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lemonjoonah · 3 years

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The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

Text

Don’t Worry - Harry Styles

a/n: i’m so excited about this!!! this fic is my take on the song Don’t Worry by The 1975 for @harrystylescherry ‘s Playlist fic challenge! it took me a lot longer to finish this one, mostly because i chose to write about a topic that’s painfully close to my heart and life and i hope to help those of you who are struggling with similar problems. it’s a touchy subject and i really hope i can at least help just for a little by putting this piece out! also, huge thanks to Nat for this challenge and i can’t wait to read all the other fics!!

warning: eating disorder, lots of self-hatred but even more fluff and love!

word count: 3.8k

masterlist

youtube

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip a little harder than they should, it’s starting to feel painful but you don’t even realize. You’re way too fixated on the Instagram post in front of you, swiping through the same four pictures over and over again, crippling anxiety crawling up your spine, clouding your every thought.

Oh how you wish you could say that you’re not the jealous type. Well, in a way, you are not. You don’t think your boyfriend would ever cheat on you or leave you, that’s just not him as a person. Your jealousy roots in your insecurities about your body and it creates more of a confusion in your head about why Harry, your boyfriend of three years is really dating you when he could have anyone, any model or super gorgeous singer, actress out there, yet he settled for… you.

Your thumb swipes across the screen again as you keep staring at the bikini photos Kendall Jenner has recently posted. She is stunning, the perfect model type with her long legs, skinny torso and snatched waist. Hell, she could make you question your sexuality on other days even, but today she is feeding your burning insecurities.

The thought that at one point in life, your boyfriend was with her makes you feel sick, because you are simply nothing like her. In every sense, you are what others like to call curvy, however you often use other terms, some not too nice ones on your worse days. Your hips are wide, holding quite some meat on them, your full thighs never heard of such thing as thigh gaps, not even when you were a kid. Your tummy brings you a headache sometimes when you want to wear something tight, the urge to hide it stronger than your fashion sense. It’s been ages since you last dared to step out of the house without a bra on, your full breasts always need the support if you don’t want them to sit a little lower on your chest than what you prefer. There are rolls, extra skin, stretch marks and all that jazz on your body and has been for a long time. No model looks like this and you are more than aware of that. But if your boyfriend can get any of them, why did he settle for you?

Tears are threatening to roll down your cheeks when you finally close the app and stop staring at Kendall’s perfect body. You ball your hands to stop them from shaking as you make your way to the bathroom in need of some freshening up. The cold water in your face feels nice, but the moment your eyes fall on your reflection you almost cringe at your own sight, as if it’s a reminder of everything you thought about in the past hour.

What is Harry doing with someone like me? The question keeps playing in your head on repeat and you wish you had a relevant answer, but your tainted thoughts keep bringing you back to the same point: He surely will realize it himself and leave me.

You try your best to shake it all off your mind, but it’s not easy. Sitting at the dining table you busy yourself with some work you brought home, hoping the files will keep your wandering thoughts at bay, however the attempt is not quite successful. And then you hear the front door open and close, followed by Harry’s sweet greeting.

“I’m home, baby!” he calls out and you can tell he is in a great mood just from his voice. You force your best fake smile to your lips, not wanting to ruin his mood with your petty party. He walks in, eyes falling on your sitting figure at the table and though you don’t know it, his heart flutters, like always, even after three years together.

Harry is obsessed with you, to say the least. Every little thing about you fascinates him, he loves everything about you, inside and out, just the way you are and he vowed to never stop telling you how much he adorns you.

“Hey there, wha’cha doin’?” he asks, kissing into your hair as he scans over the papers on the table.

“Oh, just… some extra work,” you shrug, chewing on your bottom lip again, the skin is about to break soon for sure.

“Baby, you work too much. Take some time off,” he tells you, shuffling around before he disappears in the bedroom for a moment before reappearing. “Fancy taking a bath with me?” he offers with a cheeky smile.

Bath, for that you’d have to be completely naked in front of him. That cannot happen in this state of mind.

“Um, I want to finish this. Maybe next time,” you tell him with a faint smile.

“You sure? I could massage your shoulders the way you like it so much, we could try that new bath salt we bought.”

“I really want to get this done, H. You just go and enjoy your bath,” you insist, the stern voice catches him a little by surprise.

“Everything alright baby?” His eyebrows pull together as he watches you from across the room.

“Mm, everything is fine. Just… working,” you tell him, eyes on the papers in front of you, pretending like you’re reading the lines, but in reality you have absolutely no idea what the words are saying. You hear him mumble a soft alright before he disappears again, leaving you alone.

A shaky breath leaves your trembling lips once you hear the water running in the bathroom. You bury your face in your palms, feeling so defeated and lost, the only thing that would comfort you would be Harry, but he cannot know what’s been going on in your head. He would never understand the struggle.

These thoughts usually only last for a few days. You always manage to forget about them eventually and return to normality, but not this time. Days turn into weeks and you find yourself sinking deeper into the hole you created for yourself. It starts to effect more parts of your life too. You’re having a hard time sleeping, always waking up several times during the night and sometimes you don’t even fall back asleep after one point. You lose your appetite, your mind tells you that you don’t need the nutritious food, that you need to lose the fat because that’s the only way you can keep Harry. You stop wearing your favorite clothes, always opt for the looser ones that hide every inch of your body and spend way too much time zoned out. You keep catching yourself completely lost in your thoughts during the day, thinking about how Harry might be comparing you to his exes every time he sees you, especially naked.

It’s been long since the last time you were intimate with Harry and you feel so bad for it, but you haven’t been able to bring yourself to bare your body in front of him. You always blew him off with some lame excuse and though there’s a chance he didn’t catch onto whatever was going on, now you know he is suspicious.

And you’re right. Harry notices every little thing, all the changes you’ve been going through. How you leave half your plate uneaten at dinner or how he finds you lying awake next to him in the middle of the night. He also notices how your favorite dresses and shirts remain untouched through the weeks even though you always wear them whenever you have the chance. Instead, he only sees you in big hoodies and loose pants, hiding the delicious curves of your body. But what truly pains him is how you’ve been ignoring all his tries to get close to you, the way you move away from his touch.

The last straw however happens on a Friday afternoon. You are sitting on the couch, mindlessly clicking through Netflix on the TV, trying to find something to watch when Harry is roaming through the cabinets in the bathroom, looking for the lotion he only uses when his skin feels extremely dry. He is going through every drawer and shelf, not finding what he is looking for, but then something odd catches his attention. Some weird named pills are sitting at the back of one of the shelves, hidden behind your perfumes so he hasn’t noticed it, but as he takes it out to have a better look at them, he almost throws them across the room. He has heard of similar pills before, they do more harm than help in weightloss, ruining your digestive system so badly you can actually get way more serious health problems if you use them too long. He frantically tears the box open and see that one third of the pills are gone, meaning that you’ve been taking them for a little while now behind his back.

With the box in his hand, he marches out to the living room where you are still and holding the pills up, he needs everything in him not to flip immediately.

“What the fuck are these?” he grits through his teeth. Your breath gets caught in your throat, he was never supposed to find those, but the cat’s out of the bad and now you can’t think of anything to bring up to your defense, knowing well he very much does not approve these kind of stuff.

“They are… I’m doing a cleanse,” you say, but there’s no use to lie.

“Drinking juice is for cleansing, this shit ruins your body,” he spats, throwing the box to the couch and you bite into your bottom lip, feeling the tears building up already. “Why would you even think about taking these?”

“Why?” you chuckle bitterly, your vision blurry from the tears. “Oh come on, don’t be so oblivious.”

“Y/N, these stuff are dangerous!” his anger turns into despair and concern as he sits beside you on the couch. “Baby, why did you take them?”

“Because I’m desperate, Harry!” you snap at him, the hot tears running down your cheeks. “You have no idea what I go through every fucking day!”

“Then talk to me! I want to know everything, I want to help you!” he pleads, reaching for your hand but you move away from him. “Please talk to me, baby!”

“So you can feed me lies? I’m not naïve, Harry,” you shake your head vigorously.

“What are you talking about?”

“Me! I’m talking about… this,” you growl gesturing at yourself. Harry runs his gaze down your body, but he still can’t figure out what this is about. You look beautiful, you always do in his eyes, he has no idea what the matter is. “I’m not one of your exes and all those models you’ve been rumored to date, Harry.”

“Okay and why is that relevant?”

“Because how am I the right person for someone like you? I’m not skinny, I’m not pretty and I’ll probably never be anything like the girls you dated. Why are you even wasting your time on me?”

By the time you get to the end, your tears are flooding and it breaks Harry’s heart to see you like this. Feeling so unworthy when in his eyes, you deserve everything. You’re perfect.

“I’m not wasting anything on you, baby. Why do you even want to look like them? I love every inch of your beautiful body!”

You flinch at his words. Deep down you know he means them, but there’s this barricade on your mind that tells you he is not serious, that he is only saying those things because he feels like he has to say them, not because he means them. That evil little voice in your head keeps telling you not to believe anything he says.

How could he love your body? How could a man like him be okay with someone like you? He doesn’t want to be with you. He’ll realize it and leave you!

You wish you could turn it off, you wish there was a switch that would shut out all these thoughts, but they just keep coming and coming. Harry watches you break right in front of his eyes and he has no idea what to do, panic is setting in. He feels like a failure that he let you reach this point.

“Baby, I fucking love you. Everything about you. Please don’t feel like you have to change for me. I love you no matter what, I think you are the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen. If you want to change, do it because you want to do it for yourself! You don’t have to change for me!”

He is practically begging, desperate to get you to understand that you’re perfect to him just the way you are, that he is in love with every inch of your beautiful body. He reaches out to your face again and though you move away again and it pains him so much, he still goes through with the action and cups your face in his hand. His clammy palm meets your wet cheek as he turns your head so he can look into your eyes, but you are relentlessly keeping your gaze focused anywhere but him.

You can’t bear looking at him or yourself, you just want to disappear, vanish into nothing, existence right now feels like just too much.

“Love, please look at me,” he quietly begs and you shake your head no. “Please, let me see those beautiful eyes I love so much.”

You wince at his words and try to turn your head away, but he cups the other side of your face with his other hand, keeping it in place. Your eyes are wired shut, you just can’t look at him, it would break you.

Harry is kneeling next to the couch now where you are curled up, your arms wrapped around your knees as you try to hide yourself. You feel so lost, so miserable and you wish he didn’t see you like this.

“I can’t, Harry. I can’t,” you tell him shaking your head vigorously. Part of you feels so stupid for acting like this, but you just can’t help it. It’s not you anymore who is in charge of your mind and actions, you feel more like just a witness who sees herself from the outside and she doesn’t like what she sees, not even a bit.

Harry pushes himself up from the ground and takes the thick blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over you as he shimmies himself next to you, arms wrapping around your frame as he pulls you to his chest, covering you with the warm blanket as if it was some kind of shield from the world and that’s exactly what you need. A hiding spot.

You let him pull you to him, face buried into his chest as you sob into his shirt, his strong arms holding you so tight, you feel like nothing can hurt you with his hold around you.

“I love you, baby. I really do. And when I tell you I find you gorgeous and that how pretty I think you are, that’s the truth. I love everything about you. Fell in love with you the first time I saw you and I’m not even joking. Please don’t ever think that you have to change for me.”

“But I can’t stop thinking about how I’m so different from the people you’ve dated,” you whimper shaking your head. His hands squeeze your upper arm as he kisses the crown of your head.

“Different is not bad, baby. I didn’t date my previous girlfriends because they looked the way they did. If I’m thinking about it, I should feel a little offended you think I’m so shallow to care about these stuff,” he jokes, earning a faint huff that’s somewhat a laugh from you.

“I just think that you’re not blind.”

“That is correct,” he chuckles. “I’m not blind, that’s why I find you so incredibly sexy.”

“I really don’t see how you can use the word sexy to describe me,” you mumble closing your eyes as a headache is starting to form from how hard you were crying just a minute ago.

“What do you think there is on you that I shouldn’t find attractive?” he prompts the question in all seriousness.

“Please don’t get me started because we’ll never get to the end of the list,” you huff bitterly. It might have come out as a joke but there’s just plenty of the truth behind your words.

“No, seriously. Tell me what you think I don’t find attractive on you,” he nags and you give up with a sigh.

“Okay, I… I have fat rolls on my stomach,” you start off with the first thing that’s on your mind.

“Everyone has them.”

“But not as big as mine. Yours aren’t as big as mine.”

“So what? I love your tummy. It’s soft, keeps your organs safe, especially the ones that will help us start a family at one point. For me, your tummy means that you are enjoying the wonderful foods of the world, that you are well and have a great appetite. I fucking hate it when girls are just poking around their salads, complaining about calories and all that stuff. Do you have any idea how much I enjoy watching you eat? I think it might be a fetish at this point,” he chuckles, making you laugh as you hide your face in his chest.

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why? I love it when you enjoy the food, I love trying new food with you, cooking with you, see you satisfied when you’re full, you have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“Really?” you ask in a whisper.

“Absolutely. I love your tummy, it’s just even more of you to love on,” he hums kissing the top of your head. “Okay, what’s next?”

“I have so many stretch marks,” you whine with a scowl. “They are everywhere, on my thighs, my ass, my stomach, fucking everywhere!”

“I literally have nothing else to say than… I couldn’t care less. Honestly, most people have them, baby. It’s natural, your body is changing, it’s just trying to keep up with the pace. But you know what I’m looking forward to?”

“What?”

“I can’t wait till you have marks from pregnancy, Love,” he huffs dreamily and you can’t help, but smile at his words. “Those marks will be a reminder to me how much you’ve gone through for our family. I think those are just so wonderful.”

“Why are you linking everything with having babies?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks chuckling. “Because I can’t wait to have babies with you. I can’t wait to see you with a big belly, so I can love on you, take care of you and that our babies, I’m so excited for that.”

“You want all of that… with me?”

“Have I not made it clear to you?” he asks, looking down at you and moving your head your eyes finally meet his. “I’m not just saying all those things for nothing, Love. I see my future with you.”

Closing your eyes you let his words sink in and for the first time in a while, your mind is not trying to convince you that he is not telling you the truth.

“Okay, next,” he mumbles, his fingers dancing up and down your arm as he holds you tight.

“My boobs are weird,” you say out loud, cringing at your own words. You hate talking about this.

“Excuse me? What’s wrong with my girls?” he gasps, making you laugh.

“They are not as round as I would want them to be, a little saggy because of the weight gaining.”

“But they are boobs,” he points out, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Okay, so that’s all that matters. Boobs are great, nothing else matters. Men are simple, baby.”

“I can’t believe you,” you laugh swatting his chest playfully.

“What? I mean it! Do you think I think about all that stuff when I see your boobs? My mind goes: Oh my God, boobs! And that’s it. I just get excited to see your tits.”

“You are such a pig,” you laugh, snuggling closer to his side.

“Are you shaming me for my preferences now?”

“Your preferences?”

“Yeah, you are my preference,” he remarks smugly, kissing into your hair again. “I literally don’t know how to say it differently, and I’m sorry for being so vulgar in advance…”

“Oh God,” you mumble, already fearing what he’s going to say.

“But you have nothing to worry about until you see my dick getting hard at the sight of you.”

“That was highly inappropriate.”

“Yeah, but it’s true. I find you sexy and there’s evidence. I can’t really hide it,” he chuckles and when you look up at him you see a dirty, twisted smirk on his pink lips. “Please don’t ever doubt any of my feelings for you, alright?” he asks in a more serious tone. “And if you feel like this again, I want you to tell me. Those pills and bottling it up inside you don’t help. I don’t want you to risk your health just because you have doubts about me. I love you, and when I say that I mean that I love all of you. Everything.”

“Okay,” you answer in a faint whisper.

“Don’t just say okay because you want me to get out of your hair. Promise me that you won’t keep it to yourself. I want to help you, I want to be there for you like you are always there for me.”

“I promise,” you nod, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip.

“Alright. Have you eaten today?” he softly asks and you fear to give him an answer, because you haven’t been able to push anything else down than just your morning coffee. “Okay, then let me make you something.” “I don’t… I’m not hungry…” you quietly tell him.

“Mhm, then I’ll make something for myself and being the romantic boyfriend that I am, I’m gonna share it with my lovely girlfriend as a cute gesture,” he says, rephrasing what he said earlier. You don’t argue with him, just let him slip out of your hold and go to the kitchen to make something for the two of you.

It’s a tiny step on a lifelong journey and you know that. You know that your feelings and opinion about yourself won’t change from one day to the other, but you slowly start to accept it. You have a lot ahead of you, the road might get bumpy sometimes and maybe other times you’ll have to take a few steps back. But at the end, you know it’s all going to be alright, because you will never be alone. Harry will be your greatest support through it all and now you can finally see that.

Don’t Worry - The 1975

When you're in love but you don't know what to do with it When blackness hangs overhead like a cloud

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you wake up and you don't know what day it is When the pain flows through your heart and your bones

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' The sun will shine through

When you feel no one knows just what you're goin' through When your insides feel much colder than snow

Don't worry, darlin' 'Cause I'm here with you Don't worry, darlin' Oh, don't worry, darlin' Don't worry, darlin' I'll always love you You

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#playlistficchallenge #harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff

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agustdakasuga · 3 years

Text

Between The Bloodshed | Chapter 2

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

Already from day 1, this house seems to be more bustling than you expected. As you interact with each family member, you notice their different personalities and characters.

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

When you woke up the next morning, you took 5 minutes to stare at the ceiling. Despite being a person with your job, you still weren’t a morning person. You pulled yourself out of bed, opening the curtains and heading into your bathroom. You changed into a button up shirt and a skirt.

“Good morning, doctor. I’m here to take you down for breakfast.” A butler bowed as you opened the door.

“Morning. Thank you.” You forced a smile. You followed him downstairs, walking in the same dining room as the night before. Mentally, you groaned at the thought of the awkward meal.

“I think I’ll skip going to the dining room. Do you have a coffee machine around here?” You asked him. The butler seemed flustered by your words.

“But the masters request that you sit with them.” He said.

“I will... I just need my coffee first.” You rubbed the back of your neck. You really didn’t want to go in but at the same time, you weren’t going to make this man’s life difficult. The butler bowed, gesturing in another direction and you followed him. You saw the coffee machine and let out a sigh of relief. Walking over, you began to make coffee.

“Can I have a big glass? Filled with ice, please.” You requested. He nodded, scurrying away quickly to get you what you need. Anything to get you into that dining room as soon as possible.

“This is a nice machine.” You noted, pouring the espresso shots over the ice and filling the rest of it with water. You stuck your metal straw into it.

“I’ll go to the dining room. Thank you.” You told the butler, walking to the dining room yourself.

“Good morning, doc.” Jin waved as you entered.

“Morning.” You waved lazily, taking the same seat that you took last night. A breakfast tray was placed in front of you. There was some rice porridge and side dishes.

“How was your sleep?” Namjoon asked.

“It was okay.” You said with a small shrug, putting a small piece of kimchi into your mouth. You were never really a breakfast person because eating in the morning made your stomach feel weird. All you really needed was tons coffee to get you going.

“Good morning, (y/n).” Jimin came in with a yawn, his hair all messy up and clothes all wrinkled.

“Morning, Jimin.” You replied nonchalantly. The other boys looked at each other as you and Jimin called each other by first name. Jimin just sat down beside you, picking his chopsticks up.

“Uh, doc?” Jungkook’s head poked into the dining room. Stopping your chewing, you turned to see him.

“Have you started work?” He asked.

