. It stunned you with worry for him and heart aching for you to see his name on your phone.

He spoke quietly needing to hear your voice again urging you to tell him what you're doing right now ignoring your confusion to know what you've been up to, and if you'd remembered him or ever thought of him. Your heart hammered out of your chest excusing yourself from dinner trying to determine if the masked pain in his voice is real or was it your emotions again. It sounded as if he'd been crying, it was hoarse and exhausted rambling on and on about how much he missed you. You missed him more than anything, but you kept that to yourself.

Trying to ask again if he was okay you heard a woman’s voice beckoning for Javier in the background. He had to cough loud enough to block out the sound, praying you didn't hear it, praying that you would never think these women ever meant something to him like you did.

But you did hear it, clear as day.

Deceiving yourself into believing it didn't break your heart, you continued the conversation in the bathroom trying to be there for him and never once bringing it up.

You missed him just as much as you cursed him for being the reason you couldn't move on. All these failed relationships ended with one person in mind, Javi. The longing you clung onto was a fools errand, all the feelings you had left for Javier was slipping too far for you to mend and ever face.

You never blamed him for your heartache, you weren’t together and there was no need to burden him with silly emotions. Javier had desires, it was understandable and you had your fair share of conquests, although you never let him hear them.

Javier had to fuck the memory of you out of him every night, losing himself in every moan and pretty face. It was becoming his coping mechanism after letting you go, that he'd developed a reputation at work. The sex was fucking perfect for him, but they were nothing compared to the pull you had on his heart.

At times he'd pick up a quick fuck that had your features, a similar melody to your voice that didn't even come close, but worked to pretend. Anything that helped him hold on to the memory of you.

Further into the investigation, when the stakes were too high for any distractions and the tension in Colombia was high, any intentions of calling was done for, taking along with it your relationship with Javier.

The vow to never forget had become an afterthought, a myth too crazy to believe that it ever happened.

On occasion in your house, you'd watch the situation over there unfold on TV here and there, it was your one and only primary source to recall who Javier Peña. This became your weekly updates replacing his once loving phone calls.

Your partner, like everyone else in town, was enthralled with the case that when they’d speak about the hometown American DEA agent in Colombia you needed to excuse yourself unable to hear about him.

You had moved out of the apartment Javier had given you, unable to bear any longer being surrounded by his smell, the countless laughs you both shared. You'd given the keys to Javier's dad, Chucho, never letting Javier know cause there wasn't longer any need to update him.

At times out with friends, you'd hear about it in passing when they'd gossip about Javier to you, asking whatever happened to him, and how he was to which you'd respond, "I don't know anymore, but I hope he's well."

Your heart had become numb speaking of him that all those feelings, you so deeply felt once had become silenced.

Javier would never forget the last time he spoke to you.

You'd called one last time at the regular time you used to do.

It was odd when he picked up the phone because you didn't expect to hear his voice, intentionally you were ready to leave a voice message instead. He'd barely let the second dial tone start as soon as he saw your name show up.

Hearing your voice was a breath of fresh air that somehow took him away from the death surrounding him, it reminded him of all the good. Especially the good that's been going on with you, how happy you'd been with your new job, and updating him on his dad. Javier picked up the somber tone in your voice that he hated knowing it cause of him. That night he stayed with you on call until you were ready to hang up, answering all your questions, even letting you know what he's been doing recently.

You figured one last call wouldn't hurt to say goodbye, properly.

With a broken heart you sighed, "Till next time I see you, goodnight Javi."

Your goodbye left Javier holding the phone long after you've hung up remembering how much has changed and the one devoted promise was assuredly broken.

Javier knew in your voice that it was your choice to let go and he respected it and never called you again. It's like you both had vanished from each other’s lives having never existed in the first place.

When he spotted you again it was safe to say that the profound love he has for you, hit him like a ton of bricks.

You were a sight to behold, laughing carrying a little girl on your back walking out of a bookstore across the street. Javier had to step aside from blocking the exit of the grocery store to keep his watchful on you.

It was mesmerizing the way he could so clearly hear your laugh, recalling to when he'd be the reason to make you cry from joy and not from any heartbreak.

That smile was radiating out of you, he had to smile to himself. You were happy looking up to the person walking behind you was carrying books in their hand.

Javier never knew what it was like for you to hear about his special informants because you never asked and he would never put you in that situation. He knows it's selfish of him to feel bitter, but he can't help it.

He desperately wanted to come up to you, pull you into his arms, ask you when'd you cut your hair, if you ever got that promotion you worked so hard for, if you still liked that artist that you both would dance to at cookouts, and when did you have a child.

He wanted to ask you anything and everything all at the same time just to hear you talk to him again.

Feeling a bit of courage he starts taking a few steps forward coming to a stop when you turned around completely. You were speaking directly to the person behind you.

He felt his heart pound thinking you might've seen him gawking at you like a creep. Nothing could move Javier at that moment, not even a stampede his eyes were glued to you, pulling him closer telling him to move his fucking legs.

The person took the little girl off your back allowing you to reach into your bag, he loved the way you've subtly changed over the years and still remained the same.

The person stepped into the car, but you lingered there for a moment behind truck of the car looking down at something in your hands.

Javier couldn’t find the will to move, it was like his body froze in shock when you turned around stopping him with your look. His voice was silent when his mind kept racing saying, sorry for being a complete asshole, breaking his promise, apologizing for never telling you that you were it for him and to wait.

People were passing by him starting to take notice of who he was, everyone, but you.

The one person he craved to earn their attention from.

Javier watched you enter your car driving away until you were out of sight, he felt like a coward standing there. Putting his sunglasses on he took the bags out of the cart heading back to his car.

This was the real walk of shame.

Entering the kitchen to his house, he noticed the red blinking notification of a missed call. Thinking it was probably his father calling to ask him if he can come over to help him fix something, he played the voice message.

One simple voice message that had the power to kickstart the burned out flame, provided him with hope.

And it was your voice.

He smiled rolling his eyes hearing you joke, “Nice mustache, Vicente Fernández. How long did it take you to grow all that?”

A/N: honestly when I wrote this, it was in the back burner for a hot minute and I had no clue what was happening with Chente until recently cause of telemundo, but his mustache literally reminds me of pedro's sometimes. side note, can yall imagine if Pedro did a biopic of him and we heard him sing fr??? 😗

Permanent Pedro Boys Tag: @mandocrasis, @frenchfryfranki, @snow30285, @greeneyedblondie44, @javierpinme, @sharkbait77, @kirsteng42, @beskarboobs, @cozy-pie, @littlefrescita, @mswarriorbabe80, @leannawithacapitala, @heythere-mel, @voteforpedro09, @just-here-for-the-moment, @djarinladylatin, @athalien, @littlemisspascal, @librariantothejedi, @jediknight122, @lowlights

Javier’s #1 DEA Partners: @hnt-escape, @woodlandmouth, @theewokingdead, @dobbyjen, @finerthingsboutique

✨join my taglist ✨

#javier peña x you #javier peña #narcos #pedro fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x gn reader #Javier Peña x GN #narcos imagine #narcos oneshot #after #narcos season 3 #javier peña imagine

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imagine-a-fangirl · 3 years

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A/n: Welcome to my first bridgerton fanfic, which will eventually become an anthony bridgerton x female! reader fanfic. This is a bit of an introduction chapter, so it will get better I promise The ton, the high society of London. If you were someone who mattered you were a part of it. The young ladies that came out into society all had the same goal in mind, marry the one person who can give you the best live, with love only being a small part in those arrangements.

Your family had moved away from London after the passing of your mother. Your father couldn’t cope with the memories London held and decided to move towards the Netherlands. He went back every so often for business and travelled around a lot, giving you and your brothers all the freedom you would never have had in London. You had come out into society a couple years back already, your father needed to handle some business in London and took you with him. That way you could be presented at court and he could take you to the debutant ball before travelling back to the Netherlands. He wanted you to be out in society, just so you could have gotten married if there had been any eligible men. But there you were returning to London, joining society and the ton for real this time.

“It will be alright.” Thomas tried to calm your nerves while he helped you out of the carriage. Your father still had to arrive in London, meaning your brothers escorted you to your first ball of the season. You didn’t really mind, this way you could get used to the pressure of the ton again without your father constantly watching over you.

As the oldest Thomas always felt the urge to support and protect you, and he saw it as his duty to find you someone who suited you perfectly. Nicholas on the other hand was more easy going, he looked out for you as well but he was always open to let you try new things. Both of them were the reason you had been able to do things a lady would never be able to do otherwise.

The three of you walked into the ballroom, heads of many men turning your way. You knew they were mostly just curious, especially the slightly older men who had yet to marry. A new woman your age was rare but here you were. “You remember any of these men?” You asked Thomas

“Some of them, old friends. Not sure if they are the right suitors." He answered honestly

“We will figure out who is for you.” Nicholas

After an hour of introductions, catching up with old friends and even a dance you noticed no other than the Duke of Hastings joining the room. “Will you excuse me for a moment?” You excused yourself from your current company and quickly made your way through the crowd. “Your Grace!” you greeted your old friend before quickly making a small curtesy as was expected of you.

“Lady y/n, have they finally convinced you to join society?” Simon returned the curtesy “Convinced is a big word your Grace, forced me comes closer.” You tried to brush it off with a joke "Well I'm sure there are a lot of eligible gentlemen that are glad you did." He had already noticed multiple men looking your way. "How wonderful." You answered sarcastically. “To what does the ton owe the pleasure of a visit from its newest Duke?” “I was forced to be here as well.” “I didn’t know it was possible for a Duke to be forced into doing anything.” “Tell that to Lady Danbury, she doesn’t take no for answer.” “She can be very convincing.” You agreed. “At least we will be able to suffer together, shall we go for a walk around the room.” He suggested “It would be my pleasure, your Grace.” You said before linking your arm and walking with him. Your walk mostly consisted of him telling what he came to do and the fact that you were forced to search a husband. That was until your conversation was harshly interrupted by a man. “Basset? Basset!”

“Bridgerton!” Simon excitedly greeted his friend as he let go of you.

“Come here old friend, I heard news about your father.” It only then seemed to hit the man what that meant for Simons name “Hastings, for ever more known as the Duke of Hastings.”

You observed the gentleman as they continued their conversation, your mother had been friends with the viscountess when you were little, but your mother often kept you away from the boys. She felt like you were already influenced greatly by your brothers and didn’t want others to do the same. Because of that you couldn’t immediately point out if this was either the Viscount you were looking at or Benedict. The man’s eye fell on you and you made a small curtesy, which he returned with a bow of his head. Before turning back to Simon “I can see you are occupied right now. So we should properly get together, I expect to see you at our club then.”

“Indeed, evening Bridgerton.” Simon bid his goodbyes to his friend and continued his walk with you “Was that Benedict or the Viscount?” You asked Simon “That was The Viscount, Anthony. You know the Bridgertons?” “My mother was friends with the Viscountess, but I didn’t go as often as she or my brothers. To many men to influence me. “That certainly made a difference.” You shook your head “Is your father escorting you this evening?” “No Thomas and Nicholas are, father will arrive in London in three days.” “You don’t seem to excited for that?” Simon noticed your change in mood “It’s not that I’m not excited to see him, but I just hope he doesn’t expect me to be married at the end of the season.” “You know he probably will.” “That is what I am afraid of.” You agreed. “Let’s go the other way.” Simon suddenly said, softly pushing you in a different direction then you were walking.

“Lady y/n, how wonderful to see you finally joining society. Haven’t you grown in a beautiful young woman.” “To late.” Simon whispered, causing you to let a small chuckle escape. “Thank you, Lady Danbury.” You curtsied as you got your act together again “It’s so wonderful to see you, how have you been?" “I’ve been wonderful dear. I see you’ve already met the Duke.” Lady Danbury seemed a bit too happy with herself “The Duke and I have actually known each other for a couple years.” “Have you now?” It wasn’t often Lady Danbury wasn’t aware of everything that happened within society and it seemed she wasn’t too happy about it.

“We have, we met in France actually.” Simon told her.

“Very well, then is there a reason we haven’t seen the two of you on the dance floor yet?”

“Let’s not get to far ahead of ourselves.” Simon insisted. After some small talk you excused yourself to go find your brothers again “I’ll see you around Lady y/n.” Simon told you.

At one point during the evening you were caught in a dull conversation with Lord Berbrooke. Every time Lord Berbrooke came a little closer you took a small step back, keeping your distance until you bumped into the woman behind you. “I am so sorry.”

“That is quite alright, dear.” The woman smiled, she seemed very familiar but you couldn’t quite place her. Lord Berbrooke kept continuing his one sided conversation with you and you kept looking around the room for an escape. When you spotted Simon again in a corner, observing the room and you as well. “Ask me to dance.” You mouthed towards Simon to get him to save you. You were lucky enough he understood you and he paced towards the two of you.

“Lord Berbrooke may I interrupt?

“Your Grace, of course.” Lord Berbrooke seemed caught off guard that the duke wanted to join his conversation and Simon used the moment to turn his attention to you.

“Lady y/n would you care for a dance?

“Of course your Grace.” He held out his hand which you happily accepted “Thank you for saving me.” You whispered once out of hearing distance.

“You owe me one, a big one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time you are distressed by a mother.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

As the music started the two of you moved across the room as if you had never done anything else. “For someone who doesn’t dance, you are quite skilled your Grace.” y/n grinned

“Do you want me to return you to Lord Berbrooke or will you stop the teasing.”

“I’ll be stopping the teasing at once your Grace.” You laughed

“Thank you.” When the set ended Simon guided you off the floor, the furthest away from Nigel and escorted you back to your brothers.

“I heard of the presence of the Duke of Hastings, I did not expect him to act on my sister so soon.” Thomas joked when he saw the two of you walking over.

