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koalakookie · 4 years

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nct fluff (idol!jeno x reader)

{7:56 PM}

~ 1087 words

You sat on your old leather couch, the TV playing a reality show that you have no interest in.

Your leg bounces up and down. You alternate your attention from your phone which lay beside you and to the large clock on the wall.

‘2:04 AM’, you thought, rubbing your eyes drowsily, ‘Where is he?’

Suddenly, you hear the door lock click and footsteps walk in.

You know who it is without even looking at the figure.

Lee Jeno, your long time boyfriend of 3 years and a member of NCT.

You watch as Jeno plops his black bag on the ground with a thump. He rolls his shoulder and sighs, tiredly.

He turns around and jumps slightly.

“Baby? Why are you still up?”, he looks at you warmly.

You look at the clock and stand up.

“Do you know what time it is? I was waiting for you because you told me you were going to be done early”, you start to say, annoyance brimming in your voice.

Jeno looks surprised at your harsh tone. He walk closer to you and reaches out to touch your forearm, trying to calm you down.

You move your body out of his touch, ignoring the hurt flashing across his eyes and the aching in your heart.

“I was talking to you. I have work tomorrow. I could’ve been asleep by now, Jeno. Why do you keep lying to me?”

His demeanor changes. His shoulder squaring and his jaw slacks.

“Lying?”, he asks, his voice low and cold. “Are you calling me a liar?”

You look at him square in the eyes, anger and frustration radiating from both of your eyes.

None of you were moving, refusing to give up whatever power you two were fighting for. Your eyes stayed on his for what felt like an eternity.

Finally he broke, running his hands through his hair, he looked up at the ceiling and sighed,

“You know, I come home EXHAUSTED from dancing all day and I want nothing more to relax and forget about my problems but instead I’m forced to deal with more problems,” he says.

Your eyes widen in shock, you step back in pain at the tone of his voice.

“Problem?”, you reiterate, “I’m a problem to you?”

He seems to realize the harshness of his words. He opens his mouth to say something.

You walk past him and to your dinner table. You pick up a white envelope and hand it to him.

“This is the reason why I wanted you to come home early”, you thrust out the envelope to him.

He opens the envelope gingerly, not knowing what to expect.

He scans over the heading, ‘Y/N L/N, has been appointed the highest scoring and most beloved employee this year, and is invited to say a speech at the Seoul Arts Center’

He looks at you with a shocked expression. His eye smile breaking out.

“BABY, I’m so proud of you!”, he says excitedly.

You shake your head in disbelief and anger.

“Oh? You’re proud of one of the problems in your life?” you spit out.

“Babe-”, he starts.

“You should go, Jeno. I need to sleep and I’m not in the right mood to talk to you without screaming at you”, you say tiredly, pointing towards the door.

He hesitates, searching your eyes. He nods and smiles, gently.

“I’m sorry baby. We can talk about this later, I just want you to know that I’m proud of you and that you can never be a problem for me”, he says before turning to walk towards the door. “I love you, always”

It took all of your willpower to stop yourself from running to him and hugging him, yet his harsh words rang through your head like a sick song.

You heard the door click shut and your knees buckled to the ground.

You covered your mouth as you sobbed silently, hot streams of tears streaked down your face.

You don’t know how or when you feel asleep but you woke up curled on the cold hardwood floor of your apartment.

You reached for your phone and the time read 5:43 AM.

You sighed and trudged to the bathroom.

The bags under your eyes were huge, your eyes were puffy and red.

You sighed and started washing your face with cold water.

You looked at your reflection and replayed the night before.

Jeno. Jeno. Jeno.

He was the only thing on your mind. The sweet smiling boy, the pillar and rock of your life. You missed him a lot.

The next thing you know, you grabbed a large hoodie (which just happened to be Jeno’s ) and ran out of your apartment.

You got on the empty bus, your legs started bouncing again. You couldn’t sit still and stared out the window, willing the bus to somehow move faster.

Before you knew it, you stood in front of the SM dorms.

You smiled at the bodyguard, Younghee, who returned your smile gratefully.

You ran into the building, pressing on the button quickly.

The elevator was taking to long for your liking so you turned to the stairwell and ran up three flights, until you stood in front of Jeno’s room.

You opened the door and scanned the room.

Jeno lay in his bed, facing away from you, deep in sleep.

You contemplated what to do, ‘Should I go to him or leave and come back later?’. While you were thinking, Jeno’s figure slowly turned towards you.

“Y/N?”, he asked groggily, eyes barely opening from sleepiness. Arm stretching out as to reach for you.

You don’t hesitate before walking towards his bed and slipping under the covers with him.

Your head rests on his arm, as you reach over to trace his jawline with your fingers.

He shivers slightly, before nuzzling his chin into your hair, breathing in deeply the scent of your vanilla shampoo.

“Baby-”, he starts to say, but he stops when you place a finger to his lips.

“It’s okay, Jen. I know yesterday was just your tiredness speaking. We both were tired and it was so stupid. I love you and I’m not angry”, you say in one breath.

You wait for Jeno to say something but when he doesn’t, you look up at his face.

A smile was present on his face and he kisses you softly on your forehead.

You felt him pull you closer to him. You sighed, contently as you intertwined fingers with him.

You let sleep wash over you, intertwined and next to the love of your life.

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A/N: Hi loves, it’s been a while, right? Sorry you guys, I just havn’t been thriving recently. But my love for jeno is too much so i had to. I have another jeno fic in my drafts but its angsty, should i post it? Im so thankful for all the support. If you enjoy my work please leave a like and comment. Please recommend my work to others, if you can :) Once again, thank you for the love and appreciation. I hope you have a wonderful day <3.

#jeno #nctjeno #jeno scenarios #jeno timestamps #jeno fluff #jeno fanfic #jeno x reader #x reader #nct #nct dream #nct fluff #nct fic

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limenysnocket · 4 years

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●The Blush Bet●

Pt. III: Our Love. . .

Summary: After their first non-official date, Taika can't get (Y/N) out of his mind. Every time he opens his phone, it's open to her number and a drafted text lays there and taunts him. He sees her at work and longs for her lips on his. There's never a perfect time to strike and it's all left to spoil until he's on her porch, love stricken, and knocking on her door.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, masturbation and pure porn.

Request: @honorarytenenbaum

A/N: My God, is it hot in here or is it just Taika?

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I saw her today, but a new light was casted on her and now I can't get her out of my head.

I always knew she was beautiful, but now she was gorgeous and she taunts me with that. With every step she takes, her hips sway and I swear my eyes must look like the copper in a an old bell, following her curves back and forth, whether it be when she runs or just walks fast past me.

Pedro has been asking both of us questions about the date, and every time I try to ask how she felt about it, he stops me, says he doesn't trade secrets, then leaves me hanging. Yes, I know the date was awful, putting her in that pink dress that I bought on EBay, but I said it was going to be horrible and I'm commonly a man of my word. Although, sometimes I promise a drama and just end up with a sick comedy most of the time. Dreadful, isn't it?

Just-- The way she looks at me, with her eyes all glittery. Maybe it's a translucent force holding me back from going over to her, grabbing her by the cheeks and smashing her lips on mine. I would beg for it... maybe I could, if she didn't mind.

No, that would be too childish... but she was leaving me no choice at this point.

I had betrayed the very rules that I had laid down on the date. She wasn't allowed to fall in love with me, and me and my snarky pride thought I'd be fine and come out of the date feeling free. God damn it, my ego is too big sometimes. I never knew that a woman could level me with her eyes in mere seconds. It happened once, but that ended horribly, obviously. Maybe this time, it will be good. It could be good. Maybe. Maybe.

We brushed shoulders today in the green room and it took every ounce of my being to not pin her to a wall in front of every one. Just one kiss. Maybe just one kiss would end all this, and my feelings could be extinguished rightfully instead of torturing me over one woman.

Like this morning, it had driven me insane. I had to cook my eggs with a hard on and stopped halfway through to deal with it. Because I still had my dignity left, I went to the bathroom to deal with it.

I dropped my boxers and stared at it for a moment, thinking of the reason why it was here, then I remembered. Her. (Y/N).

Images of her face entered my mind and before I knew it, my hand was stroking my raw cock. The images of her began to change, and now very lewd. She was screaming my name like it was the only word she knew and her body seemed to bounce in front of me with every stroke of my hand. If only it were real. If only I could actually simulate her warm cunt around me.

I stood in front of my sink, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. My forehead glistened with sweat and I was no longer pumping my hand, but thrusting my hips into it. My free hand gripped the sink and my nails etched invisible lines across the marble. The image of (Y/N) still invaded my vision. Damn it, I was even moaning her name. This wasn't supposed to be the way I found out I was in love with her. I could be moaning any past girl's name or even a dream girl, but no. I tried. I tried so hard, but none of them worked, even in the slightest. I was still drawn to (Y/N) like I was attached to her at the hip. I needed her. I needed her bad.

After work and another wank I managed to get my shit together. Well, almost. So many texts were sprawled into my phone, so many "I miss you" notes and "I love you" sticky notes stuck on the island of my kitchen, idea after idea after idea, but I chickened out of every one of them in the end. I'm supposed to be working on the script, but I'll be damned if I let myself accidentally type "(Y/N)" as one of the names in the typing process.

I buried my face in my hands. She was only one call away. One call.

I picked up my phone and bit my bottom lip as it quivered. I didn't even know what I was going to say. Would I flat out say I love her? No, that's too straightforward. Should I ask if I could... Wait, she's home, isn't she? If I could tell her in person, maybe this feeling would leave. Maybe if I could steal one kiss, my heart would stop pounding every time I thought of her. If I just set my standards really high before I kiss her, I will seem underwhelmed and forget all about my feelings for her.

I took a shaky deep breath, nodding as I clicked onto the dial pad and called a cab. I was going to show up to her door, totally unexpected, and beg her to let me kiss her. If it needs to come down to begging.

It was only a mere lightning flash before I was at her door and my hand was raised in the exact same way it was before we came close to kissing that night. I wonder what would have happened if her lips touched mine. Would I be over her or would she be under me?

Thunder rumbled in the sky above me and I realized that I needed to knock on the door and get in fast, before my new Salmon colored shirt and grey pants got ruined. I sucked up all the courage I had and out it into three stiff knocks on her door.

I could hear shuffling around inside and my foot started to bounce. My cab had already pulled out of the driveway, so there was no going back now. My breath accelerated as the locks started to come undone on the door and my hands clenched and so did my heart.

The door slowly tugged open and there, just past the door, was the face I longed to see all throughout the day.

"I need to talk to you," I whispered hot and heavily, my mind silently taking note that she was only dressed in a massive Prince t-shirt.

"S-Sure, okay," she said in a very surprised and shaky voice. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide and a little wild. I must have woken her up, perhaps. She offered to let me inside before the rain started pouring down.

"What do you need to talk about?" She whispered to me as I made my way into her living room, rubbing a thumb over the opposite hand's knuckles.

"A lot of things," I said, looking at all the papers sprawled out on her coffee table, notes taken everywhere. She was working over time. Why? I thought she enjoyed her days off. There was something else I noticed. There was a little glimmer of some kind of liquid on the couch and just by it were prints and marks where she had been sitting and/or laying down on the couch. It made me gulp. I must have caught her doing--... oh my...

"You, uh... You might want to sit down for this," I said cautiously and she scurried over and quickly sat down on the couch, her body partially hiding the wet spot. Now, I knew it was for sure.

I took a deep breath, standing only a coffee table away from her. My hands fiddled about. They'd be in my pocket one minute, then fighting each other the next with brutal squeezes. "(Y/N)," I said, my voice very hoarse, then I shook my head. If I was going to beg, I might as well do it properly. I went around the coffee table and got down on my knees in front of her. "I can't stop thinking about you..." I whisper to her. She seems to go into quiet shock, but she nods her head to tell me to keep going. "I've had you on my mind all day. I've tried to stop, but I can't. I fear that this is some sort of sick obsession that has grown ever since... the night on your porch." I gently clasp her hand in mine. She squeezes it softly and looks down at it.

"It's been the same way with me," she muttered, to my surprise. Then, she started reading my thoughts exactly. "Maybe if I had kissed you, this wouldn't have happened and our lives might have stayed right on track... how we used to be..." She looked down and so did I, at our hands as her thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Friends," she said finally, putting an end to her speech.

"I've had the same theory," I say aloud, and lift my free hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Think it's still worth giving a shot?"

I watched her stomach rise and fall slowly, then our eyes connected again and she began to lean in. No need for verbal agreement, I guessed, since she admitted it. My eyes flutter closed even before our lips completely touch, and our foreheads are the first to meet. In the beginning, we're hesitant, but as we sank in closer and our lips met, we no longer had second thoughts.

The kiss was slow and absorbed in feeling; passion, remorse, need and frustration, creating an ungodly mix of emotions all tangled into one. I failed my own plan again and forgot to set my standards high, but even if I did, she would have met them, just ever so perfectly. She tasted of warm peaches and her bottom lip was like a velvet pillow caressing my own lip. She didn't even need to try to be a good kisser. The sensation alone was magnificent.

We both pulled away at the same time. I was still crouched in front of her and ducked my head down, fingers running over my lips and soft pants parting between them. My heart no longer pounded. It fucking swirled. And so did my stomach, apparently. Oh God, I was falling deeper and deeper in love with her right in front of her.

I suddenly feel her hands move under my jaw and she cupped it, lifting my gaze up to meet hers again, that adorable little look she gave. There was a silent pact taken, an agreement, really...

We both needed more.

I was the first to launch up and capture her lips, and this kiss was much rougher than the last one. We both tilted our heads and I slowly rose from my knees and got onto the couch. She laid back, spreading her legs a little to allow me to lay between them. The moment our crotches touched, however, I stopped. It was warm and wet. So much to the point where I could feel it through my pants. I pulled out of the kiss, my expression skeptical, then my eyes flickered to hers. She was looking away with embarrassment. When I had found out that she had been having her alone time to play with herself, I had figured that she still had something on beneath the shirt to at least answer the door. Short shorts or something... Alas, I was wrong.

To confirm my suspicion, I started to grind on her gently. The more I did so, the more I felt my growing tent get dipped into her heat. I had to see it with my own eyes now.

One of my hands, at one time planted by her head, slipped down to the hem of her baggy shirt and brought it up to her chest, exposing not just her heat but the curve of her breasts. My eyes glossed over and I unconsciously licked my lips. There it was. That SHE was. Glistening wet and beautiful.

"You really had some time to think about me, huh?" I grinned cockily. She smacked my arm and huffed a little, cheeks an alarming red.

"Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can just shut this whole thing down before it happens," she said and crossed her arms.

"Who said it made me uncomfortable?" I purr and get close to her stomach, pressing a tender kiss to it, before trailing more down, lower and lower. She panted and whined in anticipation like a dog in heat. Patience was the key, in this situation, and I took my time. During my morning masturbation period, I really do have time to think, besides about what (Y/N) might look like completely nude or dressed in something I might like, and I have a tendency of asking myself questions... questions like what might (Y/N) taste like.

I gently pushed two fingers into her slit, then part her folds, my eyes scan everything from her clit down to her hole. My God, everything about her... It drives me crazy. I dove in, flicking my tongue against her bud and that made her mewl my name ever so softly. I needed more of that. I wanted to hear her scream it.

I licked a fat, hot strip from the bottom to the top. I groaned. Fuck, she tasted delicious. She started to cry out as I ate her out properly. Sucking, licking and flicking my tongue across those deliciously sensitive spots. Her legs lifted up and rested on my shoulders and her soft thighs squeezed my head. I let out a soft groan and that seemed to drive her even more crazy. My God, this woman.

My hands gripped her hips and tugged them close, to keep her from squirming away. It wasn't long before she was moaning even louder and her fingers tugged at my hair harshly. My tongue started to thrust in and out of her, something that I hoped to let my dick do in a matter of moments, once she came on my mouth. I clung to her like crazy and pleasured her until she squirted, but even then I stuck to her, drinking up everything she gave me.

My chin was coated and glistening with her juices and I licked my lips free of her taste. I wanted more, but I also knew that she was waiting for the main show. She sat up and beckoned me forward with a curled digit. She first lifted off her shirt to expose everything to me. I started feeling a little bad, being completely dressed, but I didn't have to worry about that for long.

Her hands went straight for my belt and we worked fast together. I undid my button up and threw it off, along with my white undershirt. I smirked at the eagerness in her actions. She practically ripped my boxers off. I don't think I'll be getting them back after all this. Oh well. My thumb went to her clit once I had tossed everything off, but she grabbed my collar and tugged me close. "No more teasing," she growled hotly in my ear. That made me twitch with want. I nodded and took a deep breath, grabbing her by the thighs and dragging her where she was laying down in front of me.

I caressed her body with my hand and I began to kiss her neck, softly and slowly while I started to push into her tight cunt. She was so much tighter than I imagined. She was everything compared to my lubed up hand. She moaned my name into my ear and started to mewl for me. I let her adjust while gripping her hips tightly. I whispered soft curses into her ear.

I can't believe this moment was happening, that I was starting to pound into her wildly, just how I imagined I'd do it if she had actually been there, on my bathroom sink this morning to help deal with the "problem" that occurred. I should have kissed her a whole lot earlier.

I now bury my face into her bosom and kiss the skin between them while my hips bumped against hers violently and passionately. Never has desecrating someone's couch felt so good before.

Our sinful moans, nature and sounds filled the room. The couch rocked beneath our love making and our lips eventually met again. I could still taste her on the tip of my tongue, her essence. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, I quite think she found it to be a sensual aphrodisiac that fueled the fire in both of us. Her hands explored and unconsciously pleasured me, while my hips went wild and pleasured her.

I left little love nips with my teeth all over her body, claiming my territory. New territory. Man, Pedro is going to blow his top whenever he hears about this. Everyone is, probably, once it gets out on set.

"T-Taika~. Oh, fuck~," (Y/N) cried out and she pulsed and tightened around me. It made her start to thrust faster, giving her a burst of roughness.

"How close are you, love~?" I growl in her ear hotly. She only responded with hot moans and deep pants of my name. I needed an answer, so I smacked her ass roughly and massaged it by digging my fingers into it. She cried out sharply and moaned a weak, breathy, "Close~!"

"Good~," I groaned and bit down roughly on her skin again. I started thrusting faster and faster, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. I could feel it.

Oxygen became less and less of a priority the more we made love and the softer our actions became, all the way up to the peak and that's where our true feelings sparkled the most. I pressed my sweaty forehead against hers as she released on my six inch, then I had to pull it out and coat her thighs with my essence. I let my body sink and the only thing that filled the room was our soft pants of each other's names.