“Good morning to you too, Jungkook sshi. And yes, hold on a sec.” You wiped your mouth, grabbing your coffee and walked over to him. Once away from the others, Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous smile. You raised an eyebrow and that was when your eyes trailed down to the end of his long sleeved shirt.

“Show me.” You said. Jungkook pulled his sleeves up, showing his bruised and bloodied knuckles.

“Can you patch them up?” You nodded over to your office and he followed behind you. As you pushed open the door, you turned the lights on and placed your coffee mug on the table. Jungkook stood there, blinking.

“Umm...”

“Sit there.” You told him as you went to wash your hands by the sink. Jungkook sat down on the chair and you grabbed your first aid kit.

“Hold still.” You told him as you placed the antiseptic on a cotton wool, dabbing it on the scabs. Jungkook winced in pain, letting out a few curses as you continued to clean the wounds.

“Can you be a little gentler?” He hissed.

“I’m sure you weren’t gentle when you got these either. If you can get this hurt, this pain should be nothing.” You replied, not looking up at him. Placing the bloodied cotton onto a tray, you threw it away and washed your hands again. Sitting back down, you took the bandages out.

“You’re done.” You fastened the gauze with metal clips.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” Jungkook asked as you retreated to keep the first aid kit.

“Do you want me to ask?” You asked back. Jungkook pursed his lips, scrunching his nose. You chuckled at his expression, he reminded you a child.

“Then let’s just say you have a bad temper, hmm?” You teased as you sat down at your desk. Jungkook scoffed at your words but stood up. he saluted at you before he left the office.

“I’m here.” The door slammed open. You looked up from your computer.

“Good morning, Yoongi sshi. You seem to be in a good mood.” You said as you got up from your seat. Yoongi stood by the doorway, rolling his eyes.

“I already told Namjoon I don’t need a babysitter.” Yoongi scowled.

“It’s not a babysitter, Yoongi sshi. I’m just helping you with your physiotherapy. The sooner you get that shoulder moving again, the sooner we can get this bulky cast off and you’ll be as good as new. Wouldn’t you like to wear normal shirts and pants again?” You sighed as you slowly helped him to unfasten his cast but he glared at you.

“Don’t speak like you know.”

“I’m simply hinting that this flannel and track pants combination doesn’t really work but hey, if you think it works, then you do you.” You shrugged. Yoongi growled in annoyance, obviously not liking your job.

“Okay, okay, calm down. Geez, tough crowd.” You shook your head. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“You’ll need to remove your shirt so I can check your wound. If the stitches have not closed, we can’t start therapy or your wounds might reopen.” You told him.

“Fine.” You let him unbutton his shirt and lower it to see the incision. You hummed in approval at the condition of his post surgery shoulder.

“Alright. You’re good to start.” You said and he buttoned up his shirt again. You moved to stand in front of him and as you gently held his wrist, you could feel him stiffen. Obviously, you weren’t going to call him out on his nervousness. Patients were always guarded around injuries.

“Slowly. Relax.” You said softly and began to help him.

“Does this hurt?” You asked. He shook his head and you continued to slowly move him through his exercises. Slowly, Yoongi began to lose the sour look on his face and just did what you told him to do.

“That hurt!” Yoongi barked.

“Sorry, I guess that is your maximum movement for now. Hold on.” Taking a pen, you scribbled this down on your notepad.

“Good to continue?” You asked him. He looked away but nodded his head. You continued to do some small exercises with him. You smiled mentally as you felt him start to relax.

KNOCK KNOCK

“Who is it?” You called out.

“Jin!”

“I’m kind of busy at the moment. Is it important?” You said, still focused on Yoongi. Yoongi was quite surprised that you were able to focus on him even with Jin talking to you through the door but of course, he didn’t show it. You had a small frown on your face and you were biting your lower lip, showing how focused you were.

“I noticed you didn’t really touch your breakfast so I brought you a snack.” Jin continued.

“I’m good. Not a breakfast person. Thanks though.” You replied. After that, you heard Jin’s retreating footsteps. Your eyes moved to the clock and you saw how much time has passed.

“That’s all for today.” You gave a small smile and pulled away. Grabbing his sling, you began strapping him back.

“You may feel a little sore but it’s normal after your first session. If it’s unbearable, I’ll give you a light painkiller.” You told him. Yoongi just stared at you.

“Depending on how you feel after this session, we might have our next one in 5 days. If you’re too sore from today, we’ll just wait a week.” You told him as you walked him to the door. Yoongi nodded but didn’t spare you another glance before walking out.

“You’re welcome, I guess.” You mumbled before closing the door and sitting back down.

“(y/n)!” The door opened and Jimin came bounding in with Hoseok behind him. Hoseok placed down a tray of snacks with some drinks.

“Busy morning?” Hoseok asked.

“Nope.” You shook your head as you continued typing your notes for Yoongi’s physiotherapy session. Also, you had to plan the exercises for his next session with you.

“Still, you gotta eat. So we brought snacks. We can have you fainting on us, we don’t have another doctor on standby.” Hoseok said.

“Very funny.” You said sarcastically. There were some boiled eggs, fruit and kimbap pieces on the tray. You picked up a boiled egg, taking a bite as you continued reading your screen. Then you realised that Hoseok and Jimin were still there, taking the opportunity to explore your office. Hoseok laid down on the patient bed while Jimin sat on your stool.

“Don’t you guys have work to do?” You asked.

“Not us. We don’t actually work as much as you think we do.” Jimin said, spinning around on your stool.

“What about you?” Hoseok propped his head up, resting it on his palm.

“Do my own work. Unless someone needs my help.” You replied. Namjoon’s contract with you was simple, help the boys out when they needed it. Other than that, you were free to do whatever you wanted.

“I’m bored, let’s do something!” Jimin jumped up.

“Alright, have fun.” You replied, still looking at the screen and typing. The boys looked at each other before looking back at you.

“You’re coming with us.” Hoseok declared.

“No thanks.” You waved them off. They were going to protest when there was a knock on the door. Taehyung stood there, a slight frown on his face. You finally looked away from your screen and up at him. Taehyung cleared his throat, waving his phone around.

“Namjoon hyung has been trying to contact you guys! Don’t you know how to answer your phones?” He glared.

“What’s up, Tae?” Jimin asked.

“Issues.” Taehyung looked at you and you rolled your eyes. This was your office anyway, not like you were eavesdropping or anything. Taehyung grabbed Hoseok and Jimin, pulling them out of the room.

“Finally, some peace and quiet.” You sighed, standing up. You stretched your back and arms. Grabbing the stool that Jimin was previously sitting on, you sat in front of your medicine cabinet and began to check the drugs, as well as noting down what was missing from the list that you had given Namjoon. At the same time, you refilled the first aid kit.

“Back so soon?” You spoke as you heard the door open but didn’t turn around. There being no reply, you turned to see Namjoon there.

“Namjoon sshi? What can I help you with?” You stood up.

“There has been an emergency at one of our work places. Do you think you could... come with us?” He asked. You blinked at him for a second before nodding your head.

“You’re the boss.” You grabbed the first aid boxes. Slipping your white coat on, you followed him out and into the foyer.

“She’s going?” Yoongi asked, lounging on the couch.

“Yes.” Namjoon said, grabbed his car keys. Before you could follow, someone grabbed your wrist to stop you. You turned around to see Jin grabbing you. Namjoon stopped as well, turning to look at the oldest.

“No. Namjoon, not on her first day. Doc, go back to your office.” Jin said sternly. This was too much drama for day 1. You didn’t know who you should listen to. Suddenly, someone poked the space between your shoulder blades behind you to get you to start walking.

“Go.” Jungkook nodded to the hallway. You turned back to give him slight look for doing that but didn’t protest, walking back to your office.

You stayed in your office the entire day. The boys all left and Yoongi had returned to his room so you decided to do some reading alone. The door opened and someone came in, making you look up.

“Dinner?” Hoseok asked, a butler behind him with a tray.

“Sure.” You closed the book you were reading and went to wash your hands. Hoseok sat down as the butler placed the tray down.

“Leave us.” Hoseok waved him off. The butler bowed and left the office. You sat down and picked up your rice bowl in one hand with your chopsticks in another. Hoseok did the same.

“Coming in.” Taehyung burst open, trudging in with heavy footsteps. He sat down on the patient bed with his own bowl in his hand. You watched him and finally noticed something. You stood up and headed over to him, placing your hand over his. Taehyung stopped chewing, eyes casting up to stare at your through his fringe.

“What?”

“Your hand.” You spoke softly. Taehyung put his bowl down, resting his chopsticks over as he let you grab his hand. You turned it over, showing the blisters on the palm.

“Let me treat this?” You asked. Taehyung nodded and you grabbed your first aid kit. Squeezing some cream onto a q-tip, you dabbed it on his scabs.

“Oww...” He cringed.

“Sorry.” You placed small band aids over the more open wounds, letting the others heal on their own with the air.

“Keep your hands clean and you can remove the band aids tomorrow. Here, apply this too.” You handed him the tube of antiseptic cream. Taehyung held the small tube in his hands before slipping it into his pocket. He picked up his bowl to continue eating as you washed your hands.

“You are definitely an observant one, doc.” Hoseok grinned as you sat back down to finish your dinner.

“My job is to care for your health and wellbeing, I kinda have to be observant. If patients were always truthful with what was bothering them, a lot of people would be jobless now.” You laughed.

“Right. Also, call me Hoseok. Just like you do with Jimin.” Hoseok said and you nodded.

“Likewise.” You smiled. Taehyung didn’t say anything, jumping off the bed and heading out the door with his empty bowl in his hand.

“Ignore him. We’ve all had a long day. Hence the informal dinner.” Hoseok explained. You nodded your head. You weren’t really bothered by Taehyung’s attitude. Like you’ve mentioned when you came, you’re here as an employee to the family. What their mannerisms were or how they felt about you didn’t really affect you, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.

“What are you reading now?” Hoseok changed the subject.

“It’s reading to study, actually. I’m hoping to learn new physiotherapy techniques or osteopathy.” You explained.

“Wow, I’ll leave you to that then. Goodnight, (y/n).” Hoseok stood up, carrying the tray of empty dishes.

“Goodnight, Hoseok.” You smiled. He smiled at you and left the room. You stretched your arms up, turning off your computer and packed up your things. The door opened and Yoongi stood there.

“I need medicine.” He mumbled.

“Hmm, I’m guess that you have finished the medication the doctor gave you after the surgery?” You asked as you went to your medicine cabinet. Yoongi let out a grunt in reply as you looked through and found a mildly sedating painkiller for him to take.

“Here. It’s not as strong as the one the doctor gave but it’ll still make you a little sleepy.” You handed him the little dish with the pill and went to pour him a glass of water from the jug you had.

“Anything else?” You asked him. Yoongi shook his head and stood up, leaving the office.

“Goodnight, Yoongi sshi!” You called out with him with a smile on your face. Gathering the rest of the things, you turned off the lights and headed out.

“Hey, doc.” As soon as you walked out, you saw Namjoon standing there, a bottle of beer in his hand. He looked tired but forced a smile. You bowed your head slightly and gave a small wave.

“I should apologise for earlier. I’m not usually that... reckless.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“No worries, Namjoon sshi.” You shrugged.

“I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“It’s going to take quite a bit to scare me, unfortunately. So I wouldn’t sweat it.” You chuckled. Namjoon finally gave a genuine smile, laughing along with you as he nodded. You saluted to him and headed back to the direction of your room. You took a nice shower and called your mother to speak to her for a while, as well as seek some advice over some health concepts with her.

“Are you sure you’re safe?”

“Don’t worry, omma. I’m fine.” You sighed as you sat on your bed.

“Alright, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. Goodnight, dear. I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Likewise.” You replied and hung up. Standing up, you went to the window to draw the curtains before you went to bed. You saw Jungkook pacing around the gazebo, talking to Jimin who seemed disinterested as he laid on the bench like the night before.

You hadn’t realised that they saw you staring as both stopped, meeting eyes with you. Jungkook just blinked while Jimin smirked, waving at you.

“Goodnight.” You scoffed, even though you knew they couldn’t hear you, and closed the curtains.

“It’s only day 1.” You massaged your temples, falling back down onto the bed. These boys were definitely going to be different from all the other families that you have worked with before.

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lsvdw-blog · 3 years

Text

Okay

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings; Rating: Angst (with a happy ending); General

Premise: The aftermath of MC and Ethan's fight about their date night debacle.

Author’s Note: Thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback on Part I and II! This almost had an alternate ending, (it's still sitting in my WIPS) but I couldn't do them like that 😅 it starts off angsty, but the happy ending is there 😊 I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading 💖

She struggles to unlock her front door, vision blurry from the tears. She hopes to any and every deity that the apartment is empty as she stumbles through the entrance.

“Serena, you’re home! How did it go?”

Sienna is at the dining room table, jumping excitedly in her seat. Her face falls as she takes in her roommate’s running mascara.

"It didn't go."

“What?"

Serena staggers to the couch, falling face first onto the cushions. "He didn't show…"

"Oh sweetie… " Sienna stands and makes her way to the couch. Sitting on the unoccupied end, she strokes her best friend’s hair.

“Then, I went to his apartment and we had this huge fight and he called us a mistake," she says through her sobs as she sits up and puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder.

"Do you want to stuff our faces with takeout and junk food and binge watch Marvel movies?"

Serena just sniffs and nods her head.

Two hours later, the television is playing a soft melody as they share their second pint of Ben & Jerry's.

"Even after everything… Steve is Peggy's Lobster, just like Ethan is yours."

Serena looks to her left with incredulity.

"You know! Lobster! They fall in love and mate for life!"

Serena snorts. "Have you seen the claws on those things? Ever been pinched by one? Shit hurts," she says as she puts another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes before Serena’s dejected voice rings out. “Why does he keep doing this to me?”

Sienna scrunches her nose. "Lobsters always were finicky."

~~~ One Week Later ~~~

“Here are the test results you requested, Dr. Ramsey.”

She places the manila folder in front of him and takes a step back, keeping her head down.

Ethan stares at her for a long moment, willing her to look at him. It’s been like this for the past few days: she only speaks to him when absolutely necessary and avoids eye contact at all costs. When she continues to evade his gaze, he sighs, and opens the folder.

His brows furrow. “This isn’t the test we decided to order.”

“Oh. I'll go fix that right now.” She finally meets his eyes and says, “I must have made a mistake.”

His chest tightens: Did she make a mistake with the test... or with me?

~~~~~~

She approaches the office and knocks softly.

“Come in.”

She slowly pushes open the door and sees Naveen look up.

“Ah, Serena! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my grand-mentee?”

She gives a small smile as she shuts the door behind her. “I was hoping you would have some time to talk.”

“What did he do?”

She spills the story, only stopping halfway through to take the tissue Naveen hands her. After she finishes, she wipes her eyes, and reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out something folded. “And I was hoping you would approve this.”

Naveen unfolds the paper, skimming over it. “A leave of absence?”

She nods. "I'm not asking for this solely because of what happened. I've been homesick for a while now; it was my first holiday season without my family and I haven't seen them since I moved here… and I don't know, I guess what happened with Eth—” she clears her throat, “Dr. Ramsey, was the last straw. It all feels like it's too much: Edenbrook, Boston.” She shakes her head before continuing. “I just… need a break. Please."

Naveen sits back and takes her in. She’s slightly hunched over, strands of hair falling out of her topknot, the concealer no longer hiding her dark circles, and she’s been wringing her hands since she sat down. The woman in front of him is a shell of the usually confident and exuberant young lady he is used to seeing and his heart breaks for her.

“I will grant you this leave of absence.”

She perks up at his words.

“On one condition.”

She eyes him warily.

“When you feel like you have reset, you must return and talk to him. I am not saying you have to make up with him, or even forgive him. Just talk to him about what happened.”

She is unmoving for a few seconds, then nods soberly. “You’re right, I know.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a grand-mentor if I wasn’t, now would I?” He says with a smile.

~~~~~~

Ethan is walking down the corridor to his office, trying to comprehend the words on the file in his hand, but his mind is elsewhere. The sun has long set, but he refuses to go home. To the place where, everywhere he looks, he's reminded of her. It's not like he'll be able to sleep anyways; he's lost count of how many sleepless nights he's had since their argument, tossing and turning for hours, as her side of the bed remains tucked and cold.

Not only has he been unable to sleep, he's been unable to focus on anything but her: her melodic laugh lilting through the hospital corridors, her sweet perfume lingering in the office, her animated way of chatting with anybody but him.

He opens the office door and a voice in the back of his head reminds him: You miss her, you idiot.

He rubs his bleary eyes and looks at his watch. 8:09pm.

He groans and goes to sit at his desk when a purple sticky note catches his eye. There, scrawled in her loopy half-cursive is a note: Need some space.

He immediately grabs his bag and rushes to the parking garage, hoping he's not too late.

~~~~~~

He knocks urgently, stepping backwards as the door swings open.

"Dr. Trinh, hello. Is Serena here? I really need to speak with her."

Sienna stands there, unblinking.

He awkwardly clears his throat and begins to try and look into and around the apartment.

Sienna follows his movements, trying, and failing, to block his line of sight.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Dr. Ramsey."

Before he can speak, she continues: “Even if she hadn’t left yet, she wouldn’t want to speak with you anyways.”

His blue eyes turn a shade stormier at this information. “What do you mean ‘if she hadn’t left—”

“Nothing!” Sienna goes to close the door, but is stopped by Ethan’s hand.

“Dr. Trinh. Sienna… please.”

His eyes are conveying a plethora of unspoken pleas, and after a few beats, she sighs.

“She’s at the airport.”

“What? Where is she going? For how long?”

“She’s going home and she didn’t say.” She shrugs.

Ethan immediately turns on his heel.

"Flight 936!" Sienna yells after him as he sprints back to his car.

He hurriedly weaves between the leisurely drivers and dodges through the lackadaisical travelers in the airport lobby, stopping in front of an information screen. His eyes scan the monitor furiously until he sees it.

Flight 936: Boarding Now.

He bolts to the nearest desk, buying the next available flight, and rushes through security.

He's running like a madman, frantically looking for her, hoping that she hasn't boarded yet.

He arrives at the designated gate area, but she's nowhere to be found. He's about to approach the help desk when a familiar voice rings out from behind him.

“What are you doing here?”

It’s not lost on him that she utters the same words he so callously said to her in front of his apartment that night.

He heaves a sigh of relief. He turns towards her, taking a step forward, only for her to take a step back, and the small smile on his face fades.

“I need to explain myself.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” She begins to walk around him.

Ethan lightly catches her wrist, stopping her. “Rookie… I know I've hurt you, innumerable times, and I am so sorry. Please hear me out and if you still want to leave afterwards, I will buy you a new ticket home.”

She looks into his imploring orbs and sees nothing but honesty. She closes her eyes, breathes out, and whispers, “I cannot believe I’m about to do this.”

She grabs her stuff and begins walking to a less busy part of the gates area. Ethan is too stunned to move for a moment. She looks over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Right!” and speedwalks after her.

She stands with her suitcase in front of her, arms crossed, waiting for him to start speaking.

He runs his hand through his hair, clears his throat, and locks eyes with her.

“There are no excuses for my actions, but I want you to know that it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I know that’s an out people utilize, but in this case, it’s true. You know about my mother abandoning my father and I when I was a child, but what I have not shared is that her leaving absolutely destroyed my father. He waited and waited for her return, all the while putting on a brave face for me, and continuing to love her."

He notices that her arms have fallen back to her sides.

"What he did not know was that I could hear him crying at night, that I would catch him wistfully looking at her pictures, and overhear him leaving her voicemails begging her to come home. Watching him fall apart, while I couldn’t do anything, broke my heart and I promised myself I would never let myself be in the same position. ”

Her eyes have slightly softened now too and it’s all the encouragement he needs to keep going.