“Only saving her from some unwanted suitor.” He held his hands up in defense before greeting Thomas.

“I didn’t expect anything else from her old friend. Was lord Berbrooke bothering you?”

“He was.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him.” Thomas promised you.

“Thank you.”

“Before I forget I ran into Lady Bridgerton, she invited us for dinner with her family.” Thomas informed you “I already accepted her invitation, if that’s alright with you.”

“I’m sure we will have a lot of catching up to do with them.” You agreed The rest of the evening consisted of more dancing, conversations and introductions. Simon stayed close to the three of you most of the evening, as it gave him an easy excuse not to converse with other. And you caught the eye of many more men. You were even re introduced to three members of the Birdgerton family. As soon as Thomas had done that you knew the familiar woman you had bumped into earlier that night, had been Lady Bridgerton herself. You apologized once more for bumping into her earlier, but she played it off with a joke. Your re introduction to the Bridgerton family resulted in a dance with both Benedict and Colin. Where dancing with the other men made you slightly nervous, dancing with them felt familiar. Just as your dance with Simon had, it was as if you never done anything else. It had only been your first evening back into society, everything in you told you this could be an interesting season.

#bridgerton x reader #imagine anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #imagine bridgerton

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siwoline · 3 years

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“can we stay like this forever?” — [sjy.]

♫ : spaces by martti franca

word count: 1,901 | angst, masochist

some, if not everyone, surely had a tower moment. a phase when everything seems to go downfall and you had no other choice but to surrender to wherever the universe takes you. some faced everything alone and some found a companion.

in your case, you had jake.

you met each other through a common friend back in high school. it was just a “hey, this is y/n. y/n, this is jake.” type of introduction and you just both went on with your lives separately, not minding each other’s business because you clearly had nothing to do with it. you weren’t interested with him and, on your point of view, he wasn’t too.

but suddenly, you passed by each other’s lives again, when he saw you sitting like a drunk single aunt by the gutter of an abandoned gas station. it was because you told your friends you’ll walk your way home even though your vision was spinning and your head hurt like hell.

you remember, “y/n?” jake mispronounced your name when he saw you then.

and you corrected him even though you’re drunk by saying, “it’s y/n! you stupid!”

“i’m sorry, y/n. do you need something?”

obviously! is this man really stupid? were your thoughts. you were looking at him meaningfully, trying to tell him that he’s unbelievable but he seems to not care about your stares. he just reached for your arms and guided you to wrap them around his broad shoulders.

this man’s caring. what the hell.

as much as you wanted to throw your shoes at jake that time, you just didn’t have the energy to fight and perhaps you wanted to thank him for somehow taking care of you even though you barely know each other.

after that night, you were informed that, apparently, jake studies in the same university and he lives near your pad. and according to your common friend, it’s just a 10-minute ride from yours.

your encounter with him did not stop there because you saw each other again on a party hosted by your friend. the moment you laid eyes at each other, he recognized you right away and walked towards you leaving a girl who’s clearly hitting on him that time.

that night, you two shared stories and even danced with some acquaintances, completely unaware that it was the start of something you didn’t anticipate.

“who’s this?” you said when you picked up the call of someone who’s bugging you at three in the morning, the day after your friend’s party.

that’s when you heard jake mumbling words you cannot decipher because first, it was, again, three in the morning, and second, he was a drunk zombie.

“where are you?” you asked him repetitively and still trying to respond to what he was saying until the bartender took over the phone and told you where he is.

you went to the bar to fetch him. jake looked so wrecked and tired from the world, he’s a complete mess when you saw him lying on the bar’s couch. when you went to him and woke him up, he looked at you and there you saw his stares. his intense eyes looked like he wanted someone to save him or just someone who’s willing to hear his stories.

and so you did.

it was almost everyday, at three in the morning, when you go out to see each other at the gas station where you first met as acquaintances. you’d bring snacks from your stock and he’d bring drinks bought from the convenience store he’ll pass by on his way to you.

you’d talk about everyday, how things went wrong and how things are going. you’d tell him that the only constant thing in the world is life fucking you up and his boisterous laugh would disturb anyone and anything near. he’d tell you how pretty the night sky is and how badly he wanted to travel just to see its end and you’d agree and tell jake you’ll go with him.

no one knew of the times you’re together, not even the friend who introduced you to each other. it was just a moment between you two, and you hate to admit but there are times that by thinking of it, the thought of seeing jake, made you feel things.

and god, as well as jake, knows how badly you hate feeling tickling emotions, those of the positive kind, because you know that there’s definitely an aftermath.

“how’s your brother?” he randomly asked when you were just talking about an online post you shared with each other through chat.

“he’s doing well. you want to see him next weekend?” then he nodded as a response.

it was not just you who grew fond of jake, some of your family members, only those whom he met, did as well. especially your little brother. they’d play games when you and jake would come over to your grandfather’s house where your brother temporarily lives. they would also talk about boy stuff, completely excluding you from the conversation, and you can see the both of them enjoying their time.

and, annoyingly, again, this made you feel more at ease with jake.

“do you still drink?” you asked meaninglessly.

“not anymore,” he shrugged, as if saying he doesn’t know why.

“as i am,” that’s when he looked at you, confused. “i don’t know. maybe i’m healed,” and you laughed with the absurdity of the thought.

but jake smiled with what you said, “that can be true.”

“what about you? you’re finally moved on from the woman you cried for when i first fetched you at the bar?”

he turned his head away, obviously feeling shy. “that was more than a year ago, y/n.” his lips are forming a pout. “plus, i’m being comforted in a much healthier way.”

you were shocked by his response. “you’re seeing someone again?”

he shook his head and said, “i just found comfort in someone’s presence.”

“isn’t that the same?”

he looked at you and said, “i don’t want to intervene in their peace.”

then all of a sudden, that was your last encounter with jake. you didn’t hear any news about him or his whereabouts for a good six months. when you were told that he’ll be attending a seminar, you woke up late which led to not seeing him around the campus ever since. just like that, jake was nowhere to be found.

and you cannot believe why jake’s no-show bothered you so much.

you thought of him almost everyday, thinking whether he’s doing fine or coping from his heartbreak and problems. you thought of how he’s doing in school because you haven’t seen his shadow from anywhere. you were dead worried of him yet no one knows that you still are.

“y/n, later! don’t pretend to forget, you brat,” you laughed and nodded as a response.

your friend is having a party tonight and you prepared for it the moment you arrived home. wearing the simplest attire, almost looking as if you’re not interested to go, you went to the party.

the moment you stepped foot at the bar, you were reminded of several things. and definitely one of them is jake.

weird how the loud bass and taste of beer feels so nostalgic for you. was it the long period of time that passed since you decided to quit drinking? or was it, again, him?

you shook your head, trying to brush off the thought you have in mind. you took your fifth glass of cuervo and looked at your wristwatch only to see that it’s about three in the morning. you stood up, with your head quite heavy, and went to find your friend so you could bid good bye and leave.

only to be stopped at your tracks because a pair of eyes are staring at you intensely. it’s jake.

it was quite a moment when you stared at each other but you decided to pretend as if you didn’t see anything. you’re confused at what you’re feeling at the very moment because, for you, you’re not supposed to feel anger just because he didn’t show up nor feel as if you’re longing for his presence.

“y/n,” you heard him call your name and a cold palm touched your skin when he held your hands to stop you from walking away.

you faced him, trying to show a smile. and there you saw a cleaner look of jake, a more mature one you must say. you looked at his eyes and you were surprised with what you’re seeing. your smile grew wider, more genuine this time, because he definitely looks happier now.

“hey. long time no see,” was all you can utter.

“y/n, i’m sorry—”

“look, i have to go home. the apartment’s gate,” you were cut off by him telling you that, “there’s no curfew and you always have a key with you. you don’t forget that. you’re afraid to get locked out.”

right. of course, jake knows that.

you’re afraid to get locked out, you’re afraid to be left behind. without a word, without any notice. you find it hard to forget, especially the moments dear to you, the moments that kept you warm. he knows that but why did he leave was all over your head.

“i have to go,” you said and let go of his hand but he didn’t budge. you kept moving and telling him to, “let go, jake.”

“y/n, i like you.” was what jake needed to say to make you stop from struggling.

he reached for your right arm and now his intense stares feel as if it can see your soul. and what happens now is the very thing you’re afraid of.

“i like you, i love you, i,” he sighed in frustration. “the last time we saw each other, it was you i was referring to. it was you whom i do not want their peace to be ruined. god, i even wanted to talk to you when you were first introduced to me. i wanted to hear more of your stories, i wanted to be even just a small part of your life, y/n.”

“i was so afraid of telling you because i know you fear this the most. you fear feeling things, you fear giving and risking all that you have, you fear the warmth of what love could give, y/n. i know that and you’ve always reminded me about that.” he continued.

“then why are you telling me this now?” i said, almost shouting because of how frustrated i am with what he’s saying. “why are you telling me you love me after leaving me, jake?”

“because,” he paused, looking both tired and frustrated of what’s happening right now. “because i can never get over you. i tried but i can’t and maybe because i do not even want to, y/n. i hate—”

“i fear commitments, jake.”

he looked at you, stared even, and smiled as if he just got reminded of a detail he forced himself to set aside.

still looking at you, with eyes begging you to let out what you really do feel, he said, “you can take your time. please, just allow me to—”

“i fear commitments, jake,” you repeated what you said. “what’s so hard to understand—”

“then just have me by your side, like old times, please.”

#siwoline #enhypen and heartbreaks #enhypen & heartbreaks #jake #sim jaeyun #jake imagines #enhypen #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jake #enhypen jake angst #sim jaeyun imagines #enhypen jake au #enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen scenarios #enhypen drabbles

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apixrl · 3 years

Text

DRIVER'S LICENSE.

katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

WARNING(S): angst. cheating. swearing because it's bakugou.

word count: 4.5k

song: drivers license // olivia rodrigo (i wonder why...)

note(s): so i captioned this *at the time of writing* 'hello and welcome to i've had the worst two weeks ever so i wrote a katsuki oneshot to cope' and it's probably one of my most personal pieces of writing tbh

"-come Tuesday and we'll potentially see an end to this heavy downpour of rain. Temperatures will be on the rise to around-"

The talk on the radio cut short at the jab of your finger, heaving a great sigh which faded into the muffled pitter-patter of rain from outside. The streets had been showered with heavy downpours for the last week or so, no sign of sun or a still and restful day. Notwithstanding the miserable outdoors, the windscreen wipers on your car never ceased in their duty to grant you a clear view of the road ahead. And whilst you were grateful for their devotion, it didn't feel clear in the slightest. In fact, the road had never felt so blurry.

Shivering against the cold night chill and tucking your knees cosily to your chest, you eyed the raindrops on the windows. They raced against one another before they dripped down to your car's body, their glossy presence obvious thanks to the many hues of street lamps that surrounded them. You could have watched them for hours, being honest. Something about the droplets of water battling it out quite enticing. Anything to take you away from the cruel reality you were living in.

Your heart ached and yearned. But to no avail, the one you ached and yearned for didn't love you back.

Not anymore, at least.

Just the mere thought provoked a pulsating pang to resonate throughout your entire body. A pang filled with grief and sadness. Anger and hurt. You missed his sun-kissed face on the sunny mornings. You missed his eyes and how they gazed at you from across the room. You missed the smiles and laughter he would only show for you and you alone. The sense of glee and euphoria that came with that honour. Yet all of it was gone and there was no way you could get it back.

The memories of what had been triggered more waterworks. Hot, salty tears dug at the corners of your eyes and trickled down your face. Your motionless car concealed your cries and sobs. Every thrash against the wheel as you questioned to nobody in particular what went wrong and why. How you didn't see the signs sooner. What you could have done better. When he stopped loving you. If he ever planned to stop loving you. Whether it would have hurt more if you found out sooner.

All these questions with nothing to answer them.

Katsuki Bakugou had always fascinated you. From the very moment you met. You accompanied your friend on a double date, and he was the guy who she matched for you. Whilst he originally acted as though a blind date was the last place he wanted to be, underneath the aggression you could tell there was something much more genuine and true.

And your assumptions were correct. Truth be told, Katsuki Bakugou was one of the most genuine and truest people you had met (at the time). Once it was just the two of you, he allowed his true colours to unveil. Through the smallest of kind gestures that still haunted your mind to this day. Then upon confrontation, as you bid each other goodbye at your back door, his denial resulted in a flirtatious contest which then proceeded to an intimate night that changed your life forever. From there your mind was set.

He was the one.

Emphasis on was.

So blinded with a fairy tale love you grew so accustomed to, you never saw it coming. Never in your two-year relationship - that had so much strength and commitment built on top of it, never did you think that Katsuki Bakugou would throw it all out of the window like it was nothing. Disregard your loyalty and adoration for a drunken one night stand that slowly became an occasional hookup. Which soon became a mandatory pastime once a fortnight. Then twice. Maybe more than that. You wouldn't put it past him with what you knew now.

He kept it from you for nearly six months. Six months. The only reason you discovered his lies and deception was because you were let off early one night from work. You worked a night shift, see. Your last job had fallen to shambles, and it was temporary whilst you searched for a new one. And whilst that did take a toll on your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou, mostly finding time for intimacy since his working hours were during the day, none of that gave him any right to go and do what he did.

That wasn't one of the only reasons, you knew that for sure. There were other motives for his lack of loyalty. But you were never told. After you froze at the sight of another woman under his hold and stormed straight back to your car to flee. After he chased you down the flights of stairs in nothing but baggy pants into the streets of a twilight Musutafu. After you screamed into the darkness and belted your fists against his chest. Fists that were driven with rage and hurt and every emotion that burned like the hottest of fires and froze like the coldest of ice. He never even told you. He never made an effort to address it. Nor had he attempted to call or even try to visit your Mom's house - where you stayed as you searched for a permanent place to live. Just because you retreated for your car and cried that it was over, he never tried. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed an explanation. An apology. Something to give you a form of closure and a reason to move on. But you never did.