"Won't leave me hanging next time I try to kiss you again, right?" I hum softly and wink at her.

"Of course~," (Y/N) whispered back and made me smile as she leaned up and kissed me, her fingers curling into my hair.

What a woman...

#taika waititi x reader #taika waititi #what we do in the shadows #IG-11 #fanfiction #ihopethisisgood #I have never been so nervous about sharing something you guys help

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years

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Daniel Michaelson: He Belongs to Himself

(for @whumptober2019, prompt: Recovery, I wrote a piece set during the trial/post-captivity - this is our second Ryan POV. Thanks to @orchidscript for a couple of lines I borrowed from our convo on the fandom version of this universe and to @pinkcupboardwitch for helping me pick my scenario)

TW: Brief reference to suicidal ideation, violence/torture/abuse (none depicted, but referenced)

Ryan Michaelson falls asleep on the couch with the impact statement he’s been working on a flutter of loose papers on the floor, scratched-out starting sentences and half-written paragraphs, occasional little nonsense doodles in the margins where he tried to think his way through this.

They want him to give some kind of speech, before sentencing. His parents provided a couple of videos and photos of Danny before it all happened, but they haven’t come to the trial since the first week and they’re not interested in speaking on Danny’s behalf.

No, just like the rest of his life, their parents will do the bare minimum for Danny and Ryan will step in to try and fill the gaps, to be brother and parents both. It’s so much harder with so little of Danny left.

How do you even explain what it means to have your brother disappear and then return, only it’s not your brother any longer?

He’s been working on figuring out where to even start with the impact statement since before the trial began, since the initial preparation with the lawyers. He writes a draft and discards it - writes another one and tears that one up, too. Cries for a couple of hours whenever he’s alone in his room, then starts again.

They want him to explain what it was like to lose Danny, and Ryan’s got no fucking clue where to begin.

Does he open with the night Danny didn’t come back to the apartment they shared, wasn’t answering his phone? Does he start with the increasingly frantic calls to all of his friends, to the single thread that ran through them - he said he was going to see that guy he’s been talking to - to the realization that no one could get ahold of Nathaniel Vandrum either?

Does he begin with what it felt like when the cops called to tell Mom they’d found Danny’s car with his cell phone in a puddle of blood on the backseat, abandoned in a ditch in Oregon next to the dead body of the owner of the next car the abductor had stolen? Or when the cops explained to Ryan that the phone had been charged and on for nearly a full day - meaning that whoever had taken him had watched Danny’s phone light up with call after call after call, had kept the phone charged just to see it?

Maybe he could explain, in stomach-churning detail, what happened in his mind when a police officer had sat across the table from him and told him that local law enforcement and the FBI had begun thinking in terms of recovery rather than rescue.

He has no idea. All he knows is that there isn’t any way, not really, to explain what it felt like to be told his brother was missing - presumed abducted - presumed the target of foul play - presumed dead - never coming home.

The weird insanity he’d gone through, thinking his brother was dead. Going from a college sophomore with a 4.0 to a junior who nearly had to drop out when his grades tanked and he spent a year trying to drink himself to death, thinking if he did at least he’d see his brother again.

He couldn’t begin to explain his parents strong-arming him into therapy, telling the therapist all his awful thoughts, sharing emotions with someone when he came from a family where you never did any such thing, and the revelation of the therapist just… giving him permission to grieve, when his parents never did, when he felt like a burden, when he didn’t know how to keep going without the older brother that had always been the surest, most concrete foundation of his world.

Maybe he should start with how it felt to get the call that Danny was alive, that Nathaniel Vandrum had simply driven a truck out of the woods in Western Canada like a goddamn soot-smeared pissed-off Wendigo with his frightened brother, a bag of his favorite books, and one hell of a fucked-up story about the last four years.

Did Wendigos even come from Western Canada? Ryan can’t really remember, his Native North American Folklore & Mythology class was during the drinking-to-death time and he doesn’t remember most of it.

It doesn’t matter.

He could start with the way he’d been elated and scared, the way his stomach had dropped when they’d told him that before he could see Danny, he’d have to talk to some kind of expert about what to expect, so he wouldn’t cause extra anxiety during a stressful reintegration.

He could start with the way the trauma expert had held his hand and told him Danny was severely dissociated - a word he’d never heard before that day - and might not even know who he was right away. The expert had tried to make him understand that Danny had been held in captivity by someone who insisted he was a pet and not a person, had undergone something called extreme dehumanization, more words Ryan hadn’t known before that day and knew all too much about, now.

He could tell them what it was like to see Danny sitting at the table, hunched over and looking at everyone from behind wavy red hair grown out a little longer than when he’d left, blue eyes wide and scared that he’d be in trouble for using a chair and not sitting on the floor, begging someone to tell him where Nate was, to bring him back into the room, could someone find Nate?

He could talk about the way Danny flinched away from his touch but ran to Nathaniel Vandrum.

Maybe he could just talk about how fucking weird it was to have your brother’s sort-of-possibly-a-boyfriend be the fellow captive who freed him, who tried to kill a man to save Danny, and who sleeps in Danny’s bed but as far as Ryan can tell does nothing more than kiss his forehead or his face now and then and hold him through his nightmares.

Maybe he could talk about wanting to shout in Nate Vandrum’s empty fucking face that he should have done something sooner, that he should have saved Danny when more of Danny was left to save, just wanting to grab Nate by the shoulders and shake him and scream why couldn’t you have been stronger for him?

He could talk about how it feels to find yourself snapping at a traumatized man because he has the audacity to be very slightly less traumatized than your brother, and because he’s something to take all of his grief and hurt out on.

Because no matter how hard Nate Vandrum’s jawline gets, no matter how cold and flinty his green eyes go, he never, ever fights back against Ryan’s deep well of unresolved anger.

He just stands there, taking all of Ryan’s yelling, like he’s earned it. And maybe he fucking has. Ryan could tell them all about how looking at Danny’s frightened shattered life makes him want to cut Nathaniel Vandrum’s composure apart, because… because how dare he be so calm and collected, when Danny hides in a closet after breaking a glass, begs to be punished, to be fixed?

He’d been up all night trying to figure it out, and he just can’t think any longer. He’s written line after line after line trying to start and the day they wanted him to give the statement was just a few days away now. What would he say? Anything he said, that asshole Denner would be sitting right there listening to it, probably getting off on how he’d wrecked Ryan’s life by stealing his brother, enjoying getting to learn about Ryan’s halting, grudging work alongside Nate to teach Danny how to be human again.

He’ll probably sit there and laugh through the speech, no matter what Ryan says. He doesn’t want to bare his broken heart to that sadistic psychopath.

He doesn’t want to admit that Danny is so supremely, thoroughly broken.

He doesn’t want to admit that sometimes he wonders if recovery is even possible, or if he would spend the rest of his life managing a man two years older than him who can’t remember his own age or that bills are due or the names of the people who used to be his best friends - but who can explain in exacting, excruciating detail the way Abraham fucking Denner made him step in a trap and nearly break his own leg, just to see him do it?

Ryan’s eyes blur, with tears or exhaustion - he’s not sure which - and finally he falls asleep on the couch with Netflix still playing, lets the papers drop to the floor, allows his eyes to close and force him out of his fears and all-consuming rage on behalf of a brother who seems no longer able to access the feelings that boil Ryan alive.

Ryan wakes up sometime later to the gentle sensation of a soft fuzzy blanket being placed carefully over him.

He shifts around, mumbling thanks and starting to drift back away, and for a second it’s like nothing had ever happened, really - like maybe he’s just fallen asleep studying, and Danny will be right there to laugh at him in the morning for not even making it back to bed.

The sound of the papers being shuffled back together wakes him the rest of the way and he groans, feeling the muscles of his back shifting around as he pushes himself up, rubbing at one eye. “Fuck, what time is it?”

If Nate Vandrum just put a blanket on him - if that passive asshole is reading Ryan’s halting attempts to explain the pain and grief he’s spent four years buried in - he might just punch him in the face. We’re not friends, motherfucker - you’re just the only person he’ll willingly touch, and I can’t bear to take anything away from him ever again, he’s already lost so much.

“2:45 in the morning, you fell asleep with Netflix still going,” Danny’s voice says calmly, and Ryan nearly jolts totally upright on the couch in shock.

Danny doesn’t look up, kneeling on the floor by the coffee table with his red hair falling over his face looking nearly auburn in the dark, carefully setting the pile of papers on the table before flicking at a miniscule, invisible speck of dust there. He’s shirtless, just wearing the warm, heavy flannel pajama pants that he’d asked Ryan to buy him, shyly, like Ryan could ever deny him anything he actually expressed a want for.

You were dead for four years, Ryan had said, wanting so badly to hug him, knowing at the same time that Danny would only go stiff in his arms and then suddenly go boneless and relaxed all at once in the awful way he’d been trained to accept any and every touch without complaint. You were dead and came back to life, Danny, I’ll give you anything you want for forever, man, just ask for it and it’s yours.

My name is Red. I-I just want some pajama pants that are really, um, warm and maybe with, uh, fleece on the, the inside-

Of course, of course I’ll get those, I’ll buy you a pair for every fucking day of the week.

Th-thank you for that. I get, um, I get cold a lot now. Thank you for listening to my request, Ryan. Thank you for being kind enough to give me-

Hey, this is just doing something nice. Don’t thank me, Danny.

Red, my name is Red, please, um, don’t call me the other name. When someone does something nice for you, you say thank you. Be grateful for every gift you are given, Danny had recited, he’s tilted, eyes distant. And every breath is a gift Abraham chooses to give.

Even in the darkness, Ryan can see the lines of scarring that run down his brother’s back and wrap up his arms, the oddly muscled shoulders (chopping firewood for hours is a good shoulder workout but I skipped a lot of leg days, Danny had joked one day, and Ryan had been so shocked by his brother showing a hint of a sense of humor that he hadn’t even remembered how to laugh), the ribs that stand out too much and the sharp hipbones showing above the waistband of his pants.

When Danny turns to look at him, the blue eyes are quiet for once, warm and focused right on him instead of fogged-over and frightened. The ring of scarring across his face is less obvious, with only the moon for light.

In those unexpectedly clear eyes he can see Danny, his big brother, and Ryan can’t do anything but stare. Are you still in there somewhere after all?

“What are you, uh, doing up, man?” Ryan rubs at his eyes again, but hesitantly, like Danny might disappear if he does. On the TV screen, Netflix is asking if he’s still watching and Ryan feels immensely, supremely judged by it.

Of course the fuck not, I wasn’t even watching -before- I fell asleep at midnight.

“Dreaming,” Danny says casually, off-handedly, as if ‘dream’ isn’t just a code word for ‘nightmare’ now, because it’s not like Danny has any other kind of dream. “Came out for water and found you on the couch. You look, um, you look cold, Ryan. Is… is it okay? To put the blanket on?”

“Yeah… yeah, of course it was. Thanks for that. I don’t even have the energy to get up and go to bed, I feel totally wiped.”

Danny nods, watching him carefully still. Then he drops his eyes back to the sheaf of papers on the coffee table. “Is that what you’re, um, you’re going to read about me?”

Ryan swallows hard against the lump in his throat and a deep instinctive urge to pull the papers away. Please don’t look at how hurt and scared I was, things were so much worse for you. I don’t want you to feel guilty for this. “Yeah. I suck at this, though, I barely have anything written.“

“You’ll, um, you’ll do good, I know you will.” Danny shifts around on his knees, looking up at Ryan, and it’s just such a welcome change to see him with clear eyes. “You’re not going to do a recording? You’re going to, um, to stand up in the, in the court?”

“Yeah.” Ryan drops his head back, staring up at the ceiling in thought. “I have my suit picked out already - the red one? Looks good with my skin. Funny that I know what suit I’m going to read in but no fucking clue what to actually say.”

“You’ll know when you stand up, you’re always good at speaking to people. Or you used to be.” Danny hesitates, and Ryan thinks again how young he looks, something about the uncertainty in his posture, the wide blue eyes, the mop of wavy red hair that hangs over one eye. “I think you probably still are - I guess I don’t, um, I don’t know any longer.”

If you met Danny and Ryan on the street, you’d never guess Danny was two years older… but you might guess, just by looking, that Danny is profoundly, deeply fucked up - and that Ryan is profoundly exhausted.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m probably the same. I don’t want to do it, but I do at the same time, you know?” Ryan flings an arm over his eyes, wondering why he’s so awake when he’s only even been asleep for a couple of hours, really. “It doesn’t matter what I say, does it? He doesn’t even want to be found Not Guilty. He doesn’t care.”

“Maybe not. But you should do it anyway, for you.” Danny hesitates, and then Ryan blinks and lowers his arm to stare as he feels the barest, nervous brush of Danny’s hand against his shoulder.

He turns to look down into wide blue eyes and a tense half-smile, Danny’s shoulders hunched a little, up near his chin, the curve of the scar along his cheekbone traveling down the side of his face and cutting into his jaw, lit by dim moonlight and nothing else until the red seems paler, more faded.

Danny is more than six feet tall but ever since he came back, he seems so, so much smaller. Something about the way he folds into himself, makes himself less visible and less of a presence in the world.

“… Hey, you, you haven’t, um-” Ryan cuts himself off, afraid speaking it out loud will break the spell.

You haven’t touched me since the night before you disappeared.

“I want you to speak. You’ll do really well,” Danny says with pure certainty in his voice - and it’s his voice, the voice Ryan remembers as the basic building block of his entire life. Danny had been a kid when he was adopted, but Ryan was still a toddler - and he had no memories Danny wasn’t a part of.

Not until four and a half years ago.

There’s a moment where Ryan doesn’t move, just feels the soft weight of the hand on his shoulder - Danny’s hands are sort of ruined, scarred and numb to temperature changes, but the weight of his touch is the same.

The same and so much more, all at once.

“Okay. I will, I promise. I’ll figure it out. You should head back to bed. If Nate wakes up, he’ll freak out if you’re not there.”

“He’ll come out and see I’m right here.” Danny shrugs, looking at him for a moment longer with those calm, thoughtful eyes - the opposite of how he’d looked since they brought back what was left of Daniel Michaelson for Ryan to try and put back together - but it wasn’t really an expression he’d ever worn before, either. “I don’t mind being awake. I don’t need much sleep now. I’ll nap while you’re in court, anyway.”

I know, Ryan thinks with a dip of despair. You sleep in the closet when we’re gone and you think we don’t know.

He fights it back and smiles, a little, reaching up carefully to lay his hand over Danny’s, sure he’ll pull away - but he doesn’t.

It feels like a goddamn miracle, but his brother doesn’t pull away from his touch.

Danny’s hand is cold, under his, and Ryan can feel the bumpy silk-soft ridges of scarring where that fucking bastard had sliced along over the tops of his veins, over and over again, creating a raised roadmap of the torture he’d put Danny through for his own sick entertainment.

“You should tell them about when we got super drunk at the company Christmas party and Mom and Dad caught us playing literal music videos off YouTube in the conference room and laughing at the Meatloaf one.“ Danny’s voice is a little dreamy, wistful.

"Y-you remember that?” Ryan’s voice goes soft. There were rules, Danny has explained again and again. One rule was to never think about Danny’s life before - to forget there had ever been anything else.

Danny’s memory is shot to hell from all the blows to the head and four years of nonstop panic and fear and being trained like an animal, kept like a pet. He barely remembers his own birthday.

But… but he remembers this.

“That was a couple months before I… um, left. I used to think about it all the time.” Danny looked away from him, briefly, and the line of his face, the profile, strikes Ryan all over again.

He took it for granted for so, so long before the morning Danny hadn’t come home and didn’t answer the phone.

Ryan was never going to take it for granted again.

“You never talk this much anymore,” Ryan says softly, marveling at the simple sound of his brother’s voice devoid of pleading or begging or reciting the parade of awful rules Abraham Denner forced him to memorize and live by. “I miss your voice.”

Danny just looks at him, and it’s silent in the middle of the night, the darkest hours. No birds outside, the apartment complex is quiet.

“That’s what you can do.” Danny’s voice is caught, thin and oddly strained.

“What?”

“Tell them you missed my voice.” He is still, so still, and then he seems to propel himself up off the floor to wrap his arms around Ryan, burying his head against his shoulder.

It has been four and a half years since Danny hugged him.

Ryan’s arms are up and around him too, feeling his brother’s chill skin, Danny’s hair brushing his forearm where his arms go around his neck. He can feel the raised bumps of scarring at the top of his back above his shoulder blades, the spots around his neck where Denner made him wear a barbed wire collar for days at a time, the way Danny’s shoulders are heavy muscle with skin stretched over it, without even an ounce of excess.

Danny starts to shake, and it’s only when Ryan hears the softest hissed intake of breath and feels dampness along the neckline of his T-shirt that Ryan realizes his big brother is crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Danny whispers in a broken, cracking voice, and Ryan feels Danny twisting his fingers into the fabric of his shirt just over his spine. The soft blanket slides down and away until it puddles around his waist where he still sits on the couch, holding onto the tall, lanky older brother who once used to hold him like this after his nightmares.

But God, Danny’s nightmare had lasted so much longer.

“I’m sorry,” Danny repeats, his voice shaking and thick with the tears that fall despite his best efforts to hold them back. “I’m so sorry, Ryan, I’m so sorry, I missed you so much… I, I’m sorry that I’m not the same person, that I came back the puppy, I’m so sorry that this is all that’s left, I know it’s not enough-… I’m s-s-so fucking sorry-”

“Sssshhhh,” Ryan says with his arms as tight as he can make them, as though Danny might disappear again if he doesn’t keep him firmly attached to the earth. “Ssshhh, don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, it’s never been your fault, I love you. You’re my big brother, still, okay?” He pulls back, gently extricating himself from Danny, putting a hand on either side of his face to look right into the blue eyes, still bright with more tears unshed, tear tracks following the line of his scars down his face.

Ryan’s own eyes start to glitter in the darkness, and he tries to blink back the tears but when he speaks, his voice has all his emotion laid bare in it, too. “I never stopped looking for you, not ever. I looked every day. I’d still look every day. I would never have stopped looking for you, for the rest of my life.”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” Danny says tremulously, putting his hands up over Ryan’s. "He, he made me stop thinking about anything but him but he couldn’t hurt me enough to make me stop thinking about you-”

Then they’re hugging again and it’s so quiet in the apartment, so quiet except for the sound of two grown men crying on each other’s shoulders.