“My father says that he and my mother had a great relationship in the beginning. Then a few years down the road, it started to change. He told me that no matter how much you love someone, sometimes it just isn’t enough, because if it was, she wouldn’t have left. Therefore, to ensure that I wouldn’t be left heartbroken again, I closed myself off to anyone and everyone.”

He can feel the tears gathering slowly in his eyes and he tentatively reaches for her hands.

“Until I met you. You have been so incredibly patient, supportive, and understanding with me; I see and feel it everyday. Despite that, I am still afraid. Afraid that one day, you will lose your patience with me or that you will see what my mother, the one person who was supposed to love me most in the world, saw, and leave as well and I’ll be left shattered, begging you to come back to me.”

She begins to try and say something, but Ethan continues.

“I know you are not my mother and that I am not my father. But the images of him in the first few months after she left are ingrained and still haunt me.”

He’s gripping her hands tightly now and she squeezes them comfortingly.

“I do not want to make the same mistakes as my parents: that is what I meant. You, and we, are not a mistake. I know we can, will, do better. I completely misspoke the other night and even Jenner has been acutely avoiding me since then.”

She laughs lightly and it gives Ethan the strength to blink away his tears.

“I am so incredibly sorry for my words and for hurting you. I will spend however long and do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.”

He rests his forehead against hers and whispers, "There are not enough words for me to convey my gratitude in having you in my life. You deserve better and I will do my utmost to be better. Forgive me, baby.”

She serenely scans his face and his heart begins to pound so loudly, that he wonders if she can hear it too.

She brings one hand to wrap around the back of his neck and her eyes flutter closed. She gives a small nod and whispers, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

She pulls back far enough to look in his cerulean eyes and nods again. He breaks out into a large grin and sweeps her up into his arms, spinning her around. She laughs in surprise and Ethan thinks it's the most wonderful sound he's ever heard.

He sets her back down and kisses her tenderly, languidly. He pulls away with great effort and takes her plane ticket.

“Now that you won’t be needing this anymore, how about we go back to my place?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, as he’s already moving to collect her things. She tugs on his hand and he looks up. When their eyes connect, she places one hand on his cheek.

“I know this is difficult for you. So thank you. For your apology, for opening up to me… for trying.”

He leans into her touch and places a sweet kiss to her palm.

“For you, I am always willing to try.”

She beams at him as he places a soft kiss to her temple and they walk out of the airport, hand in hand.

#ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan ramsey x mc #playchoices #choices open heart #open heart #open heart ethan #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey fic #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey open heart #open heart fic

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babydaddyleorio · 3 years

Note

Can I get a Angst oneshot of cherry number 5 and Gender Neutral reader please if you want or can.

(I hope I did this request thing right)

Have a good day or night stay safe and happy pride month!

Happy pride!

Cherry had done everything in his power to cover his tracks so that nothing could ever be traced back to him.

He had made sure to shield his body in an all black cloak with a mask across his face as he snuck off the palace's grounds, he had given himself an alias whenever he chose to skate since It was forbidden for royals to do so, and he even met with his lover in the most discreet places that no one should have been able to find. He had done everything imaginable to ensure that nothing could ever tarnish his name, and yet somehow, all of his efforts were now seemingly futile.

“Are you ready to talk?”

Cherry scowled deeply as his eyes fell on the bothersome man in front of him, trying his best to maintain his composure and awareness. The man in question was no other than his right hand and he had so rudely barged into his office, demanding Cherry’s attention to discuss an important matter that just couldn’t seem to wait. Ainosuke Shindo, Adam for short, stood beside the chair opposite of Cherry with a grin that can only be defined as devious adorning his lips.

“There have been rumors circulating amongst the servants, rumors of the Lord escaping the palace late in the night.” Adam tauntingly paced around the office with his hands clasped behind his back and Cherry’s eyes vehemently trailed him as his accusing words began to register. “They say you’ve been sneaking off to duel commoners in skating tournaments, knowing full well that the practice is strictly forbidden.”

Adam paused his movements and sharply turned himself to face Cherry. He slowly lowered his body down to grip the edge of the desk dividing him and Cherry, a grimace now present on his face.

“Does any of this ring a bell to you, your Highness?” Adam asked forcefully and Cherry simply reached over to grab his fine china, calmly taking a sip of his Chamomile tea before answering the arrogant man towering him.

“No, I am afraid that does not ring a bell.” Cherry answered while blankly staring and Adam laughed dryly under his breath at his obvious lie.

“Is that so?” Adam retorted before taking out a manila folder and dumping the contents of it all across the desk’s surface. Cherry remained unscathed as the laminated documents fell before him and he slowly glanced over them, squinting his eyes once he realized they were all pictures.

Pictures of him to be exact.

“These photos here tell a different story, Lord Cherry.”

“What is it that you exactly wish to gain by doing this?” Cherry asked, his voice becoming slightly annoyed as he pushed the pictures of him participating in the local tournaments away from his view.

“End your acquaintance with Y/n.” Adam declared while leaning closer to his Lord, but Cherry only narrowed his eyes in response.

‘Ah, so that’s what this is all about.’ Cherry thought to himself as he took note of Adam’s request.

Adam had never liked that you and Cherry were having romantic relations with each other and he so desperately wished to end the entanglement as soon as the secret relationship sprouted. Adam viewed you as mere filth and didn’t believe you had a worthy enough status to ever be seen with the likes of Cherry. Adam gritted his teeth just thinking about you being together, partially because he knew Cherry could have better and partially because that spot you had in Cherry’s heart should have been his.

“You must have lost your head, Adam.” Cherry glowered menacingly and leaned himself closer as well, so close that there were just mere inches between the two. “Mind your place.”

“End it, Cherry.” Adam demanded coldly, losing all the formalness he had prior to this moment.

“And if I don't?” Cherry challenged with a raised eyebrow, frowning deeply as he continued to stare down Adam.

“Then I will have no other choice than to leak these photos and ruin your entire career.” Adam spat with his fingers gripping the wood so tight that his knuckles turned white.

Cherry closed his eyes at the unfavorable situation he had found himself in. He could have continued to protest against the incriminating evidence, but Adam did unfortunately have the upper hand right now. Cherry sighed loudly before slowly glancing back up to the fickle man awaiting his response.

“Very well.”

“Really?” Adam blurted incredulously, shocked that Cherry actually agreed to his terms.

“Yes, I will end my relations with them.” Cherry affirmed, although the weight of those words left a bitter taste lingering along his tongue.

“Excellent.” Adam exclaimed before turning on his heel to leave triumphantly but not before gathering the photos up and taking them with him.

Once Adam was completely gone, Cherry loudly banged his fist against the table, causing the warm tea to spill across his desk. He ran his hands through his hair in frustration as he considered the stakes at hand and wanted nothing more to strangle Adam for even pulling a stunt like this. Cherry was torn between protecting his current position of power or choosing the love of his life and it seemed like the former was gradually becoming his only option.

“Carla, send me a carriage.” Cherry hastily commanded into the air before pushing out of his seat and storming out the door.

“Y/n, open up. It’s me.”

Cherry waited a few seconds before hearing your feet shuffle against the floor and multiple locks turn in unison.

When you finally opened the door he saw that you were all dressed and there was a suitcase standing behind you. Cherry raised an eyebrow in question and wondered where you could be going at such a late hour.

“Going somewhere?” He asked curiously while taking note of how stiff you looked standing in the door frame.

“Yes.” You responded curtly, voice more distant than usual.

“Where to?” Cherry tried to pry further, now even more confused that his suspicions were correct.

“Away.”

Cherry’s lips frowned at how dismissive you were being and he tried to step closer into your home, but you blocked him before he could get the chance.

“Cherry, I think It is time we end this.” You blurted out loud and Cherry froze in his spot once he heard those words leave your mouth.

Wasn’t that his line? He thought to himself as he saw the indifferent expression blanketing your face. Cherry wasn’t going to go through with Adam’s demands and he had actually come here to make It clear that you would always come first, although now that you’ve said you wanted to depart, he wasn’t sure If his plan still was in motion.

“For what reason?” Cherry asked insultingly and you avoided eye contact with him before continuing.

“It is for the best.” You whispered and Cherry got in your face, latching his fingers onto your chin so you could look into his furious eyes.

“Like hell It is.” He swore, glowering down at you. “What has caused this sudden change?”

“Dammit, Cherry! We just aren’t meant to be together!” You shouted and to Cherry’s ears It sounded as If you were trying to convince yourself of that statement as well. Once you realized your emotions were beginning to get the best of you, you took a deep breath and tried to ignore the tight feeling growing inside of your throat.

“I got sent a letter.”

“A letter?” Cherry questioned in confusion, wondering why that mattered now.

“Yes, and It stated that I have 24 hours to evacuate the premises before drastic measures would be put in place.” You confessed and Cherry raised his eyebrows in surprise before anger gradually consumed his being.

“On what grounds? Where is it, let me see!” Cherry demanded and tried to move past you but you blocked him from entering again.

“They had pictures in there as well.” You hissed while furrowing your eyebrows deeply. “Pictures of us together.”

Cherry felt himself begin to see red, seething at what was happening to you and him.

“So what? That’s just it now?” He voiced bitterly and you started to laugh at his questions, not realizing that tears had begun sliding down your cheeks.

“Yes, this is the last straw! I am sick of going through this, Cherry.” You exclaimed with a frown before turning your head so your eyes were no longer on him. “It’s best that you leave now.”

“I refuse to leave until we sort all of this out.” Cherry protested, moving his hands to try to wipe your cheeks but you swatted them away just before he could touch you. Cherry angrily clenched his fists and flared his nostrils before moving himself into your face.

“Didn’t we get in this relationship knowing that they wouldn’t approve of us? So why now, why are you so scared now?” Cherry was fuming as he shouted those words at you and you flinched once you heard how strangled his voice was becoming.

“It is different now, since when did you not care about your career as being our Lord? If word got out we were meeting, It would stain your image and legacy as well as have you seen as a dishonor. Are you really willing to risk throwing it all away for a mere relationship?” You challenged although the tears that were still falling steadily from your eyes betrayed how you were trying to come across.

You swallowed thickly before moving your eyes to Cherry’s face, staring at him solemnly through your blurry vision.

“Is our love really worth that much to you because it doesn't mean shit to me anymore.” You yelled and Cherry abruptly moved back at your outburst, too speechless to say anything in return.

You shut your eyes and squeezed them tightly before stepping back into your home.

“Goodbye.” You mumbled and slammed the door in Cherry’s face. Cherry stood on your porch with a far away look grazing his face and stayed motionless in his spot with his gaze never leaving your door. Cherry didn’t remember how long he stood there in the cold night, but he did remember the sudden feeling of his lips quivering as he felt his heart being broken into a million pieces.

When Cherry finally stormed back into the castle, he furiously and desperately looked for Adam. And when he finally saw him, he rushed to the man and roughly grabbed him by the collar, pulling him closer so that they were face to face.

“What did you do, dammit!” Cherry yelled with tears building up in his eyes, his hands shaking drastically since your distraught face stayed ingrained in his mind. Cherry was a mess without you, he already missed your comforting voice and the beautiful smile that you wore whenever he held you close to him. Cherry’s cheeks suddenly rose as his mouth slowly parted and tears poured from his eyes at the thought of never getting the chance to have that again.

Adam looked down at Cherry since he still had him in grasp, and he couldn’t help the smirk that fell on his face as he realized that he had won. Adam listened closely as the grandfather clock on the wall rang loudly to signal a new day, a day where you were no longer in the picture.

“I just made sure you stayed true to your word, my Lord.”

#sk8 #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk8 the infinity #sk8 the infinity cherry #sk8 cherry #cherry sk8 #cherry #cherry blossom #cherry x reader #sk8 cherry x reader #cherry blossom x reader #cherry imagines #cherry angst #cherry blossom angst #sk8 angst

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janiedean · 3 years

Note

if you ever wrote that rant about grrm making jon his chosen one deconstruction i'd be very happy to read it 👀

hello anon sorry for the lateness but here we go *deep breath*

sssooo, I had once ranted about it though not mentioning the thing I mentioned in those tags so lemme see if I can find the op and like... cp the main argument and amend it bc it was long, but okay so I found it, original anon asked me: why is Jon considered to be one of the most special characters grrm created? Why is he not the typical hero of fantasy books?, my original answer was here if anyone wants to go there but basically lemme just cp the first part making it shorter and then I'm adding:

first thing, the Typical Post-Tolkien Chosen One With A Shitty Life Before He Finds Out He Is Chosen™ character (I’m saying post-tolkien because every fantasy writer in existence who copies tolkien thinks that lotr went like that and instead it didn’t) usually goes through the following steps: his life sucks up until the beginning of the series, his family generally hates him/her or doesn’t appreciate them or abuses them or anyway doesn’t make their life easier and they’ve never known any different, but *something* never quite worked right and they always knew something was missing in their life, they just didn’t know why. suddenly someone who knows they were Chosen™ shows up and tells them that they’re actually Special because of this this and that and they have a quest to go on to save the world or something. our hero/heroine obviously is finally validated and while their quest is hard and full of hardships and maybe they lose a few friends along the way, finding out that they were Chosen gives their life meaning, they usually find love/friends/everything they didn’t have before until they fulfill the Prophecy™ and live more or less happily ever after, possibly after hooking up with the Person Of Their Dreams with whom they had UST up until the last twenty pages of the book. basically: being Chosen™ in regular fantasy novels is a good thing because suddenly you’re special and all the crap you suffered acquires a new meaning and in the end it made your life better.

jon snow is a complete overhaul of about everything in this sense because

instead of having a family who hates him he has a family who actually mostly loves him, and with ned it’s arguably so much that he risks royal treason by keeping him hidden from his *best friend* - sure, there’s cat and peripherally sansa, but his issues stem from the fact that he feels lesser because he’s a bastard (as far as he knows) and it’s a *class* issue, not a *my family hates me* issue not counting catelyn obv but that's what gives him freudian issues more on that in the emended part later

no one actually knows that he’s Chosen™ - like mel could get there and probably will and someone will put two and two together when his parentage comes out in the open, but he doesn’t have a gandalf or mentor who shows him The Way Towards His Quest

so instead of going from ‘my life sucks but I’m going on a quest which is gonna be a+’ he actively chooses to leave a fairly decent situation (a household he knows, siblings who love him - ned actually hoped he’d become robb’s counselor or right hand man or something from what we can gather) because he feels like he has to prove he’s better than his name and goes to the Crappiest Place In Westeros. like idk if people grasp it, but the wall is basically a prison and at the ripe age of fourteen he decides that it’s totally a good and honorable choice (his only choice actually) to go defend the realm in the freezing cold along with a bunch of criminals/derelicts/rejects of society

at which point he makes friends among said rejects and let’s remember that it’s the point where he actually has to do his first an only privilege when donal noye made him go like hey you were brought up with nobles these ppl are here because they stole bread, and that helps making him more into the person he is rn but like your tyopical fantasy hero who has had a shitty life doesn’t usually have to acknowledge that other people might have had it worse

then he goes on the Quest where he finds his first One True Love, and that’s where it turns even worse because usually the quest is where things start to go right for the Hero™, instead for jon they start to go wronger, because first he has to go undercover which pretty much tests most of his belief/code system, he falls in love with a girl he has to betray, half of his friends and his lord commander die along the way, while he’s off doing his thing winterfell gets taken/burned and robb dies when jon openly stated that he also was going to the wall to defend his family and keep them safe (yeaaah worked out real well), when he goes back to the wall he has to fight the people he lived with for months, the woman he loves dies in his arms and he can’t do anything about it and he’s aware it couldn’t have gone any other way, people put defending the wall on him and then put his loyalty in question, when stannis shows up with a legitimization (which is everything he ever wanted) he refuses because he doesn’t want to accidentally steal his siblings’s inheritance (which was what cat was so worried about hahaha) and actively chooses the crappy defending the realm life all over again. also in all this time his being Chosen™ hasn’t manifested or helped him in any way whatsoever - actually all his honor-moral code related baggage is what moral dilemmas come from that. like, your usual chosen hero™ would always take the right decision and it all turns out good eventually, jon takes the morally right decision and it all turns SOUR eventually

at this point he finally gets elected LC, thanks to his friends also pitching in, which is about the one fantasy hero™ thing that’s happened for now. should be good, yes?

lol no, because he ends up with THAT hellish responsibility at sixteen, since he thinks that he has absolutely to be even better than that now and he has very specific notions about how you should lead and he knows he has to take unpopular decisions/decisions that he doesn’t necessarily like, he ends up either having to send his friends away forreal (sam) or detaching from them (pyp/grenn/the likes) and when as far as he knows he learns that his sister is married to ramsay he can’t do anything about it

never mind that it’s the same situation as when he had to pick the watch or robb in book one - he went there to defend his family and now being there actually prevents him from helping them in person. ops. meanwhile he’s trying to implement a new vision of things which is modern and smart and actually makes sense because why fighting the wildlings when you have ZOMBIES coming. your usual Chosen One™ would get people to approve just because he’s the Chosen One

instead jon gets stabbed to death - okay, that was also because he wanted to go get arya but it was the last straw, people were pissed over the wildlings plan first and foremost

so basically he’s gone through all the Chosen One™ steps but in reverse - he loses his family which did love him instead of finding another one that makes the first pale in comparison, he does find a new one who loves him but has to alienate most of its members for responsibility reasons as a consequence of what should have been the crowning achievement of his life choices (which eventually is NOT one), he falls in love and they don’t drag the UST forever but they never get a chance to be together without small print in between, he chooses the admittedly most masochistic life he could for his family as well and half of them die and he can’t do a thing for the other half, every other mentor-like figure he runs into after ned dies, instead of finding validation he ends up having to isolate himself and on top of everything HE STILL DOESN’T FUCKING KNOW HE’S THE CHOSEN ONE™

so instead of his life going better the more he learns stuff and matures as a person, he gets murdered. by the people he trusts and who were supposed to be his new family. haha?

never mind that when he finds out he’s the Chosen One™ it won’t bring him closure because all he ever wanted was being full stark like his father/siblings and then bam he’s going to find out his father’s actually targaryen and what does that even mean to him?

on top of that being AA will just be a pain because I don’t believe for a second he’s not going to get leftover ptsd and who the hell is gonna help him deal with it? or how is he ever getting over his *brothers* murdering him? and people are going to ask stuff of him all over again and he’s gonna have to go slay a mythical monster and if I know grrm it’s not gonna be fun, pretty or cathartic FOR HIM

on top of that, Chosen Hero™ fulfills the prophecy and gets a realm to rule and everyone lives happily ever after. money is that if jon does get that realm (and I think he is because he has the best claim if he's legitimate and most likely it'll turn out he was on the targ side but ROBB also legitimized him so he has double the legitimization), he’s going to hate every second of it and he’ll take it because a) duty, b) literally no one else is available, and like this guy didn’t want to rule a realm or be a king or anything he just wanted to be a stark, and instead he’s going to have to after all that shit thanks to Magical And Noble Heritage he hadn’t even known he had and probably didn’t even want up to that point because since when jon wanted to be a targ? yeah since never

obviously I hope he manages to be somewhat happy regardless because the alternative is too miserable, but basically being a Chosen Hero™ is what makes jon’s life worse rather than better and the fact that hew went through all the regular self-discovery journey for the fantasy hero list doesn’t mean he’s not flipping that over in his sl. the fact that he stayed a decent person more or less throughout it and that he hasn’t turned into a bitter asshole also doesn’t change the main point XD

tldr: jon snow is not a typical fantasy hero because he deconstructs that trope into tiny little bits same as robb deconstructed the arthurian flawless king hero trope

now ^^^^^ THAT was what I originally wrote for that meta but adding on to what I said in those tags

okay so... there is a certain tendency to also make the chosen one™ special in the sense that he's kind of goals - good looking, rich or set to inherit, gallant, takes the initiative, he's like.. social or anyway immediately makes friends etc and all that jazz which jon... doesn't really fit

like jon is an introvert who immediately makes friends just with outcasts and his siblings also bc he feels like one but he's hardly a social butterfly and charms everyone wherever he walks by