That wasn't even what hurt the most, either.

As silly as it was, the thing that hurt you the most was the very car you sat in.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO . . .

The red glow of traffic lights hit Katsuki's vermilion irises as he stared dead ahead at the long line of vehicles, the ash-blond heaving a sigh into the air. His finger tapped impatiently against the steering wheel he gripped with one hand, the spare rested casually against your upper thigh affectionately.

"I can't believe we have to sit through this torture just to go to some damn party," Katsuki grumbled, taking a glance over at you. His brows furrowed when he met you peacefully slouched down, nose dug into your phone as you presumably played some sort of game to pass the time. Like you had no care in the world for your predicament.

"It's your best friend's birthday, love," You mused back, Katsuki surprised you even listened based on your focused expression directed towards your phone. "It's not like we can just miss it,"

"Yeah, but we could have missed all this pain by taking the train instead of driving across town during rush hour,"

"Trains are icky, the seats would have ruined your suit and my dress," You pointed out, looking at the blond over your screen, sending him a sweet smile. He cocked a brow, a smirk creeping its way onto his lips as a scoff of a laugh broke out between them.

"Right, and laying down like a sloth is gonna help keep your dress uncreased?" He returned, amused at your realisation. At his comment, you sat up faintly and pouted your lip.

"Driving means more time to play Gravity Pops, and so does traffic,"

"Seriously? That's the game you're playing? You're such a dumbass,"

"Yes! I'm in the top 11% globally! I need to get to number one!" Was your protest, your arms flailing ahead of you briefly for dramatic emphasis. Katsuki clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, though the small smile plastered over his lips betrayed his initial reaction. Unable to deny your determination, he spoke with confidence and almost a sense of pride.

"Number one, hm? Clearly rubbing off on you aren't I?"

"In a way, yes,"

"That's my girl," Katsuki remarked, earning a giggle from you that was uplifting to hear. It was there your attention went back to your phone, but Katsuki wasn't done. "So, speaking of cars, Y/N," Hearing his chosen tone - which sounded suggestive, you eyed him closely. Hesitant to reply as you had a sense of what he planned to say.

"...Yes?"

"Have you thought any more about getting your driver's license yet?"

Called it.

"...No,"

"What?" Katsuki began, tilting his head. He was surprised that he felt surprised. You had said those words in regards to this topic countless times. Still, he persisted. "Is that a no meaning you haven't or no meaning that you don't want to?"

"Both?" You half-guessed, sheepishly grinning at the look you were sent. "Look, cars scare me okay? And so do roads. And people. My nerves wouldn't be able to handle it! I can barely communicate with people face to face, so me being on the road is a recipe for disaster!"

"I know but -," Katsuki exhaled sharply, understanding your reasoning. You had voiced these concerns when confiding to Katsuki about your fears of the road. Something built and corrupted from social media as well as phobias and fears in general, it was a battle you had yet to overcome. You wanted to drive but was terrified of messing up or causing chaos on the road. Potentially inflicting harm to someone and yourself. You still weren't sure what triggered it all, but over the years it had manifested into something quite irrational, to say the least. Katsuki had been supportive of it and whilst he truly would love to always act as your personal taxi - you couldn't hide from it forever. It wasn't his job to keep you in your comfort zone. That, and he couldn't always be there for you that way. What if he was miles away and you had somewhere urgent to go like the hospital? "It's not as scary as you think. I know it's hard to believe that but seriously. The freedom you get from driving is amazing,"

"I'll think about it a little longer, okay?" You said with hesitancy, looking at Katsuki for a sign of confirmation. He nodded in defeat, knowing you probably needed more time and felt put on the spot. So he averted his eyes back to the road to check if the traffic had moved at all. It had not.

"Okay," Katsuki said. "But I can't be your taxi service forever,"

"But I like you being my taxi service," You jokingly said, a little sadness in your tone. "Your road rage is funny and I like watching you get out of the car and walk to my door after pulling up in my driveway,"

"What do you mean?" Katsuki asked, catching the twitch of a smile on your face upon saying those words. It struck his interest in what you could mean.

"You know, like when you say you're coming to pick me up?" You explained. "You pull up at my driveway and I don't know... simple things like that just remind me of how much I love you. It's dumb really, but it's important to me,"

"Really?" Katsuki questioned in disbelief. How something so small and meaningless could mean so much was puzzling. He couldn't understand why it was so special to you. But that didn't invalidate it in any shape or form. So he pushed that aside, replacing his wonder with gratitude. He returned to your bashful and flustered features, feeling a smile grow on his face.

"Yeah," You said, shrugging to downplay your words. "I love you. Stuff like that means a lot to me,"

"I love you too, even though you're a dumbass," Katsuki said, humbled by what you had said. The two of you shared a gentle exchange, your hand grabbing hold of Katsuki's as you gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, and silence ensued. Had he realised such a thing sooner, then Katsuki would have pulled up in your driveway much more than he had been doing. But at that a thought struck his mind, victoriously smirking as he had an idea on how to potentially sway your worries. Or begin swaying it. Something was better than nothing, after all. "But what if I wanted you to pull up in my driveway one day?" His words caused you to look over at him in curiosity, hearing the seriousness in the question. It caught you off guard momentarily, having to contemplate as you gradually concluded that he had a point.

"Well one day, maybe I will," You vaguely replied and sat up a little bit. The hand holding yours pulled back and lifted to land on your shoulder, gripping reassuringly tight.

"I hope you do, I'd like to get in on this driveway action," He joked and smirked, faith riddled in his expression. You giggled ever so slightly, tempted to lean forward and peck Katsuki on the lips in thanks, but never a thing was to happen as the alerting red light from outside switched to warm amber.

"Ah!" Katsuki yelled in triumph, his attention leaving you swiftly as he got back into the driver's seat. Giving you no opportunity to respond to him and overall ruining the moment. "Took fucking long enough!"

The light turned green, and he set the car in motion, leaving you with your thoughts and the words he had uttered that day as the traffic stood still.

All your efforts, all your time devoted to getting over your fear of driving and the road as a whole... all of it was pointless. You did it for him. You promised him you would overcome your fears and better yourself. He built that motivation up brick by brick until you could grab hold and seize control. He wasted all that time to get you to reach such a stepping stone only to abandon it once it was through.

Just so you could pull up in his driveway, just like he requested. And what did you get in return when you finally did? A stab in the back and the loss of your other half.

You wiped your eyes via the sleeve of your hoodie, dampening the cuffs. Sniffling and exhaling a shaky breath, your gaze landed on nothing in particular. Yet somewhere within your clouded mind, you found interest. As that was where your gaze remained for a certain amount of time. You weren't sure how long exactly. It could have felt like an hour and only been five minutes. Or it could have felt like five minutes and was actually an entire hour. Either way, the clock ticked on and didn't wait for you to stop.

It was a good thing you had pushed your fears down and rose above them. It just pained you that you didn't even do it for yourself. Without Katsuki Bakugou, you never had any intentions of doing so. As a matter of fact, you had set out to take the train or bus for the rest of your life. Hell, you were going to use a bike and scooter if you got desperate. Had he even acknowledged how much work you put in just to get where you were? Was all that effort part of the reason why he decided to cheat? There was absolutely no telling. Absolutely no telling at all.

You wondered what he was doing now. Was he laid in bed resting peacefully? Out with his friends for a boy's night only? Maybe cooking his favourite curry? Possibly on a late-night jog despite the harsh weather? It never stopped him other times.

Did he ever think about you? Regret what he did and the actions he took? Had he ever considered apologising? Would he ever apologise? What if he was celebrating the fact you were no longer in his life? Had there ever been any love there for you in the start? Did he ever actually want you to get your driver's license because he believed in you? Or was it so he could get rid of you with much more ease? Make his departure less severe and less selfish? A way to justify his choices because it's not like you were hopelessly left to suffer everyday life now that you had a means of transport. Was he really that cruel?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jingle of your phone, the device lighting up as it sat in the passenger seat to your left. It took two or three rings for you to glance over at it, E/C eyes sore and drained from crying out. You squinted them to read the caller, seeing the name 'Work' fade in and out on the brightly lit screen. For a second or two you argued back and forth on whether to even bother picking up. Something about reaching across for your phone requiring a magnitude of energy you no longer possessed. Having spent it all on your cries of agony and the deprivation of your old life as a whole.

However, you had ignored your work in the last couple of weeks too many times now. So many times that pulling the same stunt again would probably risk you losing your job. It's not like your work was interested in why you felt such overwhelming pain... all they cared about was you turning up to do what you were hired to.

So using a forceful hand, you leaned over to pick it up. You fumbled to grip your phone and accepted the call with a dainty tap of your thumb. Then you blinked away your tears and subtly sniffed, pressing your phone to your ear to address the caller.

"Hello?" You practically croaked, quick to clear your throat and push any signs of upset down. It was presumably dry from how much you'd cried in the last two hours.

"L/N! Hey! Glad you finally picked up!" Unlike the droll and unvarying tones of your boss, the person on the other end was much more lively and greeting. So much so you could only assume it was none other than your work colleague, Etsuko. Probably the only person you genuinely liked where you worked, and the only person who made the time pass by faster. "I was worried you were gonna leave me on answer phone again,"

"Hm, what? Oh right. Yeah. Sorry about that. Haven't been feeling too great," You lied, even though it wasn't a complete fib. You hadn't been feeling great at all. You had never felt so rock bottom. It all just originated from your mind over anything else. But when did work care about that?

"Sounds like it, I hope you've been okay!" Still cheery as ever, Etsuko followed up with a laugh to fill the silence you created by not saying anything. "Is everything well? It's nothing serious, is it?"

"No. It's not. Just some dumb cold I caught," You excused. "I'm better now, though," Slouching down in your seat, you decided to ask the question that had been roaming your mind the last minute or so. "So why are you calling?"

"Oh, right!" Etsuko said. "Mr Kobashigawa was just wondering when you planned on coming back - for schedule reasons and to get people to fill in for your shifts,"

"I er...," Not entirely sure how to answer, you stuttered as your words cowered away in your attempt to speak. "I don't -,"

"It's okay, he doesn't need an answer yet," Etsuko reassured. "Maybe in the next day or two, though? He wasn't really specific, being honest,"

You sighed at the guilt brewing in your stomach. You weren't even sick for crying out loud! Why were you lying just so you could wallow in your own sadness?! Like that was going to change anything! Sitting around and crying wasn't going to give you what you wanted. You weren't getting him back. Katsuki Bakugou wasn't yours anymore. He made that clear by cheating. By making minimal effort to give you an explanation. By causing you so much pain with little care or concern. Why couldn't you get it through your thick skull that your feelings didn't matter anymore?! That they were being wasted on a lost cause. A lost relationship!

"Well I mean -," You started, running a hand through your hair as you tread carefully on your words. "I could come in tonight? Has Mr Kobashigawa got someone to fill for me yet?"

"Um... no? I don't think so?" Etsuko answered, uncertainty in her voice. "Let me go check. Be right back!" And with that, the line fell dead. The call didn't end, just Etsuko placing the phone down to get an answer for you. Leaving you all by your lonesome once more.

Reflecting, you could see the logic in your thoughts. The best course of action would be to hold your head up high and live life the way it was before. When you were happy. Just... excluding the factors that actually made you happy. Which was him. Wouldn't that be healthier than crying all the time?

Yes, it would. But was it what you wanted? Not really.

"L/N!" The voice in your ear startled you to the point you nearly dropped your phone, panicking through a gasp as you fiddled to grab hold of it again.

"Wa-! Careful you nearly scared me half to death!"

"Oops, sorry!" Etsuko giggled softy, sounding as perky as ever. "I'm just excited to tell you that nobody's filling in your shift! You can still come in for ten-thirty!"

"I-I can?" You asked. After an upbeat 'yeah!' filtered through your ears, you considered your options. Remaining in the serene, quiet confines of your car with only the downfall of rain to accompany you sounded like utter bliss, given how you felt. But you felt an internal kick up the backside which told you - no... demanded you to just get over this moping attitude of yours and look on the bright side. To get over the lack of closure and simply... move on.

Yeah... if he found out you were an utter train wreck thanks to the damage he inflicted; Katsuki Bakugou would probably revel in it. He had a history of gaining pleasure from other's misfortunes... or it was rumoured he did (during his younger years, anyway). You had never wanted to believe it but you couldn't find a reason to refute it anymore. After all you had been through, it seemed to fit his character and personality more than ever. So with that fact apparent, you held a firm forefront and searched for a determined tone, and made your answer to your friend.

"You betcha I'm coming in! I'll see you in half an hour!"

Too enthusiastic? Probably. Still, it was better than acting pessimistic and hopeless. No matter, however, because that was exactly the attitude Etsuko had been hoping for.

"Alrighty!" She exclaimed, smile audible in her voice from the other end. "I can't wait to get our dynamic duo going again! I've missed you!"

"Yeah, me too, 'Suko," You hummed in agreement.

"Great! Catch ya later my partner in crime,"

"Heh. You too, dumbass," You found a reason to smile from her childish behaviour, though your choice of wording seemed to hit a nerve. It did more than that, it practically reverted all that confidence and progress you had made in the last ten minutes of being on the phone. All from one innocent word that escaped your lips.

Dumbass.

That's what he used to call you.

The phone call had ended without you even noticing, your phone still pressed to your ear as a small buzz sounded into it. You stared dead ahead, flashes of all the times he had said that word to you running through your memory. It was his form of a pet name. Some might see it as a little degrading on the surface, but you never minded. Once you learned the deeper meaning of the name, it became something equivalent to the likes of 'Sunshine' or 'Angel'. If anything, you ended up preferring it to those sorts of nicknames. Hence why Katsuki Bakugou had called you it on so many occasions.

