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chuluoyi · 3 months

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HAPPY MARRIAGE

- nanami kento x reader

“you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” you have always wondered where did you and kento go wrong. in the wake of your divorce, as you both returned to single lives, you and kento would come to realize what constitutes a happy marriage is... and it takes more than just love

genre: post-divorce angst, crack, misunderstandings, arguments, hurt/comfort, bestfriend!gojo is going to help your love life, and fluff in the end!

note: this fic... goes through a major change overnight after i was struck with a wholly different plot *sobs* and then i went through a major writing block for at least a week before i know what words i'm going to write :') anyways, this isn't really proofread so please forgive any typos to the anon who requested this and others, i do hope you'll enjoy it! tagging @tiredkitten as per request <3

listen to: today more than yesterday - kim jong kook

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

No divorce ever comes easy.

When couples enter into marriage, they do so with the dream of a lifelong bond filled with love and compassion. You too did once. And even until now, you still want that for yourself.

When you married Nanami Kento three years ago, you thought it was for eternity. He was your dream man, the only man you could see yourself with. He embodied everything that was just and righteous, and he was also kind man, who would always put you first, shielding you from any sort of harm.

Even if the source of that ‘harm’ turned out to be himself.

“You don't deserve to be unhappy. and I don’t want to be unhappy, either.”

Strangely, you didn't resent Kento that much, in the end. At that time, both of you had come to terms with it and you couldn't blame anyone. But now, six months later, as you sat in this shabby bar, downing shots of gin with your thoughts swirling in an alcohol-induced haze, your emotions were all over the place, and moreover, the presence of a certain clown before you was just particularly irksome, and you knew that he was someone you could blame—

“Gojo, you prick!”

Gojo raised one righteous eyebrow. "Who, me? Sorry, but I'm not your ex-husband?"

Gojo Satoru was the witness to several milestone in your life. Insufferable as he was, somehow you clicked with him ever since your early days as a jujutsu sorcerer. You remembered sending him your handpicked wedding invitation, having him celebrating your promotions, and then coming to him with tears running down your face in the middle of the night, telling him, “We are getting a divorce.”

"You!" you snapped, slamming down your glass of gin, whipping your head around to face the blindfolded idiot that was your longtime friend. Your index finger accusingly aimed at him. "This is all your fault!"

"Wha—"

"Because of you!"

"Okay, now it's clear that you're just too far gone—"

You hiccupped, your tone laced with fiery emotion. "If it weren't for you—if you hadn't been so adamant about setting us up back then—!"

Gojo grimaced. Ah, so this was the so-called drunken musings. While it was amusing to see his friend of 7 years in this state, even he couldn't deny how a tad bit pitiful you were.

"...then maybe," you started to deflate, eyes watering and lips trembling, sniffling. "I-I won't have to go through this..."

Correction, you were so pitiful you had no idea. But still, as a longtime associate, he couldn't bring himself to abandon you there, wallowing in your sorrows all alone.

He sighed and patted your back. "There, there... what about I introduce you to other guys, hmm? See if it'll lessen the pain away?"

You shot him a look so hateful despite your bleary vision. "No! Last time you did, it ended in a divorce for me! I refuse to let you turn me into a two-time divorcee!"

"I'm pretty sure your marriage is far from my business, I'm just your kind-hearted, handsome broker—"

"Bah! You— tasteless prick!"

You burped loudly afterwards and Gojo winced, and then you suddenly (and theatrically, he might add) slumped face-down onto the table with a thud, passed out in all your drunken glory.

And Gojo could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief.

. . .

He thought then, that you were definitely going to owe him one after this.

More often than not, throughout the past six months, Nanami also found himself thinking about you too.

Despite his calm exterior, separation with you didn't come easy for him. There was a reason he married you in the first place—he had loved you, and he too wanted it to last. You used to be the reason he went home on time each and everyday, the reason he eagerly anticipated spending his weekends with.

Everything had fallen apart before either of you realized it. Some disagreements suddenly spiraled into lonely nights, no updates during longer missions, your tears, and then ended with both of you filing the papers in the city hall to end it all.

Six months ago, he thought he was final with his decision. He thought it was the best as he was faced with the sight of your tear-streaked face.

“Kento, I’m not asking m-much, am I?” you asked between sobs, wiping your tears harshly. “Aren’t w-we family? Shouldn’t we be doing a lot of things—together?”

Recalling that moment now, it tugged at his heartstrings anew. Yet, despite everything...

“I’m telling you, I know my limits—”

“Is that all you have to say? Don’t you know how sick with worry I am?” you ended up shouting at him, voice quivering. “Put yourself in my shoes and think: how can I possibly sleep at night, constantly fearing that my husband might—” your voice broke, fresh tears flowing freely. “—might not come back?!”

He was the one who backed away first, who made you lose all hope, and ultimately, placed the sentence upon you.

“If you don't have it in you to... then, perhaps it's for the best that we... just get a divorce.”

"Nanami-san, you okay?"

He looked up from the sizzling barbeque grill pan to his junior, Ino Takuma, who looked concerned as he flipped the meat. "You have been staring into space for a while..."

"I'm fine, Ino-kun." He looked down and grabbed the tongs, flipping his side of beef.

Ino let out a sympathetic sigh. "Honestly, lately, you seem down."

Words he was holding back were "ever since your divorce", but Ino was pretty sure his senior understood the implicaton.

Nanami hummed. "Sometimes life just doesn't go as swimmingly... I'm fine."

Ino never really knew you that well and was curious. In fact, he was so very curious. When it comes to Nanami Kento, everything he does and has done is always with justified and sound reason, but he might be biased because the 7:3 sorcerer was his role model.

It might verge on invading his privacy, but—

"They said... Gojo-san was your matchmaker back then?" he went through with the question anyway, testing the waters. "I don't mean to pry, but I just thought it's cute."

To Ino's surprise, Nanami's lips curled into a small smile. "It's fine, Ino-kun. I think it has become common knowledge by now. Yeah... he was."

"For you to have fallen for someone who was Gojo's acquaintance... it speaks volumes about how charming Y/N is."

"Mmm," he nodded slightly as he indulged in the grilled meat. "She is."

"Nanami-san." Okay, Ino was starting to think that he wouldn't be getting his point across if he went the roundabout way. He would shoot it straight then. "I don't mean to patronize you... but if you're really that miserable, then I think you should go back to her and talk things out, no?"

Nanami put down his chopsticks and let out a soft sigh, making Ino to immediately regret his blatant suggestion.

"Before arriving at such a difficult decision, of course we did try to discuss some things," he explained, his gaze meeting his calmly. "I don't take matters like divorce lightly, Ino-kun."

"But still... now—"

To drove the point home, Nanami chose to vocalize the conclusion that still left a bitter taste in his mouth to this day:

"She is unhappy with the way things are, and I have to come to terms with the fact that I can't provide what she needs."

Ino's gaze fell in dejection. "Nanami-san..."

Nanami chuckled fondly. “I appreciate your concern, Ino-kun. Thank you.”

In front of his junior, he could maintain composure and narrated the collapse of his own marriage as if he were a mere spectator. But in his heart of hearts, Nanami Kento wasn’t at all the stoic man he made everyone believed he was—the fact that he had failed to give you the life of happiness he promised on the day he proposed to you still stung him to this day.

It hurt him, but echoing your words, he couldn't subject you to a marriage that felt like a dull cohabitation with little understanding.

“We never really talk anymore, do we...? We never really work on our problems too. Kento, lately, I feel like... things have changed.”

Suppose what he had to do was letting you go now.

It was easier said than done, because when Nanami saw you the next day at the school—this being the first time in several weeks—he almost couldn’t keep his cool.

"Ichiji, don't be too stiff!" you slapped the poor guy in the back with a giggle. "It's just me, it's been a while!"

You didn't look much different than the last he saw you—still the chirpy self he unwittingly fell in love with, staying on top of the latest fashion trends and all. Yet, there was definitely something different about you, something he just couldn't quite identify...

And then those cheerfulness deflated when your gaze met his, eyes widening as you tried to get your bearings. "Oh—h-hi, Kento."

That's too forced. It was so unnatural that made him almost wince.

"Hello." But the tremble in his voice, too, betrayed him. "Have you been well?"

You shifted your gaze away from him, and right before you answered, you let out a cough, and that was when he spotted it: you looked kind of pale.

"I'm fine."

"Oh, that's good then."

Silence. This was the absolute worst.

Nanami exhaled. It was you he was talking to, his ex-wife. He knew you inside out—or at least, he used to. He knew you didn't like this dryness as much as he did. He had to say something.

He braved himself. "Are you here for a mission?"

You looked at him in slight surprise. "Oh... yeah."

Darn it. Another dry reply.

"There... is a cursed totem in North Tokyo," you elaborated, not really looking at him. "Gojo's out from tomorrow until next week. I'm substituting for him to assist the first years."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Nanami found himself asking before he could stop. "I mean no disrespect, but you look a bit pale."

"I am," you snapped, leaving him surprised. It was as though he had unintentionally struck a nerve, quickly turning your mood sour. "I'm fully capable of handling this, Kento."

"Please, I don't mean to upset you. I'm just..."

Worried about you. Somehow his throat closed in, it didn't really feel right to say that now.

"—I know how rash you can be." He regretted his words as soon as they were out.

It was clearly a bad choice of words as you took offense, your expression quickly turned into one of disdain.

"How rich... that it's coming from you," you scowled.

Memories of your failed marriage flooded your mind's eye. The long nights your ex-husband didn't bother to leave you a message. How he would return home with wounds and blood staining his clothes. And now... he had the nerve to insinuate that you were the reckless one?

"I can take care of myse—"

"That's a whole load of bullshit!"

Good grief. Why must Gojo pick this exact scene to show up?

The blindfold took big strides and halted between the two of you, pointing one finger in your face.

“Last night, she got wasted. Like totally wasted! She could barely walk straight afterwards and then she had the audacity to blame me! Me! For all her mess! Goodness, I’m just a very chivalrous friend and yet—”

"Shut up!" you were horrified, face flushed with embarrassment. "Gojo, you complete jerk!"

Nanami wouldn't admit it, but there was always something between you and Gojo Satoru that made him a bit uncomfortable, even way back when the two of you were still married. Perhaps the closeness, the candidness you shared. He knew you wouldn't harbor anything for someone as elusive as Gojo Satoru, but still, it remained an uncomfortable sight for him.

Like there was nothing pleasant about knowing Gojo Satoru was the one taking care of you in your drunken stupor. You shouldn't have in the first place. If it were him, he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. If he were still the one by your side—

Despite himself, thoughts like that swirled in his mind far often than he would've liked.

Suddenly, the air felt stifling. Nanami didn't like this at all, and even as you two were still harmlessly bickering, he chose to leave.

"Oiii, Nanami!"

He had barely left the room when the person he disliked the most emerged from the door, following closely behind him. Gojo evidently knew what his thoughts were. As irritating as he was, the bloke was smart, he wasn't the strongest for nothing.

"Na-na-mi! You can't just leave like that! We're going to have lunch together—"

"Gojo-san," Nanami stopped in his tracks and let out an exasperated sigh, throwing the white-haired idiot a glare so hard it would curse him if only glares could. "Please stop bothering me."

“How cold-hearted,” the blindfold replied in a mocking scoff. “No matter how, she was once your wife. How could you not care one bit?”

“We have gone on our separate ways, and if she is good with the way things are, then so am I.”

What a lie. He still couldn't help but to care. If you ever needed his help in whatever way even now, he would still move heavens for you.

“And that’s where you’re wrong, Nanami,” Gojo suddenly interjected in a less playful manner. “She is really missing you, you know.”

But you had your best friend by your side, didn't you? Someone perfect, without equal. Surely, you wouldn't need him anymore.

Gojo raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure that she's good with the way things are?"

"What exactly is she not good with?"

"Everything? You never ask her."

This was getting irritating, and before Nanami really lost control over himself, he finally drew a line.

"Gojo-san, I'm tired of people assuming things about our current relationship," he said, leveling a piercing look at him. "We are both adults. We reached the decision to separate because we both know why. If this is your way of showing concern, then thank you—but I'd prefer if you didn't interfere any further. We're handling this just fine, and by all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore."

With that, he left. Even when he wanted to stay longer with you, even when, in his wildest dreams, he wanted to rebuild everything with you again—

He knew you were there, hearing all of this.

Gojo clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed. "Grr... You're so stubborn..."

. . .

There was a reason why you went to the school. Yaga's sudden request and of course, the chance to see Nanami again.

But when your conversation ended in a bitter note and he walked away, a part of you plunged into instant panic, compelling you to eavesdrop on his conversation with Gojo.

But as expected from you cool ex-husband, he was all rationale and logic.

By all means, I think people should stop associating us anymore.

Nanami would think so, wouldn't he? And he wouldn't be bothered either.

You shouldn't have expected more. This was no television drama in which the couple would get back together that easily. You were living in the harsh reality of jujutsu world, which basically, was the cause of your divorce in the first place.

At one point, you found it all to be exhausting, but upon reflection, it was more painful to acknowledge that he never truly fought to keep you by his side.

Tears welled up in your eyes unbidden, and you walked away quickly, brushing them away.

This is it. There is no use hoping anymore.

If you weren't on missions, then you'd likely be drinking. This had been the undeniable truth over the past few weeks.

Gojo found both you and Nanami to be irritating. The way both of you would evade each other was just plain stupid by this point, since it was clear to anyone with eyes that you were still not over each other.

"Nanami! Why don't you join us for dinner tonight!"

And since you were such an irritable drunk, he chose to keep poking the easier target.

Nanami shot him a scathing look, definitely done. "I have a prior appointment. Goodbye."

"Hoh?! But! They'll have free drinks!"

For the life of him, Nanami just wanted to go back home. He had minus interest in free drinks and even less in Gojo himself, and he would make his points clear.

"For the last time, I'm telling you, I don't want any part in your—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ooh, wait a minute, Nanamin! I got a call!"

Nanami gritted his teeth in pure annoyance. He truly didn't care about his call and seized the chance to walk away quickly, eager to flee.

Until—

"Hello? Yes. Yes... what? Huh— Y/N is rushed to hospital?"

...and that caused him to halt abruptly. Suddenly, his entire body went rigid, as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

You're hurt?

"I mean why—the hell? Severe bleeding?!" Gojo's voice dramatically rose, seemingly in surprise. "Whoa, uh, traffic accident?!"

Within seconds, everything as he knew it came to an end. He spun around, yanking the phone from Gojo's grasp, indifferent to whether it caught the latter off guard or not.

"Which hospital is this?" he demanded from the person on the other end, his voice rough and harsh. Suddenly, the fog in his mind dissipated, and he was consumed by panic.

"I'm sorry, sir, that's not—oh, it's Tokyo General Hospital—"

"Thank you." Nanami shoved the phone back to Gojo and broke into a sprint, in search of taxi.

At this moment, everything was a plethora of chaos—his surroundings melded into a blur, the constant honking of nearby vehicles echoed in his ears, and the relentless pounding in his chest threatened to overwhelm him. Nothing else held any significance. Nothing, except you.

Why did you get hurt? How did you even get into a traffic accident?

This was maddening. His world was falling apart hard and fast. The beginnings of heartbreak, stirring and churning in the depths of his stomach, once again threatened to drown him whole—

To others it may seem laughable that he was this shaken over an ex-wife, but precisely because you were his ex-wife was why he was running through the streets of Shibuya, opting not to take the cab as the traffic jam was at its peak.

Oh, how Nanami regretted it. He regretted a multitude of things; those long nights, silent treatments, your tears, divorcing you. If he could turn back the time, he'd do anything in his power to prevent that divorce from ever happening. He'd treasure you better, he'd make time for you more—

Because what if, now you were really slipping away from him for good? What if, he would never see you ever again?

Within minutes, he arrived at the said hospital, haggard, spooking the nurses, demanding your room number.

Thank heavens that the visiting hour wasn't over yet. He marched towards the said room, all of his logic and rationale flying out of window as he threw open the door.

And then he saw the pristine bed, IV drip, and you—

Sitting upright on the bed, turning a page of a magazine, your eyes widening and blinking at him in complete confusion—

Huh, what?

The last thing you would expect after waking up in the hospital was your ex-husband barging in unannounced, looking as though he'd just survived a whirlwind.

"Kento...?" you almost squeaked, taken aback at the sight.

His hair was a sweaty mess, his usually immaculate suit was crinkled and his tie was loosened, but it was the look in his eyes that grabbed your attention—as if expecting the worst.

“Are you alright?” he grounded out, approaching you in deliberately slow steps. “How long has it since you woke up?”

“Um... yes? Since about an hour or so.” You frowned. “Kento, what are you doing here?”

“They said you have severe bleeding, involved in an accident—”

“What! No! Did the hospital reach out to you?” you felt a bit uncomfortable at the thought. “I was sure I have removed you from my emergency contacts—”

“Gojo did—”

Suddenly, understanding dawned on him, and he cursed under his breath. “That rotten bastard!”

You blinked, unsure of what he meant at all. To his credit, Nanami didn’t dwell long on his thoughts and faced you once again with another fresh batch of confusion. “Wait, Gojo is your emergency contact? Why?”

“Should anything happen to me and a payment is required to settle it, he can handle the bills first?”

If Nanami didn’t look exasperated before then he sure did now. “Y/N… you…”

He released the deepest sigh imaginable before settling onto the sofa, further tousling his hair and removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Did you know I ran to get here because I thought something bad happened to you?” Nanami stated in a strained voice.

Why did your heart skip a beat? Why was Nanami suddenly playing the part of a concerned husband when the time for it has long passed?

Feeling suddenly irritated, you rolled your eyes. “I just passed out due to high blood pressure. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” his eyes squared on you, quiet anger behind them. “In what sense does you passing out ever ‘not a big deal’? What have you been doing?”

"Why does that even matter to you still?" you contested. "You were the one who said everyone should stop linking us together by now."

"Y/N, you're missing the—"

"You divorced me!" you screamed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes as the urge to cry threatened to consume you. "You... h-have divorced me, Nanami Kento!"

Nanami felt as if a blade had pierced and twisted his chest at the sight of you—your quivering form, the stifled sobs. He had never wished to see you in such despair again.

"So why!" you finally broke down and sobbed. "Why did you play the caring husband now? Why not before? Why do you keep toying with my feelings...?"

"I'm not." Nanami grunted, getting up and approaching your bed. "I never meant to. That was never my intention. I never—"

"Then what!? What are you doing? Why did you throw me out just like that and why now—"

"Believe me when I said that I never want you to be miserable!"

You halted mid-rant, eyes wide as you gazed at him. Blinking, you felt a tear roll down your cheek. It was the first time Nanami had ever raised his voice at you. Even in the past, he never had.

But suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through your abdomen, causing you to instinctively clutch it. You whimpered, a nearly involuntary squeak escaping you, feeling the intense burn inside.

Nanami immediately got a hold of your hunched form, alarmed. "What is it? What hurts?" When all you could manage were pained sniffles in response, he swiftly hit the nurses' button and enveloped you in his embrace.

"Hold on," he comforted, placing a hand over where you clutched your abdomen, trying to offer some relief in any way. "They'll be here soon, don't pass out!"

"Mmngh," you gripped his hand in response, squeezing it as you slumped into his chest. For the first time in six months, you were enveloped in his warmth once again, and despite everything that had transpired, you were deeply moved by his gesture.

It took seeing you in such distress to dispel any doubts Nanami may have had. You were so petite against him, so delicate as you squirmed amidst your tears.

Had you experienced pain like this in the past six months? The thought made his heart lurch. Did no one comfort you at all?

. . .

And that was when he decided it.

He never, ever wants to see you in any sort of pain, ever again. And should it happen, then he'll be the one staying by your side, just like this.

Alcoholic gastritis. You consumed so much alcohol that it irritated your ulcer and causes a really painful tummy ache.

You could feel Nanami's judging gaze on you as your attending doctor explained your predicament. Truth to be told, you were quite ashamed. Your unhealthy lifestyle were laid bare before your ex-husband and it made you feel like a kid being scolded for misbehaving.

After the doctor left, Nanami sighed and pulled out a chair next to your bed. "Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah..." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. "Sorry, that... you have to see that."

But thankfully, he was unflappable as ever. "Nothing to be sorry about. It's fine."

You were kind of embarrassed of your outburst earlier too. While you didn't regret expressing your feelings, you pondered if could've done it in a less confrontational way.

At this point, you'd accept anything. Even if Nanami told you off after this—

"Let me continue from what I was saying earlier," he suddenly began, catching your attention. You perked up, and looked at him expectantly.

Nanami released a deep sigh, and the words he spoke next were ones you never thought you'd hear from him again.

"Did you remember what I said when I proposed our divorce?" he asked, somewhat rhetorically. You wordlessly nodded, because it was one of the lines that made you unable to hate him completely.

"I said, you don't deserve to be unhappy." Nanami looked you right in the eyes, undaunted. "And that still stands until now."

Now fully engrossed in his words, the rhythm of your heart intensified, echoing in your chest.

"It wasn't a decision I blurted out lightly. I know you're hurt, because I am too. I married you with a reason. I have loved you. and if you were to ask me now, my answer would be the same—I am still in love with you."

Why did it feel like your vision was beginning to blur once more?

"But," Nanami's face contorted into a frown, gazing hard at you. "If staying with me is what makes you miserable—if waiting nights after nights, hoping I can make it each time haunts you so much—then I'm more than willing to release you from that burden. I don't want to subject you to that life."

Warm tears slid down your cheeks. Sniffling, you averted your gaze, looking downwards.

"Look, I make you cry again," he sighed, a mix of fondness and sadness in his voice, as a bitter smile graced his lips. One of his thumbs gently lifted your jaw, while the other tenderly wiped away your tears.

"Kento, I—" you quickly looked up, swallowing the lump in your throat. You had made up your mind. "I don't want you to leav—"

"I know," he cut in, his voice solemn, as he stroked your tear-streaked cheeks. "I know, and that's exactly why I'm going to say what I'm about to say next."

And with his next words, your heart burst into complete, utter warmth—

"Let's start over." Nanami Kento's voice was your lifeline, anchoring you and keeping you afloat. "We can take our time. There's no rush—we can return to how things were in the beginning. And when you're ready, then and only then... will I ask you to marry me again."

The one person who has your heart in his grasp, someone whom you are willing to care way more than yourself... You were openly sobbing now and yet a radiant smile broke through your tears.

There was only one answer you had in mind.

Five years later

"Yes! Yes! Yay!"

Today was sunny, just like the day of your wedding. Memories flooded back as you glanced at the grand wedding portrait in the foyer, a snapshot of yourself and your husband in blissful celebration.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the gentle smile on Kento's face amidst his typically stiff posture. You remembered his vows to you.

The one person who I will look for the rest of my life... is you. I have never met someone so important and precious to me that it hurts.

The sound of a car pulling up snapped you out of your reverie. Oh, he's home.

As you opened the door, your smile grew even broader, until a small figure darted past you at such speed that you were left gawking.

"Daddy!" your daughter's voice rang out with pure delight, leaping into your husband's arms the moment he swung the car door open, catching him off guard.