“This is enough,” Ryan whispers against the top of Danny’s hair. “It’s enough that any of you came back to me, okay? We c-c-can find the rest, I can help you remember, I can help. This is enough. You’re enough, Danny-” He catches himself and winces. “Sorry. I mean Red.”

There’s a pause, and Ryan can feel his brother’s heart pounding. When Danny pulls back Ryan’s heart drops, but his brother just looks into his eyes and smiles, the barest little hint of one, and says softly, “Danny is, is okay, for now.”

Ryan’s breath is caught somewhere in his throat, and he pulls his older brother back into his arms. “Danny, then,” Ryan says with half-sobbed laughter. “Danny. Danny Danny Danny Danny.”

“Daniel,” Danny says with a shaking voice, as though Denner might simply appear out of thin air to punish him. Then, when nothing happens, Danny repeats it. “Danny. Daniel. My name is Danny. My name is Daniel M-Michaelson and I, I d-don't…be, belong to…”

“You got this, Danny, come on,” Ryan urges. “You can do this. Come on, Dan, we can do this together.”

“M-My name is Daniel Michaelson and I don’t belong to him, I don’t-… I don’t belong to anyone b-b-b-but myself,” Danny says softly, and then he starts to cry again.

Ryan holds him but it’s different this time - his shoulders are back and his back is straight and every sob sounds not like fear or sadness but like pure, unbridled relief.

It probably won’t last - the trauma expert and the therapist both said to expect every two forward steps to come with a step back. He might wake up and want to be Red again tomorrow. He’ll probably go back to not wanting to be touched by anyone but Nate.

But right here and now, in this moment in the middle of the night in the safest place there is for him, Danny remembers who he used to be, and it’s eough.

Suddenly, Ryan Michaelson knows exactly how he wants to start the statement he’s going to read while staring right at Abraham Denner.

A few days ago, my brother hugged me for the first time since 2015. My brother, who was subjected to every kind of twisted violence until he believed that it was too dangerous to even think of himself as human, answered to his own name.

I want to tell you how it feels to be told someone you love has been abducted. I want to tell you how it feels to look and look every single day for four years and find nothing - and be told that you should prepare for him to return in a body bag.

I want to tell you how it felt to learn that, due to the violence, abuse, brainwashing, and trauma he was subjected to, my own brother might not recognize me.

I want to tell you how it felt when they told me Daniel Michaelson was gone.

Then, I want to tell you how it felt when, despite all the odds and every statistic and the efforts of Abraham Denner to destroy my brother down to his very core, I was given the gift of looking him right in the eyes as he came back.

My brother’s name is Daniel Michaelson, and he belongs only to himself.

That might not seem like much of a revelation to many of the people here in this courtroom today - but for my brother, it takes immense bravery simply to believe he is his own.

I have been asked to speak about the impact the last four years has had on my family, and I will. I will speak about every day I combed missing persons’ reports throughout the Northwest Coast for similarities to Danny. I will tell you what it was like to lose him.

First I want to tell you what it meant to me to get him back.

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eclare-draws · 4 years

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Mental Breakdowns & Hot Chocolate (Adrienette Fanfic)

I had a stress-related mental breakdown the other day because a draft of my thesis proposal was due (I got 30 minutes of sleep that night) so I wrote this to make myself feel better.

AO3

Adrien swore that he specifically told his girlfriend to not stay up too late working on her project. He almost believed her when she said she’d be in bed before he was even asleep.

The cold sheets that greeted him at 3:48AM as a paw smashed into his cheek told him that

Their cat was an asshole.

He was right to not believe Marinette.

Adrien sat up in bed and rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, glaring at the cat who had just walked across his face and was now making herself comfortable on the pillow where Marinette’s head should have been. The cat, Shamrock, slowly blinked up at her owner before tucking her head between her paws. Adrien gave a sigh of annoyance at the creature while giving her a loving pat and putting on his glasses.

Making the easy decision to value his girlfriend’s well-being over his sleep schedule, he lazily got out of bed and made his way towards the living room, wincing slightly at the cold floor hitting his feet with every step.

In the dim lighting of their Christmas tree, Adrien could see the figure of Marinette curled against the back of the couch, laptop forgotten on her lap as her shoulders rose and fell with her slow and steady breaths and the occasional snore.

Taking the opportunity to observe her beauty and the melancholic aura she gave off, Adrien leaned against the wall and watched her for a moment before making his way over to the couch and squatting in front of her on the floor. He wondered for a moment if he could move her to their bed without disturbing her, but quickly thought better of it as she rarely made that trip without being woken up immediately.

How could one sleeping face make his heart swell as much as this one did? Adrien noted the way her hair smooshed against the cushions on the side and how her bangs had obviously been pushed back multiple times in frustration as they stuck up at awkward angles. Moving her laptop off of her lap, he saw how her legs stuck out a little beneath the blanket and he recovered them. Her lips were parted as a quiet snore passed through them with every few breaths. The soft light of the tree reflected on the softness of her skin and made her eyelashes look longer as they twitched slightly from a dream. While her face was relaxed, the way her brow was slightly furrowed and the bags under her eyes showed the stress that came with finals.

Marinette’s senior project for university had been keeping her up like this almost every night as she struggled just to finish conceptualizing it into a ten page paper. To her procrastinating heart’s dismay, her advising professor had made the finished draft due during winter break and she couldn’t seem to focus on it no matter what she did. She had spent many nights frustratedly ranting about how her advisor’s comments didn’t make sense and how he was failing to grasp her concept or how she couldn’t possibly know where the creative process would take her in three months, so she couldn’t say for sure right now.

Adrien gently placed a hand on her arm and rubbed circles when she didn’t immediately stir. After a moment, her eyes screwed tightly shut and her head slowly angled itself towards him before letting her eyes open.

“Hey,” Adrien whispered.

Marinette responded with a low hum and then ran a hand through her hair. “What time is it?” she asked in a low, gravelly voice as she shifted her weight to see him better.

“Almost four. You should come back to sleep.”

Marinette shook her head a little, “Have… Have to finish my… My thing.”

“So well spoken,” Adrien let the smile reflect in his voice while gently stroking a thumb against her cheek, “I think your thing can wait until morning.”

“It was supposed to be done at midnight,” she whined in response.

“Then it’s too late anyways. Let’s go to bed, bugaboo, you’ll be more comfortable there than on the couch.”

Marinette gave her laptop a forlorn look that quickly twisted into something much more pained before a sobbing breath shook her body and she began to cry. Adrien quickly got up and gently squeezed himself between her and the arm of the couch, wrapping his arms around her curled form and tucking her head beneath his chin as she twisted to cry into him.

He held her firmly in place as she let herself get out whatever she needed to. Adrien made quiet shushing sounds to calm her as he stroked her hair and back. He mumbled words of comfort into her ear as her stress and exhaustion finally overtook her.

Adrien had been prepping himself for this moment all week but all of his prepared motivational speeches vanished from his brain as her listened to her cry and felt the trembling of her body on top of his. All that he cared about was holding her and hoping that she never felt this way again (even if he knew she would certainly feel this way again and that he’d be at her side the moment she needed him to be).

He thought that filling her up with hot cocoa, cuddling by the fire, and laughing at bad Christmas movies all week had been relieving some of her stress, but it hadn’t been enough apparently.

He sat and rocked her, listened to her distressed blubbering as she finally showed him just how stressed she was. It broke Adrien’s heart to see her like this, but he knew she needed to get it out before she could go on.

After about ten minutes of her crying, Marinette finally started to calm down, taking deep, shuddering breaths to even out her breathing and stop the tears. Adrien continued to hold her, and when she finally looked up at him after a couple of minutes, he gave her a soft smile and asked, “Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate or tea?”

She gave a tiny nod, responding in a strained and almost gurgled voice that hadn’t yet recovered from the crying, “Hot chocolate would be nice.”

Adrien nodded and stroked her hair before trying to get off the couch, only to have Marinette tighten her grasp around his chest and let out a little whine. Adrien raised an eyebrow and chuckled a little at her reaction, commenting that, “I can’t make hot chocolate if you don’t let me get up, you know.”

Marinette buried her head back into his chest and mumbled something that sounded like, “Dumb cat can’t produce things out of thin air,” before letting him go and sitting up.

Adrien ruffled her hair a little before getting up, returning briefly to her height to push her bangs back and kiss her forehead. As he made his way to the kitchen, he couldn’t think of anything but how swollen her eyes had been and how her cheeks were stained with tears and some mascara she hadn’t removed. He’d seen Marinette cry many times before, but it still hurt to see her like this. Between being Ladybug, university, her internship, her online boutique, being the guardian, and still being an amazing person who helps everyone with everything, he was impressed by how well she managed most of the time. While it hurt to see her break down, he knew that it was better than holding it together all the time.

He stood in front of the stove, staring blankly at the pot as the hot chocolate bubbled inside. He almost didn’t realize he’d made it when he snapped back to reality. He produced their matching set of cat mugs and poured hot chocolate into each one before returning to Marinette, who was, to his dismay, on her laptop again, her eyebrows furrowed and teeth biting her lip.

He placed the hot chocolate on the table in front of her before sitting down next to her and draping an arm over her shoulders.

“I thought you were going to come to bed,” he pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I just gotta… Read through what I have. Make sure it makes sense before I go to bed,” she didn’t look up from her laptop, but gave his leg a gentle pat.

“Want me to look at it?” he sipped his hot chocolate.

“Nah... “ she shut her laptop. “I think I’m beyond caring. It’s just my draft, right?” She put her laptop on the coffee table and picked up her hot chocolate, leaning back on her boyfriend.

“Right.”

“I mean it’s not like there’s going to be a group of twenty people reviewing it for clarity and meaningfulness in a couple of months! No!”

Adrien knew there certainly was going to be just that and that his girlfriend was about to start another stressed rant. “Mari-”

“Or! Or that if, I don’t know, a year down the line, if I hate my project idea, that I can’t just change my mind and work on something else! No, that’s-”

“Marinette.” He put down his hot chocolate.

“Definitely not what’s going to happen! I’m not stuck with my god awful ideas for another eighteen months and graduation isn’t on the line and-”

Adrien didn’t want Marinette to get lost in her stress spiral again, so he cut her off with a kiss, gently pulling her into him with the arm around her shoulders. Once she realized that he was distracting her and not interrupting, Marinette melted into him, holding her hot chocolate tightly so she wouldn’t spill it all over them. He pulled away after a moment, taking her mug from her hands and placing it on the table before kissing her again.

This kiss was much more insistent than the first, both Marinette and Adrien pushing themselves into one another. Adrien’s hands moved to be around her waist and he turned her slightly so he could push her back onto the couch, not breaking the kiss. He knelt between her legs as they wrapped around his back and her hands moved to be draped around his neck.

Before the kiss got too heated, Adrien pulled back a little, remembering what his original goal was.

“We should go to bed,” he said, trying to ignore the way her hands rubbed circles into his neck and hair.

Marinette hummed thoughtfully, looking up at him from behind her lashes, “So forward, Mr. Agreste.”

Trying to not let a blush take over his face, Adrien responded with, “No! No. I mean- Yes. But. Not now? I- You need sleep. Real, actual sleep with a pillow and no kissing.”

Marinette wasn’t even subtle when she started laughing at his sudden awkwardness. Adrien pouted, knowing he should be used to flirty remarks after dating her for years.

In an attempt to get back at her for throwing him off, Adrien reached under her as she continued to laugh and got a good hold on her thighs before sitting up and standing up with her still wrapped around his torso, making her give off a quiet squeak of surprise.

“Adriiiiieeeen I wanna keep kissing you,” she said as he carried her towards their bedroom. She made sure to make her point clear as she planted kisses all over his face and whatever else she could reach.

Adrien plopped her down on the bed and sighed tiredly as she refused to let go of him.

“We can kiss when you wake up, but I don’t want any more kisses until you have at least five hours in you,” he said in a falsely stern voice, giving a “serious” nod so she knew he meant business.

“Or you could put something else in me,” she whispered into his ear, tugging him closer.

Adrien let out a strangled gasp of surprise before pulling away harshly, making her let go of him, to which she flopped back on the bed with a dramatic sigh.

“You’re no fun,” she mumbled as she tugged the sheets over herself.

Adrien started climbing in on his own side after removing his glasses, shooing Shamrock off the bed as she let out a rebellious meow. “I just want a well-rested bug for my smooching pleasure, that’s all.”

Marinette sighed and snuggled into his chest once he was settled. “Can I at least get a goodnight kiss?” she asked with a yawn.

Adrien happily obliged and their lips met for a quick and chaste kiss before she tucked herself back into him.

“You know, you get kind of needy and grumpy when you’re this tired,” he said jokingly.

Marinette didn’t respond.

Worried he’d offended her, Adrien gently stroked her hair saying, “Hey, I was joking. It’s cute. I love you.”

No response.

Adrien went to say something else before he heard a tiny snore come up from below him.

With a smile, he let himself relax into the pillows.

“Sleep tight, little bug.”

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boyfriend-cal · 5 years

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The Jersey - Calum Hood

I still have one request in my inbox but this was in my drafts so don’t think I’m ignoring your request! I’ll get to it soon.

Description: In high school, it’s a fact that if you’re a guy on a sports team, a girl of your choice gets to wear your spare jersey to the game. What happens when the star player, Calum Hood, only has one game left in his soccer career and hasn’t given his to anyone, ever?

Word count: 3.1k

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+++

“Okay Cal, out of all the girls that ask to wear a jersey just to be petty, I’ve chosen one.” You sigh, leaning against the couch and looking behind it to where he’s standing.

You two go through this every week. Calum is #1 on the team and he’s the only guy who’s never given his jersey to anyone. Most guys on the team give them to their girlfriends or whoever they’ve been talking to that week. Others find girls that are only trying to wear one to make someone else jealous.

So many girls come up to you and Calum at school asking to be considered for this weeks game. He always took note of her name which led to this.

“What’s her name?”

“Ashley, the girl who came up to us after Chem a couple of days ago. I’ve asked around and as far as I know, she doesn’t have any issues with anyone else. You wouldn’t be caught in the middle with this one.”

That was really the point of the lists. Calum liked to stay out of the whole “wearing a jersey to make someone else jealous” situation. He’s not one for drama.

“Don’t like her. I’ll wait until next week to pick someone.” He says, uninterested. You roll your eyes at him and sigh.

Honestly, you should’ve given up a long time ago. And you would’ve, but Calum is the one who asks for these lists. It’s been 3 years now that you’ve made one for every soccer game there is, and he’s never said yes.

It’s a little bit frustrating, but you’re his best friend and you like to make him happy. For the first year or so you thought maybe you’d get to wear the jersey, maybe as like a default until he found a girlfriend he liked, but he never asked. Making the lists made you feel a little bit better about that though because if he didn’t want you to wear it you could pick someone that was good for him.

It didn’t stop him from always shooting it down. You’d worn a couple of other guys jerseys before and each time Calum would pout and say he was supposed to be the one you’re cheering on. You saved yourself from an argument and laughed it off.

“Next week is senior night, our last game. The most important.” I throw my notepad onto his coffee table and he pads over to collapse onto the couch next to me.

“I know. I’ll figure something out.” Calum pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through his Instagram feed.

“You don’t have to give it to anyone. Let your mom wear it or something.” You tuck your knees under yourself and pull a blanket around you.

“They’re giving us shirts for our parents to wear when they walk us out at the beginning.” He mumbles and you can tell something put him in a bad mood in the last five minutes because he wasn’t like this earlier.

“Okay well I’ve gotta go but I’ll see you in the morning. You good, Cal?” You pat his leg and wait a second for confirmation from him. All you get in response is “mhm” and a sigh.

You decide to leave anyway because if you stay and ask he’ll get defensive and you two already argued about something stupid earlier in the day. It wasn’t worth it.

The next days game was pretty uneventful because your school was projected to win by a landslide and they did. Seeing Calum happy and screaming with his team made you happy after this funk he’s been in for the last couple days.

He meets up with you at the fence and you let him know you’re going to skip out on the after party that you two usually go to together. After your goodbyes, you head home and look forward to actually sleeping in the next day. (A tradition you started, no one could bother you before noon every Saturday.)

And that’s why when several loud knocks ring through your house at 10am, you’re more than annoyed. Way past grumpy, you trudge down the stairs and swing open the door. You’re ready to tell this person off, but you can’t once you see Calum. He looks like he’s also just woken up. His hair is a mess and his hoodie sleeves are pulled over his knuckles.

“Calum? It’s not even 11am and you know I sleep on Saturdays so can we-“

“No, I need to come in now. I have a plan. I woke up and I needed to tell someone.” He lifts your arm that’s holding the door open but also preventing him from stepping inside.

By the time you turn around, you just barely see his feet disappearing at the top of the stairs. After you shut the front door, you yawn and amble after him.

Calum is sitting in the middle of your bed, a blanket draped over his shoulders and your notebook in front of him. When you get closer you realize he also has your favorite pen resting between his lips.

“Scoot over.” You grumble, pushing him a little bit so you can sit down too. Your head falls to his shoulder and you knuckle your eyes to keep from falling asleep.

“I have a plan for who I’m giving my jersey to for the last game and it’s going to be big. You want to hear it?”

You weigh your options as you realize this isn’t the first time you heard this. Last night at the game, you’d been sitting being some juniors talking about him but you hadn’t really paid attention because you figured it was just a rumor. News like that was passed around every week, yet he still hadn’t ever committed.

“Sure, who is it?”

“Not telling. Only you and Kyle will know the plan but no one gets to know who. So...”

Finally, Thursday came around again. Game days were Fridays but the day before was when the pep rallies and celebrations were. It didn’t make a lot of sense to anyone but the athletic coaches. They were the ones that insisted the soccer boys only attend three of their classes on game day and spend the rest of the time leading up to the event in the locker room or in the turf room.

You were happy that Calums plan was taking place today, but only because afterward, he’d stop talking your ear off about it. You tried not to be bitter, and you succeeded when he was around. When he wasn’t, it was a different story.

You really wanted to not feel bitter about it. You were his best friend, and of course he didn’t have a crush on you like you did him. It was easy to hide until something like this happened. You knew him better than anyone else, so why couldn’t he just let you wear the damn jersey to make you happy? Why couldn’t someone make a grand gesture like Calum was about to?

To be fair, you never asked because you didn’t want to make it seem like it was a big deal when you’d been telling him he didn’t have to give it to anyone for three years.