No. Stop it. You can't let something like that bother you. Not after the efforts you just went to. Stop. Shaking yourself out of it, you returned to reality and permitted your phone to drop onto your lap. Your hand once holding it gripped onto your steering wheel, the other following shortly behind to do the same.

"I love you too, even if you're a dumbass,"

That rung in your head one final time, tormenting and mocking your present. The things you'd be willing to do to hear him say that to you one last time...

"No," You firmly shook your head, banging it lightly against the headrest to return yourself to reality. An attempt to knock those words to the back of your mind where you could lock them in a securely tight safe for the rest of eternity. "Just... just don't think about it. Easy. Just focus on what you're doing now," You reached for your keys which sat in the ignition, taking hold and turning them ever so slightly. Your car stirred to life, engine rumbling and the dials lighting up in a form of warm greeting. "You're going to work. No more feeling sorry for yourself,"

No more feeling sorry for yourself.

Your eyes set themselves on the road ahead. The vacant, dark and solitary road that didn't wait for you to make your decision. Life moved on after all, so if you were going to do anything - it was to catch up and take the winning lead.

So despite your circumstances; your inner desires and wishes and begs for what you wanted back but to no avail would ever get, you pulled out of your parking space (which had long exceeded the time limit, thankfully nobody was around to see) that drowned in pitiful rains of the night, and began to make your way down the street. In search of a place better than the one you were trapped in.

An endless road that wasn't all that clear, you were going to tackle it. Not for anyone else, unlike the last time you met difficulty and hardships. No, no, no. This time it was for your sake. All the mental energy to recover and become a better version of yourself, in the endgame it was all for you. You could push past all the deceit and lies you had been told and you could push past your normality which was him. Katsuki Bakugou. The man that hurt you as nobody had ever done before. You could create new normality without him.

A thought of forever he created and destroyed, resorted to driving alone past his street, never to be thought of again.

#katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #anime x reader #anime #x reader #angst #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou

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shihalyfie · 3 years

Text

Yamato, Adventure’s most dramatically emotional cast member

The “edgy cool bishounen rival” has been such a staple of shounen anime for years that the moment you look at Yamato and his position next to Taichi, it’s easy to go “ah, yep, there it is.” But just like how Taichi’s actually very different from the shounen hero stereotype, Yamato, despite what his first impression and character design might suggest, is in fact the complete opposite!

Actually, I’ll start this off with an interesting story from Yamato’s own voice actor, Kazama Yuuto:

Yeah. When my agent asked me which role I wanted to try out, I thought I couldn’t do a pretty boy character like him, so I was really astonished when I was chosen for the role. Afterwards, when I asked Kakudou-san [the director] about it, he said that he’d decided on me the instant I’d come in... I’d heard that Yamato was a cool character, which I thought was a part of him that didn’t agree with me. So there was that factor in the beginning. But I learned that he was actually quite similar to me, and a surprisingly passionate guy.

I don’t generally have a huge tendency to include voice actor comments in analysis about writing, but I do think it says a lot that even his own voice actor walked in expecting the typical “pretty boy rival” character to the extent that he felt he’d have difficulty doing the role at all, only for the actual nature of Yamato’s character to catch him off guard! Because, yeah, that really is the case: Yamato’s first impression really is very deceptive, and his actual personality is, indeed, full of open passion and emotion in nearly every way.

Yamato in Adventure

...No, really, it really does not take long for it to be very clear that Yamato’s immediately not like the stereotype his character archetype would suggest, considering that even as early as Adventure episode 2, he was depicted as very obviously being open about his opinions, even if that made him quick to criticize.

When you talk about “rival” characters, usually, the reason such characters seem cold and standoffish is that there’s a certain degree of pride to them, or, in other words, they want to keep up a facade of being “cool” and rational and thus aren’t quick to show their emotions. But Yamato isn’t like that at all! From the very beginning, he speaks often, is very open and honest about his thoughts, and doesn’t seem to even really care what others think at all.

The Adventure novels do, in fact, make clear that he was more closed-in prior to arriving in the Digital World, and these bursts of emotion were actually unusual behavior for him at the time -- but it’s not because he’s prideful or anything! Firstly, it wasn’t necessarily that he deliberately cut himself off from others -- rather, he was still willing to engage in some degree of friendly interaction:

It wasn’t because he was lonely. In fact, many of his classmates would greet him with a friendly “Yo!” or “Hi~!” when they came across him and, naturally, Yamato would respond back with a smile.

And, in fact, said novel indicates that there’s a lot going on deeper than him merely suppressing his emotions for the sake of it:

The people around Yamato may have thought that he was a cold, aloof person, but that was only because he didn’t show what he thought to other people. When had he become like that? He hadn’t been like that when he was younger. But after his parents decided to divorce and his mom took Takeru by the hand and left home… Don’t go! Please don’t go! Don’t leave me! The truth was, he had wanted to plead with her and cry — but he couldn’t. Part of it had to do with his father standing by his side. Maybe his mother had secretly wished for Yamato to say that to her. But at that moment, Yamato had thought that he would never show weakness in front of his mom, even if he died from it. It was his own decision to follow his dad. Ever since coming to the Digital World, even Yamato was surprised by how much emotion he expressed. All of the emotion that he’d held back while at home, at school, had come bursting out without pause.

It’s also important to understand the reasons why he blows up so easily at Taichi in Adventure episodes 3 and 6 and whatnot -- he does it because he’s constantly looking out for the others and worried about their welfare. Pretty much all of the arguments he has with Taichi for the majority of the series involve him objecting to his perception of Taichi as insensitive, because Taichi has a tendency to tease others or bid for everyone to keep pushing forward into dangerous situations or when they’re tired. So, really, Yamato gets angered and emotional and picks his fights with Taichi because he cares too much, not because he’s deliberately trying to cultivate an image of being detached. Once they were outside the range of his family and their classmates and stranded in another world, Yamato’s bleeding heart instantly won out, and he started advocating for the welfare of everyone else.

This is why Yamato’s the one who gets the Crest of Friendship, because even though he starts off by putting up a defensive wall between himself and the others and seems very difficult to deal with, even when he gets angry and upset, he’s constantly upset on other people’s behalf. Even from the very beginning of the series, he’s actually one of the most caring people in the cast!

Really, the entire first few introductory episodes with Yamato can be pretty succinctly described as Yamato coping really badly with all those years of emotional suppression and letting it out in some pretty severe outbursts, especially when it comes to Takeru, whom he’d never been able to properly take care of as an older brother due to their parents’ divorce. (And while he’s definitely a little better at managing it, Takeru himself is actually also doing a pretty bad job with that whole emotional suppression and lack of catharsis thing.) Standoffish and cold? Nah -- not when Yamato has the single highest count of openly breaking down and crying out of the whole cast in Adventure.

And, for all it’s worth, remember that stereotypical “cold rival” characters in this kind of shounen series would normally be very ashamed at others seeing them so emotional, but Yamato...doesn’t really seem to care about the others seeing him do some really embarrassingly reckless stuff during his episodes of exploding over Takeru’s welfare. Once it’s past him, he doesn’t really dwell on it and moves on. Again: Yamato isn’t the kind of person who actually cares that much about what other people think of him.

Adventure episode 18 is an often-overlooked episode when it comes to Yamato, but it’s significant because it makes it clear that he doesn’t really have a problem being conversational and friendly with others (especially since, remember, any emotional suppression had more to do with the trauma and sensitive feelings surrounding his parents’ divorce and a desire to not show weakness) -- he starts a very lighthearted, friendly chat with Koushirou over why they’re looking for their Crests, and even admits that the reason he wants his own Crest is that he’s self-conscious about the idea of everyone else changing and improving as people while he gets left behind. That’s a really personal thing to admit, and arguably something very sensitive! It’s something you wouldn’t even blame him for potentially being self-conscious about! But he’s perfectly humble in admitting that this is something he wants to improve in, and carries on this entire conversation in a light-hearted, cheerful manner.

This episode takes place during a time where everything seems to be “safe” (they’re within Piccolomon’s barrier and finally have a proper place to sleep), and are on the verge of finding their own Crests in a situation that does not ostensibly involve running for their lives, so this is when you get to see Yamato in a relaxed situation. And, really, he’s very friendly and open, with no restraint about it. He really isn’t the kind of person to be condescending or cold by nature!

It’s even more incorrect to pin Yamato as someone who tries to act more on rationality (again, like the “cold rival” stereotype would suggest) because, in fact, he’s the kind of person who gets completely carried away by his own caring for others to the extent of irrationality. For instance, in Adventure episode 23 when his conflicting loyalties to Takeru versus wanting to help Jou in his situation get all mixed up, and he tries to buy into PicoDevimon's trick to turn Jou against him as a solution to taking sides before Jou clearly indicates this is the case, and Yamato doesn't hesitate to feel really bad about it. Openly so. Condescension? Nah.

No, really, I could just keep taking screenshots from Adventure all day if you want evidence of “Yamato is openly and passionately emotional to explosive degrees because he cares too much about others, and makes no real pretense of hiding it.” If you’re still not convinced, I don’t know what to tell you.

When Yamato infamously succumbs to Jureimon’s bait in Adventure episode 44 and ends up picking a fight with Taichi -- possibly his most self-centered action in the entire series -- it’s interesting to see that Jureimon does use the word “rival”, the same word used in anime trope lingo to describe “the person you’re constantly fighting with and competing with in order to improve yourself”. The reason why this is fascinating is that Adventure is making a point here that this kind of “stereotypical anime rival” relationship would be extremely unhealthy for these characters.

No, really: at least as far as Yamato’s concerned, and what defines the kind of “friendship” these particular kids need, what these kids need is mutual emotional support, not engineered conflict that can be passed off as “they fight but it’s a sign of how much they know each other!” Remembering that Adventure is, in many ways, a series that prioritizes wanting to focus on portraying the intimate nature of human behavior, it’s not surprising that it goes out of its way to make clear that centering your relationship with a friend around needing to “outdo” them is a really bad thing. (Observe how 02′s Daisuke and Ken also don’t fit the “rivals” archetype at all and are merely a straightforward relationship of best friends in little to no conflict, despite occupying the stereotypical position.)

But Jureimon successfully digs into all of Yamato’s insecurities about his perceived lack of self-improvement and his tendency to compare himself to the polar-opposite Taichi in terms of Taichi’s charisma and way of (ostensibly) playing better to Takeru’s dislike of being coddled. And so, the engineered conflict happens, and, of course, it traumatizes everyone around them. When Yamato finally manages to get over himself after some timely intervention from “the one who seeks stability” (Homeostasis) in Adventure episode 45, everyone in the group is miserable from the ordeal.

Adventure episode 51 basically lays down the two major issues Yamato had been facing up until that point, and ties it into a neat bow: the reason Yamato had become so obsessed with self-improvement was because he wanted to prove he was "independent" and "not weak", but in the end, he still sees himself as an inferior person compared to everyone else -- culminating in him eventually seeing Taichi as a better person than him. Gabumon reaches out to Yamato by clarifying Yamato’s right to not compete, but be unique; it’s not about competing or being a “better” or “worse” version of others, it’s finding his important niche in the group or in the world with the things only he’s good at. Yamato says it in explicit words in Two-and-a-Half Year Break:

Dad doesn’t remember. On the day when we had to decide whether Takeru or I would go with him… Neither Dad or Mom could decide, so I did. I thought, this way, Takeru would be able to stay with Mom. I chose for myself. And after that, I always chose for myself. Or that’s what I’d planned to. Even though I was called a Chosen Child, it was me who was going to choose what to do. No way was I going to be used for other people’s convenience. Maybe that’s why I went so far to keep myself from making friends. But in the end, I acknowledged that what I was doing was unreasonable. After all, I’m not living in this world by myself. If I hadn’t met Gabumon, I never would have realized that. The person I am right now, is not alone.

As long as Yamato only ever sees himself as a replaceable piece meant to fill in the same niches as everyone else, he’ll continue to be horribly critical of himself for not being a perfect person and ultimately being “useless” or “not necessary”. But it’s not about being perfect or a better or worse replacement, it’s about embracing himself and what he can do in his own way, and, indeed, at the end of the episode, Yamato’s arrival on the scene makes it clear that the group ultimately needs both of them, not just one.

It’s also interesting in that, whereas most of the kids (especially in the Adventure finale) are very open about their own feelings to their own partners, Yamato and Gabumon are capable of “communicating” in some sense just by Yamato playing the harmonica. But it’s perhaps because Yamato is normally so open and passionate about his own feelings that such a tacit method is something they can do -- they’ve already bared themselves to each other so many times already, that in the end, all they need to do is just enjoy the abstract things together.

Yamato in 02 and after

So by the time we get to 02, any trace of coldness or detachment from Yamato has completely vanished.

I cannot emphasize this enough: completely vanished. Even in the middle of being a heartthrob for the teenagers in school thanks to his good looks and work with his band, he’s open and lacking in condescension whatsoever, and it’s basically like seeing the openly friendly Yamato from Adventure episode 18 for a whole series. Actually, it already says a lot that he’s in a band, considering it feels like shifting his music activities to a full-on band is there to make a deliberate statement that Yamato is now much better at socializing and working in organized groups now -- it’s a far cry from having to work solo or independently, and it’s significant that “the person who wanted to be able to do everything by himself” is now interested in doing something a bit more cooperative. (And to lend further to the idea he’s sentimental and constantly thinks of others, his band, the TEEN-AGE WOLVES, is all but confirmed to be named in indirect tribute to Gabumon.)