"Oh my, why are you so sweaty?" Kento inquired, scrutinizing your daughter with a puzzled frown, yet holding her close. "I thought we're going to the playground after this?"

"She's so excited for it that she keeps running and jumping around all the while," you chimed in with a gentle sigh, affectionately ruffling your daughter's hair as she beamed up at both of you.

Before long, the three of you set off to the playground, fulfilling the promise you had made to your daughter. As she entertained herself with the slides, Kento's low chuckle drew your attention. "What's so funny?"

"She takes after you a lot, you know," he remarked, a fond smile on his face. "The way she is just full of energy."

"Really? But sometimes she'll get this wrinkly little scowl on her face when she's annoyed—she looks like you then."

"Wrinkly...? No, surely I don't have that many wrinkles yet..."

Your laughter filled the air, a testament to the joy found in these simple, everyday moments.

Unexpected moments of joy, the comfort of family, and a love that had grown and evolved, stronger and more resilient with time...

And this, is what you'd call a happy marriage.

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duuhrayliegh · 5 days

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equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

#bartender!bucky x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bartender!bucky x peanut!reader #bucky x peanut #consequences #ray's writing #bartender!bucky barnes x peanut!reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #bartender!bucky #bartender!bucky barnes x you #bartender!bucky barnes x y/n #bartender!bucky x you

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viburnt · 4 months

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Divorcing Izuku Midoriya Headcanons

I'm on a creative rush, and this may make zero sense because I'm tired lmao. Anyways, have some angst <3

Tagging the babes: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot @trickster-kat @angelshimaa (babe, you've missed some very angsty posts) @xhieru @mimisxs @dabislittlemouse

Content Warning: Divorce, emotional abuse and manipulation, mention of baby-trapping, alcohol.

• As I said in my last post, divorcing Izuku is a nightmare. Think about the most energy-draining and mental health deteriorating process, and multiply it for a minimum of 6 months. Izuku won't make things easy for you at all, trying to drag and prolong the whole ordeal just to keep you close. I've divided this set of headcanons by key moments/topics to keep some order. I hope you enjoy them, I'm pouring my heart on these (also pay attention to detail because I'm working on something hehe).

Denial and confusion: the first days after you serve him papers

• Izuku genuinely doesn't understand why you want to leave, refusing to accept the fact that you're not happy being by his side. He's given you all there is to give: a comfortable house, nice clothes, expensive cars, etc. So when you serve him papers, Izuku's first reaction is confusion followed by fear. In that head of his, he's made everything a good husband has to do! So why? Why would you not be happy?

• If you were smart enough and planned your movements with care, you should be able to go through your divorce without depending financially on Izuku or having to live in the same place. You'd have to deal with his incessant calls and texts, often having to block unknown numbers to avoid hearing his whines, but it'd be less difficult. If you weren't thoughtful about the situation and proceeded without the right steps, oh, you're in for a treat: there's nowhere you can go besides the house you shared with him, no place where you can be at peace. You're at Izuku's mercy, like it or not, but that's another story.

• In addition to his denial, Izuku starts to (unconsciously) guilt trip you. Phrases like "Sorry for not being enough," and "I know I'm very pathetic" become frequent. It pains your heart to hear those things because you know Izuku loves you, you are just not compatible at all. You try to let him see it's not about being enough, it's more about effort; with much patience, you set things clear to avoid any misunderstandings, but Izuku just doesn't get it.

• "Haven't I done this or that for you? Didn't I buy you all these things? Am I not enough?" "Izuku, I didn't ask you for any of this, all I wanted was my husband..." Conversations like this occur during this phase, and they can only be held through the phone (when he is sober and not yelling/hollering how much of a mistake a divorce would be). He tries to gauge sympathy from you, telling you that his job is important but that he loves you so much!

• He becomes an empty shell of the bright ray of sunshine the public knew. It goes unnoticed by many, but the people who work around him can tell. It is then when he starts telling others about his marital situation, and you end up seeing faces you've met once or twice during galas or hero events. You "accidentally" stumble across your husband's colleagues, like Ochako, who try to convince you to give him a second chance. "I- I know we don't know each other a lot but please, consider it. Izuku is a great guy a-and I'm sure you guys could fix any problem!" It is embarrassing for you because no one wants people to know their issues.

• What's so ironic about the moment when you serve him papers is that he receives them at his office, the very root of all the problems in your marriage. It was the place where he had spent anniversaries, birthdays, Valentine's... those four walls witnessed the beginning and the end of your relationship. Izuku has a mental breakdown when he finally reads the documents but, hey, he was still pro-hero Deku, right?

Negotiations and lawyers: The first weeks and months

• If having to deal with Izuku's colleagues trying to change your mind wasn't enough, be ready for your soon-to-be ex trying to negotiate. Midoriya suggests couple's therapy to talk this through, and for a split of second, it almost sounds like a good idea! But then you remember all those times when Izuku had promised you he'd be there for you and failed. It didn't seem plausible after that... Besides, all things considered, it'd be hard to find a therapist who could see your side of the story. Who would dare to tell someone as charming and popular as Izuku that he failed as a husband?

• Once therapy is off the table, Izuku brings up children. It may be considered a low blow, especially if one of your dreams was to form a family with him, so his offer felt cruel. "W-we can have kids! Wouldn't you want that? We can be a big family, with one- No, two babies!" "Ouch, it takes a divorce for you to even think about it, huh? That's uh, slightly concerning. Besides, a kid needs a father too... I'm not planning on being a single mom in this marriage" Now, Izuku strikes me as the kind that would try to . to stay. I'm sorry if it sounds terrible, but considering how sometimes he acts on impulse, he really could try it.

• Izuku also tries to be at home more often; he "cooks" (it's takeout disguised as home meals), brings you coffee to the bed, and calls you all kinds of sappy nicknames... It saddens you, why couldn't he care like that before? Of course, this point only applies if you still live with him during this whole process. If you don't, he starts frequenting the places where he guessed could find you: cafeterias, plazas, shops...

• Finding a lawyer for you was a hard task, especially because everyone sees you as a "dumb" woman who is trying to divorce Japan's number one hero. Not to mention they were very expensive, and Izuku was certainly not giving you money for that. You tell Izuku that mediations need to happen to progress with the divorce, but he never shows up to the meetings. There's always an excuse for that man! No matter how much you plea, he refuses to sign the paper. Izuku also becomes very mean towards you, outright berating you for not understanding him. It's gruesome to see him turn into such a monster during these months.

• As an additional point for this part, Izuku hires a private investigator to follow you around. He feels bad for thinking of it, but the idea that you could be seeing someone else while you're trying to divorce him eats him alive.

Last resort: Mediatic battle

• The media is very quick to pick up your marriage's fall down. Time after time you visited your lawyer's office for them to put two and two together, and Izuku takes that to his advantage. Sensationalist articles had already been happening, a lot of them being cruel and demeaning towards you. Titles like "Is she a cheater?" "No amount of success gives you the girl!" And "Pro-hero Deku will be looking for a new wife soon" started popping up. You have to take down any social platform to avoid being targeted.

• It is when Izuku gives a public declaration that things get worse. "I'm sorry, my wife is just not happy with me anymore. Please respect her wish! Don't harass her, I failed as a husband." It may seem like a hearty and sorrowful declaration from the outside, but Izuku picked word by word to gain sympathy and pressure you into changing your mind. People in the street call you "heartless", and the stress simply keeps growing for you.

• To put it in simple words, you were David against Goliath, except Goliath was a glorified person who had all the resources and support of the people. You were nothing but a tiny mouse squeaking to be set free of a relationship that was suffocating you.

The aftermath: Supposing you haven't given up and he signed the divorce papers

• If you somehow manage to divorce him after all these problems, congratulations. You survived 5% of the drama that awaits you! Now you won't be able to date someone without people snapping photos for entertainment news or judging you for leaving "such a great man". Izuku will still try to convince you to go back to him, playing his "sad lover" role in front of the cameras so well! He'll try to send expensive gifts and tell you to keep the house, he'll call you drunk in the middle of the night, and if you're not careful enough, he may try to gaslight you into thinking nothing wrong was happening in your marriage.

• One particular thing I must mention is that Izuku only signed the papers after you yelled at him at one of the legal mediations, hot embarrassment tears falling from your tired eyes as you begged him to let you go.

• Anyways, the list could go on, but those are the main points of divorcing Izuku :')

"Please, just sign the papers..." You said through the phone, your voice tired of pleading to someone who simply refused to hear you. "I will, I will! I'm just a little under the snow with work. Can you reschedule?" Izuku said, apologizing for not being there for you. Excusing himself for failing you, but refusing to let go. "You know how many articles I've seen with my face saying how much of bitch I am for visiting my lawyer's office?"

Izuku's silence was deafening, you could only hear him sigh slightly, perhaps feeling bad for putting you in such a position. "I don't want this divorce."

"But I do, so don't make things more difficult for me, please." He heard you say, biting his lip to hold back the tears. Izuku was glad you couldn't see him, sitting alone in his office with a half-empty bottle of wine you'd gifted him for his birthday. "Do you remember what day is today?" He asked.

"I don't know, Monday? I haven't slept lately." You answered unamused. "It's our anniversary... we married 5 years ago, on this very day." His words came out as a slow slur, his breath hitching as he crumbled through the phone. "I miss you a lot, please-"

"I'll see you on Wednesday, if you're not there I swear to God..."

...

"Mr. Midoriya?" Your lawyer called, her voice bringing your anxious husband back to reality. "Ah, sorry, it's me. Is... is she in there?" He asked, pointing at her office. She just looked at him with little sympathy and nodded. "On time, as always. Maybe you should avoid keeping her waiting, that's the least you could considering how many times we've had these conversations."

"There's no way I can fix this, is there?" Izuku asked as if the lawyer cared. "Wanna do something nice for her? Divorce her."

#my hero academia #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #deku angst #izuku midoriya angst #divorced Au! Yeah I think Im gonna make a whole Au #I need a nap #Feedback is appreciated

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lbxbx · 2 months

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Cockpit 9 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood, mentions of anxiety attacks, mentions of abuse, mentions of bribery.

Previous | Next

This entire weekend was incredible, yet still a huge weight sits on your shoulders when all of them blend in with Namjoon and seem to be liking him… a lot!

You spent so much time over thinking the fact if you and Namjoon didn’t actually end up together everything is going to end up being awkward for you two.

Jungkook has already planned a workout routine with the guy and they agreed to meet up a couple times a week, even when he used to work out with you, but you’re long forgotten. Yoongi wanted to take him out and play basketball, Taehyung wanted to see a cockpit in real life so he politely asked Namjoon to show him one.

You’re a little overwhelmed that you kind of regret the fact that you introduced them together, you wish time went by fast so you could go home.

Less than a week after, Hoseok is driving on his way back home from the court house, that day he had planned dinner with you and a movie night, not only because he genuinely misses you and wants to hang out with you; but he’s trying to keep you away from Namjoon a little, not that he’s against anything or whatever, he just wants you to take your time with the whole thing. So he planned a sleepover at his place, and it’s just you two.

You’ve always been close together and did these kinds of nights occasionally if neither of you had to work, so you wouldn’t mind at all, in fact you would love to.

Hoseok’s phone rings while he’s driving and he puts his phone on speaker when he answers. “Hello?”

“Mister Jung? Hi this is Mister Lee speaking, I’m one of your clients.” It seems to be an older man on the other side and Hoseok gets a little suspicious, he has way too many clients and most of them share their first names, so he apologizes. “I’m sorry, but I’m currently driving, can you make it quick please?”

“Absolutely, I wanted to talk to you regarding my daughter’s hearing on September 14th, you’re her husband’s lawyer aren’t you?”

He feels the need to park the car on the side of the road as he grabs his phone and checks his schedule, Namjoon’s hearing is scheduled that day along with two other sessions. “What’s the spouse’s name?” He asks.

“Kim Namjoon, I thought that we could make a deal with you.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes.

A little cheap shot from her family, but most of the other parties when they find out that Jung Hoseok is against their own lawyer, they try their last shot which is bribery. The whole field of law is intoxicated with bribery and even though it is in fact a federal crime, it still occurs frequently.

And of course, Hoseok is filthy rich, because really, he can’t deny that if he got a good offer, he would totally accept the bribe and not try hard defending his own client, but of course he wouldn’t accept the bribe if they offer a fake or invalid evidence to hold against his own client.

But considering Namjoon actually matters to you and you’re his close friend, Hoseok decides to actually listen and figure out what they have in hand. “Sure go ahead.”

“3 and a half million won if you make him change his mind and cancel the divorce.”

Of course her father doesn’t even own the 3 and a half million won. Even if Hoseok actually got Namjoon to change his mind, her family would take the Kim’s money to pay Hoseok.

Hoseok laughs. “Do you have any valid reason from him to change his mind about the divorce?”

“We have witnesses, he was seen in public with someone else, and we have a witness of abuse.”

Hoseok knew that you being around Namjoon all the time will complicate things, he rubs his forehead and nods. “We need an actual concrete evidence, do you have any? Video tapes, pictures, clothing item?”

The older man laughs nervously. “We don’t have concrete evidence sir, aren’t witnesses just enough?”

“Of course not, for all we know, your witnesses can easily lie.” Hoseok’s answer is more than enough for the man to just sigh, “I will get the concrete evidence, can we visit you in your office when we’re ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you Mister Jung, we’re sorry for keeping you busy.” The older man apologizes before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Of course Hoseok doesn’t need the evidence to begin with, even if Namjoon was actually guilty, he was going to defend him just because he knows that the man matters to you.

But he feels the need to tell you, that the man may be accused of actual abuse. And he needs to talk to Namjoon and see if he ever touched the woman in an inappropriate way.

He finally gets home to take a shower and get dressed, as he waits for you to show up, you two were going to bake pizza from scratch and he had everything prepared for you two to cook together.

He grabs out Namjoon’s file to put on the coffee table before you finally arrive there and ring the doorbell.

You were working that day on the morning shift, Namjoon wanted you to come over to his place since his soon to be ex partner is in Ilsan with her parents, but you told him that you had plans with Hoseok and of course he gave you your space and wished you a pleasant time.

You got back from work and dressed into a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie and you matched it with a pair of socks and a slipper, and you drove to Hoseok’s place with a six pack of beer.

“There you are.” He opens the door and pulls you into a hug, you hug him back and kiss him on the cheek, “What’s up?” Before walking towards his kitchen to put down the beer, he opens the fridge to shove the drinks inside and grabs you out a bottle of water. “I have some tea to spill.”

“You do? I love a little gossip.” You grab the bottle and untwist the cap. “Who’s sleeping with who? Is Jungkook sleeping with someone’s girl?”

He laughs and scratches his nose. “I’m not surprised you think that, but nope, it’s actually regarding you.”

You’re a little taken back when he speaks, he even crosses his arms and looks at you in the eyes, one eyebrow cocked up.

“Should I be worried?” Your heart drops when he takes a couple seconds to answer you, “Nope, nothing too serious, let’s go sit.”

He points his head towards the living room, both of you walking there.

There is not a single scenario that didn’t go through your head, your anxiety is increasing by the second and he’s taking his time to talk which drives you mad.

You cross your legs under your butt and sit back onto the couch. “What is it?”

He grabs the papers and hands them to you, it takes you a second to recognize that it’s Namjoon’s divorce papers, clipped onto a thick file that was hand written by his previous attorney, consisting of Namjoon’s testimony.

“What’s the matter?” You worriedly ask and he eyes you carefully before he speaks. “His father in law found my number somehow and called today to put an offer, of course Namjoon doesn’t know.”

“Hobi, I think I should stay out of this, it’s none of my business.” You put the file down and sigh, a little relieved that it’s nothing concerning you in person.

“No Y/N.” Your stomach drops when he uses your name clearly. “I think you have to know, they’re trying to find a concrete evidence of abuse, and they have a witness who claims that Namjoon was seen in public with someone. Look, I’m just worried if what they are claiming is true.” He whispers as if someone might listen.

You bite onto your nails anxiously, you know Namjoon’s side of the story but you don’t know hers’. And perhaps everything they’re claiming can actually turn out to be true.

But you shake that thought immediately away, you’ve known the man for more than two months now and you swear on your own life that he’s been nothing but good to you.

“Did you go out with him?” Hoseok’s deep voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you even flinch. “We went out together a couple weeks ago, but that’s it.” You shrug. “We mostly hung out in my place.”

“And did anyone recognize Namjoon or something?” He asks. “Someone might’ve spotted him.”

You’re totally unaware of what happened in the wine cellar that evening and it didn’t even cross your mind because you didn’t over think it in the first place. Plus you were a little tipsy.

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, “I’d really appreciate it if you brainstorm a little.” He puts his hand onto your leg for support before getting up. “I’m not going to dig further more into the topic of abuse unless they hand me the evidence.” He walks towards the kitchen.

“I think you should talk to them.”

And he stops to look at you behind his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Make them trust you, maybe they’ll spell out the truth.” You simply suggest.

“Do you have a plan?

You simply shrug with a little pout forming onto your lips. “You know your job better than I do.”

He pauses for a second and scratches his temple. “Fine, I’m in, but can we please get to cooking? My brain won’t function when I’m hungry.”

You get up onto your feet and head to the kitchen with him.

The night is getting longer and the time is passing really slow since winter is about to come up early this year, you’ve always hated night shifts when the night got longer but now you don’t mind them. Namjoon has been keeping you entertained throughout the entire night, texting or even video calling when he’s in the hotel room outside Seoul.

“Hey, I got you some coffee.” Seokjin makes a surprise visit to the emergency room and puts the cup down in front of you, he’s looking tired and he could barely stand on his feet. “Thank you, you don’t seem okay,”

He leans against the wall and closes his eyes. “I’m not feeling well, I think I have a fever.”

You get up on your feet and grab his arm to lead him onto one of the beds and close the curtain. “Lay down.” He obeys and immediately shuts his eyes, you grab the nearest thermometer and aim it towards his head, and indeed he does have a fever. “What hurts?”

“Nothing too serious, I think it’s the flu because my tonsils hurt.” He barely speaks. “Can you write me a sick leave? And can the nurses give me something? I’m really tired.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Oh so that’s what the coffee’s for.” And he flips you off because he’s too tired to bite back at you.

“Fine. Stay here.” You open the curtains and head out to the nurses to give them the order on what to give him before writing him a sick leave.

The emergency door slides open and an old man walks in with a woman behind him, both are walking so it seems that there is nothing too urgent to you. They take the bed right next to Seokjin’s and leave the curtain open, waiting for you to come over.

You take a sip of your coffee that you know is going to get cold by the time you’re done and make your way towards them with one of your nurses to introduce yourself. “Who’s the patient?”

“I am.” How can you forget her features? You’ve seen her once but you remember every detail on this woman. There’s a ring still on her left hand.

“Lay down please,” You put a pair of gloves on and walk near her before the man next to her stops you. “We would prefer if it was just you examining her.” He looks at you then looks at the nurse who’s about to turn around and leave before you grab her wrist. “She has to be here to assist me.”

“But we want some privacy.” He insists, you squint your eyes and tilt your head. “And you are..?”

“Her father.”

Makes sense, she looked a lot like him, you feel resentful towards them both that you couldn’t control your facial expressions. The nurse leaves as you give the woman in front of you a half assed examination.

“Breathe.” You order her as your stethoscope sits on her back, your other hand supporting her other shoulder.

Her sense of smell is heightened all the time, and the perfume on you smells so familiar, of course she can’t forget the night she first smelled it on Namjoon’s shirt, and what makes her a little suspicious is that she smelled his shirt on the same night that her second cousin claimed that he saw Namjoon with someone..

But of course this doesn’t prove anything since people tend to like similar perfumes, she looks at you and sinks in her thoughts. Quite good looking, but a doctor who probably doesn’t have the time to go out with someone.

“What brings you here today?” Your question snaps her out of her thoughts, she’s about to open her mouth to speak but her father grabs her by the shoulder and whispers. “We need your help.”

You stand in front of them in confusion before you ask. “How can I help?”

“My daughter is going through a divorce and the lawyer asked for a medical report to give to the court.” He nods and has the audacity to say. “And you women understand each other, we need your help with a medical report to prove that she’s been a victim of violence.”

Her parents are putting in all their effort to find their evidence, of course her second cousin wasn’t able to snap the picture earlier, but they’re using their twisted ways and trying to dig deep just to prove that Namjoon was there with someone.

They even asked the company that held the tour to send them the list of people who booked on that day but it was confidential and no one was allowed to have it, and Namjoon got lucky with that..

And of course they offered a few doctors that are related to them a bribe just to fake reports of abuse, or even fake reports that she’s pregnant so that the divorce can be delayed. Her father is working on a big project and he needs funding for it, the divorce cannot happen any time soon.

Someone suggested that they should head to hospitals in Seoul rather than Ilsan since her and her husband live there, and that she should visit an emergency doctor so that they could help her with her medical report.

You feel your body fuming with anger and you’re even more bitter now, you clear your throat and look up into his face to see that he’s dead serious. Other doctors would’ve probably done it, but of course you wouldn’t because it’s unfair to Namjoon and unfair to you and your job.

“Could you give me a minute please?” You force a fake smile and open the curtain to head back to the counter, a little overwhelmed.

The bed next to them is occupied by Seokjin who’s on his IV medication, and even when his ears were buzzing due to his fever, he could still hear the conversation happening next to him very easily since there’s only a curtain between them.

“Something’s suspicious.” She whispers and her father grits on his teeth before answering. “This is all your fault, we wouldn’t have gone through all this.”

“The night our cousin told us that he saw Namjoon with someone—“

Seokjin’s eyes almost fall out of their socket when he hears the mention of Namjoon.

“—He came back the next day smelling exactly like the doctor’s perfume.”

Fuck, Seokjin gets a head rush when he rises up from his seat too quickly to turn off the IV fluid and leave the bed. He makes sure that he’s seen when he stands next to you really close and wraps his arm around your waist awkwardly.

You flinch and look at him, a little terrified by his sudden touch. “Wh—“

“Put your hand around me and shut up.” He whispers. A frown sits on your face and you’re a little too angry to be doing this nonsense with him. He can see the debate happening in your head so he presses on his teeth and whispers again. “Just do as I say.”

And you put your hand around him with a clear cringe on your face, before he speaks a little loud. “I was looking for you honey, where have you been?”

You scrunch your nose and tilt your head. “Huh?”

“I miss you.” He’s loud enough for them to hear, he presses a kiss onto your cheek and tugs your hair behind your ear. “O-oh, you have patients?”

You’re still confused and you’re seriously starting to think that the man may be hallucinating from his fever, “Get back to your patient, call me when you’re done.” And he simply leaves the emergency room.

Meanwhile her father looks at her and she looks back at him before he whispers. “She’s clearly married, stop over thinking.”

You turn and get back towards them with your arms crossed, you’ve had your time to think, and it’s a little last minute, but it’s time to initiate some sort of plan.

So you fully decide on giving them the report but before that you give them some false information and they seem to believe it. “Of course I’ll help you, we’ve helped women before and we’re glad to help you.” You even fake a smile. “But we need to give you the report sealed in an envelope so that the court could accept it, it’s something with the law I guess.” You shrug. “And I’m going to sign it with my name right by the seal so that they know it hasn’t been opened before.”