You were fine until you were in your elective that usually only freshman take, but since you needed an easy A you signed up anyway. Big mistake. She’d approached you with something like,” Oh, you’re Y/N?”

You’d replied, trying to be nice at first but losing all cool once she rolled her eyes. “You’re not thinking it’ll be you, right? He’s had three years to give it to you, what would make him want to know? I’ve seen pictures, you looked better back then.”

After that, it was hard not to think about it. Especially since that was the last class you had to attend before the pep rally. Calum was waiting outside afterward, just like he always was. He immediately noticed that you looked upset.

“Y/N? What’s the matter?” He pulled you to the side and away from the students filing out of the classroom.

“Nothing, but I think I’m going home. The pep rally isn’t really where I want to be right now.” You shake your head and his eyes immediately filled with worry. You kind of hate yourself for ruining his good mood.

“What? No. The plan takes place at the pep rally. You’re my best friend, and I need you there. Without you I can’t do it.” You knew what it looked like when Calum started to panic, and this was it. Wide eyes, hands holding tight to yours, fast breaths, he had it all.

“Okay okay. I’m standing by the door though, not sitting with the crowd. You’re going to do great anyway, with or without me.” You look him in the eyes and give his arms a squeeze before you turn both of you toward the gym.

“Fuck, it’s so nerve wracking and people have been talking about it all day. Kyle must’ve been a snitch. Maybe I shouldn’t do it.” Calum rambled nervously as you two made your way through the halls. This time, all eyes were on him much more than normal.

“No, you can do this. Come on, let’s go.” You tugged on his sleeve and got him to follow.

“Fine.”

We enter the gym and you give him one more reassuring look before you join your favorite teacher next to the door. Usually, only the teachers stand up, but she never minded hiding you with her.

Calum went to join the team on the benches at the side of the court. Your hands were sweaty now, what if the girl he chose said no? What if he got humiliated in front of the whole high school? You knew as his best friend that you needed to support him but you also had to prepare to do some damage control if something went wrong.

You’re almost knocked over by the cheerleaders entering the big room with the dance team following right after. The crowd of students immediately starts to get hyper, rustling in their seats and starting to scream and yell. It’s the biggest game of the season and it’ll be a close one. Your school has only beat your opponent once before.

You never were the biggest fan of the pep rallies, but you were Calum’s biggest fan which meant you had to be there to support the speech he always gave at the end. It wasn’t super important, just rallying up the students and telling them they need to come to support the boys the following night. He was good at capturing the attention of the whole crowd.

So just for him, you sat through the cheerleaders showing off their perfected competition chants and stunts, as well as the dance team doing their choreographed routine. A lump in your throat formed as you were getting closer to what you knew was coming.

“Now your captain, Calum Hood, will give his speech.”

You swore you could hear a pin drop as Cal stood up and took the microphone. Everyone was silent and waiting for what he was going to say. Or maybe just you were, not everyone else knew the plan. It felt like even your heart needed to take a deep breath.

“Let’s go Panthers!!” He screams, fist-pumping in the air. The crowd goes wild, everyone’s jumping and screaming “Go Panthers!” It’s a little bit ridiculous how excited everyone gets.

“Alright alright. You know how this goes, right? We need every one of you to come out and support us tomorrow! Students get in free and parents for only one dollar. Let’s show the Bison that we didn’t come to play!” Calum makes some kind of grunt or groaning noise and cheers erupt again. A smile starts to grow on your face because you notice how happy Calum is. This is the last time he’ll get to hype up the crowd. It’ll be passed to the next senior captain. Although, you didn’t think anyone was ever as good at it as Calum.

“Okay, just one last thing,” Cal raises an arm and points his index finger so everyone is quiet, “I’m sure you all know that I’ve been holding on to this for quite some time.”

He turns his back to the crowd and picks his spare jersey up from his seat. It’s the green one, your favorite. They get to wear the navy ones for home games. The crowd falls silent, everyone anticipating the next move. Even you feel your chest tighten.

“So I’ve decided that there’s only one person special enough to give it to. I apologize for not asking sooner, but Y/N, will you wear my jersey tomorrow?” Calum turns and looks directly at you. You feel like you have tunnel vision and you can’t see or hear anything other than him.

The teacher next to you has to push you forward a little bit to get your feet moving, but once they do they don’t stop. You might look silly running across the court, but it doesn’t matter because Calum’s smile is so big.

As soon as your bodies collide, he picks you up into his arms and spins both of you around. That’s when you hear it, the deep roaring sound of the team behind you hooping and hollering. Unbeknownst to you, everyone had been cheering for you and Calum (give or take the few jealous freshman girls). Everyone knew it was a long time coming and that now it was finally happening.

Finally, Calum sets you both down and you immediately take the jersey from his hands. “I hate you for making me sad all day because I didn’t think it was going to be me!”

You lightly shove his chest and he chuckles. “It’s always going to be you, Y/N.”

Then, from behind you, someone clears their throat and you realize that the principal is waiting for Calum to dismiss everyone like he always does. He looks at you before he brings the mic up to his mouth. “And for the last time from me...”

He holds the microphone between both of you and counts to three. “GO PANTHERS!”

Coming to the games was never hard because Calum was good at what he does. You love watching him. It doesn’t matter if he’s on the field playing and communicating with his teammates by calling out play names or if he’s got them in a huddle to hype them up.

Senior night is always emotional. The parents walk each boy onto the field to be introduced for the last time, and then when the game ends you all hold your breaths until the lights are shut out because it’s the last time you’ll ever be here as students.

At the last buzzer, indicating a Panthers victory, the field is flooded with students. Your senior class was one of the best. In the past, there had been classes that hated each other and never did any cool pranks because they couldn’t get along. Your class was the opposite. You were like a big family.

You got caught up in the crowd but soon realized everyone was forming the traditional “senior circle,” so you had to jump in line and wait to find Calum. Together, everyone rocked side to side while you all sang the school alma mater one more time. Even the soccer boys were crying.

As you sang, you scanned the circle to look for the one person you wanted to see. Finally, you found him, directly across from you. Calum smiles even bigger when he sees you and you think he winks at you but it’s a big circle and your eyesight isn’t the best.

The song comes to an end and cheers erupt from everyone around you. Emotion swells in your heart. There’s only one more semester of high school and then you’re out of here. On to bigger and better things.

Truth is, you didn’t know how it could get better than this. The girls next to you broke the chain by letting go of your hands and you took off for Calum. He was coming toward you also. You met smack dab in the middle of the field. You didn’t hesitate to jump into his arms and wrap your legs around his waist.

Calum is laughing underneath you and when you pull away you can see that his eyes are getting misty. You know you have tear trails down your cheeks but you just laugh with him. “You gettin emotional on me, Y/L/N?”

“Shut up. You know you’ll miss all of this.” Calum continues to hold you by the waist as you gesture around to everyone and everything.

“Damn right I will.” Calum sets you back onto your feet and steps back. His eyes trail you up and down and you raise your eyebrows. “Look at you in that jersey. I should’ve given it to you a long time ago, it looks better on you than it ever did me.”

You roll your eyes at him and reach up to hug him again. “You’re right, dumbass, I waited for three years.”

Calum’s shoulders shake with laughter because that’s all the two of you seemed to do when you were together, laugh. “Okay, I deserved that one.”

You didn’t notice that most people around you had turned to watch the two of you. You didn’t know that the whole soccer team had been teasing Calum about not being man enough to kiss you earlier, so they were all waiting for it to happen. It’s silent between you and Calum for a beat, but he starts talking again.

“I know it’s way overdue, but would you want to be my girl?” His cheeks are rosy but not from the game he just played. Your heart soars at him calling you “his girl.”

“Of course I would.” You smile and wipe at your cheeks that were cold now because your tears had dried.

Calum doesn’t say anything else, he leans down with his hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a kiss. You’d never spent a lot of time imagining what kissing Calum would be like, but it wouldn’t have been able to compare to this.

Whoops and hollers ring out around you and it only pumps you with more adrenaline than you already had. Calum is the first to pull away. “We might’ve won the soccer game, but you’re the best prize.”

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mystblbk · 5 years

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Chavela Valdes--Chapter 7

Valentina POV

The sounds of pens scratching on paper echoes in my new office. The wood paneling and hard chairs make no resistance to the echoing of my breathing or the tapping of my foot on the tile floor. My mind drifts off to long days in packed classroom and for once I wish to be inside one of those stuffy rooms than this bare office. I hear my office door open so I eagerly look up to my distraction. My hopes are broken when I see Renata comes in carrying another stack of papers in her hands. I roll my eyes as she comes to stop in front of my new desk with an encouraging and apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Miss Valentina. Mr. Guillermo asked me to bring you the final plans for next month’s meetings with the shareholders. He said he needs them ready and approved today so he can send them to Miss Eva for approval,” she explains with a shrug.

I nod and give her a forced small smile, “Thank you, Renata.”

“If it makes you feel any better, “ she smiles at me with a little shrug, “Miss Lucia kept up with her work fairly often so you have little else to do except review these papers.”

I smile at that, “Yeah. I feel bad for Mateo, he got the short end of the stick.”

Renata covers her mouth as she tries to hold in a laugh. Just as she moves her hand to speak, my desk phone rings and I look at it with a confused look. I glance at the secretary and with an encouraging look from her I pick up the phone with a little confidence.

“Bueno?”

"Hola hermanita. I have someone heading to my office in a few minutes. I’d like you to come with me to my meeting with them. They will be working with us for the foreseeable future and I’m sure you'll get along well."

I furrow my brows at my sister’s request but nod, “Sure. I’ll be there in a few minutes after I finish some reports.”

“Alright. Just walk in when you’re here."

With that, the call ends and I end up staring down at the phone in my hand with confusion. Eva rarely is ominous, she’s the type to burst into any situation with intentions on full display.

This could mean one of two things:

One: Something bad happened.

Two: She’s up to something and I’m at the end of it.

Two it is.

“Weird,” I mumble.

“Who was it,” Renata asks.

“Eva. She has a meeting right now that she wants me present for," I answer while hanging up the phone.

I look up to catch the older woman’s wide eyes filled with both annoyance and fear.

Renata shudders, “Good luck with that.”

I snort and start reading the new papers with a smirk, “I’ll take them to Guille myself, Renata. You get back to work so you can get out early for lunch."

“With your brother,” the secretary snorts herself, “I wish.”

I laugh as she walks out with a roll of her eyes. As I turn to the new papers my eyes catch the list of traditional Mexican cuisine the caterers would be setting up for the meeting. This leads me into a rabbit hole as my mind turns to a certain guitarist. I feel my heart speed up at the memory of her voice and sultry stare as she sang. The butterflies in my stomach suddenly die as I remember her anger and despair as she ran away after briefly meeting my family.

I sigh and try to focus on the task at hand, something that has been difficult all day as I have ended up think about Juliana in this same manner all morning. Luckily for me, my mind clears enough for me to work twenty minutes straight without disturbance. About five minutes later, I’m done reviewing signing the long drafts of guest lists and catering plans. With my hands full of papers, I walk out of my office and into the long hallway of executive offices.

“Miss Valentina?”’

I look at my secretary, Patricia, and just smile while waving the stack of papers in my hand. She looks at the papers then turns to the small sign next to my door. She flips the ‘In’ to ‘Out’ then continues her work. I take the small walk outside Guille’s office to Renata’s desk and hand her the papers. She thanks me and takes them, making sure to check that each signature is accounted. Once she’s checked, she places the appropriate stamps and I leave her to her work. I turn on my heel and walk through the long hallway, greeting back the secretaries and attorneys that I see on the way and make it to Eva’s office.

From outside the frosted glass door, I can see three figures inside. I furrow my brows and walk inside as directed. The second I step into the office I freeze as warm dark eyes look at me with apologies swirling in their depths. I'm too preoccupied with the young woman staring at me that I don't register my sister and stepmother sitting across from her.

—————————————————————.

Juliana POV

My eyes look up from my coffee cup to see the intruder to my chat with the Carvajal women. A tall slim figure dressed in a slim pencil skirt and flowing baby blue blouse stands by the door with wide azure eyes trained on me. I stare back at her. Our stare-down continues for an eternity until Miss Lucia coughs and Val walks in composing herself in a matter of seconds. I watch as the young woman turns around to close the door behind her, my eyes looking her over until they stop at…

"Juliana, I hope you don't mind my other guest."

I force myself to look away from the youngest Carvajal, attempting and failing at keeping a furious blush from appearing on my tan cheeks. My eyes connect with Miss Eva and I can see the mirth in her dark blue eyes. I desperately look away only to see that Miss Lucia is smirking into her cup of tea but also looking at me with the exact same look. I shift around in my seat and ignore three pairs of gorgeous eyes staring at me with various degrees of amusement.

I cough, choking on my spit, then shakily take my paper cup into my hands again. As Valentina comes to sit across from me and in between her two family members on the long leather couch, I drink the last ounces of coffee desperately in an attempt to not answer. But with the amount of sparkly gorgeous eyes trained at me, I force myself to answer.

"N-no. No probl--lem," I wince at my high pitch and then scold myself for answering in English.

Well, Juliana, at least now you know why you freeze up when pretty girls stare at you.

Nice job! Stand out even more, why don't ya?

SAY SOMETHING!

I stare down at my shoes until I sigh and look up at the three women. Their confusion and amusement is evident as I look at each of them. Their expressions change as I speak up again, this time full of regret and confidence. My eyes pass over each of them, connecting my eyes with theirs until I connect my stare with Valentina.

"I apologize for my behavior last week," I speak purposefully, "I’ve had a difficult time during these past months and I should not have allowed myself to take it out on your family. I’m usually good at keeping things to myself but--"

"Juls," Val cuts me off, "You don't have to apologize."

I blink.

I shake my head, "No. I do. I was rude. I ran off and did not explain myself. I--"

"Am an eighteen-year-old that suddenly has to provide for her family after a tragic accident," Miss Lucia cuts me off, "It’s alright, Juliana. What matters now is, are you alright?"

I continue to stare at the woman for a long moment. Finally, after receiving no answer, Miss Lucia reaches over and takes my hand gently. I feel my eyes water as her hazel eyes look at me with soft concern. My head whips away from them so I can try to compose myself.

"Fine," I whisper, "I’m fine now."

Someone sighs but I can't tell who. A second later, slim arms pull me into a warm hug and soft hair tickles my neck as their head takes the space between my neck and shoulder. The scent of wildflowers and chlorine hits my nose as I turn my head and see Val holding me in a warm embrace. Her crystal eyes stare up at me with warmth and kindness. I feel my blush come back as she smiles. A soft buzz of electricity passes through me as the embrace both excites me and soothes me. My eyes go to Val’s lips as she speaks and I force myself to listen to her speak. Luckily, I hear the tail end of her speech and hold onto that.

"If you need to talk. Lucia is a really good listener,” Val says with a bright smile.

I smile back, "What about you? Are you not a good listener?"

Miss Eva lets out a laugh and we all turn to look at her.

"Val? A good listener? A good talker, perhaps," the older sister chortles.

Val pouts and Lucia lets out a giggle. Val pulls away but takes my hand in hers as Miss Lucia and Miss Eva stand up to bring large binders over to us. A few minutes later, the coffee table at the center of the small sitting area is filled with binders and magazines. Val’s hand is warm and doesn't leave mine as the older women explain the photoshoot Miss Eva will be in. I nod along and write in the small notebook I brought with me as we talk about color pallets and clothing shapes. Before long, Val is involved by pointing out her sister's taste in dresses and shoes but also pestering her by giving her goofy looks and sticking her tongue out at her at odd intervals.

The one-hour meeting turns into two as the women start telling me stories of Mr. Carvajal and his tendencies to buy them the same clothes they posed in after their shoots. I smile as Val’s eyes sparkle as she describes her father with detail and clarity. Miss Eva and Miss Lucia grin and give small details along the way. I take note of their sad but happy expressions as well as their use of describing the mogul in the present, not the past. My heart squeezes and a sense of bitterness and longing taints my good mood.

I wish I had that.

I become quiet and stare at nothing. Thoughts of my ‘father’ and my past come to my mind and my hands turn into fists with each memory that resurfaces. I've pulled away from these thoughts as all three women read my mood and come to an agreement to end the meeting. Miss Eva stands and makes her way to her desk. A few buttons later and she’s chatting with her husband about lunch plans. Meanwhile, Miss Lucia looks between us then smiles warmly.

“You need food in you,” Miss Lucia says with a clap of her hands, “How about treating Juliana to lunch, Valentina?”

The youngest heiress pauses then eagerly nods to her stepmother. Bright hopefull blue eyes turn to me and freeze me in my spot.

“Do you want to come to lunch with me? I have to pick up some things for class this afternoon first. I don’t want you to be late for anything.”

I shake my head in a valiant attempt to wake up from her trance and answer, “No, Val. Today’s my off day. My mom is working at the restaurant though, so I do have to go home by ten or she’ll go Godzilla Mom on me.”

Val’s smile widens and she stands up abruptly, almost knocking off the binder in front of her, before leaning over to pull me up to my feet. I feel two pairs of eyes on me when Val directs me out of the sitting area and to stand by Miss Eva’s desk. I look over and see Miss Eva smile secretly before handing me a few papers. Without hanging up on Mister Mateo she speaks to me.

“Here is the schedule for the photoshoot and prep days. I have the interview two days before the photo shoot so you will need a week off. Is that okay?”

I look down at the schedule and count the number of days I won’t be working. I feel as if ice-cold water is being thrown onto me at the thought of letting my brothers down but remember Sal’s encouragement yesterday. With a small smile, I look up and nod.

“I’ll be fine ma’am,” I tell her, “No conflict whatsoever.”

Miss Eva smiles then turns pulls out a white key card and hands it to me, “This is the card for the media floor which is in the basement. I’ll meet you there on those days at exactly 7 a.m. Understood?”

I nod, “Yes ma’am.”

Miss Eva smirks at me then makes a ‘shoo’ motion, “Now then, go get lunch, children. Us real adults have work to do.”

Valentina’s response is to stick out her tongue at Miss Eva before pulling me along after her. As the door closes behind me, I see Miss Eva and Miss Lucia share a triumphant and knowing look. I have little time to process the exchange as Val is tugging me down the gaudy hallway and into another office, this one guarded by an older secretary. The woman looks to be close to her early forties. Her hair is mostly black but there are small strands of soft gray mixed in.

“Patricia,” Val calls out to the woman.

The woman looks up from her computer screen and smiles the Val.

“Yes, Miss Valentina?”

“This is Juliana,” Val says as she still holds onto my hand, “She’s allowed to enter my office any time she wants. Is that clear?”