I mean ffs says all that the only person he charmed in that sense is stannis who is the literal only person in charge in the books who is more introvert than him and has worse communication issues and appreciates ppl going straight to the point

on top of that in the book he looks like ned.... and arya looks like ned and ned isn't described as being particularly handsome that was brandon so he's not even like... I mean kit h. is v. pretty and I think he was a good choice for the role and I'll die on the hill that he was born to play that character and he did it well but book!jon doesn't have that kinda pretty face so the concept that he's the HOT alternative to anyone to me is kind of iffy bc he's not

he's shit at social interactions and at PR which is why robb and him would have been a key winning ticket like he has a better idea of the larger picture but robb would have actually made sure ppl didn't turn against them bc he actually was good at that but like he doesn't go around rallying armies in his name does he

the one time he's been with a girl it was ygritte and like he courted her without realizing it and then she had to pursue him and he barely knew wtf to do on top of the fact that they slept with ghost in the middle of them like a sword which..... is.... I mean sleeping with the sword in the middle was a thing to make sure the maiden stayed a maiden and he's the one who is like i CAN'T HAVE SEX WITH HER EVEN IF I WANT TO BECAUSE I'M TECHNICALLY SPYING ON THEM like... he's not... gallant-knight coded

never mind that the moment they do the do she basically does everything until he decides to try the oral which I mean... isn't exactly alphadominatingmale out of jon which is not a given with the trope he's supposed to represent like he's not smooth he's not suave he's like WHAT THE FUCK when ygritte tells him he has a pretty face bc most likely no one else told him that and he like... doesn't pursue people like that in general which is also not exactly 100% what that trope usually goes for

we can add that he has a lot of passive-aggressive little shit sarcasm in him that they didn't let him go for in the show but like... usually chosen heroes™ don't think what he thinks about selyse in general

we can also add that he's not automatically above being better than his position like... he doesn't take winterfell bc ygritte is dead but he did think he'd have taken the deal sansa or not if stannis had said he could marry her and not val and if she wasn't dead, he basically went off the rails at the dude he was fighting with thinking about robb telling him that he couldn't be lord of wf because he was a bastard and he's absolutely not in the frame of mind of 'well I was born a bastard who cares it doesn't define me'

he's obsessed to the point of unhealthy with actually being defined by it which is why he was better off with the wildlings aka the only idiots in the realm who don't gaf about that

and that's like... I mean usually if chosen ones™ have parental issues it's like 'you were an orphan and raised by asses who weren't your parents but your parents loved you and you'll find out at some point and you'll be happier for it and make your own family', jon is like... he has the mommy freudian issues of the century bc of how cat treated him, on the other side he's obsessed with living up to ned's/his father's name and he hates that it makes him not-belonging or that he feels like he doesn't even if he does with his siblings, and at the same time when the truth about it comes out he's going to get the cold shower of the century bc like - he's spent all that time thinking BUT DID MY MOTHER WANT ME WHO WAS MY MOTHER and he's going to find out of who it was and how he was born and honestly considering that lyanna most likely did regret running with rhaegar the moment he finds that out and that she died birthing him how is he going to feel? - also he spends his life wanting to live up to his 'father's' name aka ned aka someone known to be honorable to a fault and then it turns out his bio father is... the dude who started that entire rebellion not doing a very honorable thing? - also if jon*erys is a thing idt that he'd take 'I fell in love with my aunt' so nonchalantly as he did in the show tldr: he's never gonna get over his parental issues in a short time and when that particular brick hits him in the face it won't be pretty

like the entire point of jon is that he goes through all the chosenone™ cursus honorum as we'd call it in high school when studying latin but each step that means smth good for the usual chosenone™ to him is something bad, being one is not going to make his life better and throughout the entire thing he does not fit that stereotype when it comes to look, personality, basic traits and familial history and like hell he's going to have the happy ending tied up with the bow - like I think he gets a bittersweet one and eventually goes off with the wildlings bc he belongs there after being jon snow first of his name (bc like hell he's not reclaiming his bastard background at the end of this entire mess I'm eating my hat if he doesn't) after splitting the seven realms and fixing things but that's hardly the neat happy ending the chosenone™ usually gets so that's my two cents

... christ this was long *raises hands*

#jon snow #tagging for the lulz i guess #janie writes meta #ch: jon snow #long post for ts #tldr jon snow is a kurt cobain stan in disguise in westeros and chosenones™ aren't nirvana stan coded #and i'm dying on this hill xD

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empyreanwritings · 4 years

Text

Over-Protective

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Udaku!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Language (as usual), blood and gore, mentions of death, some sexual tension in between

Summary: You’re on a path of discovering all of Hydra’s secrets, but a certain someone keeps interrupting you when you least expect it.

A/N: This is my fic for @buckysknifecollection for the giveaway! Again, I am so sorry it took me so long, I have been struggling to keep up with all the fics I gotta write. Hopefully this is going to help push my motivation along. Ily so much, I really do hope you enjoy it! x

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated :) x

Hydra. A mob run by some of the most vile people in the city. No one could ever seem to get them under control, and anyone who tried ended up fired - or dead. While some politicians denied it, everyone knew they had their hands dipped in Hydra's honey pot; it was the only way they managed to stay in power so long. Pierce, who had more blood on his hands than the entire U.S. military, was the greatest example. No accusation ever seemed to stick.

Your family did its best to stay out of mob business, until Zemo killed your father. Your brother joined Steve Rogers, the only man who was willing to cross Hydra and take Zemo out. He became one of Steve's closest advisors when it came to business deals and expansion; he had a knack for ruling behind the scenes.

And your cousin, while you didn't agree with his methods, built his own world within the city. He seized the dock's out from under Hydra's control and made a new name for himself: Killmonger. Most of the family didn't approve of what he did to avenge your father, but you didn't mind much. The only time you actually despised seeing Erik was Thanksgiving because he always managed to swipe the last piece of pumpkin pie before you could. That was a worse betrayal than joining the mob could ever be in your eyes.

Despite everything, you still felt like it wasn't enough. You wanted to see Hydra burn. Everything they built, everything they stood for, you wanted to watch it crumble.

You slipped through crowds of people, doing your best not to be noticed by the man you were following. Working for The Daily Bugle taught you how to go unseen in order to get a good story. There were times you weren't always successful - like the first time you met Steve and managed to knock pipes all over the ground - but the longer you worked, the better you became. You tailed this man for miles, and he hadn't noticed you yet.

He stopped in one of the cafes, and you were just about to follow him in when someone grabbed you by your elbow and yanked you into the alley. The surprise of it caught you off guard, giving you no time to reach for your pepper spray before your attacker pinned your arms against the wall.

But you were surprised to look up and see it wasn't an attacker at all - it was Steve.

"What the hell are you doing?" You pitched your head forward to get him to stumble back, and once he let you go, you put a few feet between the two of you. You trusted him, but you were pissed he made you lose your only lead.

"Nakia called," he replied casually. "She said you were digging into things you shouldn't have been."

"Exposing Hydra's sex trafficking ring could be the biggest story of my career! And it can help us take them down once and for all!"

Steve huffed, a slight flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "There is no 'us' in all of this. You know your brother wants you to stay out, and I have to agree with him. Anyone who digs into Hydra's work disappears and gets recovered in the river a few days later."

You rolled your eyes. Every time Steve tried to use the "Your brother said so" excuse, you knew it wasn't just your brother. Steve let you sit in on a few of his interrogations, so you could work on your mob series. He didn't have to, but as soon as he found out you were T'Chaka's daughter, he knew you weren't going to just give up on what you were doing. Your entire family was filled with stubborn people. He figured if he gave you a little insight on what his life was like, you wouldn't feel the need to dig deeper. But he should have known you weren't going to stop until you uncovered the truth about Hydra and why they ordered the hit on your father.

"Stark said-"

"Of course Stark is behind this," he grumbled. "That man would be willing to sacrifice everyone that works for him in order to get a good scoop."

"Hey! You might not always get along with him, but he's actually on your side. He doesn’t want me to do this piece either because he knows what the repercussions can be." You shifted from side to side, Steve's piercing gaze suddenly making you feel like a bundle of nerves. "But he agreed to let me do it by myself, so I'm not dragging anybody else down with me."

"How does that make it better?"

"You will try to find something negative in everything I say, won't you?"

"Maybe I do because I'm the only one using common sense here!"

"Common sense?" You barked out a laugh. "You manage to have common sense in that thick skull of yours?"

You weren't sure how - or when - it happened, but you were suddenly very aware that you stood toe to toe with Steve. Your chin stuck out defiantly, and he rolled his shoulders back. Neither of you made a move to stand down, and it made your heart hammer inside of your chest.

It was a terrible time to notice, but you never realized how blue his eyes were. When he was angry, one of his eyebrows twitched, and you had to suppress the feeling to reach up and make it stop yourself. It was an urge you never had before. The feeling of being this close to him suddenly made you feel too hot, so you were the first one to step back. Reluctantly.

You pretended not to notice the disappoint flood his features because if he enjoyed being close to you, that meant everything was going to change. You weren't ready for something like that.

He sighed and ran his hands down his face. "I'm trying to look out for you. Your family doesn't need to bury another person this year."

You hated that he was right, but it wasn't his decision to make. You refused to let your father die in vain after all of the good he did for this world. He didn't deserve to meet his end the way he did, and if something happened to you while taking them down then so be it.

"I'm a big girl, Steve. I can handle myself."

You didn't give him a chance to argue with you again. You warned him that you would start screaming for help if he tried to stop you and took off out of the alley in hopes of finding your mark. He was long gone by the time you made it to the entrance of the alley, but you had a feeling you knew where he was going. You'd be able to catch up to him before the end of the day.

Steve watched you go, irritated that he couldn't convince you to stop digging. Your stubbornness was sexy when you weren't using it against him, but even then, he couldn't help but feel a little impressed.

He quickly dialed Bucky's number and moved back into the alley, so no one could hear him. He never knew what strangers were secretly involved with Hydra, and he didn't want anyone ratting him out to get into their good favor.

"Hey, Buck, I need you to do me a favor," he mumbled. "Y/N was looking into James Winderfield. Get his schedule and find out where he was going around this time. I need to get to him before she does."

---

Charming your way into a building with strong security was a lot harder than you expected it to be. The front desk workers weren't impressed with you slinging around titles. Who cared if you were supposedly the wife of a prince overseas? They saw couples like that all the time on TV, so they weren't fawning over you, but you got lucky because they just didn't want to deal with you. You imagined they had to deal with a lot of stuck up clients, and they were bending their last straw.

You made your way towards the elevators past security, slipping the fake rock off your finger and sliding it back into your purse. Not a single person was looking at you, and yet it felt like everyone was aware of your presence. Sneaking into a rival mob made you more paranoid than usual. You ended up working yourself into a small panic attack just as you made it into the elevator.

You were about to let out a small sigh of relief when a familiar, annoyingly smug, face stepped in and made sure no one got in after him when the doors closed.

If Steve Rogers was anything, he was a persistent man. You wanted to knock that persistence right in his nose, but you had a feeling you would break your hand before you did any real damage to that chiseled face of his. And it really was chiseled.

The two of you rode in silence for a few moments. He waited until you were two floors away to your destination to hit the emergency stop button, which made you throw your hands up and groan in total frustration. His lips twitched at the corners, and you knew right away he was enjoying this - and that irritated you more than actually being stopped.

"Oh, don't worry, the elevator will get fixed eventually," he assured you. "I won't be late to my meeting with Mr. Winderfield." You looked up at him, eyes growing wide and your chest beginning to heave. He furrowed his brows in mock confusion, and you knew he was gearing up to say something slick. "What's the matter? Was that the man you were trying to follow this morning?"

You ground your teeth together. "You knew that already. How the hell did you find out so quickly?"

"I have a feeling my sources are better than your sources."

"You can't call Bucky intimidating people a good source," you quipped.

Steve shrugged and leaned his hands back against the small railing. He clearly had no intention of letting you speak to Mr. Winderfield alone; why else would he show up here and let you get this far? If he set up a meeting, he was willing to entertain your plans but only on his terms.

You reminded yourself to thank Nakia for making your day a lot harder than you wanted it to be, but you understood where she was coming from. She wanted to keep you safe. She had been there the day you and your family found out about your father, and she didn't want them to go through that again. It wasn't entirely a bad thing. It really wasn't. Her protectiveness just made everything that much more difficult to obtain.

"Fine. What will it take for you to let me sit in and speak with him?" You asked, trying your best to hide the frustration in your voice.

"You don't speak with him at all." You opened your mouth to protest, but he stepped forward and pressed a finger to your lips. "You don't speak to him at all. I will make this seem like a casual conversation about Hydra encroaching on my territory, and you will take notes because you're my secretary. Write down names and locations, anything you may need to work your way up to Pierce. You will not say a word about who you are; you are just a secretary. Do you understand?"

Your mouth felt dry. The assertive tone to his voice made you understand why women seemed to fall at his feet when he called. His hands were so close to you, they could easily reach down and grab your chin or your throat and make you listen to every word falling from his lips. The words "I understand, Sir," were dancing on the tip of your tongue, and you wanted to slap yourself silly for even thinking it.

You quickly blinked and cleared your throat to recover. "Fine, fine, but don't skip any hard questions just because you don’t want me digging, got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Steve hit the button again, and the elevator instantly sprung back to life. Once you stepped out, the cooler air of the floor hit your face and brought you back down to earth. Being that close to Steve made you feel hot, and it was the second time it happened today. You weren't sure what would go down if either of you ever made it to a third.

---

The meeting started off well. You understood how Steve managed to build his empire; he was a charming man, full of life and control. He commanded a room the second he stepped in. Not a single person would dare to take it from him or speak over him. Sometimes his control wasn't in words alone but in his body language as well.

Steve never sat down when he spoke. He kept his shoulders relaxed, but you could see the guarded expression on his face. He wasn't worried about losing control of the situation, but he was always prepared for the worst. You couldn't help but wonder if he was more on edge because of your presence. He didn't need to say it out loud - you could tell by the way he acted - your protection was most important to him. Your family didn't deserve to lose another person. And maybe he didn't want to lose you either.

Unfortunately, even with Steve trying his best, the meeting did go south. Winderfield knew who you were before you walked in. He played along for a little while, pretending he didn't know who your father was. It was when you tried to leave that you were greeted by the barrel of his gun. Neither of you knew, but an order was put out on anyone who tried to get information about T'Chaka's death - higher reward if the person taken out was family.

Steve should have predicted something like this, and he kicked himself for not doing so.

He looked between you and Winderfield, carefully and silently calculating his next move. The office was too wide. He knew he wouldn't be able to push you out of the line of fire before a bullet hit you.

"Don't even think about moving, Rogers," Winderfield hissed. "She'll be dead before you blink an eye."

"Wouldn't I be of more value to Hydra alive?" You piped up. Steve looked over at you as if you had two heads, and he wanted to yell at you to keep your mouth shut, but he didn't. Mainly because he worried that you would kill him as soon as you got the chance for doing so.

Winderfield scoffed. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"You want Killmonger's territory, right? Newsflash: I'm his cousin. He'll be willing to make a deal if there is sign of life." Erik loved you, but Steve didn't believe he'd give up his own territory for you. He was too unpredictable to trust, yet you spoke as if you believed your words wholeheartedly. "It would be a waste to let me die and not consider those possibilities."

There was a moment of hesitation in Winderfield's eyes, and Steve used the opportunity to draw his gun and shoot. The impact of the bullet made him drop his gun, but not before he got one shot in. Steve heard you yelp, and he turned to make sure you were okay. You were clutching your arm, streams of red pouring down your white sleeve. He was thankful it wasn't anything fatal; Mr. Winderfield couldn't say the same. Steve knew he landed a good shot. The man wouldn't survive the blood loss.

He dashed to your side, murmuring promises of patching you up once the two of you made it out of the building. You had to take the stairs since security was coming up the elevator. He practically had to carry you down the last few flights - partly because you were out of breath, but also due to the dizziness that started to settle in. You weren't sure if it was the thrill of everything going on or the blood still pouring from your arm, but you would have passed out if it weren't for Steve.

As he held you up, you noticed the way his muscles flexed under his shirt. It was a terrible time to notice something like that, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself from giving his bicep the slightest squeeze. If he caught on to what you did, he didn't make it known. Which you appreciated. If he thought you were feeling him up, his ego would never let you live it down.

A car was already waiting for you at the back exit, as if Steve knew something like this would happen. Ever the prepared man. Bucky sat in the driver's seat, his eyes going wide when Steve lifted you into the back. There wasn't time to question what happened; a small security group burst through the door you had just ran through and started firing at the car.

"Go!" Steve ordered, half a shout and half a plea.

He grabbed the back of your neck and forced your head down into his lap to avoid any of the shots. The tires of the car squealed to life as Bucky sped out of the alley. Your stomach lurched when he swerved into traffic, and based on the honks you heard, drivers weren't too happy about it either.

"I think I'm going to be sick," you whimpered. You started to loosen the pressure on your wound, and Steve instantly pressed his hand against it for you.

"Where should we go?" Bucky asked once he knew no one was tailing the three of you.

"Natasha's. She's far enough out of the city that we'll notice if someone is still following us."

Bucky sucked in a breath. "You know she's not going to like us showing up unannounced. With Wanda being pregnant and all-"

"She owes me," he quipped with such a finality in his tone that Bucky didn't bother to argue.

You didn't care where you ended up, you just silently hoped it would be somewhere with a suitable first aid kit. And maybe a bucket for you to finally throw up in.

---

Bucky was right, Natasha wasn't happy to see Steve on her doorstep, but she ushered the three of you in anyways. Steve was lucky looks couldn't kill because Natasha glared daggers at the back of his head the entire time. She only looked away when she realized you were going limp against his side. You thought you heard her mumble something about 'talking about this later' but you weren't entirely sure.

Steve guided you upstairs to the master bathroom. Droplets of blood hit the white tile, and you flinched at how disgusting it must have looked. You also felt bad because it was clear Natasha and her wife did a lot to keep their house looking clean. And here you were, walking through it with a trail of blood coming from you.

He helped you onto the counter before he started rummaging through everything for the first aid kit. You leaned back, resting your head against the mirror, and took several deep breaths. The wound couldn't have been too deep, but it was enough to make you feel queasy. Other people's blood didn't affect you as much as seeing your own did. Your blood was supposed to be inside your body, so when it wasn't, your brain worked overtime to make you feel faint.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as he cleaned you up. You managed to hold in your groans even when he started to stitch the wound. Every time you flinched, Steve would pause and let you get used to the pain before continuing on. He was gentle. And attentive. He paid attention to even the slightest change in breathing to gauge how you were doing and continued on accordingly.

"You're a little too good at stitches," you teased quietly, not able to get yourself to speak much louder. "Should I be worried about your meetings always ending up in shootouts?"

Steve looked up at you, a small smile dancing at the corner of his lips. "You admitting you worry about me in general?"

"I'm worried about my brother, actually. Since you drag him along to all of them."