Her father has a smile of victory on his face and looks at his daughter who’s a little occupied looking at your fingers to see if you’re actually wearing a ring or not, still not convinced with what she saw earlier. And luckily that day you were wearing your cheapest jewelry and you wore one of the rings on your left ring finger. Now she’s finally convinced.

“Please stay here, I’ll go write the report and have it ready for you.” You nod and get back to the counter to sit in front of the computer and start typing.

Her full name and age, her history and physical examination.

Before stating clearly, that there are no signs of abuse, no bruises, no signs of cuts or wounds, no fractures, her vital signs which indicate that she’s perfectly well, before signing your name and printing the paper and folding into an envelope and sealing it.

“There you go.” You gladly hand them the envelope, a little happy on the inside that you got to do something to prove Namjoon’s case. “Thank you so much.” Her father snatches the report from your hand, and he’s a split second away from opening it before you stop him. “Sir, if you opened that envelope you can’t give it to court and no one else can write you another one.”

“I have to read it.” He’s about to open it again but again you interrupt him, constant non true bullshit coming out your mouth. “Her name has been logged into our system with a copy of that report, if you open the envelope it wouldn’t be valid anymore and it may be used against you.”

And that’s what convinces him to stop, his daughter taking the report from him and putting it into her purse. “Thank you.” She gets up and drags her father out of the emergency room.

On her way out, your eyes pierce up and down her figure, of course you were judging her and comparing yourself to her, you know you’re way prettier than she is that you secretly wonder why did the man marry her to begin with.

You roll your eyes at your own thoughts, a little cocky for you to think like that, but oh well.

The moment they leave the emergency room you grab out your phone to see 3 texts and a missed call from Namjoon. You decide not to call him back and instead, call Seokjin to find out what the hell was going on.

And he explains the entire thing to you on the phone, and you’re now happy that he did what he did.

You text back Namjoon of course not letting him know what happened just now, before locking your phone and leaning your head back onto your chair.

A sudden heavy weight sits on your shoulders, and you feel a little too involved in Namjoon’s divorce even when you didn’t want to, which makes you genuinely upset. You now wish you liked a man who was single already and had nothing to go through, no divorce, no custody, no nothing.

As she returns home with her father she locks the door and he sits onto the couch to clip the closed envelope with the divorce paper, “You better hide this well, he can’t see this do you understand?”

She nods and hesitates to blurt out. “I have something in mind, I know exactly how we can set him up.”

“I think this report is more than enough to get you your rights.” He doesn’t want to listen, totally insisting on doing everything his way. “After all, I can’t lose his father.”

“I know, and what I’m about to do is going to get me more than just my rights.” She holds onto her father. “I can promise you.”

“What are you planning to do?” He finally decides to listen.

A little over one week passed by and you and Namjoon still haven’t seen each other since you came back from the beach house, he’s been flying constantly and barely has the time to rest or see his son, and you’ve been working double shifts just to kill time.

Of course Hoseok never left you alone, even if you came back home feeling tired and sleepy, he would bring his papers and work on his cases even when you’re asleep, and by the time you’ve woken up he would’ve ordered food or cooked something. And some nights Yoongi came to sleep over when Mia went back to visit her family.

Hoseok’s plan worked perfectly as he wanted you and Namjoon to keep it low key, of course you had no idea, but he’s doing his best to protect you.

When Hoseok suddenly had “Plans” on a Friday night you knew that he’s hooking up with someone or found a new fling, of course you were home and you knew that Namjoon flies back today from Tokyo, his air carrier had shortage and they asked him to fly internationally even when he hasn’t in a long time.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I should.” You whine as you put the last dish in the dishwasher, you’re video chatting with him as he’s driving to his place after landing. “Come on, we’re always hanging out at your place, this time I want you to come over.”

“Is Jay still in Ilsan?” You ask, you remember him telling you a few days ago that Jay’s at his grandparents’ place with his mom. “Yeah, they won’t be back until Friday.”

You take off your gloves and hang them by your sink before leaning your hand on your hip. “Namjoon, this is not a good idea.”

“Come on, please? You haven’t seen my place yet and—“ The call suddenly lags and the screen shows that the call is reconnecting, it seems to be that you’re on hold and he has another call, in the mean time you wash your hands and take the apron off before plopping down onto your bed until he connects again. “Sorry, I had to take this call.” This time his phone is in his hands as he seems to be reading something on his phone. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah, it’s an order that should be delivered to my place tonight.” He finally hangs his phone on his dashboard. “So what do you say? Should I come pick you up?”

“You don’t have to, I’ll take my car.”

“So you’re coming?” His pearly whites show in a smile wider than ever and you roll your eyes. “Alright.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, be quick okay? I’m going to order dinner.” He makes a turn, his eyes barely looking on the road as he’s trying to take quick glances of you.

“I’ll get ready right away, see you then.” You smile and wave your hands, he waves back and blows you a kiss before hanging up.

You get up on your feet and rush to get ready, a pair of comfy jeans and an oversized button up with a pair of converse.

Namjoon on the other hand, gets home and locks the door before taking a quick glance around his house, he starts picking up Jay’s scattered toys and putting them away into his son’s bedroom, he puts his carry on in his bedroom and gets in the shower, making sure he’s quick before you get here.

His door bell rings while he’s wrapping the towel around his waist, he knows it’s not you because your house is a little far from his place, so he rushes to the door and opens the security cameras, he remembers the package that was supposed to be delivered, but why is it here so early?

He opens the door and grabs the big package from the woman’s hands and puts it down. “Where do I sign?”

“Mister Kim.” She takes a single step closer and he automatically takes a step back as he feels uncomfortable and a little terrified, she lifts her hand to graze it onto his shoulder and chest as she takes another step closer, until she’s practically inside the house.

Of course it’s you who shows up at the right time, the elevator doors opens and you take a walk down the aisle and turn to make your way to his apartment door, but what’s happening in front you doesn’t need further explanation.

You made the effort to get him a passenger airplane Lego to put up together with him and at that second it was totally not worth the effort.

It hurts inside, and not because you’re jealous or anything, that’s way far behind you.

It hurts that you let yourself get o this place, you never got into a relationship because you know men can be heartless and mean, and now this happens right before your eyes and it physically hurts that you can’t do anything about it, you’re not the one to blame him because practically you two aren’t aa thing yet.

You can’t stop him from seeing other people, and he could so easily go hook up with someone and you can’t say anything about it, he’s a free man and he could do anything he wants, you don’t dare to take a step further, you simple put the Legos down and turn to get back into the elevator, you’re not even sure he saw you.

You don’t feel physically well and you feel the need to lean against the elevator walls, you’re hurt and you can’t deny that you’re a little… Embarrassed?

Yeah you’re embarrassed.

You’re embarrassed at the fact that the man who you told your friends was actually a good man despite he was married is apparently seeing other people, but goodness, everyone thought he was head over heels for you, how come did that happen?

Oh my god.

Your palm sits on your face when you realize how tragically stupid you sound, the man is married and you still like him??

The elevator door opens when you finally get to the ground floor and your phone starts ringing nonstop, of course it’s him. You rush to your car and get inside to drive away fast before he can catch onto you, and even when you’re now 5 minutes away from his place, he’s still calling and you finally decide to answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N, where are you?” He worriedly asks and he’s out of breath.

There’s a very clear lump in your throat when you speak. “Oh hey, I was just going to text you that I wasn’t feeling too well.”

“Y/N, I saw the Legos, what did you see?”

You’re totally caught, and to avoid saying anything that you may regret later, you swallow and laugh awkwardly. “Namjoon, I just need some time alone, it’s okay.” By the way, it’s totally not.

“No, wait, Y/N, it’s not what it looks like.” He speaks and you immediately stop him. “Yeah, you know what, I’m pretty sure it isn’t” Of course you’re not convinced. “But I need to be alone and think some stuff through.”

“Y/N—“

“Namjoon, I need to hang up, I’m driving, okay? I’ll see you around.” You take your phone off of your ear and it takes you a few seconds to press the red button and hang up the call.

Your shoulders sulk in disappointment when you exhale, your eyelids suddenly are getting heavier by the second, you need to lay down.

Your drive home took some time, when you finally get there and lock the door, you make your way to your bed and finally lay down with your clothes still on.

It hurts a little the fact that it’s been a while since you’ve spent a Friday night on your own, not that it’s specifically Namjoon whose been hanging out with you, but it was either you working, or you having plans with your friends, but tonight, your friends had their own plans.

You end up falling asleep way too early that night with your jeans on.

Utter shit is what Namjoon wakes up feeling like, he’s sweating and his head is pounding with a headache that he never experienced before.

Yes you’re hurt, but he thinks that you should’ve listened and that you’re being unfair to him.

This is the last thing he thinks of, he’s confused and wondering since when did the mail arrive out of schedule? This woman that delivered it wasn’t even in a certain uniform or anything.

Namjoon opens his mail and bank receipts to see that the order was made over a month ago, but he wasn’t sent a mail that the package was delivered even when he just got it.

Something smells fishy and he can’t put a finger on it.

“Bingo.”

The CCTV finally falls in his wife’s hands, she even cropped and edited the video to get the desired part on tape.

Namjoon’s lawyer wanted concrete evidence? He got it.

“What do you want for your birthday?” You take a sip from your wine, you and Hoseok were spending the afternoon at Jungkook’s place.

“You don’t have to get me anything.” The younger waves his hand shyly, “I just want us to celebrate it together, we could go party somewhere.”

“But we have to get you an actual gift.” Hoseok is way too focused onto the gaming console that Jungkook has. “We’re going to get you something anyway, you would make it a little easier if you actually said what you want.”

“Do you want handmade coupons like last year?” You giggle.

You two came up with this stupid idea, when you had no idea what to get him for his birthday, he asked you to do his dishes or cook him something or even do his laundry, so you handmade coupons that he could use whenever he wants throughout the year that had several chores written on them.

“This year I’m turning 27, I want 27 different coupons.” He asks and you rolls your eyes. “Absolutely not, you’re only getting ten.”

Hoseok finally puts down the gaming console and crosses his legs. “We’ll party tomorrow in the club, and we can have dinner on Saturday.”

“You have a birthday weekend you brat, when it was my birthday all I got from you was a pack of condoms that I still have till this day and a happy meal.” You hit his shoulder, he rubs it and pouts. “You said you liked it.”

“Yeah, I lied.”

“I’ll tell everyone on the group chat.” Hoseok grabs out his phone, Jungkook turns towards you and asks. “Can Namjoon come?”

Right when you’re about to open your mouth, Hoseok answers. “No.”

You were going to give Jungkook the same answer, but Hoseok didn’t want Namjoon to come just because he can’t be seen in public with someone when he’s going through a divorce.

“Why?” Jungkook’s doe eyes stare at you two in confusion as Hoseok explains to him why he can’t come. “It’s going to be alright.” Jungkook’s arm wraps around you.

“I wonder if Seokjin can come too, how is he feeling?” Hoseok changes the topic and Jungkook looks at him in confusion again. “What happened?”

“He was tested positive for covid.” You nod your head. “But he’s fine now.”

They still don’t know what you saw a week ago, and of course they can’t know.

The next day you finally get to the club, strobe lights on and off around the place, the speakers bursting out loud music that you feel pounding inside your eardrums, it’s the end of the summer so it was really crowded, the bar stools completely full and you could barely walk inside.

You roll your eyes when you see Jungkook in a party hat on his face and a pair of shades and a birthday whistle in between his lips. “There’s the birthday boy.” You wrap your arms around him and kiss him on the cheek, he hugs you back and lifts you up. “You look incredible.”

He’s right, you were in a short green velvety dress that had spaghetti straps and a slit down the thigh. You matched it with a pair of high heels. “I know, so do you.”

Jimin hugs you right after and pulls you the chair next to him to be seated right between him and Seokjin. You spend the first few minutes catching up even when you barely can hear each other from the loud music.

“Did you tell Hoseok about what happened in the ER?” Seokjin asks, Hoseok’s head snaps fast towards you two and leans in. “What happened?”

“Namjoon’s wife came in for a medical report.”

“And did you give it to them?”

“I have a copy of it on my phone if you want to.” You take your phone out from your purse before turning to Seokjin. “But I already told Hoseok that I don’t want to be involved in this case anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, while Hoseok grabs your phone from your hand to read the report. “It’s his divorce and his private life, It’s really consuming my mental wellness to just think about it.”

He understandably nods. “You’re right, that’s what I wanted to tell you from the very beginning.”

“You did a great job.” Hoseok gives you your phone back. “Did they read it?”

“Of course not, I had to lie and tell them that the court only takes closed reports.” A proud smile sits on Hoseok’s face. “Typical Y/N behavior.”

“Shut up.” You elbow him before getting up and dragging him and Seokjin to the dance floor with your drinks in your hands.

Time passed by so quick that night, you were having so much fun, and a bunch of drinks later, you and your friends are still on the dance floor and you feel yourself starting to shut down, you tap their shoulders and shout for them to hear. “I need to sit.” And they carelessly nod, you make your way to one of the bar stools and ask the bartender for a bottle of a water before looking back at the dance floor, giggling at your friends who were dancing all over Jungkook.

“Hey.” You hear a deep sound coming from behind you and you turn your head, a tall charming man leaning onto the bar with a drink in his hand, his dark hair up in a man bun and a grin sits on his plump red lips. “I’m Jaewook.”

Your eyes drift down to his hands as if your whole experience with Namjoon taught you a lesson the hard way. Your eyes are abruptly searching through his fingers for a ring which makes him follow your eye sight, you finally ask. “Are you married?”

“Excuse me?”

You don’t even blink nor repeat your question, you suddenly grow shameless and you’re not going to elaborate or take your question back, your eyebrow rises up as you maintain eye contact with him before he stutters. “N-no? I’m not.”

“I’m Y/N.” You reach your hand out to shake his, he shakes back your hand and takes a sip from his drink. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No thanks, I’m done for tonight.” You cross your legs, you feel his eyes pierce through your entire body, his eyes are examining you head to toe, settling a little on your ass that’s sat on the stool.

You can’t not admit the man was attractive, and at this time and with your state of mind, you won’t mind flirting with him or even being flirted with, so you turn your face towards him and lean your elbow onto the bar. “Do you usually buy every girl you see a drink?”

He takes a step closer, his shoulder pressed against yours and leans closer towards your ear so you can hear him well. “Only pretty ones like you.”

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the fact that the last time you had sex was weeks ago, but your body is reacting upon his touch and you shiver at his breath against your ear shell.

“Are you here with someone?”

“Just my friends.” You shrug, he nods and leans in again to ask. “So no boyfriend huh?”

It takes you a second to answer, a dry lump sits in your throat and you force yourself to swallow it and shake your head. “Nope, not at all.”

His lips twitch into a tiny grin before he brushes his fingers against your shoulder, “You wanna go dance?”

You lower your head to stare at his fingers before looking up into his eyes before you smirk. “Sure.”

He puts his drink down and offers you his hand, you take it and head to the dance floor with him, his hands sit onto your hips and yours are wrapped around his neck, both your bodies swaying together.

Biology works and as a man it’s a quite normal reaction for him to feel a little aroused that a pretty girl like you is alone and drunk, you agreed to dance with him, maybe you would agree going home with him?

His face sits in the crook of your neck and he prints the wettest most softest kiss ever almost as if he’s testing waters to see if you’d be okay with more than just dancing or not.

But your drunk and hazy mind can’t comprehend anything, you giggle and lean your head back. “Namjoon stop.”

Standing in front of you, the tall handsome man’s name is long forgotten and you realize you’re fucked when the name that escapes your lips is his name.

It hits you and it hits you harder than ever, that you’re actually pretty angry at him, and you’re even more upset at the fact that he didn’t try to call you nor contact you in any way.

You press hard onto your teeth and just wish that you actually helped his soon to be ex spouse with the fake medical report, Namjoon doesn’t deserve shit.

“Namjoon?”

You totally forgot the man standing in front of you.

Your nausea is creeping onto you and you pull back with your hand hovering over your stomach. “I’m sorry, I need to go.”

You brush your shoulder against his as you walk past him to make your way towards your table, Seokjin is already sitting there drinking water. “Are you okay?”

You’re swallowing repeatedly trying to hold back from throwing up, you remember the last time this happened and it scarred you a little. But still you nod your head. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

The rest of the guys get seated and they bring out a bottle of champagne to pop and finally celebrate Jungkook’s birthday.

Yoongi lifts his glass up and starts making a toast but you’re not listening.

Your mind is somewhere else and you can’t really ignore the fact that you’re very bitter at Namjoon, he never even tried to apologize, the only thing this could mean is that you really mean nothing to him.

You scoff a little on the inside, once a cheater always a cheater, right?

He cheated on his own wife, the mother of his child with you, he could so easily go hook up with someone else and give them the same story and he won’t even be half sorry.

You take your phone out and hide it under the table before you send him a text.

“???”

Less than a minute after he reads the message before replying.

“You wanna talk?”

“To Jungkook!” Yoongi speaks and that’s the only thing you hear before clinking your glasses together. “To Jungkook.”

You take a sip from your champagne and get up onto your feet. “I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”

You make your way outside the club and unlock your phone to call Namjoon, two rings after he answers. “Hello?”

“Listen Namjoon, if you think I texted you just because I wanted to talk things through then you’re wrong, you have to know that I deserve—“

Of course your slurred speech makes it hard for him to understand and he could so easily tell that you’re drink, since the music behind you is loud enough too, he knows you’re out. “Y/N? Are you drunk?”

You squint your eyes and your hand sits on your hip before you bite at him. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it does.” He even has the audacity to argue with the coldest tone ever. “Where are you?”

“You don’t have to know.” You feel yourself barely able to stand up, the alcohol now affecting you harder than before. “You know what, I’ll see you later.”

This jerk even hangs up, your jaw falls as you stare onto your phone screen in denial, you’re fuming on the inside and you wish you could just reach your fist through the phone and punch him to ease the fire building inside you.

“Are you sure you can make it upstairs on your own?” Seokjin asks when he drops you in front of your building, you’re about to open your mouth for an answer but Seokjin looks behind you and smiles. “I know you’re in safe hands now, how are you?”

“I’m doing good, how are you?”

Of course it’s Namjoon, you roll your eyes and don’t even turn towards him, his hand sits on your lower back as he handshakes Seokjin. “I heard you tested positive, how are you feeling now?”

The two spend a couple minutes catching up together, of course none of your friends know about what happened with him, you didn’t want to tell them just to avoid the embarrassment, and at this exact moment when they catch up and chat specifically, you’re really glad you didn’t tell them.

“Drive safe.” You force a smile to Seokjin before he finally gets into his car and drives away, you make your way inside the building totally ignoring the fact that Namjoon is shadowing you, his hands fighting the urge to touch you, and his entire body is on standby worried that you may stumble or fall or anything.

You click the button of the elevator and cross your arms, awkward silence and tension building between the two of you , your eyelids and tongue feel heavy and you’re having a headache so of course you’re not going to argue with him.

Just treat him as if he doesn’t exist, you think.

He’s completely sober though and he’s sinking in his own pond of thoughts, wondering where to start from? How to explain himself? How should he even apologize? He knows he looks like utter trash to you now and he’s not in a good place in front of you, but he’s innocent.

The elevator door closes on the two of you and you cross your arms as you’re standing in the middle of the elevator, your eyes focused on the numbers of floors increasing every 5 seconds.

Your apartment is in the 16th floor so you know your trip is going to take some time.

He leans against the elevator walls, his eyes locked onto you from behind, his palms and back are getting sweaty even when it wasn’t a hot night, he’s nervous and he doesn’t recall the last time his fight or flight worked this hard.

The elevator rings when it stops on the desired floor and you walk out of it, your heels being the only sound heard through the aisle, you reach to your door to click onto the password and unlock it, you walk inside and he follows you in.

You lift one leg up to try and take off your heels before you stumble and lose your gait, him being on standby benefits you when he supports you with his own body, his hands sitting onto your forearms. “You’re okay, let me help you.”

You want to push him back so bad but you really can’t spare the effort to take off your heals, and if you were alone you would’ve probably slept in them. He gets down on one knee and helps you with the pair, of course you don’t bother thanking him or anything, you just make your way inside to your bedroom and put your phone and purse down.

“Namjoon—“ You start before he presses his lips against yours for one single kiss, he leans his forehead against yours with his hands hovering over your hips. “Y/N, you’re tired and drunk, please let me take care of you, and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

You have so many things to say but you physically can’t, your eyelids are shutting down and you feel yourself near falling asleep, you don’t remember when was the last time you were this drunk, tonight you went way overboard.

He stands behind you and his shaky hands unzip your dress before he pulls you into the bathroom, he slides your dress off of you and assists you to get in the shower, he helps you shampoo your hair and bathes you before wrapping your bathrobe around your body, his top a little wet from the water splashing onto him.

You sit on the covered toilet before he hands you your toothbrush, you groan because you barely have the power to be seated, and he wants you to brush your teeth?

He grabs the hair dryer and dries your hair before helping you rinse your teeth and go to bed. “There you go.” He lifts the blanket for you to lay down and you do right after taking off your bathrobe, he tucks you in bed and turns off the lights, before walking to the other side and laying beside you.

The next morning you wake up surprisingly without a headache, you had your fair share the night before and you went to the bathroom a few times during the night, so the alcohol is probably out of your system.

You feel cold so you cuddle onto the blanket and look at the air conditioning remote to see it turned off, the weather is getting colder indeed, but you look under the blanket to find out that you’re completely naked. Your eyes almost fall from their sockets, did you come home with anyone last night?

You look over at the empty space behind you, it seems like someone slept next to you but you don’t remember who it was, were you really that drunk?

You hear your coffee machine buzzing from the kitchen which makes you flinch in bed, someone is actually with you and you’re starting to get a little scared, especially when the footsteps are getting closer to your bedroom.

You’re a little relieved but a little angry when you realize it’s Namjoon holding your favorite mug filled with coffee and walking into your bedroom. “Good morning.” His stupid dimple again, ugh.

“Yeah.” Your hand moves to your head to scratch it before you rub your eyes, and suddenly you remember everything that happened last night, well practically nothing happened, but you still remember some bits here and there. “Good morning.” You clear your throat as you sit up, holding the blanket closer to your chest, he hands you the cup of coffee and a couple pills of pain killer. “Thank you.”

You don’t need the painkillers so you put them onto the night stand and take a few sips from the coffee in order for your brain to start functioning. “How are you feeling?”

“Why are you here?” You ask calmly, your eyes not bothering to look up at him. He laughs quietly before sitting onto the edge of the bed and answers. “I know you’re mad and upset, but believe me, what you saw wasn’t true.”

“Oh so was I seeing things?” You take another sip from your coffee. “Or was I hallucinating that you were with someone else right by your door with only a towel on?”

“Y/N—“

“You know what.” You put your mug down before holding your hands together. “I’m so glad this happened, and the more I think about it, it’s fine, I just didn’t know that we were allowed to hook up with other people, it’s a good thing I found out so I don’t have to be careful, that’s all.”

The thought itself disturbs Namjoon, not the fact that you don’t believe him, but at the fact that you were implying that you can hook up with other people, he’s a little irritated at the thought of you being touched or kissed by someone other than him.