The secretary looks at her boss with an odd look but nods, “Of course. I’ll make a note of it so security will allow her here.”

“Thanks,” Val says and she pulls me into her office.

“Thank you, Miss Patricia,” I call out as I’m pulled by sunshine personified.

The woman waves with an amused but confused smile until the office door prevents me from seeing her. I shake my head and turn back to the puppy-like girl running around her office. A small smile appears on my face until it grows into a large grin. Val’s constant chatter barely reaches my ears as I’m too busy watching her move around the clutter on her desk. She constantly glances at me as she goes about picking up her mess while picking up the things she’s going to take.

“I’m sorry Juls,” she sighs, “I’ve just started and this place is already a mess.”

I can’t help but laugh, “Well at least you admit it.”

Val narrows her eyes at me but the smile on her lips tells me its with humor. Seeing that Valentina needs help, I walk over to her and help her arrange the papers and folders thrown around her desk. The woman gives me a thankful push on the shoulder and I push her back playfully in response. Her soft laughter fills the baren office and I’m frozen in place as the sound somehow makes the muscles of my stomach twitch with glee. I make a mental note to make her laugh often so I can experience this feeling again.

Her laughter trails off and she suddenly becomes serious, “Are you sure you want to go get lunch together? I know Eva and Lucia said I should take you, but I don’t want to make you think you're obligated to.”

I stare at her for a second then speak up, “Oh? Uhm, yeah. I was actually going to invite you until Miss Lucia spoke up.”

This time Val blinks, “Invite me?”

I bite my lip and look down at my shoes. The image of Shia LeBeouf screaming to ‘Just do it’ plays in my head. My mind takes me to earlier this morning when Salvador called me. His words of wisdom and encouragement tip the scale in that direction. I breathe out forcefully then look up to meet Valentina's eyes. I feel my pulse still in fear but I force my mouth open to speak.

“Yes. I wanted to invite you. But not to lunch,” I take a deep breath, “I wanted to ask you out on a date, Valentina.”

The room is enveloped in silence as Val stares at me with wide eyes. I force myself to stare back in an attempt to read her emotions. I see surprise then excitement and finally giddiness as her plump lips from a barely held back smile.

“A date,” she bites her lip with upturned corners, “As in a date date?”

I can’t help but smirk and her adorableness, “Yes. A datedate.”

“Are you sure,” her brows furrow this time in hesitance.

I look into her eyes and Salvador’s words of wisdom echo in my ears:

“Carla gave her your number. Anita and the other servers said she had googly eyes all throughout our performance. Dios mío, Juliana! She came here Saturday to see if you were performing! Take a hint, hermana!”

“I like you,” I explain while reaching out to take her hands in mine, “Like a lot. Which I know is odd since we just met but I honestly can’t stop thinking about you. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same but I wanted to ask you out anyway. I hope you don’t mind.”

She shakes her head and her expression changes from hesitant to relieved, “I like you too Juls.”

I blink.

“You-you do?”

Val smiles and nods her head. My face contorts to a large grin that I can feel my dimples appear. Valentina giggles and leans forward to press her forehead against mine. My eyes don’t close as she opens her mouth to speak.

“I’d love to go out with you, Juliana.”

A thrill fills my soul, “Really?”

She nods again.

“Good.”

“Perfect.”

We stare at each other until we break apart and the sound of laughter fills the baren office again. Still shaking from laughter, the older girl pushes my shoulder again and I grab onto her wrist before she can move away again. Val takes this as an invitation and ends up hugging me again as before on the couch, the difference now is the non-existent distance between our bodies. Her hands are now grabbing onto the edge of my jacket while my left-hand ends up at the small of her back. My other hand moves on its own to run my fingers through her soft locks. This gets her attention and my breath catches. Her clear eyes, now staring into mine, are now clearer to me than ever before. I count the shades of blue and white, the color reminding me of ocean waves and blue Texas skies.

“Estas hermosa.”

The words slip out of my lips without thought but I don’t regret it as Val’s soft peach skin turns pink with a blush. The girl then hides her face in the space between my neck and shoulder. I grin at the action and mentally fist pump at getting her flustered. I close my eyes and bask in our closeness. A rumbling against my chest makes me pull away to hear her speak. My eyes connect with her’s and she answers with a deeper blush appearing on her face.

“No como tu.”

“I thought you were rich,” I whisper.

Val looks at me with confusion and I grin at her.

“If you were so rich like all the magazines claim, you would own a mirror and see that you’re clearly the pretty one out of us two.”

My sweet talking is rewarded with a kiss on my chin and a deep blush that reaches the tip of my ears. The impact is so severe that I completely don’t see Val grabbing her things and pulling me towards the door. I finally wake up when the elevator doors close in front of us and Val is talking again.

“What are you craving, Romeo?”

I blink then smirk at her. Val raises an expectant brow and I answer with a stereotypical Texan accent.

“That’s Chavela Valdes to you, Miss Carvajal."

#amaramuerte #juliana valdes #juliantina #valentina carvajal #fanfiction

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queerchoicesblog · 5 years

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Wedding Photos (TF Series, Kaitlyn x MC)

So, lovelies, I start the Choices March Challenge (hosted by the one and only @meeraaverywalker ❤️) with a Kaitlyn x MC fanfic requested by @marmolady : hope you won’t be disappointed, darling!

I’m not sure I’m good at writing weddings so I tried to convey the atmosphere of that very special day through “photographs” and cameos of the TF series characters (which I kinda miss!).

So years later their graduation, Hayley (MC) and Kaitlyn reminisce their wedding day...in the company of a little new “companion”!

Prompt: Wedding(s)

Word Count: 1462

Perma tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @psychopathdreamer21 @abunchofbadchoices @bbaba-yagaa @silverhawkenzie @begging-for-kamilah @melodyofgraves @bhavf

Kaitlyn Tag: @zoe6111

___________________________

“Mommy what this?”

Lily asked out of the blue. The cute little Chinese girl Hayley and Kaitlyn adopted a couple of years ago was sitting on the couch beside one of her moms. She kept playing with Hayley’ s hair while the writer was reading the draft of a new project. The little girl eyes were caught by a photo album opened on the small table nearby so she reached for it with her tiny hands.

“Hmm?” Hayley said absentmindedly before noticing what Lily was up to. She immediately dropped her draft and helped the little one with the album.

“Hold on, love, let me help you with this! It’s heavy, huh?”

“Yep heavy!” Lily giggled as Hayley adjusted the album on her lap and put an arm around her little shoulders.

“Do you know what’s this, Lily? How is it called?”

“Abum!” the little girl cheered.

“It’s an album, yeah! And who are those girls?” Hayley asked pointing to a photo of her and Kaitlyn posing for the camera in their wedding dresses and barely containing their happiness.

Lily furrowed her brows as she concentrated to find the answer. The look on her face was so adorable that her mom felt the urge to plant a tender kiss on her cheek.

“Mommies! They’re mommies??” the little girl gaped in awe when the realization struck and a huge smile formed on her lips.

“That’s right, love!” Hayley confirmed in the softest tone.

At that very moment, Kaitlyn made her way into the living room.

“Straight from the kitchen a yummy bowl of perfectly sliced fresh fruit for baobei!” she announced triumphantly, taking a seat on the couch too.

Lily cheered and started bumping up and down.

“I bet she’s waiting for your fruit song, Kait” Hayley giggled.

“No fruit song now, Lily hungry!”

And she almost pounced over Kaitlyn to grab a strawberry.

“Hey, hold your horses, cowboy” Kaitlyn laughed “See? Momma got a spoon...” she added feeding Lily.

That’s when she noticed the album on Hayley’s lap.

“Oh sorry I forgot about it, I was just having a look and-”

“Aww did you miss me that much when I was at the Montreal Book Fair last week?”

Kaitlyn smiled apologetically.

“I always miss you when you’re not around, Hayley”.

She tried to lean closer to her wife but Lilly shrieked excitedly pointing to the album.

“Nana Maueen!”

The photo she was looking at portrayed Maureen smiling and lifting a rainbow cocktail to the camera.

“Indeed she is, baobei!” Hayley chuckled “If I remember well she even had a couple of those! And where are the other-”

“Papa Steph!” Lily pointed to a shot of Hayley’s dad wiping away a tear. “But...papa sad? Why?”

“Oh no, he wasn’t sad, sweetie!” Kaitlyn corrected her “Sometimes you can cry because you’re so happy too. Like...like when someone tickles you or when momma is back and you hug her tight because you missed her so much!”

Lily nodded and turned back to the album, chewing one of her beloved strawberries. Kaitlyn turned to Hayley:

“Talking of tears, it’s so weird that we haven’t one with my dad crying! He cried so much that day”

“Oh and I remember we shedded our fair amount of happy tears too! My voice kept cracking as I pronounced my vow”

“Awww you were so freaking cute, you made me cry too! A match made in Heaven!”

“Nana Grace and Papa Peter” Lily interrupted them when she spotted a picture of them posing with a younger Kaitlyn.

“They coming? Tomorrow?” she added expectantly.

“Next week, baby, they’re coming next week!” Hayley answered, stroking her daughter’s back and letting her bright eyes drift to the album once more.

As Kaitlyn and Lily leafed through its pages, all the memories of that day in Northbridge, almost a year after their graduation, came back to her: the butterflies in her stomach when her mom woke her up that morning, the soft and proud look her father gave her as he offered her his arm, the big hug Grace pulled her in as she spotted her...and the joy and the love she felt bursting inside her chest as she stood beside Kaitlyn. She absentmindedly stroke her wedding ring with her thumb as she reminisced the moment when she finally kissed her wife. From that day on Hayley took the habit to leave notes to Kaitlyn with the sappy rhyme “To my wife, the love of my life”.

When she snapped out of her own train of thoughts, she looked at Kaitlyn and Lily giggling over a funny shot. It was a picture of Rico (who was now a high school honor student) smearing cake all over his face making Gabriela and Zig lose it.

“Hey Hayley, we should show this to Rico! I bet he doesn’t remember it” Kaitlyn commented skimming through the pics.

Hayley smiled at the thought: Rico was basically a nephew to her and he made her promise to help him write his valedictorian speech if he managed to get that far. Gabriela soon became one of the greatest supporters of Hayley and even a co-worker when James convinced them both to help him write the script for a documentary on the life and work of Enrique Vasquez.

Gabriela was also the one who got Hayley’s bouquet: there was a shot of her bowing to the crowd holding it firmly in her hand. They paired that photo with one of the unsinkable Becca Davenport gaping at Kaitlyn’s one landing in her arms.

Hayley smiled fondly at the other pics Lily was pointing with her tiny finger: a stolen shot of James and Reyna slow dancing, Rachel trying to teach some dance moves to Grace and Maureen, Zack holding a panel “From Hayley’s wingman to Hayley’s best man’” beside an oblivious bride looking the other way, Abbie posing with their kitten Cinnamon, Madison kissing Becca on the cheek, Darren and Amara smiling at her camera, Annisa straightening Chris’ bowtie and...Peter and Stephen improvising a duet on the stage.

Oh that moment! She still remembered when Kaitlyn ran to her and pointed her finger towards the stage.

“Oh my god, Hayley look!”

Their dads stood there: Stephen was adjusting an acoustic guitar over his shoulder as Peter checked the mic.

“Kaitlyn, I’m sure you play this better than me” Hayley’s dad joked addressing the audience “But how do they say? It’s the thought that counts?”

The crowd laughed and Peter spoke:

“I really hope so, Stephen! It’s been a while since my last public performance...basically a life ago! But you know, this fine man and I were talking earlier and we had this idea of singing for you”

A loud “awwww” raised from the audience and the newlyweds held each other tighter.

“It’s a special day for you and...for us as well! So Kaitlyn, Hayley” he turned to Stephen and they said at unison “our amazing girls, this is for you!”

Stephen took a step back and stroke the guitar.

“We...we truly hope that we were good dads for you” Peter said into the mic, his voice flicking “and that you will always remember what we tried to teach you. Especially that in the end, all that matters, all you need...is love”

And he started singing the Beatles' song as Kaitlyn buried her face in the crook’s of Hayley's neck.

“Hey love, do you that papa Peter sang a song to us that day?” Hayley said, gently stroking Lily’s head.

The little girl turned to her then to Kaitlyn and cheered.

“Papa sang? I want Papa sing again!”

“We can do even better, baobei: why not a papa and momma Kaitlyn duet?” Hayley suggested, throwing a conspirational look at her wife as Lily shrieked!

“Papa and momma duet!! Momma pleeeasee?” she begged, hugging her mom.

Kaitlyn smiled adoringly down at her and put her arms around her tiny body.

“How could I say no to you, love?” she agreed, planting a kiss on the top of her little girl’s head.

As she cherished that embrace, her mind went back to the end of that day: when the wedding party was winding down, her father approached her on the balcony over the bay. He put wrapped an arm around her shoulders and they both looked at the venue.

After a while, her inhaled and said:

“Well this was not what I planned when I fantasized about my baobei’s wedding”

Kaitlyn turned her head to him.

“Dad...”

Peter looked down at her, his face brightened by a big smile.

“And I’m glad of it because this was a thousand times better”

He kissed her forehead and hold her tight.

“Just promise your ol’ man that you and Hayley will visit us every now and then”.

#choicesmarchchallenge #the freshman series #kaitlyn x mc #kaitlyn liao #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices fanfic

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secretshinigami · 5 years

Text

all right, here goes nothing

Author: @hazblogs For: @weneedtotalkaboutdeathnote Pairings/Characters: Mello/Matt, Mello/Near, Mello, Near, Matt, L Rating/Warnings: T, mention of dermatillomania Prompt: An Au where L defeated Kira, grew older, and basically disappeared. Older Mello (mid 20sish, now a detective) follows a lead that takes him to the washed up L. Author’s Notes: nyello !!!!! after all this time i’m very proud to announce that my gift is here !!! i really hope you like it and that everyone else will too. i had lots of fun !!! have a good day everyone

The recorder makes some shitty ass noise before working, but that’s all xe has, so xe makes it work.

All right, here goes nothing.

“I never imagined I would be alive to tell you this. From the most crack ass place of the Earth, nowhere in Argentina, here’s Mello, also known as the second fucking best detective in the world, and I’m here to report on-”

There’s some background bang that makes xem stop. Xe rereads xer intro one last time, waiting for the noise to subside, and then, xe gives up and gets out that crap laptop from xer backpack and starts typing again. The room is dimly lit, and moss grows on the exposed beams, there are probably termites eating at them.

If xe’s right about this, it could be the most important discovery in the detective world since the fall of Kira.

It’s been… twelve years or so. Mello still remembers what xe did when the news broadcast announced that Light Yagami was dead (xe was cat-fighting Matt for a place closer to the TV) and xe remembers the intolerable feeling of dread that seized xem. “That’s it. We’re all useless now,” was what xe thought, and it’s been half disproved by the years, but the feeling lingers.

Something is making noise again, an awful lot of noise, and – fuck, someone is trying to break in again, aren’t they. Mello grabs xer crowbar and directs a lazy but wary gaze towards the door. It finally flings open, and. Oh yeah. It’s Matt.

“Mells, fuck you,” he says without missing a beat, “I’ve been under the rain for like, fifteen minutes, couldn’t you just come and see who was trying to enter ?”

“Easier to let ‘em come and take ‘em out when they’re already in. That way I don’t get wet,” Mello answers, and Matt makes an indignant noise of protest, before giving up entirely and walking away to shower.

The little house they’re renting on the Argentinian coast is big enough to have three rooms, and they’ve been staying there for some days now, thanks to Wammy’s insufferable donations. Not that they couldn’t afford it by xemself but xe’s been… spending xer money, lately. More than usual.

Matt is back half an hour later, naked – because he knows Mello fucking hates it – and he lingers on the back of the couch long enough to peep at what Mello is typing, before getting a new set of clothes. It’s not exactly warm inside, though it’s far from freezing, and xe sits tightly wrapped in a blanket.

“Any new stuff ?” Matt asks.

“Nope,” xe says, and xe sighs. The leads have been cold for a little while now, not long enough for it to despair, but enough to make xem worry xe is losing track of xer most important witnesses. Though, it’s been weeks since xe has been on that case, and it’s been nothing but one cold shoulder after the other.

“Gimme that computer and go get something to eat,” Matt ends up saying around dinner time, and xe knows it’s only to read more of this… second novel, if you can call it that. Xe isn’t a good writer by any means, though xe thinks xe got better over the years, and this is only a shitty first draft, full of plot bunnies and incoherent rambling. Matt should also not be allowed to read anything on xer newest lead, until xe knows for sure it’s not a sham. Last time was enough.

They end up shutting the laptop off, squeezing both their asses on the small couch, and eating microwave chili with a single spoon. Two adult-sized kids, grown up too fast, looking for old gods under the rain.

My first lead was a woman named Naomi Misora. If you’ve read my previous work, you should know about her – she is the one who helped L solve the Los Angeles BB murder case. She died during the Kira case, however her suicide note contained deeply important information revealed that she had try to contact L before she died. What prevented her ? What are the circumstances of her death ? It seems that her husband Raye Penber was one of the FBI agents sent to chase Kira in Japan, and that after his death she simply wouldn’t go on living decided to commit suicide for an unknown reason. This is not consistent with the person L had described to me, which is why I went to such great lengths to get this letter from her living relatives.

I was disappointed not surprised at the contents of the letter. She did not have any information about where L could be, and hadn’t been contacted by him after the BB murder case, even though she had quit the FBI to become a consultant and eventually a stay at home fiancée. She did manage to mention, though, that she met several people, through the course of her career as a consultant, that claimed to have been helped by L.

This is where my investigation begins.

“So you say you have no idea why L helped you ?” Mello asks, slightly bored. And infuriated. And close to getting up and walking away from this shitplace.

The old woman lives in a hole-in-the-wall, next to a supermarket and a church, and probably only leaves her crappy residence to go to both those locations. Her house is however surprisingly decorated with a fully reconstructed human skull.

Mello would like to insist on the “reconstructed” part – it appears to have been smashed in a hundred pieces, and glued back together before being varnished. It has long since turned yellow, and will probably crumble at the lightest touch. Xe won’t try to grab it, though holding a supposedly real human skull has its charm.

“I don’t, young lady,” she answers, and Mello has to stifle a laugh – it’s been a while since people mistook xem for a girl, but xe guesses the long hair is a disguise enough. “I simply know my husband died in his boat and next, I was contacted by this old woman on the phone who said the greatest detective in the world would like to help.”