He’s open, conversational, makes a lot of silly faces throughout the series, and basically the only thing he has left that remotely resembles the “pretty boy rival” stereotype is that he’s deep in the aesthetic. But even then, you get the impression that he just does that because he genuinely likes it, not because he’s trying to be “cooler than you” or anything. And it’s easy to see why: Yamato, quite simply, got over himself. He stopped restraining himself all the time in his attempts to become a perfect person, and simply let himself loose to express himself how he wanted, and ultimately became a perfectly sociable and friendly person who’s now even popular at school!

Yamato’s punch on Taichi in 02 episode 10 is often taken as evidence that Taichi and Yamato embody the “rivals who constantly get in fights but are somehow still friends” trope, but this tends to avoid the actual context of the rest of the scene -- in fact, Daisuke himself rightfully points out that if Yamato had done this out of any actual anger or condescension, this would have been a really cruel thing to do to Taichi when he’s already going through so much. But Yamato’s not doing this out of resentment or condescension, he’s doing this for Taichi’s own sake to help him get out of his stupor, and the important part here is that he immediately holds out a hand to him afterwards. Or, in other words, this isn’t something they’re doing out of conflict, but out of communication, and it’s now at the point where Taichi understands Yamato’s intent, and Yamato knows that what he wanted to do would be conveyed to Taichi, without words.

That is why Taichi and Yamato are finally so close now: they understand each other’s feelings. They’re not competing with each other. They’re not resenting each other. They’re sympathetic and forgiving of each other, and they communicate, verbally or otherwise.

It’s followed by a scene in 02 episode 11 that’s also often construed as Taichi and Yamato advocating fighting as part of a healthy friendship, but, again, this omits context: they talk about their fighting in past tense! They’re referring as fighting having been part of the things they had to do to understand each other now, when they clearly aren’t in that kind of conflict anymore. The idea they’re espousing is that Daisuke and Takeru need to let out their feelings and have some catharsis if they want to truly understand each other (which is, indeed, how Taichi and Yamato eventually settled their differences) and hopefully get to a position of mutual understanding, instead of the others forcing them to have peace for the sake of peace and not letting their feelings get out on the table. (And, ultimately, Daisuke spends the rest of the episode thinking about Takeru’s position, and none of the 02 kids ever end up in this bad of a brawl for the rest of the series, yet manage to build a friendship in spite of that -- so, yes, the important part was that they had their feelings out in the open and got catharsis, not fighting in itself.)

Yamato also has an interesting role in the 02 drama CDs, including one entirely devoted to him (Letter). Said drama CD has quite a few things to note:

Gabumon says that Yamato being rather silent and not speaking up about what he’s thinking is unusual behavior for him.

As much as Yamato’s managed to do a better job opening up in general, he’s still suffering from extreme self-worth issues, considering himself as worthless if he’s not able to do anything for a girl in the hospital, even though it’s of course completely reasonable he can’t do much. Despite that, he continues to emotionally fixate on her welfare and basically self-flagellate and do a lot of pretty emotionally occupied things in the process.

Speaking of getting emotionally occupied, as much as he ends up snapping a bit at the people on the beach who keep annoying the hell out of him, he eventually feels so bad for the shaved ice seller that he forces himself to eat it just for him. (Even though it’s freezing.)

Yamato’s a really poetic person. Almost sappily so.

On top of that, Armor Evolution to the Unknown gives us an ever-so-slight glimpse of his dating life with Sora -- which, while he hadn’t been super-flagrant about, he also hadn’t been hiding either (he’s clearly willing to engage in a bit of PDA as per 02 episode 43), and, if the admittedly-kind-of-crack drama CD is to believed, he’s actually very emotionally passionate about his relationship to her, and very dedicated! Beyond just the (very sudden) passionate declaration of love to her in the middle of tap dancing, when Sora is found to have been worrying about him being cold lately, he immediately goes out of his way to try and make things right and prove his love...

Yamato’s initial appearance in Kizuna pretty much defines in a nutshell what his and Taichi’s relationship eventually turned out to be: they’re willing to banter because they’re comfortable with each other, but when it all comes down to it, they appreciate and trust each other deeply. Again, the point is that Yamato and Taichi are emotionally there for each other, considering that (even if he ribs Taichi a bit for it) Yamato’s willing to come all the way down to meet Taichi for late-night beer and talk to him through his emotional troubles.

And, yes, Yamato’s still there to be a concerned minder for Taichi and to make sure he doesn’t get too inconsiderate of what he’s doing -- but there’s no conflict over it, just the two of them balancing their necessary roles as part of the group and keeping each other in check. Again, as was made clear back in Adventure, it’s not about one person being more necessary than the other, it’s them both working together to fulfill their own roles.

As one of the central characters in the movie, Yamato’s also having an existential crisis of adulthood, and in his case, it’s that he’s playing everything too much by ear but isn’t really sure what he wants to commit to. He’s still enjoying music as a hobby, but it’s apparent he doesn’t want to commit to it as a career (which is, well, quite the common thing for those who have hobbies in middle school) -- and moreover, the novel indicates that it’s not bringing him happiness the way it used to. (The movie goes out of its way to depict Yamato feeling isolated with both a harmonica and a band, referencing that neither Adventure nor 02′s ways are doing it for him anymore.)

Beyond the motorcycle we see Yamato driving a few times in the movie, the official website profile makes it clear that this is one of his major new interests, and it’s presumably why he’s also attending an engineering school -- he can’t decide on a long-term goal, so he’ll at least experiment with the thing he likes. Yamato’s always been someone who thinks with emotions and feelings, so it fits him.

We also learn that he’s surprisingly studious, and is picking up some things that run contrary to his image (the glasses!), including the fact he seems to like school enough that he wants to do more school while he figures out what he wants to do. This is something that happens in real life for a certain kind of person in a career-based existential crisis -- as many people as there are who play very badly with educational structures, there are also people who rely very heavily on the structure of college or grad school basically handing you tasks to do on a plate, and find the job market to be scarier than staying within that bubble. It’s not too unreasonable to imagine that Yamato, who in certain ways has never really been the kind of person to assertively have an idea of “this is what I want to do!” and generally works by immediate feelings instead of long-term goals, would end up becoming that kind of person. As he says, it’s really just him trying to postpone the inevitable decision and get a grace period.

Since “shutting out one’s own partner (and therefore one’s own inner self)” is key to the cause of partner dissolution, Yamato’s way of it isn’t as direct as Taichi or Sora (who end up actively shutting out their partners in a bid to become an adult), but is most certainly there -- especially when he’s the one who drops a mocking line about the idea of bringing Gabumon to his school. (It’s not about whether it’s actually doable or not; it’s the fact that he laughs and scoffs at how stupid this is.) The fact he treats friends drifting apart as an “inevitable” thing, and eventually is shown very obviously to be keeping Gabumon out of the phone conversations (in stark contrast to the 02 quartet going out of their way to keep them involved on the other end) ultimately boils down to: neglect. Yamato’s coasting by on everything he likes, but it also means he’s just letting everything happen, instead of consciously pursuing things and passionately following things with gusto, the way he used to.

But we do see Yamato’s single-minded and passionate side come out again -- while Taichi shuts down and ruminates on what to do about his impending loss of Agumon, Yamato’s the one who desperately runs around trying to figure something out, recruiting the 02 quartet into it, losing sleep over it, and eventually having a passionate confrontation with Taichi as the climax approaches. (Note that this, again, is not a real conflict in nearly the same way the two of them would be spitting insults at each other all the way back in Adventure; it’s just the two baring their own feelings, and Yamato quickly accepts Taichi’s answer very easily because he, too, feels the same. Again: they’ve become very good at communicating.)

Yamato does eventually let Gabumon back into his periphery instead of neglecting him so much, and their final scene together in the movie involves them resuming their old method of tacit communication that they’d once shared together, with Yamato playing the harmonica. It’s a sign of Yamato finally embracing those things in the past that used to make him happy rather than cultivating an uncomfortable relationship with it just because he’d kicked it out of his career prospects, and ultimately coming to terms with what he likes and what makes him happy.

And speaking of career prospects...

The question of “why did Yamato become an astronaut?” is one that’s infamously weirded out people all over the globe because of how much it clashes with his image, and how much of a kind of “out-there” thing it is that had virtually no precedent whatsoever in Yamato’s prior hobbies. (Although, if you really think about it, space travel isn’t that huge of a hurdle as it sounds for a world like this where Digital Gates exist to bend space-time; you just send a probe with a Digital Gate link up there...) The original meta reason was, simply, that it was a holdover from one of the original ideas for the third Adventure series, in which they would be investigating forces that were obstructing evolution from space. (The original logical progression was that Adventure would have a threat from the Digital World, 02 a threat from the real world, so the theoretical third series would be space...) When you think about which of the original Tokyo Chosen Children would be the most likely to actively pursue this route, it actually is likely to be Yamato, given that Taichi is more of a person who’s an overall leader and coordinator, whereas Yamato, who’s much more up-front aggressive and openly passionate, would be more likely to want to tackle the situation with his own hands.

Kizuna -- or, more specifically, its novel -- offers another (and not mutually exclusive!) explanation:

While studying at graduate school, Yamato came up with a dream he had for his future. He wanted to study cosmology, and become an astronaut. The way there would not be easy. There was a whole mountain of things he’d have to do to get there. But Yamato had a certain ambition in mind. Someday, he was going to go to space with Gabumon. Whenever he thought of that future, Yamato was willing to do anything to get there.

Remembering that Yamato was at an engineering school (presumably originally from the motorcycles connection), it seems that he eventually “ran into” the career option by chance and happenstance, and thought about it and decided he wanted to follow it for the sake of going with Gabumon. It’s a very “romantic” and sappy kind of “out-there” dream, and, actually, that’s the point -- Yamato is a ridiculous romanticist, the kind of person who waxed about barbecue back in Adventure episode 6, and compared his relationship with Takeru to Hikoboshi and Orihime back in 02 episode 17, and spouted a bunch of poetic words at the sea during Letter. And, remember, he’s always been openly shameless and passionate about everything he’s felt and liked, and has never cared what other people would think.

And in the context of Kizuna, where Yamato was slowly losing touch with himself and his passions and eventually lost Gabumon as a result, it’s a very important sign that everything’s on its way back to healing, and that he’ll be able to achieve that future where they meet again.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #ishida yamato #yamato ishida #shihameta #kizuna spoilers

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hotchley · 3 years

Text

by any other name

So I wrote the fic inspired by this post. It's too long for a drabble. I kinda hate it. It's not been proofread and there's little plot. It's a bit anticlimactic, but it was fun in the moment and I need to go to sleep so... yeah. We're going with it. There's a happy ending!

Trigger Warnings: intrusive thoughts, past child abuse, trauma, trauma responses, implied panic attacks, food mention, blood mention, death mention, slight implication of past dissociative episodes, religion, religious trauma, religious themes

read on ao3!

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Aaron remembers being told that as a young boy, shifting in his seat because the clothes his mother made him wear to church were uncomfortable. It had confused him. He'd spent so long being told hell was for bad things- sometimes he was included in that list- that good seemed to be the exact opposite of that.

He'd tried to ask his mother, but she had silenced him with a look. He didn't even bother looking at his father.

Later he realised what it meant, and found himself agreeing. After all, his father was a terrible man who hurt everyone he touched, but he always said it was with good reason. Aaron hasn't set foot in a church since Haley was buried, yet he still finds himself wishing one of the men who made his life a misery is burning in hell.

He tries to not think about the implications of that too much.

The proverb comes to mind again as he argues with Jack. Not over anything serious- not in the grand scheme of things. But to a seven-year-old boy, navigating life without his mother, it is the most important thing in the world.

They're arguing over shoes.

Jack wants to wear sandals. His father wants him to wear trainers. Hotch had checked the weather forecast that morning- it was going to rain. And he didn't want Jack catching a cold because of it.

But then Jack's bottom lip starts to quiver, and he looks to his father like he's being told his mother is in heaven and Aaron thinks of the meaning behind the words. If he doesn't let this go, then what's to say he'll need to have the next thing go his way. And the thing after that. And the thing after that.

What's to say that when Jack looks back, wondering where everything went wrong and he stopped being his father's son, he will realise it was this moment?

"Okay. Okay, wear the sandals, and then let's get going," Aaron says.

Jack, completely and blissfully unaware- as he should be- of what his father has been thinking, grins, his earlier sadness forgotten. He puts his other shoe on and then runs out the door. Aaron picks up his bag and coat, smiling slightly at the trust Jack has in his ability.

Jack's teacher smiles at them when they get to his classroom. Knowing Aaron is running late, she just takes Jack's things and bids him goodbye. The relief visibly crosses his face as he realises he won't have to make small talk. He goes to tell her about Jack's bag, but she waves him away.

She's seen enough interactions between children to know what's going on. It's why she's so unsurprised when she opens his bag to see his trainers and favourite socks are neatly tucked away for when it does inevitably rain and soak him.

Aaron makes it to work on time. Of course he does.

"Morning Hotch," Anderson says when they get into the elevator together.

He's one of the few people to follow the "no inter-team profiling" rule, so he doesn't notice how some of the tension seems to bleed out of his boss' shoulders once the nickname is used. Doesn't even realise how Hotch gives him a slight smile when his back is turned.

He steps out, and everything is as it should be.

The ghost of his father may be haunting him more than usual, but Aaron spent most of his life being ignored. He knows how to hide. He knows how easy it is to forget about someone when you bury yourself in something else.

So that's exactly what he does. He logs into his computer, and he starts making his way through emails. By the time Emily- always the last to arrive, yet always on time- sits down, taking a few minutes to speak to the others, he's gotten through all the ones that came in last night.

His ear is hurting, but he chooses to ignore it as much as he can. Halfway through his second file, he opens his door. Spencer taps Derek, and a few minutes later, the rest of the team is assembled to collaborate on a profile. It means lots of talking, and the occasional shuffling of papers. It means noise, but not so much that it's unbearable.

Aaron smiles, and it feels like the ghost of his father fades. He is loved. He is cared for. He is worth time and effort.