“After all, it really was just a hookup.” You shrug, he shakes his head in denial before he process a couple words out of his mouth. “It wasn’t true, I have no idea how to prove it to you but it is not true.”

You nod your head totally not convinced before grabbing your mug again and taking a few sips from it. “Can you get me something to wear?”

He rises up on his feet and opens your closet to grab you out a pair of shorts and a top. “You’re being unfair to me.”

“Okay.” You keep drinking your coffee, totally unbothered by his excuses, and it seems like he’s getting angrier by the second before he turns to you. “If I wanted to be with someone else I would’ve told you.”

“Sure.”

“And you think I would’ve messed with someone else right by the door? Where everyone can see me?” He shuts the closet, your clothes still sitting in his hand. “Nope.” You’re slowly driving him out of his mind, and it shocks you the amount of self control this man has. Even when your behavior was irritating him, he still contained himself.

“You won’t even listen when I tried to explain myself, and that was totally unfair.” He walks closer, you reach your hand out to grab your clothes, but he argues again. “I will prove it, I actually thought you trusted me, I thought we had something.”

You rub your eyes in frustration when he won’t actually hand you the clothes, “You know what, let’s just imagine if the whole thing happened with me, what would you do?”

He crosses his arms before answering. “I would actually listen before assuming anything, especially when I know that you have people around you trying to set you up like people are doing to me.”

He’s partially right, it could be someone trying to set him up and screw up his divorce.

You’re an inch away from being actually convinced, before you remember that the man once pretended to be single and never mentioned his marriage, and again you’re back to point zero.

You forgive him for doing it but you can’t forget it at all, of course you’re not going to bring it up because you agreed to hook up with him even after you knew he was involved in a relationship.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.” You shrug your shoulders, “You can do anything you want to, you’re a free man and I can’t be in the way.”

He sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed and he whispers. “I want to be with you.”

You look into his eyes and you see regret and disappointment all over his face, similar to the time you saw him in Ilsan right after you found out about his marriage. “I don’t think I’m worthy, but I’m selfish enough to actually want you. I lied to you once and I can’t forgive myself, you were there for me every day for the past few months and it makes me feel guilty for doing you wrong so bad.”

You don’t let your emotions control you, your brain is much of a hard worker than your heart is, so you shrug again and look down. “I don’t know Namjoon, you have to give me some time, and we have to know where your divorce is going, so many things happened and I don’t think you know.”

His face changes and his eyebrows form a knot between them, “What happened?”

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Hello gorgeous !

Could you make something with a reader who is a very important fighter and in her plans she somehow married daemon as a second wife and made a deal with rhaenyra and daemon to respect and not threaten her people and kingdoms .

And when rhaenyra gets the throne , the reader asks for a divorce , breaking their hearts?

Stone Cold

Daemon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Summary: There was nothing more powerful than an alliance of two houses, and that was exactly what you offered the Queen and her consort to win the war. It was out of loyalty, but your heart was not as strong as your resolve.

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Mentions of death/suicidal tendencies/war, fem!reader, second wife!reader, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: Heya nonnie (pls read this)! I saw this ask and was like OMG FRESH OMG REAL OMG YAS but then the more i thought about it, the more i was thinking it wouldnt be possible, like divorce wasn't a thing then and i know i could just make something up but i- i- dont play like that. and unless you're ok with a modern au, which idk if u are, i realized i could not write this BUT THEN while i was ranting in my reply of how i think ur req would really play out, i thought fine i'll write it anyway dw its not a modern au, but it's also not exactly your request either. its still pretty angsty tho so i hope you like it <3 ALSO IDK WHO IF I WANNA BE DAEMON OR RHEANYRA IN THE GIF I LOVE THIS GIF SO MUCH T_T Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda would you like to read a tibit of an epilogue for this?

Rhaenyra was my queen; she always has been even as a child. Having grown up with rugged brothers, it was clear to me that power was only gotten through force, through sheer will, and landed only on those born to be heirs.

And yet she was declared to heir the Iron Throne, regardless of her sex.

And yet she rode on dragonback as her long braids and ornate skirts flew with the wind.

She was living proof that my brothers were morons in their belief that women were less, and that if I wanted to, I could do what they did, even better.

So against everyone's wishes, my parents, my brothers, the whole of society, I stood where I wanted and spoke about my thoughts. Though I was not welcomed, I trained to be strong enough go go against my adversaries, not just with my wit, but with my sword.

I made a way for myself in court and in battle, and developed a fortress within myself that could not be felled, not by a man, not by anyone.

So when it came high time for me show my gratitude to my queen, I did not hesitate.

I pledged my allegiance to her, and watched her navigate her plans with poise. I watched her as she caressed her pregnant belly and felt my heart hurt for her. I watched as she turned to her husband, the infamous Rogue Prince, for comfort, and found it in his touches.

Oh, to be like her, to capture the heart of the heartless, and to exude such feminine grace even in a room full of men who doubt her capabilities.

And so I finally spoke my plans to her. I finally told her the loony thought I've had since the start of my stay in Dragonstone. Our families should form an impeachable alliance and strengthen our forces.

"You are suggesting that you become my husband's second wife?" Rhaenyra states plainly. Her hand is atop her belly, and her husband stood steadfast behind her.

"It would be only for show, my queen," I nod, "you are aware of my family's stronghold, and how they insist on remaining neutral through all of this."

Rhaenyra watches me intently as I explain. Daemon tilts his head.

"This would give my brothers no choice but to fight for me-- for you."

"And how would marriage guarantee that?" Daemon asks, "I am well-acquainted with your brothers' insolence."

"You are correct, Prince Daemon. There has not been a moment in our lives where my brothers and I did not go against each other's wishes, but through it all, they have a sense of honor, and they would rather die than allow our family name be put to shame. It is why they were so against the idea of me taking up arms in the first place," I cross my arms, "but since then, they have joined me many times over in my victories. They would surely not give up the chance to bask in our victory."

Rhaenyra and Daemon take in my words.

For a moment, there is only silence. Then they look at each other, examining each other's expression.

That night, I was married to Daemon by the traditions of his house.

After he kissed me, I turned to Rhaenyra and nodded to her. She offered me a small smile and nodded back.

Since then, we exercised our might against the whole of Westeros. Those who did not know of us knew soon enough that the combined power of our houses, along with all our other alliances, was not something to be taken lightly.

And so we were tasked to spearhead the war under Rhaenyra's command. Daemon would take the east, and I would take the west. Where one needed help, the other would arrive with their blade, still slick with the blood of the enemy.

Historically, men had done nothing but strike me and spit on my bones. Though he was now my husband, I thought little of Daemon. I didn't then in the fires of his youth, and I didn't now. I bring myself to care about him out of my respect for Rhaenyra.

Yet as time went by, and battles were won and lost, I grew to respect him as himself, as Daemon Targaryen, the prince commander of the troops, who knew exactly what he was doing.

"I did not think you were capable of doing anything un-serious."

I turned to him as he smirked. His eyes were on the my cup of ale, "might my lady wife spare me a drop?"

Daemon sits next to me, though on the ground, as I was sitting on a stump I found not too far off our camp.

I peer down at him as I hand him my half empty cup.

My lips part when he downs it and places the empty thing beside him. Daemon catches my look and chuckles under his breath, "oh, did you mean to finish that?"

I don't get to respond as he grabs my leg and leans against my thigh.

My stomach rolls at the sentiment. I did not know why he was acting like this towards me so suddenly.

He releases a groan as he closes his eyes, "you are my wife, are you not? Must you stare at me as though you wish to burn me with your eyes?"

That would only be the start of his affection towards me.

It was jarring, disturbing, really, how he would reach for my hair and brush it aside, how we would reach for my cheek and brush it with the back of his hand. He would not do it in front of Rhaenyra, and for that I was at least grateful.

I decided not to make issue of it, because it was not as though it was harmful really.

And yet it dawned to me that that was my mistake; he was an invader of my fortress, and I only realized when it was too late.

I could not calm my beating heart when we were ambushed.

It was not the blade against my neck that made me want to hurl, not even how the man who managed to capture me for a few minutes was gutted on my side and had his entrails gush onto my armor. It was not the violence that made my pulse deafening to my ears, but how Daemon acted out that violence.

"Release her now, and I will be swift about your death," he seethed. When he was not listened to, his face darkened. The moment he had an opening, he stabbed my captor in the gut. When I was pulled away by our men, I watched as Daemon rampaged the man with his bare hands, smothering him until he was deformed, until he was dead.

And then he turned to me, gripping my face with his bloody hands, examining my form, "are you alright?"

That was when everything changed.

Not only did I begin to anticipate, look forward to his touches, I began to lean into them. I began to look forward to his company, seek his company. I would worry if there was not word about him, and I would worry if there was, until I knew it was not grave.

I began to laugh with him, in the privacy of our conversations, in front of the troops, in front of Rhaenyra. I began to bicker with him unabashedly, for it became second nature. I began to dance and make merry with him, for why'd shouldn't I? Why not, when Rhaenyra teased us about it, when she laughed about it with us.

And then at some point, I did the worst thing.

I began to want him.

I began to want him the way Rhaenyra did.

I began to felt entitled of him, for after all, he was my husband too.

I allowed myself believe that it was alright, Rhaenyra wouldn't mind, after all, her husband was my husband.

But then I faced with the truth of how brazen I'd become.

But then Rhaenyra called for Daemon and he did not answer.

But then she gave birth too early and held her lifeless daughter in her arms.

But then he was broken because of it, and yet made no inclination to anyone.

But then I realized I was not apart of their picture, for neither of them even spoke their sorrow to each other, much less anything to me.

I was a fool to think I was deserving of anything. I was a traitor to them and our agreement. I was a traitor to myself.

And so I rebuilt my fortress, I pulled away from Daemon's touches and did not hold Rhaenyra's gaze too long.

I became reckless in battle. I dove head first into everything, not caring what the consequences would be.

It was because of my recklessness and severe injuries that we were at the precipice of victory. Daemon should have been applauding me where he was rebuking me. And Rhaenyra should not have been worried by her husband's news of me at all, not when she would benefit the most from my death.

Yet here I was, gripped harshly in Daemon's hands as I defied his wishes to stay in bed longer.

When that didn't work, he ordered me in the name the Queen to do so, because it was, in fact, her order too.

It dawned onto Daemon that it didn't matter which of them commanded it, I would not be withheld from the cries of war.

"DO YOU WANT TO DIE!?" Daemon demanded finally as I got onto his last nerve.

I did not hesitate to respond.

His expression dropped when he heard me say yes.

It was against myself that I began to bawl in front of him. I had worked so hard to keep my defenses, and yet it was all for naught.

"Why?!" he heaved, hands darting up to my face instead of my arms.

I shake my head. I would have to die first before I admit anything to him.

"I will have you chained like a madwoman before I have you succumb to your darkness," he quips, releasing my face, before dragging me to the tent post, undoing his belt and binding me there with it.

I cry out to him. I tell him to release me, of all of it, so that I wouldn't have to suffer.

"Tell me wife what makes you suffer, who makes you suffer, and I will swiftly end them."

I shake my head at the anger on his face, "Daemon, please."

"TELL ME!" he quips, grabbing my face again.

I choke on my tears finding as I allow my voice to betray me.

Daemon knit his brows, "what was that?"

"It's you, Daemon," I whine, screwing my eyes shut, "it is hell to be around you. I do not want this pain anymore."

He releases me, stepping back twice, "and what mortal err have I done to make you loathe me so?"

I peel my eyes open, chest constricting at the sight of him. I shake my head, "nothing."

Daemon's nostrils flare. He grabs my jaw tightly, face tense with hatred, eyes glassy in betrayal, "then why?"

I whine at the pain of his grip.

He heaves as he releases me, shaking his head as he walks back, "will you drive me mad along with you, selfish bitch?"

I shake my head again, "Daemon-"

"ANSWER ME!"

"Because I want you!" I blurt, "I want you so bad when I should not-- I cannot!" I grip my hands tightly, "we may be married, but you are not mine. You are Rhaenyra's, and I do not wish to ever come in between that. Not after all that has-"

I cut myself off when Daemon began to undo my ties. I myself began to back away from him when he began to rid himself of his clothing.

I threaten him with my words. When that does not deter him, I threaten him with the blade I managed to snag.

He was stoic the entire time. He asked me to kill him, dared me to kill him. Of course I could not. I threw the blade to the side.

He called me a fool as he undressed me. He called me pretty when he began to kiss me. He called me his when he began to fuck me.

I shouldn't have, gods know I shouldn't have, but I did, I let him have his way, because I wanted him to. I wanted him to touch me, to use me, to take his anger out on me. I wanted to for so, so long.

It was everything I ever imagined and more.

And enjoyed it deeply before I hated myself viscerally after.

It was clear at one point that everyone knew of us. Our dynamic had drastically changed from when we were first married to now. They all knew what he and I did in the dark, but why would they care, we were, in fact, married.

I cared though.

And I guess it was the will of the Stanger to allow me that one thing before collecting my soul.

I did not fight against it. I did not try to save myself.

When I decided to take the blow for Daemon in the battle field, it was not out of my selfish desire to find freedom in the shackles I bound myself in, it was because I wanted to save him, I had to save him.

He admonished me as he carried my limp body out of the skirmish. He called my name and threatened to do his worst if I thought of closing my eyes at all.

It was nice to have made it long enough to make it through the transport, to see Rhaenyra, and her and Daemon's children that I myself found to love in my own way.

I felt bad that they all seemed to be sad that I was fading away.

I felt bad that Daemon had to be the one to carry me here.

Where was Daemon?

"He's gone to finish the war," Rhaenyra said, holding my hand firmly in hers.

"You can hear me?" I mutter as I watch her sad face.

"Of course I can, my dear," she caresses my cheek, "why wouldn't I?"

I close my eyes, "I beg your pardon, my queen."

"No!" she calls, shaking my cheek, "you cannot sleep until Daemon has returned. He is but a fortnight nigh."

I hum, "she has been so lonely though."

"Who? Who has been so lonely."

"Visenya."

Rhaenyra pulls her hand away. One of the children gasps.

"I told her that I was not her mother, that you are," I sigh, "but she told me she wanted me to stay with her."

Rhaenyra is bewildered. For a moment she is unable to do nothing. She repeats the name she called. When she is not met with a reply, she takes another moment to collect her thoughts, "you cannot answer my daughter's call. Your duty is with me, not her."

Rhaenyra's face tenses when she does not get a reply yet again.

She calls out, one, twice. She shakes the hand in her grip, and remarks once more about Daemon, knowing that would do the trick, she knows it will, it has to.

A chill runs down her spine when she realizes was for nothing.

It is too late.

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon angst #daemon targaryen angst #daemon x rhaenyra #hotd angst #daemon x reader x rhaenyra #daemon x rhaenyra x reader #targaryen angst #rhaenyra angst

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hotvintagepoll · 23 days

Text

Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Marie Doro (Lost and Won)—I had never heard of this woman before the prelims a couple of weeks ago, but oh my GOD I have not been able to stop thinking about her since. Look at her!! She was often typecast as delicate, fragile types on stage and screen, but in real life she was "intelligent, an expert on Shakespeare and Elizabethan poetry, and possessed a penetrating humor and a sometimes acid wit"(!!!!) and known for bringing vibrancy and intelligence to all of her roles. Unfortunately most of her films have been lost, but she was considered a highly sought-after lead actress through the '20s, at which point she retired from acting. In her later years, she went back to school, taking university courses in theology, physics, metaphysics, and philosophy. She was also reportedly close friends with Maude Adams and Mercedes de Acosta, both known for their lesbian relationships, which has led some (me) (but also others) to speculate that she may have been lesbian or bi herself. She has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame! She was Charlie Chaplin's first love! She was so beautiful??? I want her to recite poetry for me while we picnic in the park.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Marie Doro:

Unfortunately nearly all of Marie Doro’s movies are lost, and I don’t know a lot about her, but as soon as I came across Marie for the first time, I fell in love with her. The early Edwardian era is my favourite decade for fashion, and Marie wears it all so well! In every photo she looks like an angel made out of porcelain, too perfect to be real. She was Charlie Chaplin’s first love, and he remained in love with her for years after their first encounter, and let’s be honest, who can blame him? He said about her in his biography:

‘She was so devastatingly beautiful that I resented her. I resented her delicate, pouting lips, her regular white teeth, her adorable chin, her raven hair and dark brown eyes. But, oh God, she was beautiful! It was love at first sight. At the theatre I would time the moment that she left her dressing room so as to meet her on the stairs and gulp 'good-evening.' When I met Marie Doro again, it was like the second act of a romantic play. After we were introduced I said: 'But we've met before. You broke my heart. I was silently in love with you.' Marie, looking as beautiful as ever, said: “How thrilling”.

Doro retired from filmmaking in the 1920s and became very reclusive after that, so unfortunately there’s hardly any footage of her to watch. I feel sad that more people don’t know who Marie Doro is, because she’s very important to me.

Linked gifset to see Marie in action

#marie doro #maria felix #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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peachymilkandcream · 6 months

Text

Movie! William's Yandere Alphabet

(A/N: I just did the NSFW alphabet we had to do another, please for the love of all give me some requests with this man I'm going to go batshit crazy with him)

WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, manipulation, domestic abuse, yandere themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, stockholm syndrome, violence, mind breaking, misogyny, etc.

==========================================

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? In my opinion William is super affectionate when he gets the chance to be. He's super into affection when he can get it and he's very generous with it even if she doesn't seem to want it as much.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? Murder is clearly not knew for William, he knows what he's doing well by now so another couple of disappearances are just the norm at this point.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? William never abducted his wife, he just slowly manipulated her into marriage. So once they're first married and he's "trapped" her, he acts the same he always has because he knows if he's not careful she'll remember she can file for divorce and that's a whole mess.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? If she suddenly decided to deny him affection or sex he takes it forcefully, there is no telling him no. He doesn't care where it is he's getting what he wants.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? On everything aside from his crimes he's transparent with her, he shows his feelings and she knows what he's thinking. It adds to her thinking that there's nothing wrong with their relationship.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? He'd be rather unimpressed, clearly he would believe someone influenced her in this rebellion and that was another thing he had to clean up.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? He doesn't keep her under a super tight lock and key, but if she tried to escape he would have a good time trying to bring her back. To him it is a game, so long as it doesn't get too far and he has a mess to clean up.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? There have been many times he's punished or threatened to punish her in front of the children. She can take everything but her children witnessing abuse or being abused themselves.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? William's already achieved his goal as far as his wife, he'd just like to regain the money they'd lost when the business closed, which is why he has many plans to fix things.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? He is known to get jealous, however he usually can keep things in check, coping with rough sex to make him feel better and that she was still attracted to him.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? Most of the time William is a super sweet husband, albeit controlling. He is very affectionate and loving, he just cares about her maintaining her roles as a woman. He is more of a manipulative rather than violent yandere.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? William set up a trap for her, having her work at the then diner and making her hours cut in to college classes until she dropped out. He would pay for her apartment rent with sexual favours until she got pregnant, then marrying her. He really just thought she was sexy which is why he chose her.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? If anything William is more nasty and blunt to everyone but his wife, he gets off on her defending him even when he doesn't deserve it. He only cares to impress her and her alone, and she's so naive that when people tell her how he is she disagree.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? William does quick and straight to the point punishments, a quick slap or non-consensual sex, then he forgives her.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? She has some, trained enough that she can have friends and go out on her own. Although the way she is at home is entirely determined by him, and "toxic" influences are cut out immediately.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? William is a very impatient man, thankfully for her she got her act together quickly. If she had not submitted then he would've moved on before she got pregnant.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? He would not have the time or energy to move on, just wrapping himself in his work.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? Because he's broken her so well she seems happy, which is how he justifies that he did the right thing. He reasons they've been together so long it would be pointless to let her go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? Since William wanted a family but never had the time or desire to maintain a relationship so he went for in his mind the fastest way to get what he wanted with minimal effort.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? Deep down he feels bad, he tries to make it better if possible, explaining why he does the things he does. Usually she buys every word.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? He's very allowing and not as controlling as most, relying on manipulating and gaslighting her to feel what he wants her to feel.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? His work and trust of her, if she truly wanted to escape she could really just walk out the door if she found Vanessa or Micheal and they took her in.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? If he was extremely stressed and she was giving him sass then possibly, but he really tries to avoid it, wanting to keep up that good guy image for her.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? William never really tried to win her over, he just acted like normal and kept giving her children, even in mourning. Eventually she fell in love with him.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? He never really had a snapping moment, once she got pregnant there was not going back in his mind is all.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? William successfully broke his darling, completely and utterly. She happily sees herself growing old with him because she loves him.

#william afton smut #william afton x reader #william afton x oc #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x oc #five nights at freddys #five nights at freddys movie

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Text

𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅?

part 4 of 💔broken family💔

summary - you and ari finally have the talk you should've had months ago.

warning - angst, sexual harassment, swearing, miscommunication, cheating assumptions, heavy conversation.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 5

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

When the morning came, you had woken to your son curled against you. A smile graced your face as you looked down at him, stroking his hair back, enjoying this moment. You didn’t want to think about what you had to do today, but unfortunately, your mind wanted you to remember that you had to see your ex-husband, especially after he had witnessed your breakdown. But he was Jason’s father, and you wouldn’t be the person to keep your son from his own father.

You slowly untangle yourself from Jason and quickly head into the bathroom to freshen up before heading to the kitchen and preparing breakfast. You smile softly when you hear his little feet running down the stairs. “Mumma!” Jason waddles toward you, giggling as you kneel to pick him up, resting him on your hip.

“Morning, baby. How did you sleep?” You smile when he gives you a thumbs up with his little chubby thumb, his fingers curling into your shirt. You place a soft kiss on his forehead before putting the food onto the plates and feeding your son and you. “Are you ready to go back to your dad’s?” Jason shakes his head, and you look down at him, confused. “Why not, baby?”

He nuzzles his face into your neck, pouting. “Is lonely, miss both. Miss here.” He taps your chest, struggling with his words as fat tears appear in his eyes. Your smile slowly slips from your face, realising that not only did this divorce hurt you, but it’s hurting your son, and you don’t know how to fix it because you don’t even know what you did wrong. “Mummy, okay?”

You look down at Jason and place a fake smile on your face. “Yeah, baby. Mummy’s okay. Why don’t we finish breakfast and get ready for your father's?” You watch as he sadly nods, finishing the food and heading into the bedrooms as you both get dressed. You fiddle with your fingers, nervous as you wait for Jason to collect some of his things. He looks up at you with a sad pout, and you grab his little hand, leading him to the car. “It’s okay, baby. You’ll see me soon.” You enter the driver's seat, turn some music on and drive to Ari’s house. When you arrive, you look into the rearview mirror and see your son sitting there with his arms crossed and a pout on his face, none of you noticing Ari exiting the house and watching the interaction. “C’mon, baby. We’re here. You’ll have fun.”

Jason kicks his leg, “Don’ wanna! Wan’ stay with you! Wan’ both of you!” He grumbles and shakes his head. You sigh and look up, noticing Ari moving closer to the car. Your body shivers when your eyes connect, but then his eyes move to your son and open the door. “Go way!”