Her husband was killed by the English military for getting too close to the Falklands with (as they said to her, after L’s investigation) threatening weaponry: a fishing rod, five knives and a standard rifle. She is the last person to have heard from L in an investigation context, and her help is invaluable. Mello can’t help but feel absolutely cheated.

This is what L was doing ? Seven years ago, before his unofficial retiring, helping this old woman solve the death of a husband she was the only one to mourn was probably the last thing on his mind. Why do it then ?

Matt thinks he knows what this is about. He thinks, and Mello is directly quoting him there, “that you’re looking for L because you never solved any-fucking-thing that he couldn’t have solved, and if you manage to outsmart him, then maybe for once you’ll stop being a bitter little bitch”. Touché, xe had thought, but also, fuck you.

An hour later, Mello exits the house with the feeling that xe is a tiny step closer to unravelling the truth. Xe has a clue – an address in southern Italy. It’s no longer useful to stay in Argentina, thankfully, the weird winter was starting to get on xer nerves. Matt will probably be happy he can go back to England now that his tracking devices aren’t needed.

Xe just hopes this isn’t another false hope.

I went to the police department of Los Angeles looking for the archives of the BB murder case. One of the things Beyond Birthday requested during his stay was a speech-to-text device that he could use with his damaged arms, presumably to write his memoirs. What if there were clues as to L’s whereabouts ? Anything about his past that could get me to where he is now ?

A few days in, I realised my mistake. The memoirs were a series of names and numbers, accompanied with notes as to what appeared to be a suspected cause of death. Most of the names at the beginning I did not know, but for some pages there was a list I recognised as the birthnames of Wammy orphans. This deduction I was able to make seeing my name and Matt’s – and one name I guessed was Near’s. L’s real name, is L.

L Lawliet.

This name was supposed to be my biggest lead – even my former place of residence could be tracked down using my birthname, which is the reason why I keep it a secret, and the Kira investigation showed the importance of this secrecy.

There is nothing, not a single clue, tying L back to his name. He has, for all intents and purposes, no existence under the name Lawliet as I have none under mine, we are for all society but black holes with no ID numbers.

At first comforting, the thought came to be troubling. What if we don’t exist.

The town has its charm, xe have to admit. Matera is a small-ish city looking down on a gorgeous landscape, that has nothing to envy to the beauty of Rome and its cathedrals. It feels… so foreign, so fucking weird, to imagine L sitting at the terrace of café eating ice-cream.

He probably isn’t even here. He probably set never foot in this town. Mello is probably knocking on the door of some stranger right now, and the person opening definitely isn’t someone xe has seen before.

“Cosa posso fare per te, signorina?” asks an old lady with an incredible wig and hands that could definitely strangle a chicken. She seems partially deaf from the way she angles her head, so Mello takes on his strongest normal voice to answer, “Un giovane uomo vive qui?”

“Maestro L, qualcuno ti sta chiamando !” she yells back, and xe has to do a double take to make sure xe didn’t mishear.

He’s here.

A man in his thirties, with dark bags under his eyes. Standing hunched, almost like he’s afraid. Biting on his thumb, and looking at xem without any spark in his eyes.

After all this time looking for him, Mello doesn’t know what to say.

“Cosa vuoi, Laetitia,” he asks eventually, eyeing Mello with deep-seated fatigue.

“La signorina qui ti sta chiedendo,” the old woman answers, and she leaves without giving xem another glance.

They spend a minute or so looking at each other, trying to decide who will make the first move. L looks ready to slam the door in xer face, and his eyes are still so fucking empty – it’s almost frightening.

“Wait,” Mello eventually says as L reaches for the doorknob.

“What do you want,” he asks, voice deeper than xe remembers. “I’m not letting any clients in.”

“I’m not a client,” xe says petulantly, forgetting about the world around them. For a moment xe is thirteen again, looking up at L with stars in xer eyes and wondering what they did to deserve meeting him.

“Do I know you ?” L says, almost wondering aloud. “Your face looks familiar.”

This snatches the words out of Mello’s mouth. So… he doesn’t remember xem. Has xe changed that much ? Xe doesn’t think so, and even then, it’s L xe is talking about, he would remember xer face had he seen xem an infant.

What is happening ?

A thousand pleas die on xer tongue.

L sighs, and closes the door.

I don’t even fucking know what to write in here. This is entry 37 of this journal and I have absolutely nothing to write because L has gone insane and isn’t recognising me and he locked the door in my face. I don’t know if I’m furious or scared or just super tired of it all.

It was so useless in the end I can’t even believe I thought it’d be useful.

Mello hates xemself for not thinking about what xe would do in case this failed.

Well. Rather, in case this succeeded. What did xe think would go on ? A familial reunion ? Talk about a cliché. That would never happen, not with L as xe knew him, so… what exactly was xe hoping for ?

When xe is in doubt, xer first reflex is to call Matt. He always knows what to say, but right now, Mello needs something else (xe can hear him, drawling voice and all, “What did you expect, Mells, just give it up”. This is not what xe needs right now).

Xe calls Near.

Xe forgot xe had his number, but xe does, and it rings once before Near answers the call.

“It’s five in the morning, Mello.” ‘What the fuck’ is implied but not said, and xe appreciates the efforts Near makes not to get on xer nerves.

“You’re in Japan, I forgot.” Xe didn’t. “I…”

“You found him. Matt told me.” Near’s voice is small, tired and still somehow bored, but he knows how important this is for xem, so he settles back on whatever chair he was in and probably starts twirling his hair, a habit he never grew out of.

“He’s a complete dumbass,” Mello seethes. Xe can’t help it, it all goes pouring out. “He didn’t recognise me. And before you tell me it’s something he came up with so I’d leave him alone, no, he really didn’t. I could see it. He really fucking didn’t know who I was, Near. He looked at me like he’d never seen me before and he asked if he knew me. I can’t do it, Near, fuck. I don’t know what I wanted out of this but…”

“But that’s not it,” Near quietly adds, “yeah, I understand.” He heaves a sigh, before going on. “I knew he lived there.”

For a split second, Mello’s vision whites out with fury. “What the fuck. I spent weeks on this.”

Near sighs again. “And what for ? You didn’t even get a pat on the back.” Scratching sounds, the ruffling of white pyjamas, a yawn. “Sorry, that was rude,” Near says, not sounding sorry at all. “I know how important this was for you. Maybe you should try to go back, see if now he recognises you. His memory can’t be that bad.”

Mello huffs haughtily, not ready to admit defeat and make the first step. L will reach him if he wants to. Which is fucking never.

Xe doesn’t know if xe is ok with that.

Maybe Near is right.

“Ok, say I contact him. What do I even say,” Mello asks.

“You try and make friends, I thought you were good at it. Say you’re a fan. That’s not too far off the truth.”

Near has to be joking. A fan ? Xe would literally rather die. Once again Mello is submerged by the hopelessness xe felt when Kira died. In truth, xe knew Near would survive this. Near would prevail because he was godless, had no icons, no one to look up to. This battle of giants was not what his life had at stake.

Mello on the other hand, would stay in L’s shadow all xer life. Had, actually. Second rate detective, xe was, if xe was honest with xemself.

Fuck.

“I’ll just.” It’s Mello’s turn to sigh. “I’ll just let you sleep, Near,” xe says. “Thanks for listening to me.” This does not leave a bitter taste on xer tongue at all. “I’ll catch you later so you can tell me about stuff.”

“I didn’t even know you had my number,” he answers, “you’re probably blocking me right after this call.”

“Yeah, right,” Mello says. “Fucking true. Still. Have fun or whatever. You’ll pay me back for not telling me where he lives.”

“I have,” Near cryptically says, and he hangs up.

The doorbell rings.

I have received a package from a friend a business acquaintance, containing pictures and files about what L has done since retiring seven years ago. It is filled with mundane things such as crumpled grocery receipts, pictures of L sleeping in various locations and orders to have a giant washing machine built in his new house. What for I don’t know, since L barely seems to change clothes.

One thing that struck me was the date of Watari’s death. It was eight years ago, and he apparently died in his sleep of natural causes. I wonder how L took it. It must have had an impact on L’s detective abilities, as the Kira case was to my knowledge the only one where he revealed his face to associates during the case instead of speaking through the phone or through Watari. Had he found ways to interact with the world outside of his comfortable little bubble ?

It doesn’t seem like it. Barely a year after Watari’s death, L was ceasing all detective activity on international soil, solving only one minor police squabble in Wales before retiring to this little town in Italy. Did he lose his mind most of his field of action because of Watari’s death ?

I have another theory. L got bored. He stopped his detective work out of sheer fatigue, tired of never facing a foe as formidable as Kira. Tired of the never-ending squabbles for glory humans have, when he tasted the power of a wannabe god. No one will be as interesting to him as Kira and this destroyed him.

I know this because no one will be as interesting to me as L and

Xe stays in Matera for a little while. Not purposefully trying to cross L’s path, but not avoiding him either, rather, staying in this grey (dark) area where xe avidly goes to every place L might have been seen at times of the day he might be there, while telling xemself xe is totally not hoping they’ll meet. They kind of try to cross his path, ok.

Near’s pictures prove to be faithful. L can be seen helping Laetitia, his babysitter (for lack of a better word), do grocery shopping, or perusing market stalls. He can be seen drinking coffee on the little plaza and – this surprises Mello a great deal – going to church. Xe had never pegged L as a religious guy, not in the same sense as xem, but he doesn’t seem to go there out of devotion rather than out of the compulsive need to get out of the house as much as possible.

Near’s pictures also are useful, inasmuch as Mello is not surprised to see L gnawing at his fingers, pulling at his hair, scratching his leg over his jeans until it bleeds. He has dark circles under his eyes, worse than before, and the light in his room almost never goes off. He barely eats anything other than candy, though Mello sees Laetitia coax him into buying a sweet potato, something she does often judging by how easily L cedes to her demands, and… Mello thinks he gets a clearer picture.

Never meet your idols if you’re not ready to see them crumble under your baffled eyes, xe thinks bitterly.

There’s no point in staying in Matera any longer after xe realises this. Xe leaves at dusk, because xe loves a good theatrical exit. The only thing xe is not sure of is where to go. Matt says he’s busy but that his house is open, Near’s number is long gone from xer contact list – not that xe doesn’t know it by heart, but it’s the symbolic gesture that counts.

Xe errs here and there, going back to Wales for a short while before leaving for Sudan. Xe spends weeks there working on unveiling some of the horrors of the civil war, excruciating work that xe is not sure xe will ever do again. Months pass. Summer turns into autumn, and into winter again, like in Argentina.

Xe receives a message.

It’s from Near. He’s asking for advice. Which isn’t strange, he’s done that before, but Mello never answered and just changed xer number, though that never seemed to stop him.

This time, Mello answers.

There’s nothing like losing someone to make sure you’ll remember those who stay.

#fanfiction #submission #hazblogs #weneedtotalkaboutdeathnote #meronia #melloxmatt #death note #mihael keehl #nate river #mail jeevas #l lawliet #mello #matt #near #dermattillomania #ratings: teen #Demegawa-chan's Sakura TV Special 2019 #m #n

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argylemikewheeler · 6 years

Note

because of an argument, will and mike haven’t spoken in months and it’s tearing them both apart. mike does something to fix things..

this is just straight sappiness. no apologies. young boys being soft and loving needed to be written

There were so many better things Will could have been doing other than sitting on his family’s couch, pouting his entire day away. Will had been staying at home, going between his room, the kitchen, and the living room for longer than he was willing to admit. He had nowhere else to be. No one else to see. Summer before going to high school and he was spending the best weather on his couch, arms crossed and staring at the same few comic books; he didn’t have it in him to bike to the comic book store. He didn’t want to run into anyone.

“Will.” Jonathan also happened to be home more often since he had started working freelance with a local newspaper, which Will wished wasn’t the case. “You can’t sit on the couch again today.”

“Watch me.”

“What? You’re just going to spend your entire summer vacation in our house?” Jonathan laughed, coming in from the kitchen with, strangely enough, a mug of hot tea. Will moved away from the steam, it already making him sweat. “What about the guys? I haven’t seen them in a while! And… what’s her name? Mel? Max! I haven’t seen her and El in ages either!”

“I don’t feel like hanging out today.” Will muttered.

“You say that every day.” Jonathan reasoned, sipping from his mug. “I’m beginning to think you guys had a huge fight.” He laughed into his mug, but Will pursed his lips, trying to keep his story to himself. Jonathan waited for Will to laugh too, to deny the joke, but his silence made Jonathan take a long, awkward sip of his tea. “Oh.”

“I don’t really want to see them right now.” Will said, sighing. “I’m mad at Mike.”

“Mike? What happened there?” Jonathan asked, quickly leaning forward to put his mug on the coffee table. “I thought you guys were going really well!”

“I thought so too.” Will said softly, picking at his shirt hem.

“What happened? Talk to me.” Jonathan said, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Did he say something to you?”

“No.” Will grumbled.

“Will.” Jonathan said again, nudging his side. “What’s going on?”

Will didn’t want to articulate it to anyone except his reflected grimace over the bathroom sink. He and Mike had all but a screaming match in his basement the other day. Will had experienced a sudden traumatic episode, all of it a hallucination but all of it feeling real all over again. Will had gone to Mike’s house to try and take his mind off the nightmares loitering in his bathroom sink and crawling up to his hands, only to find Mike trying to pick a fight. Mike was short with him, telling him to keep his voice down when he was speaking barely above a whisper. Will hadn’t told Mike why he had come over by the time he started yelling, asking Mike if he was quiet enough for him. It was childish, foolish, and embarrassing. Will didn’t know who he was more upset with, Mike or himself, so he chose punishing himself on the couch in the time it took him to make up his mind.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” Will said under his breath.

“When’s the last time you talked to Mike?” Jonathan asked, as if trying to suggest that time had healed the wound already.

“Uh…” Will had to think about it. It was August. Last time he spoke to Mike was within the weeks following the last bell he’d hear in Hawkin Middle. “June?”

“What?” Jonathan sputtered, nearly spitting at Will even though his tea was still on the table. “Will. That’s the entire summer! What have you two been doing!”

“Sitting here.” Will said, motioning to himself and his things scattered around the couch. “I can recite this entire X-Men now… That’s cool, I guess.”

“Get up.” Jonathan said firmly, grabbing Will’s arm. “You have to get out of the house.”

“No.” Will said, pulling away from Jonathan. “I don’t want to.”

“William.”

“Jonathan.” Will said back. “Leave me alone. Please.”

“When Mom gets back from work, I’m going to tell her you’ve been moping around for months. She is going to drag you out by your ears.” Jonathan said. “Better do it yourself.”

“I’ll think about it.” He sighed.

Will wanted to go outside, he wanted to go over to Dustin’s house or go see Lucas and see his sister who just happened to like Will over any of the other boys. He wanted to leave, but that meant maybe running into Mike. Will didn’t know if he was ready to face their argument– what if they would just start fighting again? Seeing Mike would mean that Will might have to come to terms with the fact that they weren’t friends anymore. They had broken up in a rash of angry words and hot tears. Will would rather be in silence than sit with the truth.

Jonathan leaned back into the couch with his mug of tea, sipping it purposefully louder than usual, trying to force Will to get up from the couch. Will picked up his comic book again and began reading it backwards, trying to pronounce the new words. They were in a standoff, Will trying to speak over Jonathan’s obnoxious sipping while he kept chugging, trying to keep the other from winning. Neither though had it in them to be louder than the rapid knocking at the front door.

“I’ll get it.” Will volunteered, trying to use it as an excuse to stand from Jonathan if only for a moment without forfeiting; he wasn’t going outside. He was just going to stand in the doorway, get the mail, and enjoy the summer breeze. It would be a lift from Will’s punishment, if only for a moment. “Coming!” Will answered to the continued knocking. The mailman was apparently more impatient than usual– and the dog wasn’t even on him yet.

Will swung the door open and nearly slammed it back over; Mike stood on the Byers’s front step, timid smile on his lips and crumpled piece of paper in his hand. His eyes were looking at Will, but the dark smear of exhaustion under them made Will feel like Mike was staring through him. Will felt like he had opened the door to his own bathroom mirror.

“Hi.” Will said, releasing the doorknob and letting Mike have the option to enter. He stayed on the porch.

“Will,” Mike lifted the paper and cleared his throat, reading from it. “I’m sorry for the way I acted and–”

“Are you reading me an apology?” Will asked, reaching for the paper. “You wrote it down?” He couldn’t have remembered it all himself? He had to draft it and make sure he said all the right things? If Will knew he could have prepared a speech, he would have called for a debate far sooner. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“No! Will, please.” He pleaded, reaching outward and placing a hand against the door, even though Will hadn’t made a motion to shut it. “I can’t keep not talking to you. It freaking sucks.” Will nodded slowly, agreeing with Mike almost hesitantly. “It hurts.”

Will hadn’t considered the discomfort he was feeling as pain. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t really do much of anything, but he hadn’t thought of it as being a painful disruption in his life. But it was. It was painful staying away from Mike and not remembering the words he said, but the tone he had used to spit them. It was painful knowing he had hurt Mike. Will was in pain and it took looking at Mike’s face, haggard and tired, to begin feeling it in himself too.

“I’m sorry.” Will muttered, tears already pooling in his eyes. “Mike, I’m so sorry.”

“No! No, it’s my fault!” Mike said, shaking his head and waving his paper back and forth. “I was being a complete jerk!”

“No, I shouldn’t have started shouting.”

“I shouldn’t have brought my dad’s stupid shit to the basement.” Mike added, shaking his head now at the words he had written on the page. “It’s not your fault.” Will had no idea what Mike was talking about now, but he kept his mouth shut and words to himself. Mike was scanning the page again, tears forming in his own eyes. Mike had written it down so he could get through the apology, not to ambush Will. “Shit, I’m sorry. He… He had started getting on my case about everything that day. It wasn’t your fault, but it was all just pent up! He doesn’t even like when we hang out that much. So I was trying to keep your voice down so he didn’t hear you and yell at me– or you. It’s stupid. It’s so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.” Will said, stepping out of the house and onto the porch. He reached forward and placed a hand on the top of Mike’s paper, slowly crumpling it in his hand. “It’s not stupid at all.” Mike didn’t have to explain himself anymore. Will couldn’t believe he had been mad, that he had thought for a minute to act like either one of them was to blame.