He hummed in response, not believing your words for a second. You weren't a terrible liar; you just weren't sure what the truth was right now.

Did you care about your brother's safety when he was around Steve? Of course you did. But your worry didn't stem from Steve's ability to protect him. He showed you today that he was quick to act when it came to protecting others. There was just a small voice in your mind that kept pushing you to admit you cared about Steve's safety too. Not because of your brother, but because you cared about him in general. Even if he was a pain in your ass.

"You saved my life today," you mentioned with a smile. "Thank you."

"I'd do it again."

You chuckled. "Because my brother would kill you if you didn't?"

"No," he paused, giving himself a moment to think about that answer, and shook his head. "Well, yes, but that's not the only reason."

"Oh?"

"Don't pretend like you don't already know what that is."

You trapped your bottom lip between your teeth. You did know, but was it wrong of you to want him to say it out loud? He was a man that made your stomach do cartwheels with a single look. His smile made any woman - yourself included - swoon. He could have anyone he wanted in this world, and all you wanted was for him to admit that he only wanted you.

You wondered if that was moving too fast, so you stayed quiet.

"I care about you too," you assured him.

He paused again. A beat of silence passed, and he leaned over to press a kiss on your forehead. He didn't say it, but you knew he was thinking it. He cared about you just as much.

And that was enough for now.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #mob!steve rogers #mob au #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic

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hlcreators · 4 years

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AUTHOR REC: creamcoffeelou / @2ofusmp4

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Written In The Stars (71k)

It was so different - the complete opposite of everything Louis had ever expected about finally being placed into the real world. Zayn defied every single thing he'd ever been told about vampires, about how he was supposed to be treated. This was nothing like what he'd expected.

[or: Zayn's the third oldest vampire in the world and found himself searching out the company of a human, so he took Louis as his keep. His maker Harry doesn't approve.]

Running (28k)

Louis was never ashamed of who he was - never had been never would be. But he never really was himself.

In The Heat of The Moment (36k)

The first thing that came to Zayn’s mind when he read Liam Payne’s file was that he was certainly, definitely going to die before he was thirty. The word they used in The Office for such a case was reckless; reckless meant that, perhaps, the person wasn’t at fault, but the universe and said person’s energy didn’t happen to match. That made terrible things happen to that person.

Liam Payne was a classic case of recklessness.

[or: A modern times AU where Zayn is a guardian angel and he's been sent down to protect the most reckless human he's ever met.]

#writer appreciation week #hljournal #1dsource #fics #author rec

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hello-that-happened · 4 years

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Noelle Stevenson’s She-Ra, Vanguard of a Postchristian Era

Plenty of She-Ra fans have written insightful posts about how the show criticizes the brainwashing, trauma, set-in-stone “destiny,” desire suppression, imperialism, and blind obedience of (toxic) Christianity. I wrote one a little while ago about how She-Ra challenges fundamentalist Christian values by accepting existential humanism instead. I want to situate these discussions in a larger cultural context, because Noelle and her fantastic show are the face of a massive sociocultural shift in the United States.

Before I start generalizing to tell the story of past and future American history, I need to say a few caveats: (1) there are plenty of kind, progressive, and/or LGBT+ people who are Christians; (2) it is okay to be Christian; (3) She-Ra does not necessarily criticize every form of Christianity, because some forms are not necessarily toxic; (4) Christians deserve the same respect as everyone else; and (5) as long as there is a United States, it will probably have millions of Christians among its citizens. I hope that covers all my bases.

With that said, let’s talk about the history of American Christianity.

Background: The Rise of the Christian Right

Main source and further reading: “Secularization Strikes Back: The End of American Religion?” in Providence Magazine

Americans are living through a sociocultural transition unprecedented in our history. For many years, the United States has bucked a global trend of secularization. As countries industrialize and become wealthy, their citizens care less about religion – except for Americans.

The U.S. has stayed so religious for so long for many reasons, but one of the most important has been American religion’s historical distance from politics. Decisions by the “founding fathers” deserve plenty of criticism, but one of their best decisions was to oppose a national church.

“The famous Frenchman Alexis de Tocqueville, who visited the United States in the 1830s,” explained why European Christianity lost its influence then and American Christianity is losing its own: “Famously, he attributed the strength of American religion to its distance from politics.” The further religion stayed away from politics, the stronger it remained. European religion lost power, per Tocqueville, because “religion allied with power was inevitably tainted by factional political interests.”

Let’s fast-forward to modern times. In the late 20th century, the Republican Party realized that it could gain political power by whipping up Christian evangelicals’ hatred of (among other things, like racial integration) the rising social tolerance of sexual freedom. Opposition to these changes catapulted Ronald Reagan to power in 1981 on a wave of the new “Moral Majority,” a coalition of reactionary Christians who wanted the government to legally enforce conservative Christian values on the nation. Since then, the “Christian Right” has remained the most powerful force in the Republican Party.

Background pt. 2: The Future Strikes Back

Main source and further reading: “The Christian Right Is Helping Drive Liberals Away From Religion” from FiveThirtyEight

For the last 30 years, non-Republican Americans have grown increasingly disgusted with how Christianity merged with Republican politics. Moderates, liberals, and progressives have fled Christianity in record numbers, leading to the highest level of nonreligious Americans in history.

The straw which broke the camel’s back was marriage equality. In states where Christian conservatives caused more public controversy over gay marriage, nonreligion rose faster. Younger generations, the Millennials (born ‘81-‘96) and Gen Z (born ‘97-‘12), overwhelmingly approve of marriage equality – partly because an unprecedented percentage of us identify as LGBT+, and partly because most of us who don’t at least know a friend or family member who is LGBT+.

“The younger generation, Americans under the age of 30 — more than eight in 10 of them support same-sex marriage…[It's] a litmus test issue for many millennials in the country. It’s not just that conservative white Christians have lost this argument with a broader liberal culture. It’s that they’ve lost it with their own kids and grandchildren.” –Robert P. Jones

Generational warfare strongly shapes American political discourse, where young Americans are much more likely to be secular progressives who support LGBT+ rights, and older Americans are much more likely to be conservative Christians who do not.

That brings us, finally, to Noelle Stevenson and She-Ra.

Noelle Stevenson Tells the Ex-Christian Story

I couldn’t exclude this absolutely amazing image by @horde-princess:

Noelle Stevenson was raised in a fundamentalist Christian household. Her family taught her that homosexuality conflicts with “God’s plan” for people’s lives, and that some people are born destined to suffer in hell. At her fundamentalist Christian high school, Noelle took a class in apologetics learning how to argue in defense of evangelical Christianity. One of the “facts” she learned is that listening to "Stairway to Heaven” causes demonic possession. Yes, really.

As Noelle grew up, her family’s religion’s strict control over her mind began to crumble. To quote the goddess of she-ra religion posts @horde-princess, “Noelle describes herself going off to college and having her eyes opened, meeting gay people for the first time in her life, and realizing that they weren’t amoral devil worshippers like she was raised to believe.” Struggling with her own gay feelings, she eventually came to accept them and marry the woman she loved.

In a recent Q&A (and many other times), Noelle has described projecting herself into her characters so much that fan analysis reveals aspects of herself she never realized. She poured her experience into She-Ra, and thousands of (especially LGBT+) fans who grew up in strict Christian households saw their own struggles playing out on the screen. I suspect this relatable quality drove part of the show’s popularity and its staying power.

She-Ra is becoming a cultural phenomenon, building on the success of other LGBT+ friendly family cartoons like Steven Universe to spread its messages around the U.S. and the rest of the world. Netflix does not release viewership numbers, which makes it difficult to judge She-Ra’s popularity. But an unpopular show would not have enough fans to trend again and again on Twitter demanding a sixth season and/or a movie. She-Ra is not going away – but Christian hegemony is.

Save the Future

We can overcome the Christian Right Horde.

The more that people watch She-Ra, the more they are exposed to its message that LGBT+ love is a positive good against the evil forces of self-shaming religious imperialism. Kids who grow up with She-Ra will hear Christians using Horde Prime’s language to oppose LGBT+ rights, and will learn to fight the Horde in their own country: the Christian Right.

After selling their proverbial souls to the Christian Right decades ago, Baby Boomers and the Silent Generation are waking up in an America that they do not own anymore. This panic led them to hide behind Trump, hoping that he could fight back against the cultural tide. But Trump has only alienated moderates, liberals, and progressives further from Christianity. His divisive, hateful, reactionary rhetoric can only accelerate the already-exponential rise of nonreligion in the United States. When the Christian Right accepted Trump as their savior, they surrendered their future.

By turning the United States against itself and giving the fossil fuel industry free reign to wreck our environment, Trump and his worshippers are determined to destroy the future before the post-Christian generation can claim it for ourselves. Noelle Stevenson and her masterpiece show She-Ra are a near-perfect figurehead for our generation’s resistance against rising suicide-cult tendencies of the Christian Right. We can fight back, and She-Ra shows us how: with love and forgiveness to those who are willing to change, but with strength and bravery against those who want to force us back into the closet and back into the strictly-controlled dogmatic cult of American evangelical Christianity.

#spop spoilers #she-ra spoilers #religion #christianity #spop #she-ra #religious meta #...

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

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Games With Trish: The Last of Us Part II

Granted, I didn’t actually play this myself but watched my brother play it instead. Still, I’m kind of glad he had the controller because the game looks so difficult and scary. Overall, I absolutely adored the game and it has so many good things. For that reason, I’ll say the bad things first since there are very few.

I know this game was very controversial, but this is my personal opinion and thoughts, not facts. Let me know your opinion if you want (as long as you’re kind and polite, please!).

Long rant and spoilers under the cut!

Bad things

I have two main things to complain about in the game: the violence and its heavy emotional charge. Now, I don’t necessarily hate them because not only does it make sense that it’s a violent game taking place in a post-apocalyptic world where it’s kill or be killed, but it also goes along with the message of hate and revenge the game wants to tell.

Still, the game gave me a lot of anxiety and I didn’t enjoy it as much as I could have for this reason. I averted my gaze a few times (when they break Yara’s arm being one of them) because it’s so brutal. I’m also a very sensitive person, so each time we played it was so tense and sad that I ended up exhausted. Every time a character died it was so harrowing... Abby’s Day 3 was so intense that I was a little overwhelmed, and Yara’s death was like the final straw and we had to take a break from the game. Characters also die so quickly, which is realistic, but it didn’t give you enough time to react before you were thrown into another scene or shootout. Between how frantic some scenes are and how brutal or tragic, I had to ask my brother to pause it a few times. The game really doesn’t give you a moment to breathe. That’s it, that’s my only complaint about the game. Now on to the good things.

Characters

First of all, and always my favorite thing about any story: the characters. Ellie is my all time favorite character, and even if I don’t agree with her choices and actions in this game, I can still empathize with her and love how complex and deep she is. She’s just human, and she is traumatized, so she does some questionable things.

Obviously, Troy Baker’s and Ashley Johnson’s performances are flawless, but Druckmann’s dialogues and writing is so... human. The characters interact like real people, they are spontaneous and natural, they have intimate moments of love, anger and a wide range of emotions. These characters fidget, frown, smile and have a myriad of human gestures (also improved with the amazing, mindblowing Naughty Dog graphics) that make them feel real. You can feel the emotion pour out of every gesture, every look, every expression.

I know Abby is also a controversial character but... I adore her. Of course we are meant to hate her at first, but the more time we spend with her, the more I grew fond of her even if I missed playing with Ellie. I couldn’t help but to admire Abby’s brute strength and bravery, even when she faces her fear of heights. When she tells her story, you understand her motivations as much as her actions hurt. Joel (like every character in this game and every person in that world) was not a good person, no matter how much we love him. Besides, at the end of the game it’s hard not to feel for Abby. She loses everyone as a direct result of her own revenge that she very much ends up regretting. When Ellie finds her at the end, it was hard to even tell that was Abby, I literally didn’t recognize her. So it was nice knowing that she found redemption and got her happy ending with Lev, her new family.

The side characters are all amazing. I was especially fond of Lev and Yara (Lev is an adorable little boy that must be protected, I just wanted to hug him) from Abby’s part and Dina and Jesse from Ellie’s part. I also loved Owen, Nora, Manny, Alice... everyone. Even Mel, who seems a bit more bland in comparison, has a defined personality.

The plot

It is so well written, it makes so much sense, coherently and thematically, that I don’t understand some complaints. It’s also so compelling! People complain that Joel’s death made no sense and was just for shock value? It was a direct consequence of his actions at the end of the first game when he killed lots of people and literally doomed humanity out of selfishness. I still love Joel and I’m glad he saved Ellie, but this can’t be denied. Besides, the game deals a lot with the consequences of the characters’s actions, so it makes perfect sense to me.

Everything that happens in the plot and the story has a point. You kill lots of people as Ellie to avenge Joel, but then you get Abby’s point of view and grief the loss of those same characters. The game tries to make you feel for every person, which is why they all have names and their friends call out to them when they are shot. The main goal of the game was to get you to feel empathy for the ‘bad guys’. The point was that there are no good or bad guys in this story, only people with personal perspectives. Ellie and Abby are just two women who felt they were in the right. And in a way, they both were.

I just think the plot was coherent, with lots of interesting things, twists and surprises. Overall, it was realistic. There were no deus ex machinas, no crazy expectation subversions (because the twists were well established) and to me it felt like everything that happened had a meaning, as heart-crushing as it could be.

The themes

Now, this is one of my favorite things about the game. I read that Druckmann said that Ellie and Abby would have been friends in another life, and I agree. They are two sides of the same coin, or two different moments in the process of recovery from trauma and grief.

Abby got her revenge and is dealing with the consequences of it, with the guilt and the rejection of those that don’t approve of her hate and resentment. When she got her revenge, she didn’t feel better (in fact she felt worse) so she does something good to change that. She literally returns to Yara and Lev to make amends for killing Joel, and in it she finds a new family. In the end, Abby actively choses not to do bad things anymore (even to the point of refusing to fight Ellie) and let go of that hatred.

Ellie is in the first stages of grief, needing to look for Abby until she kills her for what she did to Joel. There are some hardcore visceral moments that show the dark side of revenge, like when she finds Nora or attacks Mel and Owen. Even when Abby lets her go she still can’t forget about Joel’s death. It was a nice respite in the farm with Dina and JJ, but her guilt and PTSD don’t leave her and she has to go again. She is literally going through what Abby already lived, hence why she tells Ellie ‘I’m not doing this’ when they meet at the end of the game.

Ellie and Abby were on the same path even if they started on different places. Abby had done terrible things for Isaac as a Wolf but finds redemption when protecting Lev. Ellie mostly wanted to live a happy life until her father figure was taken from her. They meet common ground at some point and then go on their own paths again, which is why the game didn’t end on the theatre.

The first Last of Us was about love, but Part II is about hate. It speaks about how hatred and revenge never end, an eye for an eye and everyone will end up blind. The characters have to make conscious choices to avoid it ruining their lives even further and that’s why the ending is so good. More on that later.

Little things

The setting is incredible, it feels lived in and sometimes it’s absolutely gorgeous. Every place has a history and some of them are just so cool. The musem with the flashback of Joel and Ellie was one of my favorite places, as well as the aquarium. Also, the part of the game where you go to Ground Zero? Terrifying! I was freaking out only watching my brother play, and I’m impressed that they managed to make it feel so dark and ominous. It’s brilliant that they thought of putting something like that in the game, as scary as it was.

The game has so much attention to detail, from how you always find alcohol and scissors in places like kitchens or bathrooms to how accurate the animations are. I was blown away when I saw the trailer with how you crawl under cars and cock the guns and everything, and the game has so many details like those.

Even the AI was insane, NPCs have dialogues if you let them speak and they are so smart. They turn around in the middle of their walking, like real people would, and make it extra challenging. I was so impressed with the AI.

The music was phenomenal as usual. The score just pulls the correct emotions out of you, whether it is making you feel the adrenaline with the drums or feel nostalgic or just make you sad with the guitar.

The ending

Finally, the ending. I think many people didn’t like it, but to me it was perfect. I was so convinced that either Ellie or Abby were going to die, or both! I was relieved that they both lived, and in a way that made so much sense. To me it was a satisfying end to everything that had been set up, a coherent end to all the themes and the message that the game sent. Revenge is bad, let go of that hatred or it will consume you.

Ellie can’t kill Abby. She spent so long thinking about Joel in his last moments, about how she was helpless and couldn’t save him, and that fueled her anger and hatred. Her survivor’s guilt from the first game only got worst when it meant seeing her father figure die. Still, when she is about to kill Abby she thinks about him in a different way. She sees him fondly, with his jacket and coffee and playing guitar. She doesn’t see him bloody and dying as he was that dreadful day. That’s why she doesn’t kill Abby.

Abby and Lev find Santa Catalina after everything they went through. IT’s Abby’s ‘reward’ for not going after Ellie again after what happened with Owen, Mel and everyone. They get their happy ending together as a family: Lev can be himself and feel safe even with everything that he loss, Abby can start forgiving herself for her guilt and honor both her father and Owen by returning to the Fireflies. She was lost in the darkness but found the light. It’s also symbolic that she isn’t as buff or has her long hair because she’s letting go of the reason why she had them.

Ellie lost everything. She couldn’t let go of her hatred and in doing so she was left completely alone, which was her worst fear. She risked everything and the only thing she had left, which was Dina (the representation of a happy life) is gone. It was also heartbreaking that she couldn’t even play guitar (as a guitar player myself and music lover, that hurt me profoundly) because she lost her fingers as a consequence of her attempt at revenge.

I saw theories that Dina was actually waiting for her somewhere else because Ellie was wearing her bracelet, and I hope so too. It seems strange that Dina would abandon her dream of living in a farm if she was staying with Ellie, but I still want to hold on to that hope. I shipped those two so hard, and I really want Ellie to have a somewhat happy ending.

The last few minutes were beautifully tragic. Bittersweet. Ellie is alive, but leaves everything behind, all of her belongings (including Joel’s guitar) in order to move on. It was the only way she had to let go of her grief from Joel’s death and start a new life instead of repeating the vicious cycle of revenge. Just... powerful and moving.

Amazing lines and scenes

My brother knows me well and he said that my favorite scene would be the one in the museum with Ellie and Joel, and it probably is. It feels like a continuation of the first game and it’s a sweet father-daugther (parent-child and found family tropes are my weakness) moment in which Joel tries to make Ellie happy with the nerdy things he knows she loves.

I also adore all the moments between Ellie and Dina. They are adorable and they just feel like a real couple, caring about each other and joking and flirting.

All of the flashbacks were emotional and amazing, but my favorite is probably the last one. When Ellie tells Joel that she wants to forgive him? When he says ‘if I had another chance I would do it all over again?’ I’m getting choked up just thinking about it. I think that’s actually my favorite scene in the game.

Another one of my favorite lines was ‘hey, you’re my people’ from Abby to Lev. It’s so important and such a turning point for Abby, because if it weren’t for Lev she might have killed Ellie and Dina in the theater. She cares so much about him that she keeps going. And that line is the first moment we really see how much that kid meant to her.

Final thoughts

This was probably the longest rant I’ve written here, but The Last of Us was already my favorite game and Part II only topped it for me. The few bad things are greatly overpowered by the countless good things. The game just left a mark on me and I will never forget how it made me smile, laugh, gasp, cry, cringe in fear and overall... just feel in a way nothing had ever made me feel before.

#games with trish #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part ii #rant #the last of us 2 #the last of us ii

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

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Jason Voorhees x Freddy’sDaughter!Reader || Oneshot

Title: They Cuddles; Him, Her, and her Bottle of Hypnocil.