“C’mon, buddy. Don’t you want to come inside? We can get some ice cream?” Jason shakes his head, huffing and clutching your hand, and Ari looks at you with a glare.

“Not without mummy! Don’ wanna be separated! Wan’ mummy!” He pouts more, and you and Ari sigh, connecting eyes again before Ari nods.

“Okay, buddy. Mummy can stay, okay?” Jason nods and smiles, continuing to grip your hand as Ari collects his things and walks back into the house. You get out and grab your son, placing him on your hip as you slowly follow behind. Unsure if you should even enter until you feel a soft tug on your hair and see your son staring at you with a pout. Once you enter the house, Ari appears with his hands shoved into his jeans. You kneel and place Jason down before standing and watching your son run off to his playroom. Ari clears his throat, “Coffee?” You nod awkwardly, following him as he heads to the kitchen, beginning to prepare your favourite.

You clear your throat, thanking him when he slides the mug over and leans against the counter opposite of you. “Ari… We need to talk.” Your eyes lift from the hot coffee, connecting with his pretty blue ones. “Why did you leave?” You begin to chew on your bottom lip, watching anger flash across his eyes as he stares at you.

“You know why I left. Do we really need to talk about this?” You watch him lift the mug to his lips, taking a sip and your brows furrow.

“Yes, we do, Ari. If you haven’t noticed, whatever is happening between us, is affecting me badly, and it’s starting to affect our son.” You move your hands between the two of you, staring at him wide-eyed.

Ari scoffs. “You deserve it. You hurt me first, Y/n. I don’t think you deserve anything good.” You look at him with sad eyes, staring as you wonder what he means by that, and Ari continues to stare back, waiting for a look of recognition to register in your eyes, but when it doesn’t. He tilts his head. “You really don’t know what you did, do you?” You shake your head. “You cheated on me, Y/n. I saw you.” He keeps his voice down, not wanting Jason to hear. “I thought you loved me, but you ripped my fucking heart out instead.”

You shake your head, tears brimming as you look down at the coffee mug between your hands. Ari chuckles, “And you won’t even fucking own up to it. Are you really going to act like you’re innocent here?” You look at him again, feeling confused.

“W–when?” You watch his mouth open and close as he glares at you. You walk around the counter and stand in front of him. “When, Ari? When did you see me cheat on you? When did you think I had the time to cheat? Hmm? Between my job? Or between coming home to the people I loved the most in the world? When did you see me cheat? When did you see me throw my life away?” You question, the lump in your throat becomes more prominent as you continue to ask.

Ari scoffs again, shaking his head. “You know when. That day at work a few months ago! I came to drop off some lunch, and there was the coworker you always told me not to worry about! He was leaning so fucking close to you, and you were fucking smiling!” You remember that day. You had begged in your head for someone to interrupt him. You never told Ari that you had felt uncomfortable around the man because he would’ve done something. But after that day, you wished you had. He didn’t hurt you but made it known that he was attracted to you, even with your ring glistening in the light. He kept telling you what he’d do to you if you were his, and you had only smiled because he said if you didn’t. You’d wish you had. He had threatened your family and you. When you had come home in desperate need of a hug… Ari had pushed away, and you had thought maybe he had a bad day. “Oh, yeah. You’re remembering it now, huh” You blink away the tears, missing the look that flashed through Ari’s eyes as he noticed the look on your face as if you had seen a ghost.

“Okay…” You swallow, “If that is what you want to think, then I’ll let you.” You look at him, giving a watery smile. “Because if you think I’d cheat on you, that’s on you.” You push the lump in your throat down, not wanting to cry in front of him again. You turn, heading through the house and to where Jason plays, kneeling next to him and giving him a soft smile as he hands a dinosaur over to you, and you play along, ignoring your ex, who stays in the kitchen, wondering why you looked like that when he mentioned that day. It was worse than if you had cheated on him as if something else had happened.

As the sun goes down, you press a kiss onto your son’s forehead, ready to say goodbye. “No, mumma! Stay, pwease!” You look at him with sad eyes, about to open your mouth to tell him you can’t, when you're interrupted.

“You can stay.” Your head turns, looking up at your ex. Ari shrugs, “It’s just one night, and I don’t think he’ll sleep if you leave.” You slowly nod, seeing Jason grin widely, snuggling into you.

“Movie?” Jason stares at you with wide eyes before looking over to his dad, pleading. Ari nods, and Jason cheers before running to the lounge, making sure to drag you along with him. He sits you down, cuddling into your side and whines when Ari goes to sit far away. He pats the spot next to him and smiles when his father obeys, sitting so close and making it feel somewhat like a family again. “Transformers!” As you hold your son close, you don’t notice Ari staring at you from his position. His eyes move down your face, taking in your features.

A few hours go by as you watch the movies, and your son’s breathing slows as he falls asleep. Leaving you and Ari to sit in a dark room quietly. “I didn’t cheat.” You whisper, seeing Ari’s head turn as he looks at you again. Your eyes stay focused on the movie playing on the screen. “I would never cheat. You are… You were the love of my life. The man I felt a spark the first time our eyes met.” You gulp, looking down at your son, running your fingers through his hair as he snuggles into you. Your voice is quiet, as you don’t want to wake him. “I remember the day you talk about, but not for the reason you think.” Your eyes slowly move from Jason’s head to Ari’s. “I never told you how horrible that man was because I knew you would’ve done something to him, and I never thought he’d get as bad as that day. You may have seen me smiling, but it wasn’t one of comfort. He told me that if I stopped, he’d hurt my family. That day…” You swallow the sob that threatens to leave. “That day, he told me everything he would’ve done to me if he had me instead. That day I came home needing someone to hold me, only to find a husband who would no longer talk to me. From that day, I stayed late until my boss could walk me to my car because I didn’t feel safe, and you weren’t there to answer your phone.” You press your hand that wasn’t running through your son's hair against your mouth, pushing the sobs back as you and Ari stare at each other, rage bubbling beneath.

You shake your head, closing your eyes as a tear falls. “That day, I needed you, and you were too busy thinking I would cheat on you.” You gain the courage to open your eyes, staring at his tear-filled ones. “Is this how we were supposed to end?”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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explosionkatsu · 8 months

Text

“Age doesn't matter,” 20

Dad!Bakugo x F!Babysitter!Teacher!Reader

PART 19

The day where Katsuki needs to confront his ex-wife arrives. Despite what happened between Y/n and him, he knew he needs to do this even without her. Although, he hated she was not the one taking care of Kazui at that moment.

On his way to the court, Eijiro had to accompany him since he was the one who found Katsuki's ex-wife's location.

Both gentlemen were wearing a suit. But of course, their hero suit wasn't forgotten.

The drive is silent. The only thing they can hear is the roaring engine of the vehicle as Katsuki drives. His mind was too occupied that he wasn't able to message his mother.

Seeing that the establishment is near, Katsuki immediately noticed the small crowd of journalists waiting patiently in front of the entrance for his arrival. He also saw one of them point at his car which made everyone scramble grabbing cameras.

As he slowly approached the portico, Katsuki waited for the security to unlock the said portico for them to get in. He watches a crew of security closing the path of the other journalist who were trying to get in as they take tons of pictures almost everywhere.

"Are you nervous?" Eijiro asked beside him as he loosened his tie a bit.

"There's nothing to be nervous about." Katsuki simply responded as he parked the car near the front door.

"Here we are. We'll just need the judge to authorize your divorce paper, the warrant of arrest for your ex, and have her imprisoned permanently since she's already in prison." Eijiro beamed, seemingly trying to lift Katsuki's mood.

"Tsch." Katsuki only tched as they both prepare to leave the car. "Let's get this over with." He added and exited the vehicle.

"Alright, man."

The courtroom was full of people. There are few faces Katsuki could recognize such as his old classmates who are willing to be his witness.

"Whoah. I didn't expect this many would come." Eijiro whispered.

"The hell you expect? We're heroes." Katsuki grunted, answering Eijiro.

Katsuki proceeded to the defense area where his lawyer is currently waiting for him, and Eijro headed towards the spectator area where the others at.

"Mr. Bakugo." the lawyer greeted, reaching his left hand out.

Katsuki greeted back and shook the hand. "Mr. Isaka."

"I didn't anticipate this to occur so unexpectedly." Mr. Isaka spoke up and sat on the chair with Katsuki, copying his motion.

"Mhm."

Mr. Isaka is Katsuki's lawyer referred by his mentor. The only one who can withstand Katsuki and his temper.

Their first meeting wasn't so good at all due to Katsuki's refusal. He only accepted Mr. Isaka when he was framed by his ex-wife for being an abusive husband. Mr. Isaka managed to clean his name, without any difficulty, as well as file a case against those companies who were spreading rumors about him. You could say it was successful since a bunch of News Agencies released an apology letter on tv and social media.

The courtroom abruptly went quiet when the police announced the arrival of the Judge who slowly made her way to the judge's bench and settled herself.

Katsuki was concentrated. He was even disregarding the fact that his ex was standing 8 feet away from him.

" We are gathering today to witness the judgment of Mr. Katsuki Bakugo and (ex's name). You may all take your seats." The judge said and sat as well. "Now could we have the defending party speak?"

Mr. Isaka stood up, thanked the judge, and started speaking.

...

"Ms. (Ex), is it true that you left Mr. Katsuki without any letter, note, or message?"

"No, Sir."

"Is it true that you abandoned your child while Mr. Bakugo was on his patrol?"

"No, Sir."

"Is it true that you're living with your boyfriend all this time after you stole all Mr. Bakugo's banknotes?"

"N-no, Sir."

"That's all, judge."

"Thank you, Mr. Isaka."

...

"Mr. Bakugo, or should I say, Dynamight. Is it true that you lay a hand on Ms. (ex)?"

"No."

"Is it true that you choose your job over your family cause for Ms. (ex) to leave?"

"No."

...

"Judge Kanaki, we would like Mr. Eijiro Kirishima to join the stand."

Eijiro stood up and went to the witness stand.

"Mr. Kirishima, could you tell us what happened to that incident a few years ago?" Mr. Isaka asked.

Eijiro took a deep breath before answering.

"Exactly at 7 in the evening, I bid good night to Dynamight since it was the end of our patrol. He was my buddy that day. It was an uneventful patrol for us. When I got home and changed into my ordinary clothing, Bakugo suddenly called. His breathing was heavy, almost like panicking. I asked him what was wrong, he told me his wife left their child all alone in their home. I immediately went using my motorbike and catches Bakugo, still not changing from his work clothes, trying to calm the wailing child in his arms. He looked disheveled. Crying, and terror were apparent in his voice."

"E-eijiro.."

"What happened!?" Eijiro immediately went to Katsuki's side. "Tell me what happened."

Katsuki didn't answer for he was just staring at the month-old Kazui.

"Hold on!" Eijiro ran towards the kitchen and took a glass of water. "Here, let me try. Have a drink."

Eijiro took Kazui from Katsuki and watches how his buddy took a huge gulp, calming himself. He was lucky he managed to rock Kazui to sleep.

"We didn't know how long the child was crying until we remember the footage." Eijiro scowled. "That woman left at 8:41 in the morning, getting picked up by her goddamn boyfriend!"

"Thank you, Mr. Kirishima."

...

"Mr. Bakugo. Where are you on the day that Ms. (ex) claimed that you hit her?"

"At my office, working on a few documents."

"With your secretary?"

"Mhm."

"Is it true that you were linked with your secretary?"

"Objection. Accusatory."

"Allowed."

"That is all, Judge Kanaki."

...

"Lawyers. Do you have anything else to say before I close this case?"

"No, Ma'am."

"No."

"In that case, this court will be adjourned for 15 minutes. Allow the jury to decide the fate of the prosecutor."

...

Fifteen minutes went by and the jury, along with the judge came back holding what seems to be the result of the trial.

Katsuki was calmly sitting beside his lawyer who was focused on the appearance of the judge.

When the judge finally settled back on her stand, she addressed Katsuki, as well as his ex-wife before turning to the jury, "May the head of the jury stand."

A person slowly stood up.

"Does the jury find the defendant guilty or not guilty?"

"Not guilty."

"In the case of Mr. Katsuki Bakugo, and Ms. (ex). Ms. (ex) is found guilty of article 276, Abandoning a Minor. You will be charged with imprisonment with a fine of (your currency) 500,000.00. Court dismissed."

"All rise."

...

Your day at school was uneventful as usual. Finishing a bunch of activities that needed to be scored, and a few papers that your principal demanded.

It was quiet since it was Saturday, and here you are, already regretting not taking your works home with you.

Well, you chose this job. Plus, the salary pays all your bills, you can still even buy a bunch of clothes if you want but you just choose to save them.

Then you suddenly remembered Kirishima.

You just accomplished all your works and he suddenly called to inform you that Bakugo will have his trial today.

You were confused about why he was telling you this but Kirishima suddenly said,

"Well, you're my friend now. You're part of our lives as well! Especially him, you know. So, I think you earn to know."

Pondering about what he said made you halt your work and look out the window, wondering.

"Am I?"

...

"Stop wailing shittyhair. The trial's over like an hour ago." Katsuki tsked as he took a big sip of his drink.

"I just can't believe you're finally free." Eijiro hiccuped as he took another shot of his drink while sobbing.

"We're just happy for you, bro." Denki smiled while patting the sobbing Eijiro.

"Yeah. That woman deserves that." Sero smirked. "Have you informed your parents, tho?" his face turned serious after saying this.

"Not yet," Katsuki answered. "Besides, I'm quite sure that this is all over the news. You all hella noticed all the fucking cameramen enveloping almost the courtroom."

"Geez. They can't get a break, can't they." Denki sighed.

"It's their job. Hello. They earn money out of gossip." Mina suddenly spoke out whilst slapping Denki's head.

"Ah. I need to text Y/n." Eijiro unexpectedly said and pulled his phone out.

Hearing your name took Katsuki's attention which brought him avert his eyes to Eijiro.

"You're on first name basis?" Katsuki said raising an eyebrow.

"Me? No, bro." Eijiro responded without glancing at him since he was occupied typing on his phone.

"What're you telling her?"

"That you won and we're celebrating." Eijiro merely said.

"What's with all the question, bro?" Denki smirked.

"Miss her?" Sero taunted.

"Fuck off."

...

"Our no. 2 Hero, Dynamight just won his 4 hours long trial with his ex-wife (name) who's sentenced to imprisonment and a fine of 500,000.00 for abandoning their child. On the other hand, his child was nowhere to be seen by our team. It seems like Dynamight is protecting his child."

"Of course, a parent would do that." You mumbled as you watched the news from your kitchen.

"To all the ladies out there. Dynamight is finally single and undoubtedly not ready to mingle. So, a good and bad news for the fans! Hahaha!"

"Geez." You pouted as you stirred your fried rice. "Do they need to say that on TV?" You muttered. "Stupid newscaster."

Then you heard your phone's notification making you groan.

"This better be not another paperwork." You said out loud as you turned the fire off, quickly washed your hands, and wiped them dry. Once done, you head to your phone and check the messages.

It was Kirishima, informing you that Bakugo indeed won and they were celebrating in a bar along with a selfie of his group.

You can see them all beaming at the camera, except for a specific blonde which made you chuckle.

'Typical Bakugo.' You thought.

So without hesitation, you responded.

"Glad he won! It was all over the news as well so I managed to know just bits of the details. Have fun drinking, and please don't get drunk."

And click the send button.

...

"Miss Y/n said not to get drunk." Eijiro chuckled.

"Awe. I swear she's so adorable. I like her." Mina awed. "If only someone didn't push her away. We would still be hanging out with her."

"Oi, pinky. Say that to my face, why don't cha?" Katsuki glared.

"Oh sure! You stupid idiot pushed her away. We don't know the reason but I am positive that it's your fault." Mina said, this time looking straight at Katsuki.

"She was flirting with Deku! Stupid shit!"

"Wait, what?" Mina blinked. "Flirting with Midoriya?"

"Whatever."

"Did you get jealous when Midoriya complimented her?" Mina asked as if her brain was gradually getting the pieces together.

"No. Why the fuck would I?"

"Oh my gosh!! You did!" Mina stood up from her seat making Denki and Sero jump. "You got jealous because Midoriya was complimenting her! You thought she was flirting!"

"Shut the fuck up! I didn't!"

'Is that why he reacted that way?' Eijiro thought as he thought back to Katsuki's reaction when Mina said something about Y/n being single.

"Fucking outta here." Katsuki stood up and just left.

"Well, there he goes," Denki said. "So much for celebration."

"I think you pushed too much, Mina," Eijiro said.

"The way he reacted though. It seems like I was right." Mina pouted.

"You might be. But I talked to Miss Y/n and it seems like both of them don't want to discuss this." Eijiro sighed. "We know Bakubro, and we know he'll apologize. Maybe not today."

...

Katsuki settled himself in his car. He despised that Pinky could instantly guess what happened. He also despised how right she was.

He knew he screwed up. He's just waiting for the right time to apologize. A moment to cool down.

Why was he even jealous in the first place, anyway?

Cursing himself, he started the engine and drove to a certain location.

PART 21

I have no idea how long this was but I just felt like it's time to get back in here and finish this. Haha! It's really short but I hope it's worth the wait. Thank you for all your patience and understanding! 😍

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x y/n #bnha bakugou #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader

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svechnikovvv · 1 year

Text

happy birthday

trevor zegras x fem!reader

a/n: in honor of z’s birthday today, i wanted to post this 🫶🏻

masterlist: here

y/n.insta

liked by trevorzegras and 969,034 others

y/n.insta happy 22nd birthday to the bestest boyfriend in the world. you’re my favorite swiftie & you never fail to bring a smile to my face. there’s more i could say, but let’s keep it simple. i love you zegralicious <3

(👤: trevorzegras)

view comments

trevorzegras why did you post that first photo?

y/n.insta i’m reminding you of your roots 🥱

trevorzegras you’re not funny

y/n.insta i will take back my happy birthday, my i love you AND i’ll archive this post. i don’t see any of your little boyfriends posting you 🙄

trevorzegras don’t bring the boys into this

y/n.insta just did, what are you gonna do about it?

trevorzegras report your account multiple times

y/n.insta you, me, kroger parking lot. 5pm

jamie.drysdale mom, i’m scared

y/n.insta go back to bed, sweetie. your father and i are having an adult discussion

jackhughes zegralicious?

y/n.insta it’s like fergalicious, but better

user1 it’s confirmed, y/n is the better parent

user2 i love how they all play along

user3 ZEGRALICIOUS DEFINITION MAKE THEM BOYS GO LOCO

liked by y/n.insta

_quinnhughes i’m gonna need you to send me that first photo

y/n.insta check your messages, huggy

_quinnhughes you’re the best 🙏

y/n.insta just doing god’s work 💁‍♀️

_quinnhughes like ariana grande said, “god is a woman”

y/n.insta damn right, and her name is ellen hughes

jackhughes real

y/n.insta adam sandler, what’re you doing here? 😧

jackhughes you can’t keep saying that everytime someone shows up somewhere

y/n.insta sigh, you’re taking away my paddles to my curiosity voyage

jackhughes no wonder you and z are on the verge of divorce 🙄

y/n.insta and this is why cole was trevor’s best man 🥱

lhughes_06 i just know he’s blasting 22 by taylor right now

y/n.insta this is the third time he’s played it. i’m about to que we are never getting back together

lhughes_06 you should que never gonna give you up

y/n.insta …genius

jamie.drysdale always knew he was a fake duck 👎

y/n.insta you got your amazing intuition from me 😌

jamie.drysdale thanks mom?

user4 i love the ganging up on z moment we’re witnessing

user5 fake duck ‼️

masonmctavish23 22 years ago today, a 🐐 was born

y/n.insta that explains why he’s not potty-trained yet

trevorzegras i’m taking jamie from you y/n.insta

y/n.insta you. wouldn’t. dare

trevorzegras wanna bet?

masonmctavish23 oh no.. what did i start

jackhughes the custody battle of ‘23

_quinnhughes blind leading the blind

_alexturcotte this is an amazing post

y/n.insta thank you, turcs. at least someone appreciates it

colecaufield tell my husband i’ll be home from war in a few hours

y/n.insta trevorzegras you’re cheating on me now?? 😧

trevorzegras cat’s out of the bag now, surprise?

y/n.insta i’m feeling very ricky bobby betrayed rn

anaheimducks happy birthday z! 🧡

y/n.insta (trevor typing here) thank you!

trevorzegras on a real note though, thank you baby <3

y/n.insta you’re welcome my love

user6 i’m glad to say i lived to witness the custody battle of ‘23

jackhughes

liked by y/n.insta and 978,894 others

jackhughes happy birthday zegrasi. live it up man 🧡

(👤: trevorzegras)

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trevorzegras not you too, hughesy (but thank you)

jackhughes i had to 🤷‍♀️

trevorzegras did y/n make you do this?

jackhughes i would never give in to conformity 😧

y/n.insta what a loser that trevor zegras is

trevorzegras i hope you think the couch is comfy, because that’s where you’ll be sleeping tonight. you made your bed, now lie in it

y/n.insta i feel like i’m in salem with that threat

colecaufield two 🐐 in one picture

y/n.insta run while you can, caufield

colecaufield hello???

user7 FETUS ZEGRAS

user8 y/n’s comments are what fuel me

user9 so true

_quinnhughes is this an anti-z club?

y/n.insta yes and i’m the ceo. julie is my sponsor. mama zegras for the win 😎

trevorzegras and to think i gave you all that praise, quintin

_quinnhughes nobody told you to do that

y/n.insta when do you start _quinnhughes ?

_quinnhughes today

_alexturcotte favorite duo 🤝

liked by jackhughes

njdevils happy birthday to our favorite duck! ❤️

trevorzegras thank you!

user10 i love that first picture

lhughes_06 by the end of the day, that first picture is going to be engraved in my brain

jackhughes let it consume you

lhughes_06 what??

colecaufield

liked by y/n.insta and 965,032 others

colecaufield happy birthday zeg2nasty 🧡

(👤: trevorzegras)

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trevorzegras WHY IS EVERYONE POSTING THAT PICTURE??

y/n.insta it’s a zegras cult and i’m the ring leader

trevorzegras you terrify me.

y/n.insta you signed up for this

jackhughes just a couple of boys

liked by colecaufield

y/n.insta you’re a godsend for this

colecaufield can i join the club now too?

y/n.insta what‘s your availability?

colecaufield yes

y/n.insta welcome to the club!

user11 so everyone’s just gonna post that picture?

user12 oh yes kids, i remember the zegras cult of ‘23

user13 i love y/n’s friendship with all of them

user14 i wonder which friend will post next

_alexturcotte the good ole days

colecaufield now we’re old and decrepit

_quinnhughes when y/n starts something… it spreads

y/n.insta you make me sound like a disease

trevorzegras because you are

y/n.insta go back to where you came from

jamie.drysdale

liked by y/n.insta and 897,043 others

jamie.drysdale happy birthday z! i hope it’s a good one 🧡

(👤: trevorzegras)

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trevorzegras STOP POSTING THIS PICTURE. I’M BLOCKING ALL OF YOU AND TAKING YOU OFF MY CLOSE-FRIENDS

y/n.insta ah, i’m so scared

trevorzegras i hope you get cholera

y/n.insta stub your toe, zegras

trevorzegras i’m kicking you out my room. you can go room with jamie now

y/n.insta i’m a delight, i’ll have you know

jamie.drysdale they’re typing this whole conversation while sitting next to each other on the couch with straight faces

trevorzegras nobody likes a tattletale, jimbo

y/n.insta ONE OF US

jackhughes ONE OF US

colecaufield ONE OF US

user15 these posts just keep getting better and better

user16 can we talk about how good they both look in that second picture though?

user17 yes.

masonmctavish23 jimbo’s finally joined the zeg train

jamie.drysdale it was either now or later

anaheimducks that first picture is golden

liked by jamie.drysdale

colecaufield jamie is the better duck (confirmed)

trevorzegras after all i’ve done for you?

colecaufield sorry not sorry

jackhughes he’s never going to forgive us for this

jamie.drysdale oh definitely not

y/n.insta the grudge is already forming

trevorzegras formed*

y/n.insta welcome to the club, jamie!

jamie.drysdale wow, it truly is an honor to be here today. i’d like to thank my mom y/n for telling me to never give up and that someday i’d achieve my dreams.

y/n.insta so proud of you son 🫶🏻

user18 i’m scared for what y/n’s gonna post for the others’ birthdays

trevorzegras i’m starting a gofundme to free me from these shackles. #freeZ

tags: @goldenbrokenheart @liquidflyer @woodruff-edwards @hockeyboysarehot @ajbird2010 @hughesx3 @iheartzegras @theywantedplayer @k1ttyt3ar @jackhughesily @fratboyzegras @marauderzkinnie @babydollmarauders @akengii @livs-garden @nowandkei @starsandhughes @jackhues

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #nhl hockey #nhl #anaheim ducks #del’s insta edits!