“I should have told you. I’m sorry, Will. I’m so sorry.” Mike’s apology was muddled by tears, his hands trying to wipe his eyes and nose, but the dam had broken and he was a rushing flood on Will’s front step.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have yelled. I had one of my flashbacks and I just wanted to be with you and then you started-”

“You had another one?” Mike gasped, suddenly freezing. “Oh my god, and I was yelling at you? Oh my god, Will. I’m the worst boyfriend ever.” Mike sniffled and pushed the heel of his hand into his left eye, trying to stop the tears.

“No.” Will whispered, reaching forward for this other hand and taking Mike’s hand. “You wrote me an apology letter.” The sincerity was smearing off on his fingers.

Will held up the paper in his hand, slowly unfolding it to see the words scribbled across the lined page. The words barely behaved between the blue lines. There were words scratched out and rewritten sideways and over top of other ones. Words were pouring out of the lines and onto Will’s hands. The paper was heavy and light at the same time. It flapped in the wind, but it sat in the palm of Will’s hand like a dead weight. Will wasn’t sure he could read anything written on it, anguish being the main tongue scribed over it, but there were some he could pluck from its lines: regret, selfish, please and along the bottom, squished by the border of the paper as if not meant to fit on the page or in the apology, love.

Love. Love you. An outpouring of guilt was signed with an admission of love. Mike had written an apology with tears in his eyes, biked all the way to Will’s house, and had the intentions of telling Will he loved him. It hurt. It hurt Will to be away from Mike and now it hurt to read the truth he had been avoiding for the past three months. It hurt to be given sight back after being blind.

“I accept your apology if you’ll accept mine.” Will said, folding the paper neatly in his hands.

“Of course, I can’t stay mad at you like this!” Mike gasped, squeezing Will’s hand and stepping closer to him. He stared at Will, eyes frantically taking in every inch of his face like it would disappear again.

“Well, that’s good,” Will said softly, looking down at their hands, gripped tight and fusing back together after months of isolation. “because I love you too.”

ao3

#byeler #byler #will byers x mike wheeler #stranger things writing #prompts

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arielsojourner · 6 years

Text

Skywalker Family Values

Think Parent Trap mixed with Addams Family put in a blender with Star Wars, the Original Trilogy. I know I just posted part 4 but part 5 just CAME to me. Not sure when Part 6 may come. Again, warning, this is a very ROUGH draft.

Part 1 and 2 (along with the prompt that woke up my muse in the first place) are HERE.

Part 3 is HERE.

Part 4 is HERE

Part 5 begins . . .

/// Dear Father,

I hope you got my last message. I haven’t heard back from you yet. I hope you’re not still mad about what happened at the end of school. I didn’t mean for things to get that out of hand. Really.

Nevermind, if you are too busy to comm, just stay safe. But could you just send me the things on my supply list? If you can’t send them all, just the first 5 things on the list would be a big help. Or you could just come and get me and bring the things yourself. We could do the plan together. The plan really needs 2 people. Please? I really need to see you and ///

Scowling, Luke erased the entire message and tossed his datapad aside. He couldn’t send that to his father! He needed to handle this himself! He wasn’t a baby. He was 11 years old!

He started to pace back and forth, trying to think what to do, but he was just so angry. He had a deep seated urge to raze all the buildings to the ground and lay waste to his fellow campers and the camp directors. It would serve them right if he did it! Once the care package from the Executor arrived he would show them. He’d show all of them that he was really his father’s son!

Especially the Princess.

Luke stopped in his tracks and took several deep breaths. No, he told himself. He needed to be calm. He needed to remember that just because people said horrible things or were mean and thoughtless didn’t mean he had the right to teach them a bloody and violent lesson in manners. Just because they whipped defenseless creatures, murdered innocents for sport, caged mothers and babies, and enslaved sentient races didn’t mean they deserved to die horrible painful deaths, begging for mercy, screaming that they were sorry for being horrible, cruel, thoughtless, bigoted, evil–

He needed a project, Luke thought to himself suddenly. That would take his mind off things. He just needed something to distract himself with until he could think about things calmly and rationally. That was what Obi-Wan would suggest and he always gave good advice.

He wished Obi-Wan was here.

He wished his father was here.

He could go work on the scanner, that needed some work. Luke hadn’t been able to meet up with Han and Chewie last night because of his fellow campers, but he could work on it now. Working on the scanner would be productive and calming.

Mind made up, Luke double checked that Artoo was still charging comfortably and started hunting for his spare boots. He had just found them when the comm system blared to life.

“Hello, campers! Just a friendly reminder from your helpful camp counselors Gary and Becky Granger that those interested in participating in today’s sport hunting activity should start getting ready for our 1100 hour departure time. The hunter with the most confirmed kills will be specially honored at tonight’s dinner dance event. Those campers who wish to remain onsite can participate in jewelry making, swimming, and archery. Riding lessons will resume next week when new animals are delivered so until then, please enjoy using the canoes and other watercraft during your leisure time. We hope you all have a wonderful day here at Camp Chippewa, the Empire’s foremost summer camp for privileged young adults!”

Then again, Luke thought with a growing sense of righteous anger as he shoved on his boots, sometimes being calm and rational was overrated. Sometimes all you needed to do was to take action, and damn the consequences.

Digging into his suitcase for his favorite tools, Luke headed out to perform some sabotage.

“They’re sentient beings and you have them in cages! Cages! Those are mothers and children in there! You’ve been committing murder!”

“Princess, I think you’re confused,” Becky Granger said with a smarmy smile as she tried to lead her out of the stables. “Yes, they look like cute little pets, but they are just animals and they can be dangerous. We don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Besides, you really shouldn’t even be here, your Highness. This is hardly the place for a young woman of your background,” Captain Greg Granger added even as he looked around with sharp eyes. He was sure that Erso was somewhere nearby but he couldn’t find her. He’d only found Princess Leia and her droid when he’d gotten word of another disturbance around the barn and stables the day after the incident with the fathiers.

“It’s a mistake, the Senate got it wrong!” Leia argued. “I just had a conversation with several of the Ewoks. My droid translated their speech. You need to let them go right now.”

“Your Highness, I–“

“Gary, is that smoke?” Mrs. Granger said suddenly, cutting her husband off, pointing in the distance.

“Smoke?” he echoed and then turned. “What in the ‘verse?”

A guard came running into the paddock. “Sir, the speeders and the bikes, they’ve been destroyed.”

“Destroyed? Are we under attack?” Captain Granger demanded.

“Lock the camp down. We must protect our campers,” Mrs. Granger said with breathless worry. “Oh, Gary, we have to makes sure everyone is safe and happy.”

“It looks more like sabotage, sir,” the guard offered.

“I guess that means no more hunting trips,” Leia said with a pleased smile. “Good, that gives us time to fix this horrible mistake. I’m going to comm my father right now and he will look into this immediately.”

The Grangers shared a look and then rounded on the Princess. “I’m sensing something friction here. I think you’re not quite embracing the Chippewa spirit, Your Highness,” Captain Granger said with a slightly deranged smile. “Not to worry though. All you need is good friends, good fun, and a little time in the Happiness Hut.”

Luke kept his head high as he was “escorted” to the tiny cabin surrounded by a picket fence and flowers by Captain Granger and a cadre of armed guards. He was pushed through the door with a chirpy “have fun” and the door was locked behind him.

Prepared for the worst, Luke stepped inside a room decorated in pastels and propaganda posters of Imperial might. It was like a Imperial Navy recruiting center had been decorated for an audience of kindergartners. A massive picture of the Emperor on his throne surrounded by smiling happy children and genuflecting adults dominated one wall.

It was enough to make a person want to gouge their eyes out.

A holoscreen was on, piping out a cheery tune as animated human children sang songs about how amazing the Empire was. Sitting on the couch in front of the holoscreen, two throw pillows pressed against her ears and her eyes tightly closed was Princess Leia Organa.

Great, not only was he stuck in this torture chamber but he was stuck inside with the privileged stuck up two faced prig from Alderaan. Rolling his eyes, Luke fished out his multitool which the guards had stupidly failed to take from him when they’d caught him at the scene of his crime. He used it to pop open the back of the holoscreen and shut the entire system off. The Happiness Hut was plunged into blessed silence.

Leia carefully cracked open one eye and then another and gently lowered the pillows from the side of her head.

Luke stood there next to the silent holoscreen and scowled at her.

Blushing under his gaze, Leia set the pillows aside and tried to straighten her mussed hair. “Thank you,” she said in an overly polite tone.

Luke rolled his eyes and grabbing one of the chairs, dragged it over to a window, as far away as he could from the Princess. He then proceeded to sit down and ignore her.

Leia huffed, embarrassed and upset. How dare he just ignore her when she had been polite! Well, two could play that game. She was going to ignore him right back! She sat back into the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. In silence her eyes wandered over the paintings and posters covering the walls, proclaiming cheerful slogans of Imperial xenophobic might. She wished she had her datapad with her but at least the holoscreen was off.

She shook herself suddenly, realizing she’d closed her eyes and nearly dozed off. Sitting up a bit straighter she looked over at the boy in the chair. He hadn’t moved from his seat by the window. There was no chrono in the room so no way to know how much time she’d spent trapped inside nor any idea how long they’d both be stuck together.

Fed up with sitting, Leia stood and came over to look outside the window. Luke continued to ignore her. This far away from the main camp, it was hard to tell what was going on.

“What’s happened?”

“They’ve ordered the repair and clean up of all the speeders and bikes so they can resume their fun in the forest,” Luke said tersely.

“It’s barbaric!” Leia hissed. “I talked to the Ewoks in the barn. They’re sentient and terrified. This is mass murder. We have to do something about it.”

“We?” Luke asked with one arched brow. “I’m already doing something about it. Chewie and Han and Ghosh and the other “help” at the camp have been doing something about it. Don’t you worry about it. People of your quality and breeding can just continue to be outraged while you enjoy your camp experience. No need for you to take action. You leave it to us nothings.”

Leia wanted to snap back at him for that. But those had been her words. He was only reminding her of what she’d said. Taking a deep breath she fought down her anger and tried to respond calmly.

“I can help. I can plan and organize the campers to protest this. If I can get to a long range comm unit, I can comm the Senate offices for Alderaan and fix this.”

“The Grangers aren’t going to let you near a long range comm and all other messages are read and censored before they are sent on for long range transmission home. Everything shipped in and out of this place is searched. You’d need some sort of prearranged back door slice through a point to point encrypting source to get around that and unless Threepio is built with something I don’t know about, you don’t have that. Besides,” Luke said sitting back in his chair. “The Senate is utterly useless, don’t kid yourself. It was useless under the Republic and it is even more useless now. If you really want to save lives Princess, protest is just going to keep you locked up in here, and stop us from saving the Ewoks.”

Leia wanted to argue as a matter of principal but struggled to think of how. Luke had good points. It was so infuriating. Strangely enough he reminded her of her mother (her real mother), and her efficiently ruthless planning of the Rebellion against the Empire. Leia knew from long experience that arguing didn’t get her anywhere with her mother and it wasn’t likely to get her anywhere with Luke. It was time to concede and maybe, just maybe, apologize.

She hated doing both, especially when the other side was right. But she wanted to be a Rebel, the best Rebel there was, and the best Rebel there was would help regardless of their pride.

“I still want to help. If you have some sort of plan in the works, I want to be a part of it. I want to help the Ewoks. Just . . . tell me what to do.”

Luke finally turned to look at her. The black eye on his face had darkened and his soot stained hair was a disheveled mess. He said nothing. He just stared at her, waiting.

“And,” she continued feeling a burning knot of shame inside. “I’m . . . sorry for what I said to you. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“But you still believe them,” Luke said evenly. “You still believe I don’t have a family.”

Leia opened and closed her mouth in frustration. Anything she said now would either be a lie or start another argument. She thought back to her lessons with Auntie Breha and Uncle Bail. What would they say?

“I don’t know,” she finally said. “I don’t know you or Lord Vader enough to say. I just said things that were rumors, that other people were saying. I said them because I was angry but that didn’t make them right or necessarily true.”

Luke tilted his head to the side, considering and then sighed. “All right, you can help.”

“Good, what’s the first step?”

Luke pointed out the window. “There will be a signal when the Grangers are on their way back to let us out so I can turn the holoscreen back on. When they get here we pretend that we’re pacified.”

“And then?” Leia asked eagerly. She had hoped to spend the summer with her mother on a Rebel base. She hadn’t expected summer camp to give her the opportunity to fight against the Empire. “How are we going to free the Ewoks and stop the campers from killing or kidnapping anymore?”

“I’m waiting on a few things at mail call, but even if they don’t come, we’ve got a back up plan. Threepio could be a big help, though. I’ve been looking for some way to communicate with the Ewoks.”

That was not the level of planning detail she wanted to hear but she tried to be patient. “Threepio will help too, but what about me? What do I get to do?”

Luke thought for a long moment and then a devious light lit his blue eyes. “You can play nice. You can pretend to be reformed. You can kiss up to A’Man’Daa and her friends and Mrs. Granger. You can be our spy on the inside and help cover for us and distract them as we get everything ready. With me busting up the speeders and bikes, they aren’t going to trust me at all anymore, not that they ever really did. But you, you can be just like one of them and fool them all.”

“A spy,” Leia breathed in excitement. Now that was more like it. “With a code name and secret code phrases and everything so I know who’s on our side.”

“Exactly,” Luke said with a growing smile. “Can you do it, Agent– er . . . Agent Sand?”

“Agent Sand?” Leia said in disgust. “What kind of a name is Agent Sand?”

“Sand is coarse, and rough, and irritating, and gets everywhere. It’s the perfect name for a spy and the perfect name for you,” Luke insisted cheerfully.

“It’s a horrible name! I refuse to be called Agent Sand!”

“Too late, its done,” he said standing up and walking over to the holoscreen. “You’re our spy, Agent Sand. No take backs.”

“Why you-you scruffy looking, laser brained–“

“That’s good, that’s exactly how you have to talk to me when you’re spying,” Luke praised her.

“–slime ridden–“

“Don’t peak too soon, Agent Sand.”

“Nerf herder!” And with that she swooped up a pillow and smacked it into Luke’s face.

#skywalker family values #star wars au #luke skywalker #princess leia

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nightsspentthinking · 7 years

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How Do You Know - Part 2

A/N: I FINALLY WROTE PART 2 AYEE! Are y’all proud of me now? I’ve just been so busy with school and I didn’t have time. I’m probably gonna fail my test tomorrow cause I wrote this instead of studying but oh well I wanna thank everone that messaged me and requested a part 2, you’re a real one! I suggest reading the first part so this whole thing makes sense. Here’s the link: Part 1. Fun fact: I tried uploading this like 4 times but my laptop kept crashing before I could save the draft so that’s great :))) Anyways, I hope you like this one!

It was as if time had stopped. Jonah couldn’t move, couldn’t talk. He only stared at the kitchen door where you had been standing just seconds ago. Confusion and shock were written all over his face, making it clear he had no idea of what was going on. Your words rang through his head, loud and clear, while he was trying to put the pieces together. And then it hit him. “…break up with (Y/N)” That must have been what set you off. That little part of his speech must have been the only thing you had heard.

Suddenly the room started spinning. Jonah’s vision turned blurry, his ears were ringing and his breathing came out shallow. He saw the guys talking to him but his mind couldn’t comprehend what they were saying. When did they even come in here? It was as if someone had taken over his body, making him lose all senses. His thoughts were racing, going a million miles per hour. He tried to stop his body from shaking but to no avail. Tears were streaming down his face, making it hard to see. There was a deep ache in his chest which finally pushed him over the edge. A hand trying to grab him was the last thing he saw before everything went black.

You were curled up on your couch, surrounded by tissues and stared at the wall blankly. You had run out of tears after crying for hours straight. Now the only thing that was left was the dull pain. You tried distracting yourself but your mind seemed to only focus on the one thing you desperately wanted to forget. You kept telling yourself that you were okay, that this was for the best but you knew you were lying. How could you be okay? You loved this boy with everything you had. The hurt you felt when hearing his words seemed humanly impossible. It was as if your whole world had fallen apart, destroyed by the one person that had made it complete. Jonah was your everything, your forever and always, your first and you thought he would be your last too.

“How could you be so stupid?” You were angry. Angry at Jonah for doing this to you, angry at the boys for playing along but mostly angry at yourself for letting him wreck you like this. You wondered how long he had felt this way, how long he had been faking it. Maybe it was never real to begin with? You thought back to all the memories you had made, the day you had met, your first date, going on adventures in the middle of the night, him teaching you how to play the guitar, slow dancing to random songs in your small dorm room, all the inside jokes, all the laughs you shared, every hug and every kiss. No. That couldn’t have been fake. You knew Jonah better than anyone, you could read him like an open book. You remembered how his face would light up whenever he saw you, the small smile he would wear when you were talking and the love in his eyes whenever he would look at you. Thinking back to the incident, you remembered how excited he had been when he saw you and the way his face fell when you started screaming, the confusion clearly prominent on his face. He didn’t want to break up with you.

The ringing phone next to you brought you back to reality. Zach’s name along with a dumb picture of him flashed across the screen. The boys had been calling you non-stop since you got home but you declined every call. This time though something told you to pick up. “Hello?” Your voice came out quiet and shaky and you mentally cursed yourself for sounding so vulnerable. “Oh god, (Y/N), you finally picked up!” You had never heard Zach sound so stressed like he did in this moment. There were a lot of different sounds and voices in the background, making you wonder where he was. “Listen, Jonah, uhm he- he had a panic attack. After you left he got so quiet and we tried talking to him but he wasn’t responding and then he started shaking like crazy and collapsed onto the floor. We’re at the hospital right now and I’m just- I’m so scared. (Y/N/N), you need to come please. He needs you. We need you” The last part came out in a whisper but you still heard him loud and clear. “I’m on my way” was the only thing you said before hanging up and jumping off the couch.

Zach’s words hit you like a bus. You felt everything and nothing at the same time. Your emotions were going crazy and there was no way to control them. Quickly, you threw on a hoodie, some shoes and grabbed your key on your way out. You didn’t even bother checking your appearance, knowing you looked like death. You sprinted to your car, Jonah the only thing on your mind. Driving as fast as you could, not even bothering if you hit any red lights, you made your way to the hospital. When you walked in you already saw Zach and Daniel waiting at the door for you. Catching their attention immediately you ran over to them and wrapped them in a tight hug. You could see the worry on their faces and their tear-stained cheeks made it clear that they were as scared for him as you were. The three of you walked to Jack and Corbyn and once they saw you approaching, they got up and hugged you too. That’s when the tears started falling again.