Despite the nature of their work, he's in a good mood as the day continues.

By lunchtime, the memory of his father is breathing down his neck, criticising everything he does. His posture is crooked. His notes are too messy. His profile isn't good enough, and the killer is going to get away with their crimes.

Just like Michael Hotchner.

He has no idea where the sudden bad day is coming from, but he can't shake it now. He will not waste the day and he will not give in, but it is just one of those days where the pain is so much more than he thinks he can tolerate. He wishes he knew how to cope properly, but he doesn't.

His pen suddenly snaps. He'd been holding it too tightly, and now his hands are covered in red ink. He was annotating. He always annotates in red, but now, as it stains his hands, all he sees is Haley's blood. Foyet's. Elle's. Kate's.

There are no tissues in his room. So he goes to the bathroom, hoping the team doesn't see what's happened. They don't, but they do hatch a plan.

Again: the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

The short walk does nothing to clear his head, and every second he spends looking at the file is a second in which he thinks about the pen just suddenly breaking. How did he not realise? How did he not know? This time it was the pen. A thing.

What happens when it's a person? Then what?

He thinks he hears someone call his name. But that's ridiculous. It's too late for lunch, and too early for anything else. If someone needed something, they would've knocked on his door, especially with his ears acting up the way they were.

"Aaron Michael Hotchner," Derek shouts.

He doesn't like using Aaron's full name, but they got him a doughnut from his favourite bakery, and he can't be bothered to walk all the way up to his office. Also, Aaron didn't respond the first three times they called for him, so if anything, the shock will force him away from his desk for a few moments. God only knows how much he needs it.

Aaron doesn't hear Derek's voice.

He hears the echo of his father.

His throat starts to close. His vision starts to blur.

There is nowhere to hide. Not in his office. He used to have spots, just in case, but Jack hates it. Jack cannot stand it, so Aaron got rid of all the things that made it possible. He would never make his son hurt the way his father made him hurt, and maybe to him that is nothing, but when Jack grows up- because he will, in time- he will realise how brave his father has always been.

But that is the future.

In the present, Aaron has nowhere to turn.

The walls are closing in.

The voice is getting louder. It is getting closer. The danger is coming towards him, and he has nowhere to hide. He has nowhere to turn.

"Aaron?" Someone says.

He lets out a sound. He presses his hand to his mouth. He cannot take it back, but he won't make another one. It will only make things worse for him. He learnt that lesson long ago.

"Hotch." A different voice. A safe voice.

He turns in that direction.

He doesn't see it, but Derek Morgan's face is filled with relief and anger and sadness all at once. Because it suddenly makes sense.

"Aaron" has been tainted by the mouth of the man who gave his friend his middle name. That man and his actions are the reason Jack's middle name is Derek, not Aaron. "Hotch" has never passed Michael's lips, and it never will. "Hotch" is the man, who didn't even flinch when a bullet wedged itself in the wall next to his head.

Aaron is the boy that cried himself to sleep, wondering why his father couldn't love him the way he was meant to.

"Hotch. You're safe. Breathe with me," he says.

Hotch does.

When the panic passes, the heat rises to his cheeks, and he silently pleads with Derek to not say a word. He realises now that the other voice was Dave. Dave, who has left the room. He feels like he's failed another father.

The door and blinds are closed. He's lost all sense of time, but he feels grounded, so it isn't too concerning.

"Thank you," he whispers. For everything, goes unsaid.

"You don't need to do that," Derek replies. Because it's not difficult. Not when it's you, are the words unspoken but still communicated.

Aaron manages a weak smile. It will be a silent understanding between them, just like so many other things.

"Would you like a moment?" Derek asks him.

Hotch doesn't trust his voice, so he just nods. Derek leaves him.

Only once he stops hearing the footsteps does he break.

He doesn't scream, even though he wants to. It has been thirty years. His body stopped knowing the touch of that man long ago, and yet every waking moment feels like it is ruled by him. He hates it, but Michael- for better or for worse- made him the man he is today, and there is no way to shake that.

Realistically, he knows that he is responsible for his actions, and that he was only influenced by his father up to a certain point, but when the tears are falling and dampening his trousers- not his shirt, they'll be too obvious- rationale is hard to cling to.

He walks down ten minutes later.

The team has been guarding his doughnut. Of course they have.

Hotch's eyes are red. Nobody comments. But everyone knows. Everyone understands now.

It is an uncomfortable silence, and it is uncomfortable to watch him try and pretend he is perfectly fine, but at least he got his treat, even though it tastes like dust in his mouth.

They get it now. Why he is always so adamant about being called Hotch. Why he hates the use of his first name. Why he so violently objected to the tradition of giving Jack his name as a middle name. Because he doesn't want his son to never be free of him.

Jack will one day give his children their grandfather's name, citing him as the greatest man he's ever known.

Again, that is the future.

In the present moment, Spencer calls him Hotch without a second thought. Dave stops calling him Aaron when he wants to get a point across, realising it only works due to fear. Emily continues to make slight alterations to the nickname that either get her an eye roll or look of horror. JJ and Penelope make sure any notes written to him use Hotch.

Derek doesn't change a thing, because their bond has always been different.

Jack comes home in trainers, understanding how much his father loves him.

It makes Hotch understand that his wishes are valid. His needs matter. His comfort is important to people.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the personalities attached to Hotchner, Hotch and Aaron merge into one.

And then Hotch introduces himself as Aaron.

The road to hell may be paved with good intentions, but intentions and actions are very different things that can completely alter the destination someone finds themselves at. And a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, so whether he is Hotch or Aaron, he is a good man, who found a way to defeat their father.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #sad aaron hotchner #tw intrusive thoughts #tw past child abuse #tw trauma #tw trauma response #tw food mention #tw blood mention #tw death mention #tw religion #tw religious trauma #tw religious themes

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jschlattsbabydoll · 3 years

Text

Thunderclouds PT. 2 (Chishiya Shuntaro x Reader)

“How will you use me again this time, Chishiya?”

A/N: I’m sorry. This just keeps on bugging me in the head.

I just want to release this and then move on with other stories.

By the way, I’m currently thinking on opening request, but I’m thinking a lot about it because I have work. I might limit them to a certain number. I still really don’t know. Help?

And Is smut allowed here? If not maybe I’ll open ng ao3 again?

Thank you so much for dropping by! Please enjoy the story!

Link for part 3 >>>> Thunderclouds Pt. 3

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

As the walls of the beach burned down after the 10 of hearts game, you removed your number band from your wrist.

Finally, you can work on your own and not be afraid with others that are superior than you… Especially now, you can now run away from Chishiya.

You were so angry… He has used you, not only you but including Arisu and Usagi for his filthy fucking plans. When you just thought that he loves you, that he feels something for you.

You walked towards Usagi, who was crying as Arisu has fainted from his injuries, “Usagi, I’ll… part ways with you two… I think I need to look for my own way.” You said, Usagi looks at you,

“You can come with us.”

“No… I don’t want to be a burden.” You said sadly, “And I want to run away from the mess that I was with…” you stopped as a tear fell down, “I was so in love with him, Usagi. If I stay with you, I might just break down multiple times and I might stop you from yours and Arisu’s objectives.”

“Are you sure?” Usagi asked, she placed Arisu on the ground gently, you nodded,

Usagi stood up, and went to you. She hugged you tight, “Thank you so much for the help you given us. I wouldn’t have seen Arisu again if it wasn’t for you and the others.”

You smiled, “’That’s nothing. I’m happy to be friends with you two. I’m happy to help whoever I’m close with.” You gently pat the girl’s back,

“I’m sorry about Chishiya. I thought he could be trusted.” Usagi said as she slowly withdraw from the hug that she has given you,

“Me too.” You said, “I’m so mad for what he did. He used us… He used me not just for his plans, but for his pleasure… I feel so dirty, Usagi.”

“It’s not your fault.” Usagi placed her hand on your back, tears slowly fell on your face, sobs wrack your body. You don’t know what to do anymore.

After picking your self up, you bid your goodbyes between the two, and left them. You walked by yourself, as you reached the bridge near the sea, someone has wrapped their arms around you from behind, “Leaving without me?” you heard a familiar voice asked,

You started to wiggle, you’re fighting his embrace, “You! You fucking asshole! Let go of me, you manipulative piece of shit!” you finally got out of his grasp, “Don’t you dare fucking follow me!”

You continued walking slowly, you heard him follow you. It angered you on how thick face he still is after what he has done. Usagi was almost raped, Arisu almost died, and then you were almost killed by militants due to Aguni’s orders. You saw his eyes, when he was praised by Aguni, there were no remorse at all. You saw his smirk it was filled with pride that his plan went well, because he has manipulated you into doing what he likes,

And to top it all off, everything what he said, every promise he has made…. He didn’t feel anything, when you almost died.

You started to run, run because you want to get away from him. You went the fastest as you can, never stopping. Never looking back. Your mind asked you to run, because your heart can’t take any heartaches, if he betrays you again.

Your body is giving up, you slowly stop. You don’t know where you are, but all that matters is your far away from him. Your heart is pounding fast, and you are breathing in and out quickly. Your tears started to fall then your knees gave up on you, you fell to your knees.

“I told you before, you can’t escape me.” You heard someone, You looked behind you and saw Chishiya, he was breathing hard, he chased you. You saw him walking towards you,

You immediately tried to stand up, but you were too late… He caught you by the wrist, you tried to break from his grip, but to no avail. He was making sure now that he can’t let you run by this time. You stopped fighting his grip…

“I love you.” You heard him say, you looked into his eyes and you slapped him on the cheek as hard as you can,

“If you loved me then why!? WHY?!” you screamed at him, “Why did you fucking use me!?” you stopped and took a breath, “I understood now, why you kept me for all these months, telling me that I was important to you. That you can’t lose me.” You laughed, “You knew that words wouldn’t get to me, so you needed something stronger, you used sex! Because you knew that I would grow feelings little by little, until I could no longer leave you by your side. “

It was true, you couldn’t leave him no longer. When Chishiya started to initiate plan, you asked to stay by his side, so you can be with him just incase that something would happen. But he insisted that you should stay with Usagi and then watch out for the militants, since Arisu was going to infiltrate the royal room and get all of the cards. You were so keen to stay by his side, so that you could save him if something was to fail in his plan.

“But now that you have used me for all of your lies, you left me alone to die!” You angrily said, as slowly tears fell again in your eyes,

Chishiya’s eyes were just intently looking at you, there were no emotions at all. “Now you’re here, you’re trying to get my emotions again. How will you use me again this time, Chishiya?”

“I’m sorry.” Chishiya said, as he slowly let go of your hands, “I miscalculated the plan. I should have… I should have taken you with me during the whole process. I thought that Arisu wouldn’t be that stupid to think that the safe would just hidden inside a cabinet. If I only knew, then I would have kept you by my side.”

You listened, but, still you’re angry,

“The time that you were being forced out the room after Aguni has given me the praise. I couldn’t bring myself to stop them from hurting you, that would ruin the plans that I made for many years. All I did was continue the plans that I did. After I did everything, I was going to go outside and will do my normal routine to watch and try to spy on people to know on where they would take you. But the game started, I tried to look for you everywhere, but when I saw you with Usagi and Arisu, I didn’t try to go near you…” he stopped, he was losing his composure,

“I felt bad after. I don’t feel bad on what I did to Usagi and Arisu. But I felt bad what I did towards you. The bruises that you have right now, is all because of me. I just watched everything on the second floor, trying to observe. I wanted to get to you. But I felt… shame.”

“Wow… You felt shame. Unbelievable. “, you said, “You never showed me any emotions, yet you come to me every night, using me for my body. Now you feel shame?”

All he can do is look at you, “Just leave me alone, Chishiya. I’ve had enough of your lies, schemes, and manipulativeness. I thought somehow you loved me.”

“I do.” He says, then he looked to the ground, still no emotions.

You scoffed, “No… You don’t. This is all a game for you.” You turned your back to him,

“Please don’t leave me…” He said, “I don’t beg at all, but for you I will. I’m trying my best to cope up with these feelings. I never had them before and I don’t want to lose it now. Because this is the only time I’ll ever leave my guard up for love.”

You started to walk, “I beg of you. I can’t protect you if you're too far away. I can’t lose you.”

“Do whatever you want, Chishiya. Beg, cry, even threaten me… I don’t care as of right now. “, You feel empty, your body hurts, so as your heart.

“Just leave me alone for a while. Please.” You said, then you walked away from him.

Thunderclouds >>>>>> Part 3

Chishiya knows he can’t leave you, so he’ll follow you secretly for now.

[TBC]

#chishiya x reader #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya #alice in borderland #kuina alice in borderland #niragi #niragi imagines #alice in bordeland imagine

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it-was-summer · 3 years

Text

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 6 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry for being so inactive, I just started up college again this semester and it’s been a long week and it’s only Wednesday. I think I might try to update Sunday every week starting next week so we will see how that works out!

Warnings: Soft mention of drugs once again, They are just talking again and things are being put in motion.

Plot: Spencer and you have conversations and make some plans. You have a certain kind of dream.

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer could feel his cheeks grow warm, a grin creeping its way onto his face. There was the pesky idea of fate repeating in the back of his mind. Spencer suppressed the idea, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He was too busy zoning out, thinking about how easy the smile on his face appeared when he heard your voice, not noticing the growing silence over the line. “Spencer?” your voice called through the phone.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m here!” Spencer laughed quickly, clearing his throat nervously. “Why are you up?”

He heard you laughing over the phone, nervous knots twisting in his stomach. “Spencer, it’s seven o’clock.” You giggled, feeling lighter than you had all day. You heard him laugh nervously at himself as he muttered an embarrassment, “Right.”

Spencer licked his lips, “Why did you call?” he questioned, trying his best to relax on his couch.