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coltrainbat · 1 year

Note

Ari is divorced and moving out of the house to an apartment where he meets a happy married, reader with big breasts. Her husband is out of town one day, she and ari have intense sexual one night stand

Neighbours

A/N: I'm baaaaccckkkkk and as always I have something to say ☺️ I am in love with Ari Levinson. Great request but I have to ponder... If reader is “happily married” then why would she cheat? I feel like her being married adds absolutely nothing to the plot, so we are gonna change it to obsessed ex because like… mi no comprehend how happy = cheating. Also, I feel cheating can be triggering for some.

I also think I forgot how to write so please give feedback on this one, like why are some bits in past tense??? Idk I'm insecure validate me 🥺

WARNINGS: SMUT MINORS DNI. 8k filth, oral (f receiving, m receiving), dirty talk, sex, orgasm, P in v, Daddy kink (naturally), hair pulling, spit, shitty exes, swearing.

You sat in your apartment, comfy on the couch and freshly single. While most people would see this as a great time to spend their Friday nights going to clubs, seeking for a new dick to get under – you found it the perfect time to bask in the freedom of having uninterrupted you time. That was until a knock at the door caught you off guard.

You sprung up with a groan, tip toeing to look through the peephole and find out who had the audacity to knock on your door at 10:30 on a Friday night.

“Brian” You muttered under your breath in a disdained tone.

Brian. Your whiny, dickish, loser ex. Who despite not having any concrete plans for life besides his regular Friday night strip club visit still thought you could prove yourself to be more “wife material’. By that he meant, on top of making dinner, picking him up at 2am from said strip club visits so he didn’t have to spend money on a Taxi. Safe to say, dumping him didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

You pulled open the door, standing in your almost too small pyjama set. “Can I help you?”

“I think you can.” He gave you a sick smirk, closing the space between you by moving his hands towards your waist.

“Don’t fucking touch me Brian. We aren’t together.” Slapping his hand away.

“Don’t be a bitch, everyone hooks up with their ex.”

“Well, I don’t want so can you please leave?” You heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs from the lobby and you got anxious at the thought of a neighbour witnessing this cringe worthy altercation.

“I’m not leaving until you let me in.” He moved his foot past the threshold of the door frame, to prevent you from closing the door on his face.

“Brian you can’t-“

“She said leave.” A foreign voice sounded from down the hallway cutting you off, both your heads flung to the source.

The tall, brooding man had only been your neighbour for a week, you passed by each other with tight smiles both of you too occupied to say hello. But that didn’t stop you from getting a good look at him. He was handsome in a ruggish way, often only sporting shorts and wife beaters, sweat forming on his head as he lugged boxes into his apartment. You noticed the gold band on his large finger, yet no man or wife in sight. Yet, today there was no ring and he had swapped the wife beater for a button up shirt and jeans.

“Who the fuck are you?” Brian spat at the man who could beat him to a pulp with minimal effort. Ah Brian, always so confident for a man whose dick was the size of your pinky.

Your hide your face in your hands in a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Ari, now I suggest you leave her alone.” He moved closer to you both, slightly moving his body in front of you, blocking Brian from entering.

“She’s my girlfriend and this was our apartment so I think I can stay but thanks pal.” Brian sounded confident but his voice waivered as he cranked his neck to look up at Ari.

“I’m not your girlfriend.” Ari looked back at you, catching your eyes, giving you a soft smile.

“Well, that settles it so either you leave, or I make you leave.” Ari knelt a little, getting close to Brian’s face his voice was calm and level, but his eyes told Brian he wasn’t bluffing.

Brian huffed and made his way back down the hall, not before turning back “Enjoy her she’s a bitch but she’s slutty.”

Ari flashed a glowing smile and a prominent middle finger as he pushed his way into your apartment, closing the door behind him.

“You, ok?”

“I’m used to it but thank you for helping he wouldn’t have never left if you didn’t step in.”

“Don’t worry about it but you look like you need a stiff drink – got anything good?”

“Tequila?”

“Perfect.” He purred, following you as you made your way to your small bar cart, catching a glimpse of the soft skin that hang out slightly from your pyjama shorts.

You grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap;

“You know your wife’s really lucky to have you around.” You spoke as you poured two shots.

“Ex-wife.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be she was my equivalent of him.” You both chuckled at the mutual understanding of horrible exes.

“Y/N, by the way.” You spoke as you handed him the novelty shot glass.

“Good to finally put a name to my pretty neighbour.” You blushed as you clinked glasses, both downing the burning liquid in sync.

“Another?” You smirked at him.

1 shot turned into 4 as you and Ari sat on your couch, bonding over stories of your exes’ antics and anxieties about re-entering the dating scene. Both losing track of time as the hours fell into early morning. But neither of you felt tired, invigorated by your conversation and the upper coursing through your veins.

“She did not!” You hand fell to your mouth as Ari recounted the story of walking in on his ex fucking his friend on their kitchen counter.

“She did.” He nodded slowly, sipping his beer as he recalled on the sight.

“Well, she’s crazy. I mean, why would anyone cheat on you… when they have well… YOU. God, I mean if I had my own version of sexy Jesus at home, I’d never leave bed.” Ari’s eyes went dark at your bold comment as the image of you and him in bed clouding his mind.

You swallowed hard, realising the tequila was speaking for you and you had invertedly just admitted you found your neighbour hot.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to say you were hot, I mean yes you are hot but-“

“Sexy Jesus?” He crocked an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I mean you know with the hair and beard... like… Jesus”

“I’m Jewish.”

“So, you could possibly be a descendent of Jesus then.” You tried to muffle the laugh threatening to spill as your nonsensical statement. But Ari beat you to it, reaching forward in a fit of laughter, his hand grabbing his pecs.

“You are something else Y/N… in a good way, I see why your ex showed up at your door.”

“What can I say I’m very addictive.” You twirled your hand along the rim of your glass, avoiding his prominent gaze.

“Was he telling the truth about that last comment?”

“That I’m his girlfriend? No no we definitely broke up.”

“No, I meant that you’re slutty.”

Your eyes widened and the mouthful of drink you just sipped threatened to spit out.

“I mean that depends…”

“On…?”

“On your definition of slutty.”

“I took it as you were good in the sack.” He was leaning back on the couch now, his long arms stretched along the back, his hand deathly close to your neck.

“I am not “good in the sack”, I am fucking great in the sack.” You leaned in closer to his figure on the last line, your face getting closer to his. Slowly placing your drink onto the coffee table.

He licked his lips in hunger, shortly before he closed the space between you two, his hand falling to your cheek to pull you closer.

You closed your eyes, relaxing into the soft feeling of his beard against your skin as you explored each other’s mouths.

In a swift motion, his mouth never leaving yours, he placed his drink next to yours, moving his hand back to you cup your ass that was slowly raising itself off the couch.

Moving his hand downwards, hooking your leg over his lap so your chest was now pressed against his button up shirt. Not satisfied at the feeling of fabric against you, you pulled away to undo the buttons, revealing his tanned, hairy chest and the shiny gold Star of David chain.

His chest heaved, watching you eagerly as you fiddled with the buttons. “Oh, fuck it!” You ripped his shirt to reveal the delectable abs hidden underneath. Your mouth returning to his as you ran your hands through his dark, shiny locks. He shimmied the rest of the flannel off, hands going to the hem of your cami, eager to reveal the plump, delicious tits, constrained by the fabric. With a final pull over your head, your breasts bounced, hard nipples falling in place against his chest.

“Jesus Christ.” He huffed out, pausing momentarily to admire the sight in front of him. His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, nipping and sucking at your skin down your neck towards your breasts.

His hands cupped the supple flesh, bringing it to his mouth as he sucked delicately on the hard nib. His eyes looked up at you past his long lashes as your head fell back in pleasure.

He moaned as your pulled on his hair. His hands, took a firm grip of your ass, raising his hips slightly, flipping you on your back with ease, you lay exposed across the couch. Leaping up to undo the zip of his jeans, shoes long discarded he stepped out of the worn denim. Your hands grabbed at the clothed, outline of his cock in his briefs, eager to taste the hunky man. Positioning yourself at the edge of the couch. Ari crouched his knees slightly, noting his height, eager to let you at your want.

Revealing his cock, your eyes widened at his size, bigger than anything you’ve ever seen and much bigger than Brian. You grabbed his base, kitty licking at the plump head, catching the loose drops of pre-cum that oozed from his red slit.

“Fuck Y/N, I knew you knew your way around a cock.” You smirked up at him as his hands pulled your hair into a ponytail, taking the hair tie from his wrist and securing it.

You placed the thick head in your mouth, pushing your spit onto his cock as you ran your lips up and past the head.

“You think you can take the whole thing baby?” He quipped at you.

Giving him a small nod, you opened your mouth wider, flattening your tongue on the underside of his cock as you slowly moved you head forward to let his cock push down your throat.

“Fuck baby! That’s it.” Ari’s hands clutched your ponytail tightly, edging his hips towards your head slowly.

You pulled out, looking up at him, with spit smothered around your lips “Don’t hold back Daddy.” Ari groaned roughly, head falling back at the sight of the beautiful woman on her knees in front of him calling him such a salacious name. It was all he needed to roughly fuck your throat, the sounds of your gags and wet, sloppy punctures filling the room.

He pulled your head back by your ponytail, you whined at the loss of his cock.

“You’re so good at it baby but I need that pussy.” He looked down on you with awe. You nodded, shuffling back onto the couch. Ari fell to his knees, head inches away from your pussy as he helped you pull your shorts down.

His mouth immediately went between your thighs, spitting on your exposed cunt before flattening his large tongue on your heat, leaving a long strip of warm, wetness from the skin above your ass to the tip of your clit. Sucking on the sensitive pearl as you mewled at the sensation. He moved downwards, nudging the tip of his tongue at your weeping hole as his beard brushed against your sensitive clit creating a sensation you have never experienced but was addictive. The bristles moving roughly against any inch of exposed skin.

“Ari please I need it!” You begged as you pushed his head closer to your core.

He stopped suddenly, pulling away to look up at your flushed face, sweat formed on your forehead. “What’d you call me?”

“Daddy, please fuck me.” You looked into his deep blue eyes, need in your voice.

“That’s better.” He smirked up at you, moving upwards to join you on the couch. You pulled him closer desperate to taste yourself on his lips. His movements slowed as he moved his hand to support your head pulling it back slightly to get deeper into the kiss.

Between the rushed, desperation appeared a moment of deep intimacy and want for the person in front of you. He grabbed his cock in his hand and slowly glided it through your wet folds, catching your deep moan as his length filled your tight, velvety interior.

Slowly, he moved in and out, eager not to go too far out and lose the sensation of finally being inside of you.

Letting out a deep groan as you ran your nails down his back, leaving long, red marks.

“Harder Daddy please… I need it.”

He looked at you, strands of sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, dipping his head down to give you a soft, wet kiss, pulling out, he grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, opening your mouth slightly as he spit roughly down your throat. You swallowed his spit greedily, flashing him an innocent smile which quickly faded as he pulled out to the edges of your entrance and thrusted roughly back in. You gasped at the sudden hit of his bulbous tip at your cervix. The repeated assault at your most sensitive core caused the coil inside you to tighten, your desperately grabbed at his large arms for stability, nails digging into his hard skin as your release rushed out of you and seeped down his length.

“That’s its baby let it out, fuck that makes me close.” His eyes darted between your two sexes, watching as the cream wrapped around his base like a decorative bow. His thrusts became sloppy as he chased his high, savouring the feeling of being inside of you amongst your juices.

He collapsed into the warm embrace of your chest, softly kissing the supple skin of your breast as you both breathed heavy post the best sex of your lives. As his now limp cock fell out of you along with the sticky, hot mix of your release.

Your eyes squinted at the sudden realisation of light pouring through your window, releasing it was now sunrise, tiredness took over you.

You shook the heavy man on you “Ari, it’s morning, do you want to come back to bed with me?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He steadied himself by his arms on either side of your head as he rose. Holding out his hand to help your shaky figure up and into the bedroom. Arms forming a tight grip on your hips as you hobbled towards your bed.

You both collapsing, ready to enjoy a well-deserved sleep.

#chris evans fanfic #ari levison x reader #ari levinson #ari levinson smut #chris evans character x reader #chris evans fic #chris evans smut #chris evans imagines #chris evans x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x reader #deep sea diving resort #chris evans fics #chris evans one shot #ari levinson one shot

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loslentesdepedrito · 9 months

Text

I'm Your Wife- Chapter Three

Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)

Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Two

Next Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Four

Word count: 9.6k+

Chapter summary: Jack faces the consequences of his actions, and his past once again, haunts him and you. (Picks up directly from ch. 2. The flashback scene is bold and italicized.)

Rating: 18+ no explicit content but I'd rather not have minors read these types of subjects. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles.

Warnings: ANGST, language used by the characters is harsh and contains strong emotions, mentions of cheating, toxic marriage, no explicit content, but suggestive, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease. (I hope I didn’t forget anything, it’s been years since I wrote this.)

A/N: Some of 2017 references. Huge, huge, huge apologies for the late chapter! Long story short, a colleague had to take emergency leave, and I stepped in to manage a project that will be presented in two weeks. My work is pre-written, this one in 2017, but I have to add the translations, and I love making the graphics, even if it takes me way too long. I'll be out of the country for the presentation, but I'll try my best to upload something before then. Thank you to everyone for their patience, and I hope you enjoy this part!

She's pregnant?... She's pregnant... Jack's mind whirls with a mix of surprise and jealousy, the revelation hitting him like a freight train and igniting an uncontrollable fire within his chest.

"Did you fuck him while we were married?" The question escapes Jack's lips, driven by irrationality and a mix of hurt and anger. If he were more collected, he would have realized the insensitivity of such a question, but his emotions are spiraling out of control.

He doesn't even get to hear what you have to say because, in an instant, Jack gets up from his chair in a sudden burst of emotions and sends it flying backward into the wall.

His thoughts and emotions collide, just like the chair and the wall, and he feels like he's drowning in a storm of feelings he can't control. Jack constantly thought about you and his child, but without knowing the gender or having a name, his child remained an elusive figure in his mind. A fleeting thought that now lingers is how he always referred to your child as his little angel, never imagining how close to the truth it was.

Just as he discovers the existence of his son, he's confronted with the harsh reality that you've moved on. In the purest sense of the word, you have moved on. She's truly moved on, he repeats in his mind. The pain is overwhelming as he realizes you married Javier, probably raised Ángel with him, and now you're expecting another child—a child that belongs to another man.

Jack had hoped that maybe, just maybe, there was a slight chance for him, you, and his child to form a family together. But that hope has been crushed. He knows deep down that you would never leave the family you've built, especially not for someone who treated you like an afterthought.

His heart aches at the knowledge that you have built a life without him. You're carrying another man's child, and it cuts deep into his soul. The thought of you and your husband raising a family, laughing and sharing moments together, stabs at him like a knife.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that he missed out on so much. That he wasn't there to witness the joy of your pregnancy, to see your belly swell with the life you both created. He can only imagine the moments he lost, like not being able to go to the obstetrician with you, to witness the miraculous sonograms that reveal the tiny life growing inside you.

Tears sting his eyes as he recalls the sonogram of Ángel that you had given him, and how he carelessly threw it to the floor in a fit of anger. The regret now gnaws at him, realizing he'll never be able to relive those moments he cast aside.

A heartbreaking sense of loss envelops him, knowing that he wasn't there to hear Ángel's heartbeat resounding in the clinic. He wasn't there to hold his son for the first time, and thank you for giving him such an extraordinary gift. It's like watching a movie of his own life, but he's only a viewer, a stranger to the beautiful moments he should have been a part of.

He knows he hurt you, and Jack knows he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. But he can't help but wish for the chance to make things right, to be there for you and Ángel, to be the man you need him to be. Yet, deep down, he knows that ship has sailed.

Ya treated her like gum stuck to the sole of your boots, a cruel voice whispers in his head. Why would she ever wanna be with ya again?

As the emotions continue to swirl inside him, Jack glances at Javier, your husband, the man who has taken his place in your life. The sight of the wedding band on Javier's finger is a cruel reminder of the life they've built together.

That coulda been me, Jack thinks bitterly. I coulda been the one to marry her, to raise our child, to create a family.

But it's not him, and he can't change the past. He can't go back and be the man he should have been. All he can do now is face the consequences of his actions and accept that he missed his chance.

His heart weighs heavy with regret and sorrow, knowing that he let go of something precious. Your laughter, your smile, your love—all lost to him now.

But amidst the storm of emotions, there's one thing that remains crystal clear: he has a son, Ángel, a part of him that he didn't know existed. And while he may not have the chance to be the father he should have been from the start, he can still try to be there for his son now.

Jack knows that he can't change the past, but he can choose how to move forward. He can decide to be a father his son deserves, to be a better man, even if it's not the fairytale ending he once dreamed of.

"I meant it. I'll get tested." Jack finally says. It's a small step, but it's the first one toward building a relationship with his son. He knows it won't be easy, and there will be obstacles to overcome, but he's willing to try.

You look at him, your eyes filled with tears. Honestly, when you first contacted him, you didn't know what to expect. But the fact that he's willing to take this step means something to you.

Jack replies, his voice resolute, "I want to be there for him, even if it's late. I want to be a part of his life."

Javier, still seething with anger, glances at Jack cautiously. He's protective of you and Ángel, and he won't let anyone hurt you again. But he also knows that this is a difficult situation, and he's willing to give Jack a chance to prove himself.

"I hope you mean it," Javier says, his voice stern but not without understanding. "Ángel deserves a father who will be there for him."

"I do," Jack says. "Sorry, I overreacted. I've been going to therapy, I swear." He lets out a dark chuckle. "I'm just... it's hard."

"Of course, I'll get tested, and I hope to God- I'm a match." He adds sincerely.

"Thank you, Jack," you say, your voice softening, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have implied in any way that Ángel's illness is your fault because it's not. But thank you for doing this- it means a lot to us."

Just then, Dr. Navarro enters the room, breaking the tension. "Woah," he exclaims, looking at the scraped wall. "I never noticed that before. We'll have to get maintenance to fix it."

After Jack agreed to get tested, Dr. Navarro sent him to get a physical to determine if he was in good condition to donate stem cells. Jack passed the tests with flying colors and was then sent to get tested for HLA markers. The doctor explained to Jack that this would determine if he was able to donate his cells to Ángel.

As he leaves the pathology department with his sleeves rolled up and a cotton ball taped to his right arm where the puncture was made, he's taken by surprise to see you waiting for him at the front desk. With his grey suit coat draped over one hand, he quickly tries to adjust his appearance, but the look on his face betrays his attempt to appear composed.

"Here." You say, handing him a red heart candy lollipop.

"Where did you get it?" He laughs, touched by the sweet gesture. Jack reaches out to take the lollipop, his fingers brushing against yours briefly.

"From Mrs. Kroos." You say, pointing behind you.

His brows furrow, giving away his confusion.

"The lady that works at the front desk loves Ángel, and she knows he loves these candies. So she always gives him a few whenever she sees one of us. But be careful, don’t drop it. I won't give you another one.” You warn.

"I'll guard it with my life, sugar." Jack clutches the candy tightly, cherishing this small token of kindness from you. His eyes soften, and a faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips. It's as if, for a brief moment, he's transported back to the early days of your relationship.

To steer his thoughts in another direction, he examines the lollipop's wrapper, fingers absently tracing its red heart shape. But his eyes instinctively draw to your stomach, where the faint curve is evident beneath your clothes. It's a closer look than he's had before, the first time he's seen it up close since learning of your pregnancy this morning. His eyes linger there, and you can feel him searching for words to say or questions to ask.

"How far along are you?"

"Five, almost six months." You reply, your hand instinctively resting on your baby bump.

He stays silent, unsure of what to say.

"Oh," he recovers, "Do you know what you're having?"

"Another boy." You answer with excitement.

"Oh." He clears his throat, trying to hide any hint of disappointment.

"That's good. Congrats." Jesus, Jack, can't ya quit bein' an ass for just one minute?

As you stand before him, Jack can't help but feel a pang of pain. It's envy and jealousy, but it's also the sadness for what he missed out on with you and his son. The family he could have had, the love he could have shown and the joy he could have shared are now experienced by Javier, not him.

"Excuse me for a moment." He says suddenly, and you hear his voice trembling. He nearly runs to the restroom, needing a private space to let his feelings pour out.

Inside the stall, Jack allows himself to cry, and release the pent-up emotions. The tears are a mix of sorrow for the time lost and the regret of not cherishing the moments he had with you and your first child. Memories of the past flood his mind—moments he should have cherished, words he should have spoken with love, and gestures he should have made to make you feel valued. It's a cathartic moment, a release of the pain and the realization of what could have been.

As he wipes away his tears, Jack takes a deep breath and leaves the stall. He washes his hands and gets a good look at himself through the mirror. He prays you won't comment on his red and puffy eyes, but as expected, your concern for him is evident as soon as you see him exit the restroom.

"Everything alright?" You ask, worried about his sudden departure.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Jack replies, his voice still shaky but trying to regain composure.

Shortly after, you both take a deep breath and in a moment of eagerness on Jack's part and haste on your own, you attempt to speak at the same time, your words overlapping:

"Can I mee-"

"Do you want to mee-"

Jack's desire to meet Ángel is unmistakably clear in your eyes.

After a moment of contemplation, you speak first. "Yes, you can meet him," you say, voice filled with caution, "But we have to be careful about how we approach it. I think we have to take it slow with the official introduction."