Notes:

‘-There was something in her, something that was… pure horror. Everything you were supposed to watch out for. Heights, fire, shards of glass, snakes. Everything that his mom tried so hard to keep him safe from.’ - John Ajvide Lindqvist.

Inspired by the above quote.

Quick Background of Reader: You’re Maggies younger (Only a little) half-sister. (You were conceived and born shortly after he killed Loretta and your mother didn’t want you so you were pawned off to him so you were living with him until he was burnt by the Springwood Parents, whereas Maggie was of course taken away) (Pretend it was years between the time he was caught and the time he was killed)

Tried to write in Jasons POV, not sure how good it is, hah.

I miiiiiiight have some ideas for future parts of this, this was adorable and sweet.

Plot:

Just, Jason falling in so love with the enemies daughter who is so like her father - she’s loud, she’s hurt, she makes s t u p i d jokes and then laughs way too hard at them, she’s dangerous, - but who is gentle with him and kind. (She’s basically the type of girl Pam wouldn’t approve of at first but is so honest and kind that Pam cant help but begrudgingly like her eventually XD )

Warnings: Age gap? I mean it’s not a main plot point so you could ignore it but Jason and Freddy are similar in age so you’re young enough to be Jason’s kid too- but you’re in your 30’s-40’s so its okie. Fatherly trauma (Is that the right phrase?? Hah. You know what I mean) / Nightmare on elm Street survivor trauma also. Panic attack I think? Ends in fluff ^^

~~~

When you stayed a night in your van at that old, abandoned camp, you certainly didn’t expect to meet Jason. I mean, you weren’t surprised by his… abnormalities -referring to the fact that he’s dead. Not his deformities, - as much as you were how cute and sweet he was. And how well you two got on, after he tried to kill you.

And you don’t blame him for that! You trespassed; you get it. If you had known he was there and he had taken ownership of the area, then you would have asked before parking there.

When Jason had found a girl hidden away, sleeping in the back of a yellow van, he certainly didn’t expect that she would soon become so important to him. She was just another trespasser acting like a hoodlum -living! In! A! Van?! – in his general vicinity and of course, he didn’t like that.

Boring chase story short; He pushed your van over and there was a chase through the forest (You’ve never run that fast in your life, jesus christ. You can still feel the wind burn on your cheeks, that one rock under your bare feet that cut you and the energy rushing through your body pushing you forward anyway) and you leapt into the lake- waiting until he came in after you. And then when he did, you just screamed random nonsense, splashing around spastically at him until you hit a nerve that sobered him (Something about his mother). This is a technique you developed after you were given up to various foster homes after your father was burnt to death (And then also when he found you again) when stinky foster parents, foster siblings, bullies at school rando’s off the street wanted to put their hands on you, and that you mastered since. It works, evidently, with asexual zombie monsters too.

After that, you went back to your van and rap up your foot, thinking that at least the lake water cleaned up the cut on your foot, and then grumpily set up your bed on your window now since the van (Poor, dear Mandy) is now on its side thanks to the local undead jerk!

You hadn’t slept a wink the rest of that night, not because of the hulking mass of rotten flesh and a hockey mask that you knew was lurking somewhere close by, watching you, but because you weren’t about to waste an extra Hypnocil pill in one night. You just laid there, pillows propping you up and being bored. Staring at the ceiling, smearing various ugly pastel shades onto a page in your sketchbook, listening to the woods and imagining getting rawed by Danny Zuko were highlights. Then, when daylight finally broke out, you were finally, unhappily wondering how you were going to get Mandy back on her wheels, zipping up your jacket and looking at your beautiful pale-yellow Volkswagen.

You thinking what pain this would be to correct… and then having turned on your heel and went on a trek to the closest town to get some kind of breakfast. Procrastinating the inevitable.

When you had returned, a bag of groceries in your arms -drink propped on top of everything else so you could sip through the straw as you walked,- , your van was back on her wheels.

You don’t know what it was about you that made him do that, that made him stop and not kill you, and its likely you’ll never find out since he doesn’t talk, after that you had gone directly to find the - cute, now, -behemoth you knew fixed it for you, to make and give him fairy bread to say thank you and sorry for what happened last night- and honestly you’ve been friendly ever since. More then friendly, after a while, but never less then.

___TIME SKIP: Current time now. Months and months after you met___

~ POV Change~

Oh my god.

The second I see that the familiar bottle, the one from Typo with the Coca Cola logo on it that reminds me absolutely zero percent of my father that I keep Hypnocil pills in is not where I left it, a deep sense of dread and anxiety fills me up to the brim- only proceeding to grow outwards to the air around me as I search in an increasingly more panicked fashion for the thing. Where is it!? Where is it, where is it, where is it. “Where, where, where, where, where, where- “

I fling a pillow out the back of the van and am just bundling up the blankets, not caring what else goes with it to push out as well so I can find that fucking bottle when I notice Jason standing there at the back doors watching me, head tilted. I immediately stop what I’m doing, heart stopping for a second. “Lost something.” Is all I can squeak out.

He leans forward and I watch as I bends down so his head and upper body are in here with me and looks around, then up at me again as if to ask what I’m looking for so he can help me. “I-Its, um… “ My voice trembles. I need to find that bottle- the fact that Jason is being so sweet and offering to help me look just makes me feel even less together. I could cry. “A r-red bottle with umm, curly writing on it?” He probably doesn’t remember what coke is, much less the logo…

He nods, and starts looking around, eyes focused and slow as the graze along everything in the van so studiously that I stay extra still instead of helping- so he doesn’t miss anything with that super-vision he’s acting like he must have. The vans a mess and I’m just kneeling in the corner, against the driver’s seat with the blankets all bundles up in my lap, worrying my bottom lip and waiting for this man to save me. Please, jesus- help me. Save me.

A moment later and I’m about to slowly move from my place and Jason suddenly moves. His heavy arm shoots forward and pulls the bottle, a tubular shock of red, out of a nook between my portable DVD player/screen and some books and I was showing him earlier, offering it to me.

Dropping the blankets and sitting on them instead, feeling the softness on my bare legs and taking the bottle from him before hugging it to my chest and covering my face with my hands, silently.

Oh my god.

~POV Change~

Y/N curls up on herself, hiding her face and the bottle between her legs and her tummy and doesn’t make much noise except a quick, quiet whimper. She’s acting different, in a bad way. Why isn’t she talking to him, Jason wonders? Why isn’t she being loud? Is she okay?

Looking around the van, because he has to go in there and see if she’s okay- get her out of that body-cocoon, Jason crawls into the vehicle that he’s never dared to touch since the first night they met, and it breathes under his weight a little bit. He sits down next to her, crossing his legs and watching her for a while. What… to do… now… hmm…

Finally, he decides putting his hand on her shoulder might work to get her attention at least, and she does relax her shoulders quickly at the contact. Then looks up, face red, at him before wiping her face again and crawling suddenly into his lap. She takes a deep breath, regaining some of her usual colour and composure as Jason just sits solid and c o m p l e t e l y still beneath her, flashing him a quick, toothless smile. “Thank you for finding this Jason, it’s important to me.” She looks at the bottle in her hands, not wanting to put it down and risk losing it again even as she knows its irrational that she would do it twice in a row. “Its… how I keep him away… “

Y/N looks up at Jason, eyebrows risen up her forehead to watch him cautiously, worriedly, looking for signs. Did he understand what you were talking about? And if so, is he okay at the mention of your father?

He’s just completely unmoving still. Y/N blinks at the utter lack of responce. “Jason?”

When she still doesn’t receive a response, she taps his mask gently. “Jaaaason?”

That gets his attention, as he looks down at her face… and nods. A wonky smile that makes his somehow-still-beating heart flutter weirdly appears on her face and she looks outside instead. “So, what did you come to see me for? Ya just missed me? Hah, I missed you too cutie. How about we go for a walk? Its pretty today- ah.” When Jason’s big arms suddenly, slowly take action and wrap heavily around her, she’s pleasantly surprised. Her anxieties and panic from earlier all but slip from their knot in her chest and disappear at the action, and she responds by turning properly to her side in his lap so she can lean into his chest. “Oor we could cuddle. That sounds better anyway!~”

She taps the side of his face affectionately before closing her eyes, and he lets his own half lid themselves at the feeling of her so close to him. She’s so cute and warm. Its weird, but he thinks- if someone were to come right now in this moment, and not be loud and not do anything to Y/N or him… he would probably let them go.

(Well at least until he let her go.)

#Jason Voorhees x Reader Oneshot #Oneshot #Jason Voorhees #Freddy Krueger #Oneshots #Jason Voorhees x Reader

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soranihimawari · 3 years

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day 1: shenanigans

foxes den shenanigan (1)

summary: snippets into the slice of life of being one of the few young women who interact with the inarizaki volleyball club. every member is all tough on the outside until they meet kira, yn: the one who had been neighbors with the miya twins all her life. her best friend, nakiri-chan, is convinced at least once in their life all three of them (osamu, kira, and atsumu) had loved each other. this mini series is a going to be a little reflective, a little dramatic, and overall deals with themes of growing up to learn the difference of love.

genre: slice of life/ angsty-teen love/ rated pg-15+ for language and juxtopostional humour.

<< |master list| >>

-------[Inarazaki High School, 11:47 a.m.]-------

“you can’t be serious,” my best friend’s voice of disbelief tells me. we were on lunch break when we decided to head to the vending machines by the gym. there were various students talking amongst themselves buzzing with excitement for the annual art festival.

“oh, but i am,” i said. i took a deep breath when i gripped her shoulders. upon my exhale i nodded.

“b-but your class representative said your homeroom was putting together a maid cafe all because she found out you know how to bake?”

“i blame the last bake sale my cooking club did to raise funds for a new mixer. all the members of the boys’ volleyball team bought a bag of my ‘cosmic star’ cookies.“

“i see. well, it can’t be all that bad, right? if you’re going to be the one coming up with the menu and the baked treats, you don’t really have to wear the maid outfit.”

i hum in response when i place my bill into the machine. the vending machine rumbles before dropping my can of mango nectar. once she buys her drink, she and i head back to our class on the third floor; before we separate, she wishes me luck with coming up with the menu.

“so, what did you have in mind kira-chan?”

“macaroons and maybe tarts. i don’t know what kind yet though. i’ll see ya after classes are over so we can walk home together. later nakiri-san!”

***

the day of the festival approached even faster than you had thought. after many attempts at making various macaroon flavors and tart ideas that paired well with the boba-styled drinks being served, me and the other bakery/cafe volunteers were ready for business. the other students in your class were divided between servers and baristas. the girls and boys who were selected as the maids and butlers were thankfully the only ones that had to wear the full garb. since it was the day before the festival, i decided to do a sampling of the sweets i chose to make for the servers and baristas so they can help our prospective customers tomorrow with describing the menu items. my fellow classmates, the team of five standing next to me (our bakers team consisted of six), were able to try out their own treats and thanked me for showing them how to make the treats. aside from macaroons and cookies, we collectively added two parfait flavors: one was strawberry themed for our school colors and the other was themed around sunset colors.

before the meeting was adjourned, i breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the news from our class rep up until she mentioned something about the bakery staff wearing cat ears and other nicknacks of cafe worker approved jewelry. when i got home that evening, i screamed into my pillow to relieve some excess stress over the maid cafe.

i immediately called my neighbor and although i wasn’t expecting him to answer the phone, i felt relief wash over me when i heard his normal greeting on the other end:

“miya residence and no, atsumu isn’t the better twin.”

i chuckled at his statement. after years of living next door to them, i can only say that miya osamu was right (also, he was the first person to express the same level of joy in cooking for others). he immediately cleared his throat when he heard me laugh.

“ahem. oh, hey kira-san. what’s up?”

i am not surprised i heard a short lived scuffle in the background as well as atsumums “ack!” in the background followed by a soft thud that only chucking a pillow could have made.

“osamu? it’s me. say, do you still have the cat ear hair clips from last halloween?”

***

the festival was in full swing: streamers lined the hallways as the people visiting came to enjoy what our school had to offer. i heard from nakiri that her class voted on doing a paint by numbers mural. other classes in our year were doing their renditions of living portraits and face painting. apparently, my class along with our neighbors across the hall divided up the cafeteria to encompass both a savory restaurant booth along with our class’ maid cafe.

i was busy with the other members of my team making sure orders were being ran on time while placing the finishing touches for the treats on the tray. even though i was allowed to wear my pistaschio green chef coat, i couldn’t get away with just wearing a macaroon earrings. to push my bangs back, i had a pair of cat ears clipped into my hair.

“shift change kira-san!” my class rep’s voice said in an exuberant manner. she was in charge of patrolling the hallway trying to gather more guests to come into our side of the cafeteria. business was steady to say the least, but i recalled i had signed up to take over the advertising part once hers was over.

“ok! can you give me a few minutes? i need to fix my make up real quick.”

elsewhere, the members of the inarizaki volleyball team were seen wandering around campus enjoying the festival. the twins along with suna had long sinced branched off and found nakiri’s class.

“hey guys! come to paint?” she offered them a sponge brush and a little to-go container.

“isn’t kira-chan supposed to be with you?” osamu asked perplexed i wasn’t near by.

“yeah, aren’t you two joined at the hip?” his brother chimed in. nakiri rolled her eyes at the blond before shaking her head.

“oh? you didn’t hear?” nakiri asked slightly taken aback by his question.

right at that moment, nakiri pointed behind the boys toward where i was standing speaking with over festival goers who were looking at the menu for my class’ cafe. i had a smile on my face when the guests mentioned they’d absolutely stopped by for a refreshing treat. when they waved their good bye to me, i was suddenly greeted by a different family who asked what i would recommend for their five year old (while they would opt for teas, their child really wanted something sweet). after asking a few questions (are they allergic to anything? does their child prefer strawberries or oranges? etc), i pointed out our strawberry parfait as a great option for them to all share.

“i heard one class chose to do a dessert cafe, but i didn’t think it would be a maid cafe,” rintarou stated flatly. he took the paint and the brush from nakiri before stepping inside to paint his section of the mural. on the other hand, the blond twin elbowed his brother. there was a teasing glint in his eyes.

“kira-san looks really cute, doesn’t she ‘samu?”

nakiri caught on to how pink the gray haired twin’s cheek became when his brother teased him. for the life of him, osamu couldn’t help but wonder why his neighbor called him asking to borrow the cat ear clips the night prior and now it was all making sense.

“shut it atsumu.”

“hmm,” nakiri hummed. she tapped her index finger on her lips in thought. “my shift is almost over for the hour, so why don’t we all go visit the cafe, yeah?”

***

“oh my god!”

my class rep burst through the kitchen doors again when my shift was over causing me to almost drop the parfait in my hands. i had successfully placed the dessert on the tray. one of the front of house staff members gripped her shoulders to calm her down a bit. thankfully, none of the ingrients toppled over, but we did lose a cookie straw in the process.

“breathe class rep,” i saidx. i was trying really hard to not laugh at her panicked expresion. “what’s going on?”

“h-hot miya twins outside.”

that was all i needed to hear before i pinched the bridge of my nose before cursing my best friend and her family nine generations back for slipping out my secret assignment for the festival.

seeing my neighbors through the window of the kitchen swing doors was honestly the last thing i needed today, but of course we couldn’t always win the fortune of the gods. mumbling a quick, ‘the gods are testing me again,’ caused one of the cooks to snicker. to be fair, i could live without the thought of hearing atsumu’s teasing jokes or osamu’s sass, but alas, i did not win fortune’s favor that hour. also, this was the last outfit they’d expect to see me in because half of the volleyball team had tried (keyword:tried) to get me into a maid outfit for y e a r s. that campaign stopped as soon as shinsuke became captain.

“they’re asking for you to serve them too,” the front of house manager said when he walked into the kitchen shortly thereafter. i was having a good day up until this turn of events, and although it took every fiber of my being to not kill those two, i realized i should handle this in an appropriate manner. i mentioned i’ll handle it relinquishing my duties to my second.

when i walked outside, i noticed that not only were my twin neighbors outside, they also sent a text to their entire team asking to visit the cafe area. i calmly turn my lips upward in a saccharine smile as i approached their table. it’s the same familiar smile which caused atsumu and osamu’s blood to run cold; they knew i was pissed as soon as i let the spirit of customer service take over my body.

“welcome to the foxes’ den masters,” i greeted them with a bow. “how may i be of service?”

atsumu’s eyes bounced back and forth between me and his brother who seemed to have found the parfaits description very interesting.

“can i order something off the menu?” atsumu asked in a teasing way. if looks could kill, i’d sent the setter back home with a killer bruise on his shoulder, yet I remember how violence is frowned upon at a festival.

seeing as i did not object to his question when i replied with, “if it is your wish master.”

“can i buy an hour of your time from ya for my dearest younger brother?”

i blinked caught off guard by his forwardness on his twin’s behalf. all of our patrons had ceased speaking to other members of their parties after hearing his proposal. where was a pillow when i needed to scream into one? all color drained from osamu’s face. nakiri looked just as shocked as i was mouthing a ‘sorry’ toward me; she gave me an encouraging smile. (it’s been four years since both of the miya siblings gifted me friendship chocolates on white day as an apology for poking fun at my wacky homemade candies. my parental figure thought it would have been nice to make some for the neighbors’ twins in middle school.)

my smile disappeared while i pondered my answer to the setter’s eager eyes. to spare both osamu and i further embarrassment, I spoke the first thing that came to my mind:

“if that is what your brother wishes, young master, then he should ask me himself,” i said kindly.

this caught osamu’s attention real quick; his eyes snapped up at me with a curious stare. suna had his phone out obviously documenting the whole thing. i tilt my head to the side and posed my hands under my chin prentending to think before i shrugged.

“he should also know that my shift ends at five-thirty and he should meet me here if he doesn’t mind walking me home. now, if you’ll excuse me, i have to garnish table seven’s parfaits.”

the murmurs of conversations began up again once i bowed and took my leave back into the kitchen. the last thing i heard was nakiri laughing as atsumu exclaimed that they were seated at the table i mentioned and osamu claiming that he’d kill his brother for fourth time that day.

“i’ll have you know that i could have asked her at any time right?” osamu seethed. “i don’t need you to line up dates for me.”

“yeah, yeah. you hate me, i hate you. we punch each other a little, and then you get to date kira since you’re clearly not going to do anything about this one sided love you think you two have,” atsumu said before resting his chin on his hand. suna caught what atsumu said all on the video he was recording, including nikiri’s stunned face.

“woah, back the fun bus up. seriously?!” she asked. “no wonder kira had been acting a bit more strictly with her recipes lately. look at the little drawings on the menu.”

she was quick to point out the little drawings of the chibi macaroons (“one was blueberry the other was mango orange, a silent reference to you three’s friendship,” she briefly explained) the design team made and colored.