You felt the weight in your chest replace the butterflies, swallowing hard. You had kept it all in, it was hard to pick the reason for your call. You took in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Things have just been piling up, and I feel like I need some help.” your fingers pinched the comforter between your thumb and index.

“What kind of things have been piling up?” Spencer asked, straightening as he listened.

You pinched the comforter tighter, jaw clenching down. You didn’t want to cry with Dr. Spencer Reid on the phone. Maybe it was because you hated feeling vulnerable. You tried your best to relax and remember that he wouldn’t judge you, he said to call if you needed anything, and you did. “I don’t want to say something stupid,”

“You won’t,”

“Well, it kind of started when I left the hospital. I had a dream, a memory, one night. I could feel her, she wasn’t there, because she’s dead! Then,” you let out a calming breath, “Then, I was in my mom’s kitchen, and I saw this pink light. I was back there, like in the room, I could feel it, smell it.” You shivered, overwhelming anxiety dawning on you.

You felt safe with Spencer, you couldn’t explain why you did, but you did. Was it because he was the first face you saw that day? Or because he had come to check up on you in the hospital?

Despite your overwhelming feeling of trust towards Spencer, you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in the back of your mind that told you he thought you were crazy. Clammy hands rubbed against your pajama pants in a desperate attempt to dry them.

Spencer wanted to spew statistics, say something about how many victims experience post-traumatic stress disorder, but he stopped himself. He wanted to dig deeper, he wanted you to know you weren’t alone. He cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. “I know what it’s like, to feel like they’re still around. It seems irrational to think that a dead person is around, that getting saved was all a dream, but I know what it’s like.”

Your heart rate slowed at his words, closing your eyes as you chuckled gently. “You just have to say that because you're my federal agent,” teasing him softly over the phone.

“Hey, that’s Doctor federal agent to you.” Spencer joked, a tiny chuckle building up in his throat. “I’m saying it because I know,” he ruffled his hair as he tried to think about what to say, falling back into a silent panic. He wasn’t used to talking to people about it, especially people that he didn’t know. He tried to recall his emotions, trying his hardest to remember. He wanted to be a beacon of light for you, something to follow, something to trust. He swallowed hard, “About two years ago, I was kidnapped,”

“Spencer,” your tone was so soft, so sweet, he felt his chest pound. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” You heard a gentle protest on the other line, shushing him. “Spencer, really, it already means the world to me that you gave me your number. You didn’t even have to pick up and yet, you did.”

Spencer hesitated, wanting to insist that he was fine with talking about it, to insist that it didn’t bother him, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew that it wasn’t something he was comfortable with talking about and you were right. He didn’t even know you, but here he was trying to convince you that you were safe. That you weren’t alone. “I’m sorry,”

“For what?”

Spencer grinned, feeling lame as he searched for an answer. After a few moments of silence, you spoke up again, “Spencer, I’m not working right now and I’m always alone,” you trailed off, your cheeks flaring, “Well, I was wondering if I could keep calling you. As long as you aren’t busy,”

You were waiting to hear Spencer’s calming voice reject you, but you could hear the excitement in his voice as he answered with an enthusiastic “Yes,”

You felt your chest tighten, “I’ll call you tomorrow at eight?”

“Eight sounds good,”

“Okay,”

You quickly said a nervous goodbye, hanging up after hearing Spencer bid you farewell.

---

It was night, cool breezes blew through your hair, as you looked up with a smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands holding your hips. You ignored the excitement shooting down your spine, your body feeling nuclear under his touch, your emotions being the bomb and his touch was the impact. You felt so wonderfully warm if something touched you, you were sure it would heat up in a second.

You felt his hands move away, pulling at his neck for a thick scarf, wrapping it around your neck delicately, pulling you closer by the ends of it. He laughed, peppermint filling your senses, leaning down quickly. You caught a glance of hazel eyes before you woke up in your lonesome bed.

A pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you push yourself up on your bed, blinking as you registered who you were just dreaming about. You let out a whisper of a desperate no, dramatically falling back down onto the bed with a groan. Your hands rubbed your eyelids, trying not to picture Spencer leaning down, trying not to remember how he smelt of peppermint. How did you even know that? You scolded yourself as you got up, throwing on some semi-appropriate clothes and heading for the door with your crutches.

You needed some air, you knew he was in your dreamland of romance because he was the last person you talked to last night. After the phone call, you spent the rest of the long night on your bed with a copy of The Picture Of Dorian Gray. Why couldn’t demonic Dorian Gray live in your dreamland? You limped into the coffee shop, holding back a giddy smile as you gave Spencer Reid’s lips one last thought.

You had spent the rest of your day, doing mindless tasks; you read, you cleaned, watched mindless television, anything to keep yourself distracted. Your mind kept drifting towards darker ends, today seemingly worse than the last. Your body yearning desperately for numbing bliss, a gentle reminder that despite all of your romantic dwellings you were still living in an unbearable existence.

You were about to endure another episode of staring up at the ceiling when there was a gentle knock at the door. You welcomed the distraction with a grin, hobbling as fast as you could, over to the door. You opened it to see a delivery woman smiling back at you as she handed you a tiny package, you signed for it quickly and politely shut the door. You sat at your kitchen table, opening the package with a tiny struggle.

It was free from all the tape now, but you couldn’t stop the sick feeling from eating at you. What if you had another stalker? How stupid were you to just bring a package into your house? After everything that had happened, you cursed yourself for your carelessness. You swallowed a quick gulp of air, opening up the package slowly. You let out the air with a tiny gasp, seeing a tiny card on the inside that read Spencer. The note was right next to a box of peppermint tea and a small copy of Oscar Wilde’s The Nightingale and the Rose.

You tried not to let it get to you as fire decorated your cheeks, you opened the note quickly, reading messy handwriting.

Y/N,

Since you said you were always alone, let this keep you company.

-Spencer

You bit the inside of your cheek, heart racing as your stomach filled with the fluttering wings of butterflies. Before you could let your mind go any farther, you suppressed them, choking the life out of beating wings in your stomach. It wasn’t fair to him, to Spencer. He was too good and you were here in your apartment, yearning for a drug to satisfy you. He didn’t need that. He shouldn’t have to fix you and he wasn’t going to be your coping mechanism.

You stood up, grabbing the peppermint tea, slipping it into the cabinet with a dramatic huff. On your way back to the couch you grabbed the book, sitting down and letting it do the job of keeping you company.

After a cup of peppermint tea, you called Spencer’s phone. You felt a very familiar lump grow in your throat as you heard the first ring. Despite being in the good company of a good book, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. It seemed that thoughts of him kept you more company than anything Oscar Wilde could produce. You let yourself be convinced that he was just a friend, that he was just someone trying to help you get through a rough patch. He was just someone who understood.

Another ring. You squeezed your eyes tight, the sudden urge to hang up the phone was becoming slightly overwhelming. You were about to hang up the phone at the third ring, but then you heard a very breathless “Hello?”

Anxiety exited your system, warmth replacing the void effortlessly. “Hi,” you chuckled, hearing a heavy pant on the other end of the line, “Did I interrupt a workout routine?”

“No,” Spencer let out a breathy laugh, relaxing at the sound of your voice. It was a welcome distraction from his day, they didn’t have a case, it was just a long day. “I was just cleaning up,”

“Is the doctor dirty?” you questioned, the word choice setting in as your cheeks became a light pink, stuttering to fix your mistake. “I mean, messy! Are you messy?”

Spencer didn’t think the question was all that odd till he realized that it could have been taken out of context and then he let out a tiny chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “No, I’m not dirty, just cluttered,” he answered, a smile on his lips. “Did you get the package?”

“Yes,” Your voice rising in volume with excitement, “I did, it was perfect. Thank you so much.” A tiny piece of guilt slithering into your mind as you stole a glance over at the book next to you. You were about to speak when Spencer cut you off.

“I was just thinking about what you said last night and thought it would cheer you up,”

Your guilty thoughts came to a halt, a blush creeping its way towards your ears as you let out a gentle, “It did,”

“I’m glad it did,”

You let out a soft hum, trying to come up with something to say. You wanted to ask him how his day was, or ask him how he was feeling. But all of those questions seemed weak. You could’ve told him that you wanted to be friends, but your emotions decided for you. “Would you be alright with going out, like as friends?”

“As friends?”

“I would like us to go out as friends, yes.” your voice shook slightly with anxiety as you waited for his response.

Spencer couldn’t fight back the laugh bubbling in his chest, chuckling at how nervous you seemed. “I would love to,”

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you might think I’m weird or something?”

“Y/N,”

“Yes?”

“I would want nothing more than to go out with you, as a friend, that is.”

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watery-lane · 3 years

Text

Words into Smoke

The Night You Cared Sequel.

Pairing: Modern!Ivar Lothbrok x Reader

Summary: As a part of his therapy, Ivar writes letters to unwind and keep track of his mental health progress. He writes to his mom, he misses her. He writes to Sigurd, sometimes he regrets his departure. One night, he writes about her.

Warnings: Angst

Words: 3864

A/N: (3/5/20) I had this idea in my head that I simply could not let go.

(10/4/21) P.S: Can’t promise I’m back, but I’m definitely turning to writing as a way of winding down. I hope you guys are alright.

Part I / Part II / Epilogue

Some nights, while the city sleeps, Ivar stays awake. Like an owl looking for a prey, the Ragnarsson remains seated upright at the edge of his bed, his now heavily tattooed chest exposed to the world through the panoramic window, heaving. Beating.

Some nights were amazing. He got his drivers license, and Freydis got him an adapted Bentley as a gift. He would spend the nights driving by himself down the empty streets of Kattegat, not worrying about speeding tickets or angry neighbours.

Not so long ago, he learned his wife was finally carrying a child, her round belly reminding him that he had a legacy to keep, now that the Lothbrok dynasty seemed to be more fragmented than ever. After spending thousands of krone on in vitro fertilisation, the universe seemed to work in his favour. Their favour. If the gods were unwilling to bless them two, science would. These were the nights that were made for celebrations, champaign showers and water for the mother to be.

Some nights were alright. Ivar would come back after a long day of meetings and getting his ass kissed, to find Freydis immersed in her little personal projects. He would tell Erik to pick up some takeaway while he washed away the power and wrapped himself in mundane clothes. He would eat in silence, elbows propped on the counter and eyes on the horizon, watching the sun kiss the skyscrapers goodbye as he mindlessly put food in his mouth. Then he would take his new baby for a ride, to the bar he now owned with his brother Hvitserk.

Ivar would go there, check the inventory and the register, ask the employees how everything was going and what could he do for them. Sometimes he would also find Hvitserk at the bar, practicing the cocktail skills he had been mastering since he took over your share of the bar. Ivar would simply walk past, not entirely avoiding making contact with his sibling but prefering to keep a healthy distance from the person that substituted you. He started visiting the local more often after you left, feeling the responsibility to continue what you started. He found peace in the simplicity of managing a bar: at the office, he was a tyrannic boss, voice always booming through the walls, keeping both employees and investors in check. At the bar, he was just the young lovestruck Ivar he once was. He understood then, why you wished to escape from it all. You are just a memory now, but sometimes he still feels you around, checking on the girls, checking on him.

Some nights were... Painful. Therapy had a big presence in his life. He no longer needed a cane thanks to nurse Hansen, his physical therapist. But on some days, the stress and the weather would simply take a toll on his legs, forcing him to carry around that metal stick that reminded him that he was, in fact, human.

Before you left, Freydis figured out a question that would calm Ivar down and make him focus: “What would Dr. Nielsen tell you to do?”. That was how she got him to control himself and open up the last time he was onstage, the night she met you. They were just engaged back then. Oh, how quick did time pass. Ivar no longer organised events like that. He was too consumed by his two jobs. There were nights where Freydis would be on business trips, or out hanging out with friends until the next morning, nights where absences were felt more than presences. But he was coping now. Dr. Nielsen helped the youngest Lothbrok greatly since his great breakdown.

Ivar had thought he physically felt his heart break the night he got down the stage to find you, only to figure out you were gone after most of the guests had left the hotel ballroom. He felt compelled to call you dozens of times to ask for an explanation. After his calls went unanswered, he decided to drive around town in search of you, not knowing where to start, not knowing where to ask, anger poisoning his brain and taking over his actions. That night he stayed at Loki’s after barging in to see if you were hiding there like “the coward you were”. He hated the fact that you could make him feel that weak. It felt like he was putty and Freydis was fire, hardening him the more he was exposed to her. You were water, turning him into a pliable being, at mercy of your actions.

For five days in a row, he found himself staying at his office until late at night, observing his office telephone with attention and indecision, silently praying for you to pick up the phone, practicing the rage filled words he was about to rain down on you the moment you uttered a response. He prayed with ill intentions, but he prayed nonetheless. It was his last resort.

The earth seemed to crack open and swallow him whole the moment he gathered all his courage and dialed your number, only to hear an automated voice telling him that the number no longer existed. He sat there, phone on his hand as a white noise took over the voice message, thinking about the different possibilities that could have happened for you to cancel your line. Maybe, he thought. Maybe I really asked for too much this time.

“Fuck no,” Ivar reflected out loud as he tossed his phone away, “In no fucking way this is my fault.”

“Ivar?” A distant voice reverberated through the glass corridors. It sounded familiar. The youngest Ragnarsson frowned, weirded out by the fact that one of his brothers was still in the office this late.

It wasn’t just one of his brothers, but the three of them.

“Freydis called us asking where you were. You’ve been out late at night for many days in a row, she literally just confronted each one of us asking whether you were having an affair.” Hvitserk said, arms crossed as he leaned on the door frame. “That woman nearly dragged each one of us out to look for you.” Ivar pursed his lips, outraged by such accusations from his then fiancée.