Jack nods, understanding the need for caution. "Yes, ma'am. I get it. I don't want to do anything that might upset him."

"We'll take it one step at a time. Maybe we can start by introducing you as a friend, someone special to us. We can see how he reacts and take it from there. But you have to promise not to push him away," you continue, your gaze locking with his, "As a parent, I know the love one has for their children. I know you will always love the baby boy you lost, but you cannot compare him to Ángel. Each child is special and deserves their own place in your heart."

Jack takes a moment to absorb your words, realizing the truth in them. "You're right," he says, his voice softer now, "I don't want to make the same mistakes again. Ángel deserves better than that."

"He does," you affirm, "And I think you'll be a positive influence in his life. Just take it one step at a time, be patient with him, and be there for him. It won't be easy, but I think it's worth trying."

Jack nods, grateful for your understanding and guidance. "Thank you," he says sincerely, "I really appreciate you giving me and Ángel a chance."

"I want what's best for my son," you say, your love for Ángel evident in your eyes, "And if that means having his biological father in his life, then I'm willing to support it."

"Thank you," Jack repeats, his heart feeling true hope for the first time in years.

"C'mon. He's on the 16th floor." You say guiding him to the elevator.

This time Jack is more collected in the elevator. Not that he's any less nervous, in fact, his heart is pounding with anticipation. Because he can't believe that after all these years, he has the opportunity to meet his son.

As you guide Jack down the hospital corridor towards the elevator, he takes in his surroundings. The fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow, and the muffled footsteps echo through the hallway - that's what Jack tries to focus on. Ideally, he would reach out to take your hand in his, and that would settle his racing heart. He gives it a little more thought and correctly assumes that you would probably smack him, so he decides against it, not wanting to upset you. Again.

You can sense his nervousness as you walk beside him, and it amuses you how, in the past, you would have done absolutely anything to make him feel better. Yes, a part of you feels for him because there was a point in your life when you were in love with him more than anything, more than you had been with anyone. But another part of you is screaming, Don't care, don't let him in, remember all you went through?

The truth is, it feels almost unfair that you still have the instinct to comfort him when he never extended the same care or compassion toward you. It's a reminder of the one-sided nature of your past relationship, where you gave your all, but he held back. You hate that reminder. You hate how he made you feel. You hate how he made you act. You hate how he still makes you feel when you think about your past.

You try your best to settle your thoughts as you walk together toward the elevator. Therapy had been helpful after the divorce, but it took a backseat when Ángel got sick. Now, considering how you feel around Jack, you realize it's time to prioritize your emotional well-being again. You make a mental note to schedule an appointment with Dr. Ordoñez soon, even if it means being on the phone for an hour and sitting on an uncomfortable hospital chair during the session.

You'll soon be co-parenting with Jack, and you want to get to the stage where you don't appear like you want to kill him. If it weren't for your son, you would have been just fine never seeing Jack again, but you don't want your son to resent you or miss out on having a relationship with his biological father.

Ángel already has a father and a wonderful father at that. Javi has been a fantastic father as well as a good husband. He loves Ángel, which is why, when you discussed Jack, he felt that his son shouldn't be denied the option to have another parent.

You both keep walking, and when you make it to the elevator, you press the button, and the polished metal doors slide open with a soft ping. Jack places his hand on the door, and with a gracious gesture, he extends his other hand, signaling for you to walk through first. It's a small gesture, but it stirs a mix of memories and emotions within you. Before the divorce, you would have melted at such chivalry. His southern charm seemed to vanish right after you married. You had hoped that Jack would return to the man you were once head over heels for, but now, with hindsight, you can see a field of red flags that you had overlooked, perhaps purposely. Looking back at your relationship with Jack, there are moments when you can't help but cringe at your own behavior, realizing you held on desperately, not wanting to let go. Your yearning for him to love you was so intense that you settled for the bare minimum, hoping things would change. But as you stand there pressing the button to take you to the 16th floor, you can't help but acknowledge how much has changed, how much you've changed. You've known how you felt about him for years, but looking at Jack now, without any remnants of love in your heart, brings you a sense of liberation.

As the elevator door glides open with a soft ping, you step out, and Jack follows closely behind, his footsteps echoing lightly as you lead the way down to the front desk. The receptionist warmly smiles as she recognizes you and, with a press of a button, she buzzes you in without any need for further verification or questions. This special perk is granted due to your frequent visits to receive food and welcome visitors.

Unfortunately, you know the path to Ángel's hospital room like the back of your hand. You could be blindfolded and make it to room 43 without bumping into any obstacles- that's how long your son's been here.

You make your way through the corridor, the hallway branching into two sides. Rooms 1-20 are on the left, and rooms 21-45 are on the right. You direct Jack to the right, to room 43, where Ángel is.

The walls are adorned with a burst of bright colors, courtesy of the children's paintings. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the left, where three adorable minions holding bananas are doodled. Next to it, a watercolored rainbow stretches across the length of the wall.

As you continue to room 43, your gaze shifts to your favorite artwork on the 16th floor- a bright red bear wearing a dapper top hat and a crooked, thick mustache. One eye is bigger than the other one, but you love it. To the left of the bear, there are princesses in their glitter-covered gowns. The last piece of the row is Spiderman. He's shooting webs, and his hand is drawn in the classic pose - his right hand extended with his index and middle fingers bent, touching his palm.

I haven't seen this one before, you think, as you notice mouthwatering donuts, likely drawn by an older child. Each donut has different glazes and toppings, so realistic that they almost look good enough to eat, leaving your taste buds tingling. Weird pregnancy cravings.

Every inch of the corridor is decorated with these precious works of art. The sight brings a smile to your face as you think about the children who must have carefully crafted their art with love, making this corridor bearable to walk through.

As you walked past the 30's, admiring the colorful artwork adorning the walls, Jack's mind was filled with thoughts of his son. ' Does he have her hair or mine? Whose eyes does he have? Lord, I hope he has her nose.' He couldn't help but subconsciously trace his nose's bridge.

You steal a glance at Jack while walking to Ángel's room, and his expression says it all. His brows are slightly furrowed, and his eyes dart around. His neck seems a bit tense, and you can see his jaw clenching and unclenching. Esta comiendo ansias. (He's worrying too much.) You think, looking at the mixture of eagerness and anxiety written all over his face.

"We're almost there." You tell him, your voice gentle, as you approached the 40's.

43. Jack's heart skips a beat as he sees the number on the door. It's as if time stands still for a moment before his heart starts racing with nervous excitement. A million thoughts rush through Jack's mind, and he can feel tears welling up in his eyes. I'm going to meet my son. All those years of longing, of wondering what his child would be like, of yearning for a connection he thought he might never have - it's all happening.

As you reached for the doorknob, Jack's hand was slightly trembling. Don't trip, don't say something stupid, he mentally coached himself, trying to calm his nerves. With a mix of trepidation and hope, Jack stepped into the room behind you, taking in his surroundings. The room felt a bit cold, but the soft sunlight streaming in from the window cast a gentle glow over everything.

The room had that familiar hospital scent, a combination of antiseptic cleaners and the comforting aroma of fragrant flowers placed in vases around the room.

He hears a movie playing in the background and looks at the TV to see little yellow characters with overalls he doesn't recognize. The animated movie's sounds mix with the soft beeping of medical equipment. He can see Javier getting up from the couch to the right of his son's bed, and your husband sends Jack a small, discreet nod of acknowledgment. You step in front of Jack, giving him a reassuring look, and he waits for your cue, staying near the door.

From this angle, Jack can't see Ángel; he only sees you and Javier to the right of the bed. He moves slowly, staying hidden beside the wall, not wanting to startle his little boy. He can't help but feel his heart pounding in his chest, his emotions swirling in a mix of excitement and anxiety.

"Mi niño, estas despierto?" ("My boy, are you asleep?") You call out in a soft, tender voice.

"Sí, no se quiere dormir. Quiere minions." (Yes, he doesn't want to sleep. [He] wants minions.) Javier replies playfully, his eyes widening with a playful expression as he tickles Ángel, eliciting sweet laughter from the boy.

That sound, Jack thinks, it's the most beautiful sound I've heard.

"Se llama Despicable Me, Jav." ("It's called Despicable Me, Jav.") You correct him with a soft smile.

"Es lo mismo." ("It's the same.") Javi playfully groans, earning a swat from you.

You look at your husband, and he knows what you need to do. Javi gives you a smile and gives your hand a squeeze. With his reassurance, you turn back to Ángel.

"Papi, queremos que conozcas a alguien." ("Baby, we want you to meet someone.") You tell your son as you gesture toward the corner where Jack is waiting.

You send Jack a look, and with a deep breath, he steps forward. His eyes immediately draw to Ángel, like a moth to a flame. Time seems to stand still as Jack takes in the sight of his son. He's perfect, Jack thinks.

Ángel is a sweet little boy, with jet-black hair that curls gently at the ends. Behind his black-rimmed glasses are a pair of brown eyes that mirror Jack's. At that moment, Jack feels an indescribable connection, an everlasting bond. He's the perfect combination of both of us, but I think he resembles me a little more, he thinks, his heart happy that his phenotypes seem to have won.

As he steps closer, he notices Ángel's nose and lips, traits that are identical to yours.

A rush of emotions overwhelms Jack as he looks at his son. His heart swells with love and joy, but there's also a twinge of sadness at the time he missed. His eyes start to water, blurring his vision a bit, but he tries to blink the tears away, wanting to see Ángel clearly, to memorize every precious detail.

"Hi!" Ángel cheerfully says, and that breaks Jack's dam. He starts crying, unable to contain his tears.

"Mami," Ángel whispers, leaning to your side, "¿Por qué está llorando el señor?" ("Mommy, why is the man crying?")

Jack's voice wavers with emotion as he speaks, "Sorry," he says, his voice cracking slightly. He tries to wipe his cheeks and regulate his breathing, "I'm sorry."

"Ángel, this is Jack. He's a family friend." You introduce.

"Hey, buddy," Jack manages to say, his voice still trembling, "Sorry 'bout the tears, I just... I found out a lot this morning."

Ángel stares for a second and then reaches for his bedside drawer. He pulls out a mini-wrapped Crunch bar and extends it towards Jack, saying with a caring tone, "It's okay, Mr. Jack. Here, this will make you feel better. I love chocolate, and this is my favorite candy." He smiles warmly as he extends the mini Crunch bar towards Jack.

Jack is touched by Ángel's kindness and accepts the chocolate with a grateful smile, "Thank you, Ángel." Pull it together, Jack, don't start cryin' again. He mentally lectures himself, fighting back the feelings threatening to rise again. "This is my favorite chocolate too." He says honestly.

"Here, I brought this for you." Jack says, his heart pounding with anticipation. He removes the jacket from his free arm, revealing a medium-sized gift bag that he had kept hidden underneath. Damn, how long has he been hiding that? He's had the coat in his hand since I saw him after the blood draw, you think, touched by Jack's thoughtful gesture.

Ángel turns to look at you and Javier for permission, and you both give him an encouraging nod.

Jack hands his son the red gift bag, and Ángel eagerly receives his present. Excitement dances in the little boy's eyes as he quickly removes the tissue paper. Jack can't help but overthink, What if he doesn't like it? Is he too big for-

Ángel gasps, and Jack's heart sinks for a moment, fearing the worst. But then, a radiant smile lights up Ángel's face as he pulls out a teddy bear, dressed in overalls and a black cowboy hat. The bear's dark brown coat is fluffy, and there's a heart stitched on the front pocket of the bear's overalls, right in the middle.

"Cool! Thanks!" Ángel exclaims, clutching the teddy bear to his chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Jack's worry melts away as he watches Ángel kiss the bear's hat. "It's perfect!" Ángel shouts, looking up at Jack with gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you so much!"

Relief washes over Jack, replaced by overwhelming joy at the sight of his son's delight. It's as if Jack's heart has grown tenfold, witnessing his son's happiness.

Jack's heart swells with happiness as he sees the joy on his son's face. He can't help but smile back, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. "You're welcome, Ángel," Jack says, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm glad you like it."

"My dad gave me a Spider-Man teddy, now Spidey has a cowboy friend!" Ángel cheerfully exclaims, proudly showing off the Spider-Man build-a-bear that Javi had gifted him earlier this year. You don't miss the way Jack's face falls a little at his son calling Javier his dad.

Ángel shares all the details of when Javier gifted him with the Spidey teddy, and you watch as Jack listens attentively to every word. A mix of emotions is evident in his eyes - happiness at finally meeting his son, but also a hint of sadness and longing for the title of "dad" that Ángel has already bestowed upon Javier.

You give Jack a reassuring smile, silently telling him that it's okay, that Ángel's heart is big enough to love both of them eventually. Jack sees your expression and shifts his focus back to his son. He may not have the title of "dad" right now, but he's building a connection with his son, and that's what matters most.

After finishing his story, Ángel immediately turns to you and Javi, his eyes filled with hope. "¿Se puede quedar para c-o-m-e-r?" ("Can he stay to e-a-t?") He spells out the word, not wanting to vocalize it in case his parents don't agree, and wanting to avoid any potential disappointment for Jack. He doesn't want Jack to feel unwelcome or like he's being kicked out by not being asked to stay for lunch.

You can sense that Ángel has taken a liking to Jack and wants to spend more time with him.

Javi smiles warmly at his son, understanding Ángel's hesitation. "Claro que sí, mijo." ("Of course, my son.") He says, not wanting to deny his son this request. You notice the joy that lights up in Ángel's eyes, grateful for the opportunity to spend more time with Jack.

Turning to Jack, you extend the invitation, "Jack, would you like to stay for lunch?"

"Of course, thank you." Jack replies, and Ángel's face lights up even more at his response.

"Danny and Heidi dropped off Pozole earlier." Javi informs.

Pozole, why does that sound familiar? Who are Danny and Heidi? Jack thinks.

You exclaim with delight, "I love your cousin and his wife, and I love Pozole!"

"And Ángel does too. He gets that from you," Javi says, giving you a small kiss on the cheek before going to the table across Ángel's bed. He reaches for the bag with the Tupperware containers, clearly eager to eat.

As Javier opens the bag, he can't help but playfully tease, "You know I'm more of a menudo guy."

"I know. Your only flaw…" You jest.

Jack observes the easy love between you and Javier, feeling a bittersweet sense of heartbreak. He can't help but compare the deep connection you share with Javier to the time when he was your husband, witnessing the loving moments that once belonged to him.

Javier opens one Tupperware, and the air fills with the rich, savory scent-a tantalizing blend of chicken broth, hominy, and a mix of earthy spices and aromatic herbs. Suddenly, the smell transports him to a distant memory, back to a time when he was your husband.

It was a cold winter evening in December, one of your favorite times of the year when you could savor warm and comforting food and drinks. Tonight, you had finally convinced your husband, Jack, to try Pozole, one of your favorite dishes. You gathered the ingredients and set to work in the kitchen, hoping to create a special meal for him.

The pot was filled with water, and you added onions, garlic, salt, and chicken, allowing the savory aroma to fill the room. In your blender, you carefully blended the sauce, a perfect mixture of chile ancho, chile guajillo, garlic cloves, onions, vegetable oil, oregano, and salt, mindful of not adding too many chilies so it wouldn't be too spicy for Jack, just enough for flavor.

As the broth boiled, you took the time to prepare the fresh toppings, washing and slicing the lettuce, jalapeños, white onion, lemon, cilantro, and radishes. The kitchen was filled with the aroma of the simmering Pozole and your music was playing softly in the background.

With the hominy added to the pot, the Pozole was nearly ready. You carefully ladled it into bowls, adding the toppings to each one, making sure to skip the jalapeños in Jack's bowl to avoid any spiciness.

When Jack came home, you could tell he wasn't having a great day. He didn't greet you, not that he usually did, and there was a hint of frustration in his expression. But you hoped that your efforts would brighten his mood.

"Hi, Love. Welcome home." You said with a smile, hoping to receive some affection in return.

He glanced at you briefly, barely acknowledging your presence. "Yeah." Was his only response.

You tried not to let his lack of enthusiasm affect you and continued, "I made something different for dinner tonight. Pozole, one of my favorites. I hope you'll like it."

Jack glanced at the simmering pot on the stove, but his expression remained indifferent. "Right, you said you would."

As you took the bowls to the dining table, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It seemed like no matter how much effort you put into making him happy, he rarely showed any appreciation or love in return.

He sat down to eat, and you watched eagerly for his reaction. But as he took the first spoonful, his face turned red, and he exclaimed, "You said it wasn't spicy!"

You insisted, "It's not, honey! I made sure to adjust the spices for you."

"Well, Darlin'," he emphasized mockingly, "I can't feel my tongue." He grumbled, looking at you like he was angry, and you rushed to get him some milk to ease the heat.

"I'm so sorry, Jack. I really thought it wasn't spicy." You apologized, feeling disappointed in yourself. The excitement and anticipation you had felt earlier were quickly replaced by a sense of sadness as your efforts had once again fallen short.

"I'm never eating that again." He declared, pushing the bowl away, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your heart. You had put so much love and effort into preparing the meal, hoping it would bring a smile to his face, but instead, it seemed to have added to his frustration.

Feeling hurt and upset, you excused yourself to the kitchen, wanting to give him space to cool off. The music playing in the background continued. ‘Miro tus ojos y no eres feliz. Y tu mirada no sabe mentir. No tiene caso continuar así. Si no me amas, es mejor partir. Desde hace tiempo ya nada es igual. No eres la misma y me tratas mal. Y ante mi Dios te podría jurar. Cuánto te quise y te quiero, todavía. Adiós amor, me voy de ti. Y esta vez para siempre. Me iré sin marcha atrás porque sería fatal. Adiós amor, yo fui de ti, el amor de tu vida. Lo dijiste una vez, me lo hiciste creer. Cómo me duele perderte. Me resignaré a olvidarte. Porque me fallaste’ ('I look you at your eyes and you're not happy. And your gaze doesn't know how to lie. There's no point in continuing like this. If you don't love me, it's better for me to go. For a long time, things haven't been the same. You are different and you treat me poorly. And before my God, I could swear to you. How much I loved you and I love you, still. Goodbye, my love. I'm leaving you, and this time for good. I'm leaving without turning back, or else it'd be fatal. Goodbye, my love. I was the love of your life. You said that once, you made me believe it. What a pain it is to lose you.I will resign myself to forget you. Because you failed me')

If only you had paid more attention to the lyrics and your feelings, maybe you would have confronted the problems earlier. But at that moment, all you could do was try to salvage the evening and find a way to communicate with Jack.

Knowing it would only take a few minutes, you decided to make Tennessee Meatloaf. On one of your early dates, he had mentioned it was one of his favorite dishes, and you had learned how to make it, even though you weren't particularly fond of the smell. But if it could bring a smile to his face, you were willing to endure it.

The Instant Pot hummed with gentle pressure, and you took a moment to close your eyes, relishing the memories of how Jack used to love this dish. The way he'd smile and compliment your cooking, his eyes filled with warmth and appreciation. But those moments felt distant now.

When the timer beeped, you carefully released the pressure from the Instant Pot, eager to serve the meatloaf to Jack. As you lifted the lid, the hot air brushed against your fingertips, causing you to unintentionally scream, "Fuck!" You rushed to run your hand under cold water, trying to soothe the burn. In a hurry, you grabbed the first aid kit and quickly tended to your wounded hand, the pain causing your eyes to sting.

After handling your injury, you quickly retrieved the meatloaf from the pot – tender, juicy, and with its strong aroma enveloping the room. Placing the dish on a nice plate, you added a generous drizzle of your homemade barbecue sauce, its tangy and smoky scent blending with the meaty smell.

With the meatloaf now ready, you gathered your courage and returned to the dining table, placing the dish before Jack. As he glanced at the meal and noticed your injured hand, a flicker of recognition, concern, and guilt passed through his eyes before he quickly masked it with indifference.

You sat down next to him, your heart pounding with nervous anticipation. He glanced at you, and though his anger had softened slightly, he still seemed guarded. Nonetheless, he gave you a small thanks, a brief glimmer of acknowledgment that you held onto like a lifeline.

"I'm sorry about the Pozole," you said, trying to break the silence, "I really wanted to make something you'd enjoy."

"It's fine." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

You reached for his hand, and he didn't pull away, but there was a noticeable lack of warmth in the gesture, a warmth that hadn't been present in your relationship for a long time.

You felt a knot forming in your chest, wanting to reach out and connect with him, but it seemed like he had built an impenetrable wall around himself. Still, you couldn't bear the thought of leaving things unresolved.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to gently probe, "Is everything okay, Jack?"

He let out a sigh, seeming almost annoyed that you brought it up. "I just had a rough day at work. It's nothin'."

Your heart sank. This was the pattern, the wall he always put up whenever something was bothering him. You felt like you were constantly walking on eggshells, never knowing how to approach him without setting him off.

"I wish you would talk to me, Jack. We're supposed to be partners, and I want to be there for you." You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He glanced at you, his eyes softening for a split second before the coldness returned. "I ain't need you fixin' everythin' for me, okay? I can handle my own problems." His jaw clenched, and you knew he was struggling with his emotions.

"It's not about fixing everything. It's about being there for each other, supporting each other through the good and the bad. That's what a marriage is supposed to be."

He scoffed, pushing his plate away. "Yeah, well, maybe I don't need that right now."

Your heart ached at his words, feeling the distance between you grow wider. You tried to hold back the tears, not wanting to show him how much his indifference hurt you.

He stood up and walked away, leaving you sitting at the dining table, eating by yourself.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself, and began clearing the table, putting away the uneaten Pozole and the Tennessee Meatloaf you had made with so much hope.

After tidying up the kitchen, you mustered the courage to follow Jack to the bedroom. As you entered, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, freshly showered, staring at the floor. He seemed lost in his thoughts, distant and closed off.

You went to his side and gently massaged his shoulders, "I'm sorry about earlier. I'm here for you, no matter what. I love you, Jack," you said softly, looking into his eyes with love and concern, "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

He looked up at you, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. But just as quickly, he shut down again.

His response was unexpected and detached, "Get on all fours. Face down."

You knew you could say no, but you didn't want to. You wanted his love, even if it meant emotionless on his part. Your brow furrowed, but you did as he commanded anyway.

After both of you were done, he told you to go pee. When you came out of the bathroom, Jack was already asleep. He slept with his back towards you.

As you lay in bed that night, you cried yourself to sleep. Silently, not wanting to wake him up. You were in a deep sleep as a result of your body being overworked, the stressed cooking made you, and from crying. You thought you felt him wrap his arms around you and heard him mumble a sorry into the top of your head, but you were sure you made it up.

Out of all the things Jack was, he wasn't oblivious. He knew how much he hurt you. He knew he was an ass, but he couldn't bring himself to reflect on how much he hurt you tonight.

He heard your stifled sobs earlier, and each one was like a dagger in his chest. The pain he inflicted on you was a weight he could hardly bear. But when the sobs finally ceased and silence settled, he assumed you had drifted into sleep, offering him the opportunity he needed.

With cautious movements, he shifted closer to you. In the darkness, he could make out the contours of your face, the lines of worry etched by his actions. Gently, he rolled over and reached for you, pulling you into his arms. Seeking solace from the very person he had hurt.