“must be true, look at how red his cheeks are becoming & i don’t think that’s because of anger,” suna replied.

“c‘ mon, let’s go.” atsumu suggests, rising from the table. “i suddenly recall having passed by the boardwalk games section. osamu, you stay here and tell me what i should order.”

—to be continued—

#miya osamu x fem!reader #reader 1st person pov #the foxes den cafe shenanigans #part 1 of a mini series #school festivals and a half assed confession #whatever it is it’s ‘Tsumu’s fault #sora events 2020™️

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

Better Late Than Never//1

And Merry Christmas to YOU

Aka I started another project that I will take twenty years to finish. But @starkerflowers prompts were just too fucking good.

About: With interest in his work waning, famous writer Tony Stark (under the pseudonym AE Potts) changes his entire public relations platform, which includes hosting a meet-and-greet contest where one lucky fan will get to spend the day with him. That one lucky fan is Peter Parker. Peter is 21. Will contain nff, alcoholism, suicide attempts, character death (not major), drug mentions, anxiety, anxiety attacks.

Read here on AO3.

Tony is awakened from a drunken, dreamless sleep by a tub of envelopes and small packages being upended over his head. He jerks upright with a shout from where he was slumped over his writing desk, upending the (empty) bottle of whiskey that had lulled him to sleep. Pepper stands over him, impeccable in every way he is not.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, pushing envelopes off of where they have pooled on his lap. “You could have taken my eye out, Peppercorn. What are you trying to do, perform Lingchi on me? What is all this?”

“Fan mail,” she says. Her voice is stern and unsympathetic. The first time she’d found him passed out drunk over his desk, she had panicked and nearly called for an ambulance. The next handful of times she had just covered him with a blanket and regarded him with sad eyes the next morning when she brought him coffee. But those were ten years ago. Not to mention, all in her first few weeks on the job— “Social media is revolting. You never answer fan mail, you never do Q&A’s, you haven’t done an interview in almost a decade.”

“Fuck this,” Tony mutters, opening one drawer. “Where’s my whiskey?”

“In your bloodstream, I’d imagine. Don’t brush this off, Tony. Sales are waning. We need to make some serious changes in our PR or I’ll be putting in my two-weeks’ notice.”

That gets Tony’s attention. Pepper hadn’t threatened to quit after his last book when he’d killed off one of the most popular characters (one of his personal favorites, may she rest in fictional peace) and the public had flipped their shit. She hadn’t threatened to quit years before that when she walked in on him hunched over his desk with a straw to his nose, three sheets to the wind on far more than just whiskey. She has the disposition of a mountain: unflinching and ever-enduring.

“You mean it,” says Tony.

“I mean it.”

His shoulders sag. He glances around the room: the mess, the junk, the empty alcohol bottles, the half-finished manuscripts. There’s a strange feeling in the back of his throat, acidic, like he might throw up. Or cry. When his mouth opens to say something sarcastic, something about not letting the door hit her on the way out if she expects him to play nice with the media, all that comes out is a broken: “I can’t lose you, Pep.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “You will. If you don’t make some changes. Okay?”

Maybe this is what it means to be balanced on a knife’s edge, where one way ends in pain and the other ends in terminal inconvenience. But he knows which one he has to pick. His whole life is just a big inconvenience, but pain? Tony has spent enough time with his hand flat against the stove’s burner to know that he’d rather die than feel it again, rather die than lose one of the only people left who can stand him.

He picks up the closest letter and tears it open, blinking heavily to clear his eyes. Pepper leans down to press a kiss to the crown of his head and then gags. “Take a shower, when you get the chance,” she mutters, smiling.

The letters start off by being good for one thing: his ego. Adoring fans have been writing to his penname and business address for decades since he put out his first super-hero novel, titled IRON-MAN. Pepper has chosen to give him recent fan-mail, considering he’s spent so long ignoring it that if he were to answer them in order of reception, he might encounter fans who didn’t even remember the letters once sent. Or ones who were dead.

They are all variations of the same thing. The handwriting changes, gentle feminine cursive to childish scrawling to neat block lettering, but the message is usually the same. DEAR MR. POTTS. I’VE READ EVERY BOOK YOU’VE EVER WRITTEN. I GOT YOUR NAME TATTOOED ON MY ASS. IRON-MAN IS MY HERO. I’VE NEVER READ PROSE AS LOVELY AS YOURS. WHAT IS YOUR SECRET?

At Pepper’s request, Tony drafts a generic letter to send in response, something about how he can’t respond personally to every letter but he wants them to know that he’s read what they’ve written and ‘holds it close to his heart’.

“It’s good,” Pepper approves. “Sign them yourself.”

“Good?” Tony says. “I was joking—this letter is trash. Anyone who knows me would see this for the sarcasm it is—”

“Then thank God none of the fans know you,” Pepper responds coolly.

She has a point. Tony has existed in relative seclusion since he first began publishing his works at 24. After twenty years, he’d managed to remain mostly anonymous. A pseudonym does most of the work, including non-disclosure agreements for his employees. Any time a presence is required, he sends Rhodey or Happy or Pepper even. Theory pages abound on the internet, sites devoted to finding out who the real AE POTTS is. Even though one picture leaked of him during the early 2000’s (a grainy godforsaken thing that didn’t even show his best angle), there were still some disbelievers. One popular conspiracy theory is that AE is Pepper, considering Tony stole her last name to use as his own.

Maybe that’s why his declining image in the media bothers her so much.

A week later, Tony’s hand has a cramp the way it hasn’t since he was a little boy learning to write his letters. Freehand has never been his specialty—it’s far too slow for the way his mind works, bounding a sentence, a scene, a chapter ahead. Signing so many letters is going to freeze his hand in a claw like position. He’s sure of it.

Then Pepper drops the next bombshell on him: the contest.

“It goes against everything I’ve been working so hard to do for the last twenty years,” Tony shouts at the zenith of their argument. “I do not want to be known! I don’t want the fame; I just wanted the goddamn fortune, is that too much to ask for?”

“Times have changed,” Pepper says through her teeth. She holds her own, spine straight. She hasn’t shirked away from his angry outbursts ever, not even when they were children growing up together in Manhattan. “I’m not asking you to do a 20/20 Special. I’m not asking for an interview on Ellen. I’m asking for you to meet with one fan. Have a goddamn lunch with them. If you can’t handle that, then you can kiss your fortune goodbye. Mark my words.”

Tony marks them. He fucking marks them, okay? When he’s drinking himself blind, locked in his office (good luck getting in now, Pep), they ring around his skull like a dime in the dryer. Sometime around dawn, she picks the lock on the door and mops his brow while he vomits in the tiny trashcan beside his desk.

“I’m not doing this to torture you,” she says with uncharacteristic tenderness. Her hand on his forehead occasionally rifling through his greasy hair is not what’s making his eyes prickle with tears—it’s the vomiting. Honest. He’s not that touch-starved. “You know that, right? I hate seeing you like this.”

“I know,” he chokes miserably, gagging again. So he agrees to the Willy Wonka Initiative. Pepper puts out the word that the infamous AE POTTS will be selecting a single fan to meet face to face. Anyone eighteen or older is eligible to participate, as long as they write a letter explaining why they should get it blah blah blah. A golden ticket might have been funner. At least then Tony might have had an excuse to wear the tacky purple suit and tophat.

In the meantime, Pepper reveals that she’s been having Happy screen his mail to only show him the happy letters—figures. His hate mail isn’t extensive, but it certainly exists, having increased exponentially since he killed off Natasha in the last novel.

FUCKING MYSOGINISTIC ASSHOLE, Cheryl from Newport tenderly writes. YOU HAD ONE GOOD FEMALE CHARACTER, AND YOU KILLED HER OFF. I HOPE ANOTHER WOMAN NEVER LETS YOU BETWEEN THEIR LEGS AGAIN AND YOUR DICK SHRIVELS OFF.

Tony thinks that’s pretty succinct. He posts it up on his desk propped up against the last picture ever taken of him and his mother. Killing off Natasha had been an idea he’d personally revolted against for months. Sure, it made sense that sensitive, strong Natasha would be the one to sacrifice herself in order to stop the villain from succeeding in wiping out half the universe. It made sense for a woman to be the one to give her life to protect others.

After all, hadn’t his own mother died trying to protect Tony?

The weekend after the contest drops on their social media platforms, Pepper texts to tell him that it’s being received far, far better than they might have ever hoped for. Already dozens of letters had been received, letters which must have been penned and mailed just hours after the news had spread.

Joy, Tony texts back.

I haven’t told you the best news, she says. That’s how Tony knows that the next news will be the worst news, absolutely the worst news of all. You get to pick the fan.

“Any letter catching your eye?” Pepper asks him over lunch in his office.

“They’re all the same,” Tony laments. Even his own ego can only take so much stroking. After a while, the fan mail has become mostly routine and lackluster, though he keeps opening it, keeps signing the response letters, keeps sending them out. “I’m going to end up picking one at random, Pep.”

“I don’t care how you pick,” Pepper says. “As long as you do—and as long as you’re ready to suffer with the consequences of your choice.”

“Suffer? God, I love the light you bring into my life. The unending optimism. The unparalleled faith and trust in me.”

Her eyes glitter even as they roll. “If you like me so much, you can buy lunch next time.”

Tony snorts, taking a large bite from his burger. “Gold digger.”

“I’ve seen your taxes, Tony. These days, there isn’t much gold to dig for.”

“Ouch, kill shot.”

The letter arrives only one week before the contest deadline. In the top drawer of his desk are three other letters from potential winners, mostly picked at random, sometimes because Tony likes their handwriting, sometimes because they say something funny that actually makes him laugh. When he opens up the letter from Peter B. Parker, he scans the first lines not intending to be impressed.

Dear Mr. Potts, Peter writes.

I’ve written you so many letters that it should be easy by now. I don’t know why my hands are shaking. Maybe I’m nervous because I know for certain that this one, someone will actually read.

I received my first copy of IRON-MAN when I was eight years old—yes, a little bit heavy for a kid that age, but my parents had just died unexpectedly in a car accident. My aunt and uncle took me in, and my uncle gave me his first edition. Iron-man’s story was one of the only things that got through to me as a kid. His struggle to come to terms with losing his own parents, his loneliness, his fear. The way he overcomes all of that and still goes on to do good…yeah. It meant a lot to a grief-stricken kid. Obviously.

Pretty much every birthday and Christmas, I end up receiving one of your books as a gift. My family and friends know me so well, I have nearly a half-dozen copies of AVENGERS (it’s one of my favorites). The things you write about are so close to my heart, so close to some of the experiences I’ve had in real life. My struggle with mental illness. My abuse and neglect. And the way you write these things makes me think…fear, I guess…that maybe you know something about them too.

I would love to get to meet you and talk about your incredible books. I’d love to get to know you. Not going to lie, as a fanboy, I’d probably be happy to just sit at the same table with you and have a meal. I’ll buy. We don’t even have to talk (okay I swear I’m not as desperate as I sound!). I’m sure you’ve received so many awesome letters, and I know that the fan you pick will be so, so lucky.

(Every letter I write to you, I ask if you could please return my book. It’s been five years since I sent it. I’m sure you don’t even have it anymore, maybe you threw it away from the start. But if you do have it, even if you don’t pick me to win the contest, it would mean so much if you sent it back. When I mailed it to you in Jan. 2014, my uncle was still alive. He’s gone now…anyway it’s one of the only things of his that I have left.)

Your fan always,

PETER.

PS: please disregard the last letter I sent…obviously.

Tony rereads the letter twice. He feels a swirl of emotion in his stomach, not dissimilar to the queasiness after a long night of drinking. This—this is what he sacrificed by being so closed-off from his fans. While he’d known that his fans were real and obviously human, a part of him had never felt the magnitude of it before. These are people with feelings and experiences. This Parker kid (a self-proclaimed fanboy) lost his parents too, and far younger than Tony had. In a car accident.

Maybe Peter hadn’t been there, hadn’t been in the car, hadn’t watched his mother parents go up in flames, but it’s still a tragedy all in its own right. And all at eight years old. Jesus Christ. This kid has been looking up to him for ten years and more, and he had no fucking idea that kind of dysfunctional altar he’d been worshiping at.

Tony goes into the private bathroom connected to his office and gags up—nothing. Drool. But it still leaves his mouth slimy, so he brushes his teeth until he’s spitting pink into the sink, and when he catches sight of the haphazard reflection in the mirror, he pities it. He leans forward to touch foreheads with it, auto-intimacy. Do better, some voice in the back of his head says, but it’s not his voice.

Happy picks up his cellphone on the first ring. Of the ninth call.

“What do you fucking want, Tony?” he hisses into the receiver. “I’m at the movie theater seeing that new Star Wars. You made me go out into the lobby—”

“Then I’m doing you a favor,” Tony says, cracking open the cap on a sparkling water. “Look, I have important questions, I wouldn’t have called otherwise. My fan mail—how much of it has Pepper kept?”

“Jesus, how should I know? Totes and totes full, at least—”

“Brilliant—”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? I’m missing the movie!”

“Didn’t I say you’re not missing much? I’m asking you because Pepper will make me do it myself: I need you to find specific letters from one fan: Peter B. Parker. Address is Queens, but he could be from anywhere. I’m also especially interested in acquiring a package he sent me in January 2014.”

“Christ, could you be any more mysterious?” Happy mutters. “Text me the details you bastard, I’m not missing another moment of Mark Hamill.”

It turns out that Pepper is not only a saint in all ways previously mentioned, but she is a saint in this as well: his fan mail from the last ten years has been saved and meticulously organized by month and year of reception. Happy comes to Tony’s office in the city the next day with a package, the outside brittle but address clear.

The writing is the same script as the letter newly received from Peter, though the handwriting has become more mature over time. Neater. Confined. No more hasty slant from an enthusiastic hand. The kid’s contest entry is in the top drawer of Tony’s desk—the previous potential winners are now the cherries on top of the reject pile. His stomach is heavy as a stone while he tears open the five-year-old package.

Out tumbles a pre-addressed package that was meant to carry the book back to its owner, back to Peter. Then, one first edition of IRON-MAN, the cover a little tattered, the spine creaky. Also included is another letter, torn from a spiral notebook. He opens it with shaking hands.

DEAR MISTER POTTS

I KNOW THAT GETTING A RESPONSE FROM MY LETTERS IS A LONG SHOT, BUT I’M REALLY HOPING THAT YOU’LL AUTOGRAPH THIS COPY OF IRON-MAN AND RETURN IT TO ME. IT IS MY UNCLE BEN’S…

It goes on to describe how his Uncle’s birthday is coming up and Peter hopes to give the autographed book to his Uncle. Tony reads with a heavy heart, knowing now that Tony hadn’t bothered even opening the package, hadn’t tried to sign it—and even if he had, Ben hadn’t lived long enough to celebrate his next birthday. What a son of a bitch Tony is.

For the first time in three months, Tony goes home.

Most days he stays at the space he rents in the fancy Manhattan building, the one that holds his office and Pepper’s own workspace as well as the other people who work for him (Happy, Beck, Rhodey). The mansion outside Manhattan belonged to Tony’s father and his mother. When his mother had still been alive, it had been a cold place that he had endured staying at for her sake. After his mother had died, it had been a torture chamber, or worse—a stale, suffocating tomb.

Then Howard had died and somehow left it to Tony (probably out of some misguided duty to ‘keep it in the family’). Tony made a personal habit to visit it infrequently and stay there even less often; but Pepper maintains it for him, has it cleaned, keeps it safe. Uses it as storage, Tony knows. For his fan mail.

It takes up three entire rooms, floor to ceiling clear totes labeled with months and years. Just looking at it makes Tony feel small, ashamed of how little he cared about interacting with his fans. It’s no wonder sales were down. Searching for Peter’s letters would be like looking for a needle in a haystack—but he has to do it, and he can’t let Happy bear the brunt of the weight anymore either. This is on Tony.

So he begins pulling totes from the room and scattering their contents on the oaken table and floors of the dining room. Five hours and seven totes later, and Tony still has no letter from Peter.

Pepper finds him at midnight. She comes bursting in through the front door—Tony can hear the sound of the door colliding with the wall from the force she’s used—shouting his name. The hysteria in her voice chills him to the bone. It’s worse than the tone she uses when Tony fucks up; this is the tone she uses when there’s a Tragedy, when something is Wrong.

She finds him in the dining room surrounded by letters, kneeling up from where he was slumped on the floor. He must be a sight, but she is one too, her hair a mess, her eyes red. When she sees him, all the breath goes out of her, one hand clutching at her breast as the other grabs the back of a chair for support.

“Jesus, Pep, what’s happened? Is it your father, another heart attack—?”

“Why don’t you ever answer your goddamn phone, you bastard!” She says through heaving breaths. “You don’t leave the office for weeks and suddenly no one can find you, you won’t pick up your phone—”

It takes a long moment for the pieces to connect.

“Oh Christ,” Tony says, chidingly. “What, you were scared for me?”

She slumps into one chair and puts her face into her well-manicured hands. Tony drops back onto his ass. He’s not a good man, not a sensitive man. The last woman who had cried in front of him was his mother, and look at all the ways he had failed her. But the longer he sits letting Pepper cry, the more it feels like bamboo shoots growing under his tender fingernails. Fuck it. He gets up, knees creaking, and goes to her.

They sit side by side at the dining table no one has eaten at in twelve years. Pepper leans into him, her thin shoulders shaking. Shame makes his own eyes burn, because he thought what did she have to be afraid of? But maybe she saw his car in the driveway of the unhappy home he avoids and assumed that he’d come here to Hemingway himself. Maybe she sat in the drive steeling herself to come into the sight of his body.

“I’m going through the fan mail,” Tony says at last.

“I can see that,” she says. Her scathing tone drips with tears.

“I’m okay, Pep,” he says. He’s not sure if it’s true. He’s not sure if he’s been okay ever since he blinked awake upside down and suspended by the seatbelt in the back seat of his mother’s Cadillac, glass littering the roof (and the roof had become the floor, then, see? Because they were upside down), the smell of gas and smoke in his nose). Maybe he’s not okay. Maybe it’s all a fucking lie, but he’s not going to off himself. Not when there’s a mystery afoot. “I promise.”

She nods, one damp hand reaching out blindly for his. It’s an awkward angle to hold hands at, but he doesn’t complain. And awkward or not, it feels nice to be touched in a kind, even platonic way.

“What are you looking for?” Pepper asks at last, wiping at the wet, swollen skin beneath her eyes.

“Why? You want to help?” Tony asks.

“Might as well,” she says. “I always do your heavy lifting, don’t I?”

With Pepper’s help, they find the first letter. Somehow the Willy Wonka Initiative has reversed until Tony feels like a kid, ripping open chocolate bars, desperate for a glimpse of gold. At dawn, a cry echoes in the dining room startling Tony from where he was slumping against a tote, dozing.

“I’ve got one, Tony!” Pepper shouts. She’s barefoot, her panty hose taken off and folded on the table, her sensible jacket removed and slung over the back of a chair. Her rumpled shirt and tendrils coming free from her ponytail reveal how much energy she’s been putting into this with him—maybe to make up for her emotional outburst earlier, maybe like a mother humoring a child’s singular beneficial interest. “From Peter B. Parker, address is Queens, same as before.”

“What’s the date?” Tony asks. He slips in a pile of letters from last August and nearly breaks his neck. Wishful fucking thinking.

“Last May. Here—”

Tony takes the letter and collapses in a chair, his lower back grateful for the support. He recognizes Peter’s handwriting as he tears the letter open, and he can feel Pepper’s presence over his shoulder, reading along with him.

This letter is different from the others. Tony knows it right away. The first indication should have been the date; Tony’s most recent novel dropped early May of last year. His most controversial work to date, with praise glorious and venomous in kind. Which way did the scales tip when it came to Peter, Tony wonders.