“Well, tell her I’d never do such thing.” He answered, swatting his hand in annoyance. “I am surprised she came to that conclusion, knowing how busy I always am as the bloody CEO!” He exclaimed, letting the following silence fill the room as he flashed a disdainful look towards his brothers.

“Why are you here, brother?” Ubbe finally dared to ask, observing his youngest sibling sway in his chair from side to side.

Ivar looked up for a brief moment, like a puppy who lost his favourite toy, and decided to tell them the whole story. That the had the hunch you were back from a strange event where someone knocked on his penthouse door. To that, Ubbe awkwardly shifted in his place, still listening intently. Ivar explained that he sent you an invite to his inaguration gala and how he asked you to stay for his speech so you could have a dance afterwards, unaware of the utterly personal turn his speech would take just because an old man decided to drink a bit more than usual that night. How he waited for you, called you and looked for you tirelessly, frustration filling his voice as he talked about how you had been avoiding him for a week now, changing your phone number in the process.

“If she thinks she can avoid me by changing numbers she’s dead wrong. We’re business partners, for fucks sake!” He complained, registering the situation as a burden. “I’ll find her new phone sooner or later.”

Unbeknownst Ivar, tension had been gradually building up as he spoke, his three brothers standing still in their places, not knowing how to break the news. Sure they knew this day would come, but none of the three expected to be trapped with the ticking bomb. It was way too soon. Too recent.

Hell, it was about you. It was most likely no amount of time would soften the blow.

Ubbe took a step forward, leaning on the hardwood desk. With a resigned tone, he mumbled:

“She’s gone, Ivar.” He swallowed. “(Y/n) left Kattegat.”

Already motionless before, Ivar remained still. He darted his eyes to look at his brother, confusion and fear brewing within him, fueling a fire he thought it was extinguished the day he made Sigurd leave. With trembling lips but a determined voice, he asked how did he know. How did Ubbe Ragnarsson, the brother who would stab his youngest sibling in the back at the slightest opportunity, know the whereabouts of his woman, while he sat there completely lost, disoriented.

With an attempt of a soothing voice, Ubbe confessed that months ago he offered you a job position to work on a humanitarian project he had running in Haiti. Aslaug had stated in her will that she wished to expand the non-profit organisation she created to other countries and Ubbe decided to make his deceased mother’s wish come true. He told Ivar that while you rejected the offer at first, you ended up accepting it the night of his gala. That you made him promise to make the process fast and discreet, and that, while you insisted on paying for the plane tickets, Lothbrok Inc. paid for your travel expenses and necessities. You left three days ago, unnanounced, with only Ubbe at the airport to bid you farewell.

Hvitserk, who remained silent all this time, let him know that you were no longer the owner of the bar you opened together. At that, Ivar panicked, his eyes wide open as he snapped his head towards his older brother. You simply signed a transfer contract, with Ubbe as the witness and five krone as the contingency, stating that you were returning the property to Lothbrok Inc., thus paying your debt to the family and releasing yourself from any ties to Ivar. He tried to soften the blow, letting him know that he didn’t know you gave him your share because you were leaving. He thought it was a rash decision that stemmed from seeing Ivar with a fiancée, that you’d come back and take back the business when you were ready. He promised he’d take care of the bar as well as you took care of it, that nothing would change under his management.

Ivar listened intently, motionless. His breathing was deep, yet steady. He never moved a muscle voluntarily, but his nostrils flared with every breath and his hand, hidden under the desk, shook incontrollably as he processed their words. His piercing gaze was focused on the oldest Aslaugsson, who was now relaxing and straightening his back as he regained his composure.

It felt like every action happened in slow motion, yet the blow came fast. In mere seconds, Ivar had propped himself forward from the chair, one of his hands grabbing the jacket Ubbe was wearing while the other, contracted in a fist, made contact with his right cheek. That is when Bjorn, who had been silent during the whole exchange, stepped in, grabbing the torso of his youngest brother as he struggled to keep himself standing, making sure he didn’t hurt himself.

Sometimes, Ivar still hears his own screams.

“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!” Ivar accused, eyes absent of tears but voice cracking at the end of the sentence. “SHEWAS GOING TO STAY,” He roared, fists swinging towards his brother’s face. “AND YOU FUCKING TOOK HER FROM ME!”

He lost it that night. The screams he released came from the depths of his sorrow, his eyes only registering red while all his nerves could only feel the desperation taking over his soul. Ivar kept trying to reach Ubbe, unaware of how he repeatedly banged his legs against the desk as Bjorn tried to pin him down.

But what started as a justified outburst gradually led to nonsensical, rage-filled accusations.

“You wanted to fuck her, didn’t you? You wanted her and you couldn’t stand the fact that she chose ME!” Ivar recriminated, grabbing a sharp glass ornament and throwing it to his brother. Ubbe pursed his lips, dodging the improvised weapon. “You did this to get back at me, hmm? YOU WANT ALL I HAVE, DON’T YOU?” He seethed, eyes and mouth wide open, exposing his teeth like a menacing predator as he let out a guttural laugh.

Bjorn was having a difficult time restraining him. Years relying on his upper body strength gave Ivar the advantage of resilience amongst his biggest sibling, while Bjorn struggled to keep him in place. Ivar managed to grab the second glass ornament, throwing it as he shrieked.

“DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?” his voice boomed in the room, palm pounding his chest as his free hand signaled the whole place. “YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME, I AM IVAR LOTHBROK! YOU CAN’T TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME!” Ivar kept shouting, cursing as he spat towards Ubbe.

Hvitserk stepped forward, having seen enough, ready to take on his little brother. To his surprise, Ubbe halted him, his arm creating a barrier between Hvitserk and Ivar as he observed with intent and horror etched on his face.

That night, Ivar lost the little progress he made. He broke his femur, dignity left behind as an ambulance carried him to the emergency room.

As if that wasn’t enough, he lost another family member to Lagertha that night.

With a reedy voice as he laid down in the hospital bed, he asked Ubbe one thing:

“Bring her back.” He whispered, his eyes stuck in the ceiling, pretty certain that if he laid his eyes on his brother, he would kill him. “She is working for Lothbrok Inc. now. Bring her back.” His request was met with silence. “That’s an order.” He swallowed, nostrils flaring with each ticking second.

“I’m sorry, Ivar.” Ubbe mumbled. “The Sigurðdóttir Trust is out of your reach.” He reminded him, reopening a wound that Ivar closed not so long ago. “That’s what mother wished.” Ivar snapped his head at the mention of his beloved mother. The brim of his eyes were red like his sclera, a menacing gaze stabbing his brother as Ivar grabbed his wrist.

“You have three days to gather your stuff and leave Lothbrok Inc.” Ivar seethed as he moved his face closer to his brother. “If you’re not gone after that, I will make sure you’ll leave the premises crawling like I crawled as a child.” Ivar swore, releasing his wrist as he let his head drop back to the sterile pillow.

Up to this day, Ivar still saw Ubbe’s action as a huge betrayal. He knew his older brother would return to his life as the new addition of Lagertha’s legal team, Bjorn granted his little brother this little backup plan.

Tonight, his thoughts weighted a little heavier. His eyes scanned the city before focusing on his bedroom, where he finds the clothes he wore today discarded on the leather chair. Behind him, his wife slept peacefully, her baby bumb protuding more and more each passing day. His legs were alright, but with the absence of physical pain he could sense his yearning looming over his head.

Ivar sighs and stands up silently, his bare feet and metallic support dragging on the tiles as he moved to his home office.

Dr. Nielsen taught him the importance of adapted emotional releases. She actively discouraged Ivar from indulging in his impulses and told him to write them down instead. For business meetings, Ivar was told to count until 10, 20 or even 30 if he was encountered with bad news. When it came to personal affairs, Dr. Nielsen told him to write letters addressed to the pertinent subject. Ivar could write them and discard them, write them and take them to therapy or he could write them and send them to the addressee.

It wasn’t the most effective exercise, but it kept his flame at bay. He needed to learn to do that, now that he knew he had a little one coming soon.

Sometimes he wrote to his mother, asking her questions about ruling an empire he wished he had the answer to. Those he kept, as a tool to reflect later on when his ambition peaked. The more emotional ones he’d take to Dr. Nielsen, a proof of his progress on his journey to... normalcy. The ones he wrote to Sigurd, those he threw away. In those pages filled with guilt and rage, he found himself cornered in a bleak past that seemed to refuse to let him go.

Tonight, he thought about you.

It wasn’t like you weren’t a constant presence in his mind, like an annoying tenant in his brain that refused to leave or pay rent. Ivar just chose to remember the best parts of you, those who could be found at the bar you owned, or on his bed when Freydis left him for the night. If he kept you alive that way, he would also keep alive that part of him he thought he lost. You were inevitable, like the pain after a blow or the kiss after a reencounter.

He wishes he could blame you. For leaving, for stepping outside the gala without waiting for your dance. For silently giving away your shares to Hvitserk, who the only thing he knew about bars was how to empty the alcohol pantry. But there is a part of him that cannot physically repulse you.

Ivar sits down and turns on the desk lamp in front of him. He finds his precious pen and puts a piece of paper on the desk. Before starting, he hesitates.

Dear (Y/n),

He groans, crossing the two words with disdain.

Hello.

“Hello?” Ivar shakes his head, crossing the word again.

Hi, princess.

Ivar cringes. No.

Frustrated, he discards the paper. He had done it before. Why was it so hard to do it all over again now?

Just... Jump right in. Start from the beginning, start from the middle, start from the end if you prefer. He recalls the advice of his therapist. Sometimes, formalities are overrated. It may help when you have nothing to say, but it becomes a burden when you got too much to say. Ivar reflected.

And so he did.

Every night I drive through the streets of Kattegat I find myself looking for you wandering around, looking for me to give you a lift, for the memory of our first reencounters were the ones that helped us find redemption.

It is weird, but I still have the need to find you even though I know you are no longer here. The idea of you lives in my head, that I am sure of. The feel of you, that is what I miss.

I guess part of me feels like I still need to apologise for something that I’ve done.

At the sight of his words written on paper, Ivar blinks. He never consciously thought much more ahead of his negations, his feelings dictating the perspectives he kept imposing to his reality.

He sacrificed so much for you. He tried to change for you. He went to therapy, he learned to walk. Ivar tried to become the right man for you, he really tried.

He wished you were there to see it.

Ivar doesn’t really know what he did wrong. All he knows is...

And now that you’re gone for good,

He shakes his head, crossing the last two words.

all I wish for is to be in the wrong this time.

Ivar huffs in frustration.

I wish I had been selfish, I wish I was the old Ivar. I wish I had begged you to stay, to manage this empire I never chos- by my side.

I know you would have never wanted this.

But I know you would have never said no to us.

Mindlessly, Ivar puts his pen in his mouth, a subconscious tick he developped not-so recently. Passing his hands through his hair, he sighed.

I started to smoke. He confessed. I know you never liked the smell, how it clings to my clothes, my mouth, how it lingered around the house when my brothers decided to have one one in their rooms. Ivar snorts at the memory. Not that you’re here to tell me off.

Freydis has been buying candles, they’re all around the house now. The smell of the cigarettes blends with the essences and I technically get to have fire dispensers in every single room.

“Maybe I’m waiting for you to magically show up and tell me to fuck off.” He whispers.

Suddenly, Ivar shakes his head, as if the physical gesture cleared his mind.

I guess I’ll have to stop soon, I have a baby on the way. He releases an airy laugh as he re-reads what he just wrote. Who would have thought, (Y/n)? A baby. Me. Your Ivar.

The young Ragnarsson lets out a tired sigh, strenghening his grip on the metalling pen as he mindlessly tapped on the crystal desk. With resigned resolution, he decides to write his last lines, telling himself that he is finally starting to accept reality.

I know you’re not going to come back. Not to the place we grew up at, at least.

If you ever do, I just want to let you know, as sappy as it may sound, that my heart will always be open for you, even when my arms are not.

I miss you.

I miss us.

Take care,

Ivar.

Dropping the pen, Ivar stares at his letter. His hands blindly search for an envelope, a frown etched on his face until his fingertips brush against the soft surface of the letter. You don’t know, but he found your new address. He searched around Ubbe’s old files.

With a careful manner, Ivar writes down your address on the envelope.

He stands up, walks to his living room and grabs a jacket as he makes his way to the exit.

All of the sudden he stops right on his tracks, his free hand almost reaching to the door handle. Freydis seemed to have forgotten to put out a lone candle, a tiny fragrance dispenser resting on the entrance drawer.

Ivar may not be aware of a lot of things in life, but one thing he was certain of: smoke traveled faster than mail.

His hand was trembling slightly, but it managed to follow his instructions. With a swift move, Ivar positioned the ephemeral piece of paper on the fire, watching intently how the flames consumed his words and took them to you. Discreetly, he threw the burning letter in the empty bin, the lid cutting short the trail of smoke escaping from the container.

He makes sure ashes are all what it remains from his indecent confession and makes his way back to the bedroom. Slowly but steadily, Ivar returns to bed, nesting himself between the sheets before holding his beloved wife in his embrace.

Tonight, he was human. Tomorrow, he’ll have to be a God.

The end.

Taglist:

Note: This is the old taglist I have noted from my past Ivar ficts. Please let me know if you want to be removed or added by sending an ask here.

@aesstheticallypleasing @captstefanbrandt @unicornbaby741 @fuckthatfeeling @huffelpuffers @yannii04 @collecting-stories @timber3 @darkwolfpeanutskeleton @vampsclassiffied @lenafarn @yourpurplequeen@youbloodymadgenius @lettersofwrittencollective

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar lothbrok x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless/reader #ivar ragnarsson/reader #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar lothbrok imagine #ivar lothbrok/reader #Ivar One shot #ivar the boneless one shot #ivar lothbrok one shot #ivar ragnarsson one shot #ivar ragnarsson imagine

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