Wrapped in your embrace, he stroked your head lightly, his fingers tracing soothing patterns through your hair. He pressed a soft kiss onto the top of your head, his lips lingering there, trying to convey all the apologies he couldn't find the words for. At that moment, he wished he could erase the pain he had caused, the detachment he had shown.

"Sorry," he huffed out, "I'm so sorry, my love." He whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. He wished he could be better for you, offer you the love you deserved, but his own monsters held him back.

Yet, even as he murmured his apologies in the darkness, his touch carried a tenderness that spoke volumes. It was as if he sought redemption through this secret exchange because he wasn't ready to confront the reality of facing you in the light of day. He wished he could hold you close, to make the pain he inflicted vanish with a simple embrace. But he knew that true healing required more than just whispered words; it needed a change he wasn't sure he was capable of making.

After his silent confessions, he released you from his gentle hold, allowing the fragile connection to slip away as he turned. He rolled onto his previous position. The weight of his guilt and remorse remained, but so did the weight of his fears. And as he lay there, his back turned to you, he faced his own darkness, unsure how to bridge the gap between the man he was and the man he needed to become.

You start talking with Javi about the food, and Jack watches you converse with your husband as you serve the food together, and his heart hurts watching the domesticity.

At the same time, you're caught in a whirlwind of memories, and the rush of them makes your movements stutter. In your distraction, you accidentally cut yourself with the aluminum foil, and some loose lemon juice gets in your wound. A small sound of pain escapes your lips, and Javi immediately drops what he had in his hand, rushing to your side. He gently cradles your hand in his, concern etched on his face.

"Amor!" ("Love!") Javi says, his voice laced with worry. His eyes flicker between your wound and your face, trying to gauge the severity of the cut.

Jack's heart clenches seeing you in pain. He wants to rush over and take your hand in his. He wishes he could be the one to hold your hand and soothe your hurt, but he knows that's not his place anymore, and it kills him.

"Mami, ¿está bien?" ("Mommy, are you okay?") Your son asks, equally concerned as his dad. He moves closer, his little brows furrowing.

"Yeah, sweetie, I'm just overreacting." You brush it off, though your eyes betray the pain you're feeling. You're trying to hide the memories that caught you off guard, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere for your son and Jack.

"You're not, you got hurt." Javi insists, his eyes fixed on your wound.

"Sit down." He commands, his tone still gentle but leaving no room for argument. He guides you to a chair, his larger hand engulfing yours, and he reaches for a nearby first aid kit. His fingers move with practiced ease as he cleans the wound with antiseptic, his touch gentle and attentive. He then wraps a band-aid around your finger, his movements unhurried, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

Your eyes start to water, the flood of memories of Jack and Javi overwhelming you. You can't help but recall the countless times Javi has taken care of you, both the physical and emotional wounds, much like he's doing now. His actions carry the weight of all the love and comfort he's provided over the years. He's always been there for me. Not like- you stop yourself before full waterworks begin.

"Mi vida, ¿te duele?" ("My love, does it hurt?") Javier asks, his voice full of care, taking your hand into his. His brown eyes search yours for any hint of pain, and his brows furrow with genuine concern.

"No, nomás me acordé de algo. I'm okay." ("No, I just remembered something. I'm okay.") You whisper, trying to assure him, your voice barely above a breath. It's not just the cut that's causing your distress; it's the memories that were triggered by the simple act of serving food. You had moments like these, but they hadn't been present in a while.

"Segura?" ("You're sure?") Javier asks, his concern palpable, his gaze unwavering. He wants to make sure you're truly okay.

"Ya se me pasó. I'm okay, I promise." ("It already passed.")

Javi knows you well enough to sense when you're not entirely okay, but he also knows that this is something you'll want to talk about later in private. For now, he respects your need to maintain normalcy in front of your son and Jack. He leans in and gives you a gentle kiss, his lips warm against your skin, a silent promise of his support.

"No te muevas. I'll serve the food, cariño." ("Don't move. I'll serve the food, dear.")

You nod and then turn to the reason for your tears, "Jack, are you sure you want Pozole? I don't know if you remember, but you already had it once."

Jack's face drops slightly, his mind racing, Oh God, she remembers what I did. He approaches you, whispering an apology, his voice laden with regret. "I do want it. I'm so sorry." He murmurs, looking like he might cry.

You can't bear to look at him right now, so you shift your gaze to Javier.

Javier adjusts the hospital bed table to Ángel's height and gets ready to serve. He starts with Ángel, ensuring his plate is prepared just right, with no onions, just as he likes it. He places the bowl before him, "Provecho, mi niño." ("Have a good meal, my boy.")

"¡Gracias papi!" ("Thank you, Daddy!") He was going to wait for everyone to start eating, but his hunger for having a light breakfast gets the best of him.

Javi quickly arranges the larger table, despite your offer to do it. He only guided you to sit at the table and served you a bowl of Pozole. The sight of the soup with radish on top made your mouth water.

“I'll give him some of Ángel's container. Ours has four Chiles de arbol," Javi says to you, glancing over at Jack. "It’ll be too spicy for you,” he smirks.

Jack takes it as a challenge. “I’ll have some of yours.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Remember what happened last time? It was too spi-“

“No really. It’s fine,” Jack insists, a determined look on his face.

Javier serves his and Jack's food and all eyes shift to Jack. Ángel is eating his Pozole with ease, but his gaze flickers between his meal and Jack's reaction.

As Jack takes the first spoonful, he tries to maintain a facade of composure. However, within moments, his face turns a noticeable shade of red, and beads of sweat form on his forehead. He manages another spoonful, but as he swallows, a sudden fit of coughing overtakes him.

You quickly move to the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of milk for Jack.

As Jack's face turned redder, Angel looked worried. "Are you okay, Mr. Jack?" he asked with genuine concern.

"I'll be fine, bud." Jack managed between coughs, his pride momentarily overshadowed by his son's concern.

Observing Jack's struggle, Javi's expression remained calm, a knowing look in his eyes as if he had anticipated this outcome. He leaned towards Jack, "Told you you couldn't handle it." He doesn't say it loudly, only loud enough for Jack to hear, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Jack ignores Javier and rasps thanks for the milk, and quickly drowns it. His tongue stops throbbing, and he goes for a third spoonful before Ángel stops him.

"Maybe you should try some from my Tupperware. I only want one bowl," Ángel kindly suggested, not wanting Jack to suffer from the spiciness of the food his dad served.

"Yeah, I think that's the best idea." You quickly chimed in, turning to Javi with a decisive look that left no room for argument.

Javi got up and served Jack another bowl, this time from Ángel's portion so it would be less spicy for Jack. If it were entirely up to Javi, he might have made Jack eat the spicy pozole, but Ángel's compassion for Jack was clear, so Javi complied.

Jack nodded to Javi and then turned to Ángel, his voice sincere as he said, "Thank you, buddy."

This bowl was spicier than the one you had prepared for him in the past. Jack's mind had become clouded by anger, causing him to exaggerate and latch onto your cooking as an excuse for his emotions. If he were to eat the pozole you made exactly as you had prepared it before, he would have no issue. It was as if his anger demanded a tangible reason to be directed at you, and this distorted perception had twisted the reality of your dish. Now he realizes his mistake, and it makes him hate himself all over again.

Ángel was engrossed in the movie he was watching, providing Jack with the perfect opportunity to voice something that had been on his mind for a while. “He has your nose. Good,” Jack chuckled.

“Yeah, and let’s hope this one also has her nose,” Javi said, his hand gently caressing your stomach.

"Hey," you interjected, "Both of you stop hating on your noses, right now. It's ridiculous."

As Jack glanced at you, memories of your past flooded his mind. I remember when she used to tell me how much she loved my nose whenever I said I hated it.

"Right. I almost forgot how much you love my nose." Javier said suggestively, breaking Jack's train of thought.

You felt flustered by Javier's comment, and Jack's emotions churned into a mix of fury and jealousy. He couldn't help but feel anger at the casual way your new husband had commented on your sex life. Jack's hands clenched slightly under the table, his fingers flexing as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He averted his gaze, focusing on his plate as a way to regain his composure.

Ángel's laugh pulled him out of his trance, and Jack's head instinctively turned to him.

"Look," Ángel said between laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "the security guard from Binky Nelson Unpacified kinda looks like you, Mr. Jack!"

Everyone's gaze shifted to the subject of Ángel's amusement, and soon, laughter filled the room as the uncanny resemblance became evident. Jack couldn't deny the similarities: the mustache, the sideburns, the pair of boots, and a cowboy hat. Jack got up from the table and took a seat next to his son's bed.

"You're right," Jack chuckled, "Even the cowboy part is spot on, but I've got a ranch." He shared with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Actually?" Ángel's amazement was noticeable.

"I ain't kiddin'," Jack responded with a grin.

Ángel gasped in delight, exclaiming, "I love ranches!"

"Well, maybe once you're out of the hospital, we can all go," Jack suggested warmly, glancing at you and Javi. He made sure to add, "If it's okay with your parents."

The idea seemed to energize Ángel, and both you and Javi agreed. Your son's face lit up.

Your son cheered before a realization struck him. "But we have to go before or after Coco because I haven't been to the movie theaters in so long, and I really, really want to watch that movie," Ángel's words tumbled out in excitement.

"You can come with!" Ángel extended the invitation, his excitement contagious. "Mami? Papi?" ("Mommy? Daddy?") Ángel turned to you and Javier, seeking your approval.

"Yeah, if Jack wants to." Javi responded, giving his approval.

"I'll be there. You just name the time and place, bud." Jack assured Ángel with a genuine smile.

Jack's attention shifted back to the TV, and his eyes zoned in on the cowboy hat. "Oh! You need a hat like mine." Jack suggested.

"I do?" Ángel's curiosity was piqued, his eyes widening as he considered the idea.

Without hesitation, Jack reached up and took hold of his own Stetson, lifting it from his head. "Would you like to try it?" he asked, enthusiastic about sharing a special moment with his son.

Ángel's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight. "Can I really?" he asked, his excitement practically palpable.

"Of course!" Jack replied, his smile widening. Jack carefully placed the hat on Ángel's head. He was mindful of the size difference between his head and his son's, so he adjusted the hat to ensure it wouldn't slip over Ángel's eyes. The hat found its place at a jaunty angle, mostly resting on the back of Ángel's head.

In Ángel's excitement to grab the mirror from his bedside table drawer, he moved a bit too quickly, causing the Stetson to slip down over his eyes. The weight of the hat threw his glasses off his face, and Ángel exclaimed, "¡Ahh, mis lentes!" (Ahh, my glasses!")

Ángel's muffled laughter came from beneath the hat, as he tried to push it back up. "It's heavier than I thought." He admitted with a sheepish grin, his glasses now resting on the floor beside him.

Jack picked up Ángel's glasses and handed them back to him, he thanked him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mr. Jack."

Jack settled back into his seat, his smile lingering. "We'll just have to get you a hat your size."

"I'm so ready to get out of here," Ángel remarked, his excitement apparent.

"Speaking of getting out of here, I'll be back," you announced, rising from your seat. "Ángel ran out of towels, and it's better to go up to the housekeeping desk."

"I'll go get them." Jack offered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry, I'll go get them." Jack reassured you.

"I'll be back, buddy." Jack told Ángel, his voice soothing as he shared a brief exchange of smiles with his son.

Jack left the room and was on a hunt for towels. He had no idea where the housekeeping desk was, but his eagerness to be useful had spurred him to offer to pick up the towels.

After a short search, he spotted a desk and rushed over. A teenager in a bright blue polo shirt, wearing a badge reading 'volunteer', caught his attention.

"Good afternoon, sir, what can I help you with?" The boy asked politely.

"Afternoon," Jack began, almost instinctively tipping his hat before remembering it was with his son, "Would you happen to know where I can get some things from housekeeping?"

"I can help you with that, sir." The volunteer responded, a touch of enthusiasm in his voice as if Jack had just made his day.

“Perfect! My wife asked for towels for my son. He's in room 43.” Jack stated, happy that he wasn't completely useless.

The volunteer tapped away on the computer keyboard. “For Ángel Peña?”

Jack swallows hard and nods. Fuck, Jack thinks. It should have been Ángel Daniels. My son should have had my last name.

The boy leaned back in his rolling chair and opened a cabinet. He retrieved three large towels and handed them to Jack. Thanking the teenager, Jack turned and walked away. Lost in thought, he looked down as he walked, and when he turned the corner, a familiar voice reached his ears.

“Oh, I didn’t know you remarried. Again. Because surely you’re not talking about my girl.” Javi said with his jaw clenched. “She’s not your wife anymore, Jack. She’s my wife.”

Please feel free to comment and reblog! I truly do love reading them! I promise I'll try to engage more!

Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm

The song used in this chapter is called Adiós Amor. I was obsessed with Christian Nodal in 2017, and when I wrote this, that song was extremely popular.

If you've read this far, thank you, and have a great day 🤎 (I hope this uploads because I had everything ready to go until I accidentally hit undo. I wasn't able to recover my draft, yay! I definitely did not want to throw my computer for a while :)

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peach-and-bugs · 11 months

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Could you do an adult Van x reader with 10? Where the reader was in the crash and takes their niece to the video store nearby where she lives not knowing that Van works there.

🧡While You Were Streaming - Van Palmer x fem!Reader🧡

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: You're niece who's staying with you for a while convinces you to go into a store you haven't visited before in town only for you to meet a familiar face

Warnings: mention of divorce

Word Count: 2,073

A/N: Hello Loves! I finally got another fic for Van finished! Ya'll seem to really love how I write her and that makes me extremely happy because I adore my tall ginger autistic butch lesbian so much! This was such a cute request to write because I adore writing about kids and I think this gave a taste of what Aunt Van is like. but that's all I've got for right now! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading! 🧡

Vanessa "Van" Palmer Tag List: @blairfox04 @kyleeservopoulos

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy @damagnificentcookie

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-🧡-

You loved your eight-year-old niece. You truly did, and noone could get you to say otherwise. But after this long weekend of her staying over, you felt like you were at your wits' end, but in no way was it her fault. Your sister was going through a messy split with her husband and had passed their daughter off to you so she didn’t need to be around listening and watching everything happen. But this meant you had to care for and occupy your niece on top of working from home and you’d both started to develop a bit of cabin fever. So, you'd gone on a walk together under your big umbrella due to the sprinkling of rain coming down.

You’re niece, Addy, was excitedly running ahead on the sidewalk, jumping into puddles and soaking her sneakers with the biggest smile on her face. You couldn’t help but smile yourself. Her mood had been very up and down these last few days due to everything going on at home. It was good to see her smile.

“Hey! Auntie y/n! What’s that store?” Addy yelled. She’d run up ahead and stood at the corner of the street, pointing to a standalone shop in town. You squinted, readjusting the umbrella that obstructed your view of the shop as you caught up to her. She waited patiently as you read the sign across the street.

“While You Were Streaming” you read out loud, a tone of consideration in your voice.

“What kind of store is it?” Addy asked as she took your hand.

“Pretty sure it's a video store,”

“What’s a video store?” She looked up at you with a funny furrow on her brow. Addy was young enough that she’s probably never seen a vhs tape in her life.

“When your mom and I were growing up we didn’t have tv like you do. If we wanted to watch a movie, we had to borrow it from the library or a video store,” you tried your best to explain. Addy stared at the store from across thoughtfully, like she was trying to wrap her little head around the whole idea.

“Can we go in?” She didn’t look up at you when she asked. You couldn't help but smile, trying to suppress a small chuckle.

“I dunno how interested you’d be, hun,” She looked up at you with a confident look that also seemed mildly offended.

“Please,” She began to pout and there was no way you could tell her no now. You smiled and nodded, pushing the button for the crosswalk beside you.

“We’ll do whatever you like, baby,” You felt Addy excitedly squeeze at your hand and start to tug at you to walk when the crosswalk turned on and no cars were coming. Her little feet splashed on the concrete of the street as you hustled to follow her. She began to bounce up and down as you approached the store, waiting as patiently as she could for you to shut your umbrella so she could run inside.

Upon entering the store there was a jingle of a bell on the door and you felt like you’d been thrust back to your senior year of high school in ‘96. The walls were lined with mounted records, VHS tapes, and other vintage memorabilia. Noone was in the main room, though they were open, so you decided to stay close to Addy till someone did show up, not wanting them to be alarmed by an eight-year-old running a muck through their store. Addy stood still for a moment, looking around the shop with mesmerized eyes.

“Wow! This is so cool!” she gushed before a shelf of vintage toys caught her eye. “Oh, look at this auntie!” she squeaked, pressing her fingers to the glass as she pointed to an old strawberry shortcake doll. You chuckled and followed her, leaning down to her level to look into the case.

“Yeah, I had one just like it growing up,” you murmured.

“Really?” you nodded.

“She smelled like strawberries,” Addy whispered with mesmerized eyes, turning back to the doll. You heard a rustling sound in what you assumed was the back and stood up fully, but stayed at Addy’s side. After a minute there was some loud bumbling in the back till a figure emerged with a large box in hand with another box stacked on top. They were on the other side of the room, clearly attempting to move the boxes through the crowded shop with little success.

“Need a hand?” you offered as they stumbled a bit. You could see them try and catch a look at you from behind the box before letting go of a sigh.

“Um, yeah. I could I think,” you patted Addy’s shoulder, silently letting her know to stay put before moving to take the second from who you could only assume was the store owner.

“Where do you want it?” you asked while taking the box.

“Just over by the register is fine,” you'd already started to turn away from them as they spoke, so you missed their face. You carried the box to the register as instructed and placed it on the floor. They followed and did the same and it wasn’t till you stood back up, brushing loose hair from your eyes that you froze. “Holy shit,” the redhead said, running a hand through her hair as she looked you up and down.

“Van?” you could barely make out her name from surprise. She looked too different. So much older.

“Yeah, in the flesh,” she wet her lip and gave you a familiar stupid grin that had you chuckling. She stepped forward and offered her arms open. You tentatively moved forward and hugged her. She still hugged the same. “Damn, how long has it been?” she asked, her hands resting comfortably on your biceps as you moved back from the hug. You felt yourself grow shy under her eyes.

“Probably about 25 years,” you scoffed, running your fingers behind your ear as she moved her hands to her hips with a nod.

“So, how've you been? What are you doing here?” she moved behind the register and leaned down, pulling tapes out of the boxes you'd helped move.

“I moved into a place just outside of town a couple months ago now,” She smiled, stopping what she was doing and leaning casually against the counter with a tilt of her head.

“Huh, small world, it’s it,” You shrugged and nodded your head, lips parted to continue talking till a small force shoved into your side.

“y/n look at this!” Addy ran up to you again with a book in her hands. It looked like an encyclopedia of old toys maybe. You smiled, running your hand over her hair.

“That’s very cool, baby,”

“They’re are a tone of other ones too! Can I keep looking?” she asked with a big smile. She excitedly scampered away and you turned back to Van who has a surprised expression.

“You had a kid?” she had a wicked smile on her face as she asked, as though the thought of you as a mother was bewildering. You scrunched your nose and rolled your eyes, walking closer to the counter.

“Oh, please. When have I ever come across as a person that takes any interest in children to you?" Van’s eyes sparkled with familiarity.

“I can’t believe you remember that,” she chuckled, recalling the time back when you were teenagers and you were telling her all about being forced to watch your little cousins at an old family reunion.

“My mind’s a steel trap,” you quipped, turning to check on Addy, who was flipping through another book. “But no, she’s my sister's kid. She’s staying over for the weekend,”

“That’s gotta be fun,” Van said, continuing the conversation as she organized her tapes. You leaned on the counter with crossed arms and sighed.

“It is, but I wish it was under better circumstances,” Van’s eyes traced over you, inviting you to keep going. “My sister’s stuck in this messy divorce. She didn’t want Addy seeing it if it got ugly,” Van hummed in understanding and her lips flickered into a frown. Just then Addy ran up again with something new in her hand.

“Auntie! Look at this,” she proudly held up an old wonder woman comic book wrapped in plastic in her hands. “It’s just like the ones daddy has!” she squealed. Van smiled, leaning across the counter with crossed arms.

“You a wonder woman fan?” she asked. Addy paused, getting nervous till you ran your hand across her back and smiled down at her.

“Addy, this is my friend, Vanessa,” Your niece perked up realizing Van wasn’t actually a stranger and she grinned again.

“Yeah! Daddy showed me her movie and it was awesome!” Van chuckled, her eyes darting up to you and then back to Addy.

“She was one of my favorite heroes growing up too,”

“You wanna get that, baby?” you asked Addy, patting her back.

“Really? Can I?” You smiled, nodding as you gestured for her to hand you the comic. She instead slid it onto the counter towards Van, but before ringing you up, Van held up a finger, asking you to wait a moment while she slipped into the back. She returned quickly with another comic in hand. She started ringing you up, but she didn’t scan the second comic she’d grabbed. She bagged everything, pausing with the second comic in hand, and smiled at Addy, giving her a wink.

“On the house,” she murmured, adding the comic to the bag. You gave her your card, finishing up the purchase. Van additionally nudged a bowl of candy next to the register toward Addy. Your niece looked up at you and you gave her a nod letting her know it was ok. She grabbed a lollypop and snatched the bag from your hand.

“Addy, wait for me,” You called after her as she pushed the door to the shop open, making the bell ring again.

“Can I sit on the bench?” she pointed to a bench sitting right in front of the shop's window.

“Alright, but don’t move,” She nodded and rushed outside, letting the door ring the bell again as it shut. You turned your attention back to Van. “thanks for that. It was very nice,” you nodded your head in the direction Addy had run out. Van shrugged, leaning on the counter behind her with crossed arms.

“It’s no problem. Sometimes I’d rather give something away to someone who’ll love it rather than someone who’s gonna stuff it in a box,” She paused, eyes training on you, studying you with a hard, yet warm intensity. “It’s really nice seeing you,” she finally said. Her eyes darted up your face, meeting your eyes again. You weren’t sure what part of you she’d fixated on prior, but you couldn’t mind it.

“I could always see you again…” you dared, speaking on impulse rather than thought. The redhead’s smile flickered and without a word, she reached for something tucked behind her register. She brought out a Post-it note and a pen and started scribbling, then she handed the note to you. In her chicken scratch handwriting, you read what you had to assume was her number.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” she smiled as she spoke, but there was a shyness to her words, as though despite the bold confidence she always carried, she was nervous you wouldn’t reciprocate. You held the note in your hands and had to stifle your grin.

“Have I ever?” You managed to quip back. Van’s smile relaxed and she shook her head with a warm laugh that you’d almost forgotten.

“No. No, you haven’t,” You were forced to say your goodbye's after that, reassuring Van you would indeed call. Addy sat politely on the bench, lollypop stick poking out of her mouth as she kicked her legs which dangled off the edge of the bench. She looked your way as she heard the door bell ring ans stood, reaching out to take your hand. the ran had stopped so you no longer needed your umbrella.

"Did you miss your friend, Auntie?" she asked you as you crossed the street. you stayed quiet for a beat, fingers still clutching the post it, now tucked away in your pocket.

"yeah, I did miss her,"

#◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡#yellowjackets #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets x reader #vanessa palmer #vanessa palmer x reader #van palmer #van palmer x reader

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