I know that you won’t read this. I’ve written you twice a year since I was ten years old, and you’ve never written back. I don’t blame you. I’m sure you’re busy—I guess I just needed to get these words down somewhere, so that they exist, so that somewhere there is a record of me after I’m dead.

Tony reads the rest in a dazed blur. At one point, Pepper’s hand lifts to press against her mouth, but still they read on, huddled together for convenience and then for comfort.

In the letter, Peter describes the tragedy of his uncle’s death and how he felt personally responsible, and how after months of guilt, when he’d read about Natasha’s sacrifice, he’d decided to take action. Against himself.

If someone’s death can do so much good in the world, Peter wrote with shaky script. Then maybe mine could too. I’m not deluded or anything. I know that I’m not a superhero and that I’m not fighting against some sanctimonious super villain. But I feel like if my death could make May’s life easier, then I have to do it.

“Jesus. Tony, don’t read this—” Pepper reaches out for the letter but Tony nearly rips it in half trying to keep it away from her.

It’s not just for May, Peter admits. I’m ready to stop hurting, too.

Peter signs off, for good. Only it hadn’t been for good—Peter’s most recent letter had obviously proven that, and hadn’t he written it himself? Ignore my last letter, obviously, he’d said. Something must have changed Peter’s mind, but one thing was clear: it hadn’t been Tony. Because Tony had been so self-absorbed, so tangled in his own grief and ego and addictions he hadn’t even read the letter. If Pepper hadn’t saved it, then it might have been destroyed, no record left of Peter’s words at all.

“Tony,” Pepper says. She takes the letter from his fingers and he lets it go. His hands are numb. “This isn’t your fault. Peter obviously was unstable—he’d just watched his uncle being murdered in front of him. No one in their right mind would read Natasha’s death and think that you were encouraging them to take their own life.”

“I know that,” Tony snaps. Lying. Then: “I’m not an idiot, Pep.”

Maybe the biggest lie of all.

#starker #writer!tony #fan!peter #tw: alcoholism #tw: drugs #tw: suicide attempt #cagewrites

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godlydolans · 4 years

Note

does ethan’s family ever come to like y/n or do they still avoid her as much as they could

They didn’t like her in the beginning because they didn’t approve of Ethan having an extra marital affair with someone while his wife was in LA, getting help and trying to get better. Yeah, I’m the Dolans’ eyes, Ethan was the one who wasn’t ‘trying’ and they thought he was giving up on his marriage too easily and Iris was the poor girl holding on for dear life. But they never saw how bad things between them had gotten. They didn’t know that Ethan had tried really hard to get his wife to stop her drinking. He had also taken her to see a therapist and she had flushed all the antidepressants down the toilet the minute she had gotten home.

When Ethan was still holding out hope for their marriage, Iris wasn’t willing to cooperate. Not being able to have a baby even after trying IVF was like a punch to the gut and she couldn’t even look at her husband half the time. She hated to see that he wasn’t nearly as affected by the problem as she was. And when he tried to talk to her about adoption, she all but lost it. The drinking got out of control, she started staying out with friends until ungodly hours of the night. Ethan had lost count of the times one of her friends had called him to come pick her up because she was so drunk (among other things) that she couldn’t walk straight.

He finally had had enough when she threw a lamp at his head in one of her drunken fit. That was the last straw for him. He had never Ben dreamt of laying his hand on her and he expected the same treatment from her. Nearly getting a glass lamp to the head was not what he deserved and he couldn’t take anymore of this. She no longer was the woman he had married and she didn’t have any intentions of finding that woman again. After making sure she was in bed safely, Ethan packed a travel bag and left home.

For him, his marriage was over. Whenever he thought of his wife, pleasant memories no longer entered his mind. They were all tainted by the horrible way she had treated him of late, the accusations she had thrown his way, the names she had called him. And he remembered the crazed look in her eyes when she had snapped and thrown that lamp on him.

He couldn’t really think of going back to that.

But Ethan’s leaving home and cutting all connection with Iris, finally made her see that she had far more to lose than just the future with a baby of her own. She hadn’t ever thought Ethan would ever leave her. She didn’t know how to live in a place where he wasn’t present. His absence made her lose her mind even more and she started spiralling harder. Before she finally got a grip on herself. She finally realised that if she really couldn’t have children of her own, her husband was not someone she was willing to lose too. Ethan wasn’t willing to talk to her, but he also hadn’t sent her divorce papers yet. That must mean they weren’t over yet.

So she embarked on the journey to heal herself, both for Ethan and herself. That is what her in-laws paid attention to. They didn’t know the ugly past that had forced her to take that decision.

By then, Ethan had already met Y/N and had started to like her more than a friend should. She was this gorgeous, full of life, bubbly woman who made him laugh and kept him afloat with her happy, quirky self. He was happy in her presence, an emotion he hadn’t felt in what felt like forever. He wanted that in his future, not the past he had left behind.

Y/N knew how much his family meant to Ethan, she’d heard all the stories he had about each member and after hearing so much about them, she almost felt like she knew them. But of course she didn’t. She really wanted to. The Dolans seemed like a great family, full of love and appreciation for each other and she really wanted to be a part of such family. She hadn’t had that in her family and she really craved that unconditional love that family gives you.

They didn’t want to meet her though. Whenever Ethan used to try to pass the phone along to Y/N when his mother called, Mrs. Dolan always made up an excuse to hang up. She knew they didn’t approve of her and that fact really stung but she had Ethan and his love and that was all the mattered.

But that was then and she isn’t the same person she was then. Ethan’s family is in love with Elijah and they love how well he has been raised. The boy has nothing but praises for his mother and her great parenting reflected in his good manners. They appreciated the fact that she was a good mother to Elijah and respected her for the same. They all still felt like she could have tried a little harder to tell Ethan about the baby but Y/N didn’t really care what any of them thought.

In her opinion, she had tried enough to get the news to Ethan, that he hadn’t gotten it was his own fault. She didn’t think she owed it to him to hunt him down where ever he was in the world, drop at his feet and beg him to listen to her. He hadn’t responded to any of her normal way of contraction him and that was that. Moreover, after she had heard the words Iris had used for her baby, she had gotten all the more sure that if having Ethan in Elijah’s life came with exposing him to the obvious hatred Iris had for them, that maybe her son was better off without his father.

Of course now he very much was in the picture and so was his family. They did invite her to celebrate Christmas with them but she thought they were just trying to be polite by not asking just for Elijah to come. She appreciated that but she didn’t want to make things awkward by being there. Y/N remembered how they didn’t like her and wanted nothing to do with her before. She didn’t how that needed to change now. After all, she didn’t have any relation to them. Elijah did and she was letting them around him as much as they liked. There was no reason for her to be around them though and she preffered things that way, uncomplicated and no awkwardness.

So in short, three years ago, the Dolans didn’t want anything to do with her , now she doesn’t want anything to do with them. 🤷‍♀️

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eirist · 4 years

Text

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

A CEREMONY OF SORTS

One-shot #: 20

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot scribble.

Rating: T (Just random craziness)

Note: Funny thing about this plot bunny… it came to me just right after waking up and it was supposed to be a drabble for the Points of No Return collection. But sometimes, one-shots have a mind of their own. But I’m happy that I finally hit the 20th chapter mark!

And if you wanna see what inspired Nami's look here, just click.

Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY SENCHOU! Your crew loves you regardless of your antics!

Summary: “If Luffy does it right this time.”

The fronds of the palm trees randomly lining the island shore swayed as the soothing, balmy sea breeze blew gently all around the small hidden cove on the other side of island.

It teased long, unbound tresses; ruffled unruly, short strands and played with the hems of loose white shirts and flowing dresses, lifting them slightly as the white sand shifted from restless feet.

Eyes exchanged nervous but excited glances.

Everything was calm, peaceful and pleasant.

But the face hidden under the shade of a straw hat was scrunched up in deep concentration. The jutting of his lower lip a sure sign of distress…

“Any time today would be good…” Usopp said in a sarcastic tone.

“Mah,” Sanji huffed. “Looks like a sign that this shouldn’t push through.” He took a drag from his cigarette looking smug and amused at the same time.

“Shut up,” Zoro growled at his direction. “Of course you would say that shit cook!”

“Uhhmm…” Chopper nudged Robin’s leg slightly. “Maybe Luffy’s having a hard time reading what’s written on it?”

The archeologist looked thoughtful. “Hmm… probably…”

“Oi!” Luffy shouted and the reindeer flinched. “I can read ya know! It’s just that…”

"Oohh…” Sanji crooned, looking absolutely happy. “He’s having second thoughts about this!”

"Shut your trap ero-cook!"

“Oi Luffy,” This time it was Franky’s who spoke up… to complain. “We are kinda growing old here!”

Brook stepped closer to his captain and pointed at the strip of paper he was holding. “Just read whatever is written in there Luffy-san.”

Luffy frowned as he stared at the wrinkled paper.

Nami made a clicking sound with her tongue in obvious irritation. Everyone can see a vein popping out of her forehead even as she took a deep breath to calm herself.

Well... here’s to hoping that she wouldn’t lose her temper today of all days.

She shifted closer to their captain… looking dangerous than ever. “Luffy,” she said in an overly sugary sweet tone, that had the others shuffling a few feet away from her. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to change your mind Nami-swaan!” Sanji sang as he twirled towards her, leaving hearts in his wake. “He’s thinking this is all a shitty idea. A really, really shitty idea!” He growled the last word at Zoro’s direction.

“Swirly do not make me cut you into shitty little pieces!”

“Bring it on you stupid moss-head!”

“Stop it!” Usopp hissed at them as his eyes darted towards the now peeved navigator. “Luffy just get on with it! Before Nami decides we are all better off lightning fried!” The sniper mumbled the last sentence with a shudder.

“Luffy,” Jinbe cleared his throat. “Maybe we can… ask someone else to do the honors?"

"Let Jinbe do it!" Usopp suggested, raising a hand. "He was also a captain before, right?"

“But...” It came out as a whine from the rubber man. “I’m the captain! I’m the one who should do it!”

“Then for goodness sake just do it!” Zoro groused, looking absolutely annoyed. “We’ve been standing here for almost half an hour!”

“Demo…”

“You can start by saying we are gathered here Luffy,” Robin instructed with a small smile.

“Aaw! And supeeer work your way until you reach the ‘you may kiss the bride part’!” Franky added.

“Don’t forget to ask if there is anyone here who opposes this…” Sanji piped in. “BECAUSE I DO! I FUCKING DAMN DO!”

Franky made a grab for the cook, almost smothering his whole face with his big mechanical hand, to stop him from raving and going berserk.

“Franky! Temee!”

Luffy’s lips quivered. “We are gathered here today…” he finally intoned, reading from the paper. He lifted his head and glanced at Robin as if looking for approval and the raven-haired woman gave him a slight nod.

He stopped and stared at the paper again and everyone groaned.

Maybe it was not a really good idea to let the Straw Hats’ captain officiate a ceremony as important as this.

Zoro sighed and raked a hand through his hair frustration.

“Hohoho! This marriage is still not official yet, but it looks like it’s bound to sail in rough sea waters.” Sanji remarked smugly. “And sink.”

“Temee, kuso cook!”

“Sanji-kun!” Nami turned towards him, the expression on her face aghast.

“But Nami-swan!”

Usopp frowned at the blond-haired man. “Gosh. You sure are a sore loser.”

“NANI?!”

Splashing sound of water filled the air as the sharpshooter swiftly ran away from danger and into the safety of Robin’s side—who was standing on the shore—where Sanji wouldn’t dare aim his flaming kicks.

Franky rubbed a hand on his chin. “This is getting a bit draggy.”

“My arms are kinda getting tired holding these,” Chopper said in a sheepish tone as he gestured at what he was holding.

“Hmmm… Should we just help out?” Robin inquired.

“Maybe we should, Robin-san.” Brook nodded.

“We definitely should!” Usopp agreed.

“Besides, the bride is looking kinda pissed… not really good when you are about to get married right?” Franky observed. “So I nominate Jinbe to take his place!”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it, if Luffy doesn’t.” The helmsman gladly accepted.

“Aaw really? I was going to nominate Sanji.” Usopp looked disappointed.

“Huh?”

“The hell are you saying shitty sniper?!” The blond chef roared. “WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD I WANT TO DO THAT?!”

“Because I honestly do kinda want to see this whole you-are-now-married-you-may-kiss-the-bride scenario push through!” He hollered back and got nods of approval from mostly the older members of the crew. “And Luffy here is not helping!”

“Hey! Sanji’s not even a captain!” Luffy retorted.

“WHY ME?”

“Yeah why HIM?” Zoro drawled with a jerk of his thumb at the blond’s direction, looking down-right displeased.

Usopp folded his arms across his chest. “Think of it as man’s ultimate sacrifice for the one he loves!”

Zoro cocked an eyebrow at that and Sanji glared daggers at them.

“Oi minna!” Luffy yelled unhappily. “I can do this you know! Sheesh. Trust your captain!”

“THEN FUCKING DO IT AHO SENCHO!” Nami finally exploded after all that effort to rein in her temper. “DO NOT MAKE ME THROTTLE YOU IN THIS DRESS!”

“Kyaaaaaaah!!! I’m sorry Nami!”

Sanji sighed. Usopp did make a valid point. If nothing is done… they won’t be able to move forward and they’ll be stuck in the shores of this island until after the sun sets.

Or until Luffy manages to read what’s on the paper until the very end.

Which looks utterly impossible… given how the rubberman was stuck at the very first sentence.

Not to mention it would totally ruin Nami-san’s mood and her loveliness in her flowing white dress and loose French braid randomly adorned with little pearls.

Swallowing his pride for the sake of his favorite lady’s happiness, he lit up another cigarette before saying, “The wedding dinner will be ready in ten minutes tops.” He nonchalantly stated, earning surprised stares from everyone at his random announcement.

Everything was silent for a few seconds… except for the soft wind blowing across the foliage surrounding them, the rustling of the palm trees and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

Then Luffy suddenly grabbed Zoro and Nami’s hands, entwining them together, before looping his own rubbery ones around it in a sort of a handfast.

“Zoro! Nami! As your captain I now pronounced you married!” He said with a nod of his head and a squeeze on their hands. “Hm! You may now kiss each other.”

And just like that he untangled his hands from them and pumped his fists into the air.

“Yosh! Time for the wedding feast! Sanji MEAT!!!”

"That's it?!" Usopp gasped and Robin giggled. “Oi Luffy! That was rather anti-climactic!”

The others just gaped at their captain and their now ‘married’ crewmates in astonishment.

But the young captain was not listening. “Niku! Niku! Niku!” He chanted. “Oi Sanji!”

“I heard you the first time shitty captain!” Sanji snarled. He turned his attention at the stunned couple.

He smiled at the navigator. “Nami-san… Omedetou!” He greeted sweetly before glowering at Zoro. “Shitty swordsman.”

“Aho cook.”

“Arigatou Sanji-kun!”

“I’ll go and prepare the wedding dinner now.” He turned and was about to head towards the Sunny, which was docked a few meters away when Luffy’s hands grabbed him.

“Let’s go!”

“LUFFY! Kusoooo!”

“Zoro, Nami! Congratulations! Shihishi!” Luffy cheered before catapulting himself and their cook towards their ship.

Zoro and Nami glanced at each other in disbelief.

“Just like that?” Nami murmured to him with a bewildered expression on her face.

“Hmm…” Zoro looked as if he was contemplating. “You know, I expected worse. Way worse.”

“He didn’t even let us exchange our vows! Or slip the rings in each other’s fingers!”

The green-haired man chuckled. “Well we are lucky enough he got to pronounce us married and that we can kiss each other before high tailing it."

Nami pouted. Zoro was right. It was more than what they could hope for when they decided to ask Luffy to marry them.

“Well… guess we have to make use of what we have.” Her smile was dazzling as she stood on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. “Husband.”

Zoro grinned back, tucking an errant lock of orange hair behind her ear. “Wife.” He bent down to kiss her.

There was a soft popping sound and flowers petals showered down on them care of Franky’s modified rocket launcher, Usopp’s newest pop green intercrossing end product and Robin’s numerous blooming hands.

“OMEDETOU!!!”

Amidst the raining petals, there was a tug at the rolled up hem of Zoro’s white pants. He pulled away from Nami and looked down to see Chopper standing near them holding out the ring bearer pillow with a big smile on his cute face.

“Zoro. Nami. Omedetou!”

“Thanks Chopper!” Zoro patted the doctor’s head.

Nami beamed at him. “Arigatou Chopper!” She reached down for one of the rings. She grabbed Zoro’s hand to slip his on his finger. “We are so unconventional. We cannot even pull off a proper wedding.”

“That’s what actually makes us the Straw Hats,” Zoro took the other from Chopper and did the same… stopping just momentarily to admire the gold band that signifies that they belong to each other… now and always.

“And that wasn’t what you and I were supposed to say while slipping these on our fingers.” Nami sighed with a slight wiggle of her hand which was still in his.

Zoro laughed and brought it to his lips for a kiss.

"Oooh!” Chopper squealed as suddenly he hopped on Zoro’s shoulder. He stared at the rings around their fingers. “Wooow! You two are really married now!”

“Zoro! Nami! Congratulations!” Usopp shouted as he ran towards them, grabbing them in a tight hug.

“Thanks Usopp… but get off!”

Their other nakama made their way towards the couple clapping and greeting them, with Franky bawling in the background.

“That was… beautiful! Short but supeeeer sweet!” He sniffled. “Congratulations!”

“Nami, Zoro.” Robin smiled. “Congratulations!”

“Thanks Robin!”

“Congratulations Zoro-san, Nami-san!” Brook bowed down at them. “For the last time my I see your—”

“Do not make me ask Zoro to kick you into the sea Brook.” Nami was all smiles as she threatened the old skeleton.

“I was just kidding yohohoho!”

“Congratulations,” Jinbe nodded at his younger crewmates. “May there be no rough seas that you two cannot sail through together.”

“Aaw!” Frankly bawled louder.

A corner of Zoro’s lips quirked up at that. He liked how it totally negates nosebleed’s earlier statement. Acknowledging it with a slight tilt of his head. ““Domo... Now shall head to the Sunny for a drink?”

Nami rolled her eyes at him. Of course booze is still one of his top priorities.

“Oi Zorooo! Namiii!” Luffy suddenly yelled and waved at them from the deck of the Thousand Sunny where the wedding feast was now laid out. He was chomping on a slab of meat with so much gusto. “Congwatsulashions!”

“Thanks aho captain!”

“Thank you Luffy! Even if you rushed it for the sake of eating you idiot!”

Luffy laughed as he peeked at them from the Sunny’s rail. “Shishishi! But there is nothing more to say. You two are now married… that’s it!”

Zoro and Nami blinked at the simple-mindedness that made Luffy… Luffy.

Though he was right. That was all there is to it. They are now married. It was a fact that will not change.

They smiled at each other.

Besides there was no winning against their captain anyway.

“But if you want we can do it again!” Luffy suggested. “Sanji’s wedding feast is a lot more awesome than our usual meals!”

A myriad of colorful languages suddenly came from the deck, care of their resident chef.

“I promise I will finish reading what Robin wrote in the paper!”

A few seconds later, Luffy’s head ricocheted from the force of Sanji’s kick.

“Aho sencho! Don’t you dare! Once is enough! I don’t want to see my Nami-swan get married to that third rate swordsman again!”

Zoro eyed Nami with both eyebrows raised. “My?” He mouthed. “Really?” He gestured at the rings they were now wearing.

The mapmaker just laughed. “You do know what you are getting into when you agreed to marry me right?”

He let out a ‘tch’ and smirked at her. “Oi Luffy!” He shouted. “That’s actually a good idea!”

Luffy looked surprised. “It is?”

“IT IS?” Sanji’s perplexed voice rang across the deck.

“It is?” Nami echoed.

“Yeah,” Zoro nodded. “Just think of it this way… aside from rubbing it again on swirly brows face…”

“We may also get to finally exchange our vows… and rings as well. As what should have happened today.” Nami continued, following his train of thought immediately. “Not a bad idea Zoro.”

“Only if Luffy does it right this time…”

Robin sighed as she stepped beside them and casually said.

"That is… if he gets past the ‘we are gathered here today’ part."

#zoro x nami #ZoNa #zonami #zonalove #zona one-shots #zoro nami fanfiction #roronoa zoro #nami

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