You had been sitting in the waiting room for what felt like hours, trying to get comfortable on those chairs. Your crying had stopped but the atmosphere was still tense. “Are you here for Jonah Marais?” Hearing the voice, you all jumped to your feet and looked at the doctor. You only nodded your head, unable to form words. “You don’t need to worry, he is stable. Mr. Marais had a panic attack due to huge stress and passed out. I believe you all know what had caused the stress in the first place. Anyways, he woke up about ten minutes ago and is now ready for visitors. But be careful, don’t overwhelm him.” The doctor gave you a little smile and turned around, leaving to go see another patient.

You just stood there, awkwardly staring at the door. Zach gave you a little push and nodded his head, signalling for you to go in first. You closed your eyes, taking in a huge breath and walked towards the room. You entered and closed the door behind you.

Jonah heard the door close and looked up. Once he realized it was you a huge smile made its way to his face. But it was soon gone when he remembered the events from earlier. He looked at you carefully, wondering what you were doing here. You walked further into the room, stopping directly in front of the bed he was lying in and surprised him by bending down and wrapping your tiny arms around his shoulders. Jonah didn’t hesitate for a second and pulled you down so you were sitting next to him. He nuzzled his head into your neck and breathed in your scent. He didn’t know when he would get to hold you like this again so he wanted to savour this moment.

He pulled away when he felt something wet making contact with his shirt and when he looked at your bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks his heart broke a little. “Don’t you dare do this again, Marais, do you understand me? Do you have any idea how worried we were? We didn’t know what was going on, nobody wanted to tell us anything. I was already preparing myself for the worst. And the boys were so scared, I mean, they wouldn’t admit it but I could tell by the looks on their faces. We thought we would lose you!” He just stared at you, taking it all in. He looked at your cheeks that had red dots all over them from your salty tears, at your nose that was red from blowing it too much earlier, at your lips that were quivering, into your eyes that were still glossy, at your hair that was hastily thrown into a bun and had a few strands falling out and at your fingers that were playing with the hem of his sweatshirt out of habit. He knew he had to tell you. It was now or never.

“I love you.” You froze. Looking up you were met with Jonah’s eyes staring at you. Did I hear right? You thought you were dreaming but judging by the hopeful look on his face it was real. Tears started to make their way down your face again but this time out of happiness. You let out a little giggle and leaned forward “And I love you.” That was all it took. Jonah placed his lips on yours, pulling you into him again. You both smiled into the kiss and only pulled away when you heard cheers coming from the doorway.

“I can’t imagine my life without you. It’s you and me forever, princess.” “I know, Jonah, I know.”

#why don't we #why dont we music #why dont we imagines #jonah marais #jonah marais imagine #zach herron #zach herron imagine #corbyn besson #corbyn besson imagine #jack avery #jack avery imagine #daniel seavey #daniel seavey imagine #j.m.

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inkinghubris · 4 years

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Ep. 47: Finding Inspiration When it is Lost

Episode 47: Finding Inspiration When it is Lost

In this episode, we continue looking at what issues writer's face and how to solve them. Today we tackle the loss of inspiration. We figure out where it goes, and use various methods to bring it back. You can listen to the episode right here. The transcription is below the player. Feel free to add your comments using the comment section below.

Episode 47 Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using a combination of speech recognition software and humans, as such, it may contain errors. Please, double-check the audio file before quoting anything from this page. Introduction 00:00 Inspiration. It is what drives us, as creatives, to write, draw, sing, dance... whatever it is that we do to express ourselves. What happens, though, when we don't have any inspiration? How do we get it back? In today's episode I want to cover inspiration and figure out where it goes, and how to chase it down. Stick around, we have a lot to figure out. 00:35 01:04 Inspiration comes in all shapes and sizes. It is one of those little things that we, as writers, take for granted sometimes. Losing your inspiration is like losing your car keys when you don't have any plans to go anywhere. You don't really know it's lost. Sometimes this happens because you have already started a project and you sit down to write and you trudge through.

Finding your inspiration can be a tough ask. Don't give up, it's in there, somewhere. 01:31 You know what needs to be done, so there isn't a real need for inspiration to strike. It can feel like a loss of motivation, which I covered last week. However, there are some differences. For example, the loss of motivation makes you feel like doing nothing, where as the loss of inspiration makes you feel like you aren't doing enough, or you aren't doing the right thing. When Loss of Inspiration is Noticeable 02:05 Where you really notice the lack of inspiration, when it has left you, is when you attempt to start a new project. It doesn't matter how prepared you are, sometimes nothing flows. You can sit down to write, double check your notes and your fingers just hover over the keyboard. You stare at the blinking cursor or the blank page and you grow frustrated. 02:35 To make matters worse, the lack of inspiration can lead to other problems, such as motivation, depression, that feeling of self-doubt. It is a serious problem that for the most part goes unaddressed. That's why I decided to bring it up today. 02:56 What can we do about this inspirational shutout? The simple answer is to "go find it again." Though that can be more difficult than it sounds, especially if you also suffer from the other issues that can come up from the condition. So, I want to cover a few of the various methods that I use to find my inspiration when she decides to play a game of hide and seek from me. There are Steps to Take

Take each step as it comes. Find the one for you. 03:29 The first thing I do is step away. This is always my first step for situations like this. I have never found inspiration, motivation, drive or ambition beating my head against the keyboard. So, I remove that from my view and take on another task. I also find it easier to do something mundane and something that requires little brain power. I am attempting to reset my mind, so I will do the dishes and laundry, I'll go for a walk with my headphones in. 04:07 A lot of times, this can be enough. I have noticed that when I give my brain the break from the computer, it always wants to find its way back. So while I am scrubbing that roast grease off of the baking pan, my mind is trying to write that first chapter, or further develop that character. If I have come up with something, I will dry my hands and go back to the computer to see what I can do. Sometimes, that is enough. I can jot down those few things I thought about and off I go. Still have a Loss of Inspiration? Try Another Option 04:40 More often than not, though, that fickle mistress of inspiration is still hiding. So, I move to my next step: free writing. I have mentioned this before, I believe, either here on the podcast or perhaps in the Extra Draft blog. Free writing is something I do to clear the cobwebs. It works well for me when I am in the middle of a project and get stuck, or develop writer's block. It works for the inspiration sometimes, too. 05:13 For free writing, I use pen and paper instead of the computer. I get comfy on the couch or in a big chair, or I'll even go to the coffee shop or local bookstore. I take my pad and paper and I just start writing whatever comes to mind. Try not to think about writing, or if it even makes sense. You just put words down. Whatever is in your head, it ends up on paper. When you free write, it goes fast. You find yourself scribbling on the paper at break-neck speeds. It's actually pretty fun. Turn to Peers and Heroes

Reading helps me find my inspiration, if I read a story I love. 05:57 If that doesn't jar the old hag from the rafters to give you the inspiration you need to work on your projects, there are other steps to try. Turn to your creative friends, admirer's or heroes. Most writer's that I know, myself included, have one or two author's that they adore. Or there are a couple of stories that really resonate with us. Every time I read them I get inspired to write myself. 06:25 I am unsure if it is just the fact that I love the story so much, or that I get the urge to emulate the greats, or exactly what. But after reading one of my favorite stories, I almost always feel like getting behind the keyboard and typing away. Some find this in their favorite music, or in a good movie. Whatever it is, there is just something about taking in the finished works of another creative that pushes us to get to work on our own projects. 07:00 Ninety-nine times out of 100, the aforementioned methods work for me. I am sure that they will also work for you. If they do not, there is a small list of other things you can try. First, take a longer break. Take a few days away from the computer or writing. Maybe your brain needs a longer break to do a full reset. Or, you can take one of those oddly inspirational 2 am showers. You always seem to get great ideas with a steaming hot 2 am shower. Don't Just Take My Advice on Loss of Inspiration Fixes 07:38 Other writer's I know have other methods. Some do interviews with other creatives. They will call author friends on the phone and just talk it out. If you don't have any creative friends or family to call, talk to your self. Talking out loud is a great way to get the juices flowing. I have found myself walking around the house or out in the garden just jabbering away at myself. I don't look for answers. It is more of a verbal free writing, where I just talk about what's on my mind instead of writing it down. 08:16 Perhaps you have your own strange method of finding that inspirational cherub. If so, I urge you to go to the website at podcast dot Extra Draft dot com and look for episode 47. Scroll down to the comments section and let us know what works best for you. A Few Weeks of Specific Help 08:44 Between depression and anxiety, a lack of motivation and the loss of inspiration, I have covered some of the biggest writing setbacks there are these last few weeks. With any luck, you will never need these episodes. If you do in the future, or are currently needing them now, I hope they help in some small way. 09:15 Also, if you have something else that is bothering you or keeping you from writing, head to the Extra Draft contact page (it's Extra Draft dot com forward slash contact) and send me a note. Perhaps I will be able to help you out through email and then produce another podcast episode to address that issue for the others out there. 09:42 Good luck with your writing and as always, until next week, kids - have fun; write words. 09:52 Read the full article

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andyl394 · 7 years

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REQUESTED - Sick

Request: Hi gorgeous! Can I have a Steve/Fem!Reader where she's his girlfriend he realises something is happening to her from small details(like...Skin and hair colour fading,a strange way to approach food.),and the little things grow to big things when she moves in with him (she's a lot skinnier than what seems healthy,faints constantly,never eats with him,hits gym more than necessary...) 'til he find out she's anorexic and decided to help her? But can you do it without the whole pity party angst?Without the"I'm ugly and I want to be beautiful"line that is in every F one of the stories with this theme,but with reader being a model(that's how they met)and living under pressure to be 'perfect' to the media and to Steve?I think of something in the lines of wanting to be in control and LOOK like she's in control of her life.You could end with him convincing her of finding help,no unrealistic accepting herself for him. Thanks, love. - @becaamm

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Anorexic!Reader

Word Count: 3,152

Warning: Fluff(?), Cursing, EATING DISORDERS TRIGGER WARNING, Angst.

(A/N): FINALLY! RIGHT, BECA? I’m so sorry it took me this long, but since I’ve only had been on Steve’s side of the story, it was kind of hard for me to write this and I might (I did) have messed everything up, but oh well. BTW, EVERY INFORMATION AND ETC WAS TAKEN FROM INTERNET SO PARDON ME IF SOMETHING IS WRONG OR UN-REAL

MASTERLIST

You started as a model when you were a teenager, it started with small jobs at local clothes shops until one day, you were able to make a name to yourself and be called to more important and big jobs.

It was in one of those ‘big jobs’ – your first one, actually – that you met him, Steve Rogers.

You were a model at Stark’s new line of clothes, he decided to start it, since – in his own words – he was bored of designing and making almost the same things, besides, of course, the fact that all the money gathered was going to charity.

Being the awkward person you were, you stood on the corners of the afterwards party, trying to avoid all the drunk people in there and just chill after having to walk on gigantic high heels and weird clothes. But being a model did have its down sides, one of them being that just because you were a ‘public figure’ people thought they had the right to touch you without your consent.

That was when your knight in shining armor – or black tuxedo – went to rescue you from some jerk, his hands wrapping your waist while glaring at the idiot you had been trying to push away from you.

“Is he bothering you, love?” The men didn’t took long to realize that the blond was Captain America, and surely he didn’t want to mess with a hero, so he just backed away. “Are you okay, ma’am?” He asked, standing in front of you with concerned eyes.

You sighed in relief when you smiled at Steve, nodding with your head and extending your hand in front of you.

“Call me Y/N. How can I pay you for helping me with that idiot?” Steve smiled down at you and from that moment, you knew.

You were going to love that man forever.

“Babe, you’re going already?” Steve whined, watching you move around the apartment you two shared with your cellphone in one hand and a cup of sugarless tea in the other while searching for the keys of your car.

“Sorry, love. Mark scheduled a meeting with that magazine we were talking about, they want a new face for the brand of clothes coming out and apparently, I’m perfect for the job.”

“But you haven’t eaten your breakfast yet.” He mumbled; a little upset that you were skipping the meals once again.

Stopping on your track, you turned to him, your face soften at the sight of his pout.

You couldn’t blame him for worrying about you, even though your mind screamed that he didn’t have to, since you had everything under absolute control.

“I promise I’ll eat something on the way there and that I’ll make it up to you, okay?” Wrapping your arms around his neck after putting down the tea, you kissed him softly, feeling his hands on your lower back, pulling you even closer to him.

Even with your promise, that horrible feeling didn’t leave his chest.

You two had been together for 6 years now, you supported each other no matter what.

He supported you also wanting to start a career as an actress.

You supported him wanting to quit the Avengers and only wanting to be a normal guy.

Steve would be at home, taking care of everything with the puppies, sometimes hanging out with the Avengers, learning new things, while you were at work or travelling.

Occasionally he would still attend to some missions at the Avengers, when it was something that threatened the world, countries or universe(s).

“But I have to go now, I love you, okay?” He smiled, nodding with his head and kissing you once more. “Bye, Steve. Bye, Bucky!” Yelling, you heard a muffled ‘bye’ at one of the rooms, making you giggle and run to the exit after Steve handing you the keys – they were in the fridge, next to the milk –, you patted your dogs and got out of the apartment.

Steve stood in his place for some minutes until Bucky took a sit in the kitchen’s counter.

“Is she alright?” He asked quietly, taking a sip of the coffee that Steve placed in front of him, turning to the oven to cook a mountain of eggs and bacon.

“I don’t know… She seems skinnier than it should be healthy.” Frowning his brows, he tried to remember a week were you ate with him.

Steve would always see you taking those damn teas the hated so much, but he couldn’t have a say on how you lived your life.

That was the number one topic that caused arguing, since you would always say that just because he was ‘Mr. Perfect’ that didn’t meant that he should try to turn you into one too.

“I heard her throwing up last night.” Bucky commented, looking at the pictures that were hanging in the wall of you and his best friend. “I don’t know, pal. There is something going on with her.” Steve nodded with his head, settling the food down on the kitchen’s island.

“I know… She’s just… I just feel so powerless. I know that there’s something wrong, but I feel like I can’t do nothing about it! She always kisses me good morning but I feel her drafting away from me. She’s always anxious, tired and even a little bit paranoid…”

“Not talking about her looks, also.” Steve narrowed his eyes at Bucky, watching him eat his food as if he just hadn’t insulted you.

“What was that supposed to mean?” He looked up, swallowing quick before denying with his head.

“Not what you were thinking! I’m just talking about her looking more pale and that her hair is falling a lot.”

“I know… Any idea of what she might have?” Steve went pale, euphoria filling his chest “You think she’s pregnant?” Bucky chuckled, denying with his head

“I’m pretty sure that when a dame gets pregnant, those things don’t happen.” The two of them stood in silence until Steve grabbed his phone and called the person he knew would know what was wrong with his girl.

“Say that again?” Natasha sighed, taking a sit in front of both men. They seemed unaware of what she was talking about.

“Anorexic. Y/N is Anorexic. It doesn’t surprises me, since she’s dating Captain America and her career is based on her looks.” Steve frowned his brows at the commentary; he didn’t understand what she was saying. “That explains all of the things you two described. She needs help, Steve.”

“But she’s so good in separating what is good and what is bad, how does she still do that when it’s clear that it is affecting her life?”

“Sometimes they don’t know, Bucky. It’s not something you choose to do, it happens. The pressure to be perfect to the media, all of everything she has to endure for being Steve’s long-term girlfriend-”

“How is that my fault?” Natasha’s speech was cutted by Steve’s harsh hiss.

“It’s not. The fault is on your public image. For god’s sake! She’s almost marrying The Captain America, you don’t read gossip sites and magazines, do you? Even though you are the center, everything goes to her. How she looks, how she should react, say, act. Everything is on Y/N.”

“I don’t understand, Nat… Why?”

“Because we live in a misogynic and sexist shitty world, Cap.”

“Okay, uh… How do I help her?” Natasha denied with her head.

“You don’t do anything. She needs professional help, the only thing you have to do is to stay by her side and convince her that she needs help.”

“Natasha?” You called her as you entered your apartment and saw her getting up. “Hey! How are you doing?” Putting down the new clothes that were handed to you as a gift, you smiled tiredly at her.

“I’m good, I actually came to get Bucky on a lunch-date, didn’t I, sweet cheeks?” Laughing lightly at your friend’s blushed cheeks, you saw him head out with Natasha. “See you around, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but to feel a bad tickle on your stomach with her gaze, as if she knew something that you didn’t.

But, well, she was the Black Widow, anyway.

“Well, I see that they are finally admitting the feeling they have for each other.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” You looked up at Steve, noticing his tense figure as you took off the things you needed from your bag.

“What’s up with that face?” Chuckling nervously, you got closer to him, raising one hand to touch his face, stroking the middle of his frowning brows.

“We need to talk.” You gulped loudly at his mumble, nodding with your head and following him to the couch, your heart pounding like crazy with the horrible thoughts running through your mind. “You need to know, is not-”

“Oh my god, you’re breaking up with me?!” Steve frowned his brows at your yell before laughing loudly, your scared face stopping him.

“Of course not, I would never. I love you too much to do it… That’s the reason I want to have this conversation.” Sighing in relief, you kept quiet, awaiting for him to start whatever he wanted to talk. “I noticed some… Somethings about you in these lasts years we are together; I could never put a finger in what exactly was until I talked with Natasha, today.”

“Okay… And what is it?” Staring at you, he took a deep breath before saying with caution:

“You’re sick.” It was now your time to stare at him, was it something you didn’t notice?

“Uhm… I’m not? Because I’m actually feeling ok… Do you think I have some kind of disease?”

“Yeah, anorexia, babe.” Steve was expecting everything.

He was expecting for you to cry, to hit him, yell at him, run away, but he definitely wasn’t expecting for you to laugh.

“It’s not anorexia, you silly! I just have a balanced meal.” He was shocked, were you serious?

“It’s not a balanced meal if there is no meal at all, Y/N!” Scoffing, you got up, starting to walk around the space.

“You’re doing that thing again, you know. That one where you think you have any source of control over how I live my life.” Steve groaned, just because he expected the argue didn’t make it any less distasteful.

“You know is not like that, Nat told me-”

“Nat, Nat, Nat. Yeah, Captain, keep talking about how you hear from other people that I’m sick. Go on, continue.”

“Y/N! It’s a disease! You not even knowing that there is something wrong with you, shows that there is!” You stopped on your track to glare at him, those words painfully sinking in.

Steve thinks that there’s something wrong with you.

“So, what is wrong with me, huh? I’m not perfect enough for The Captain America, here? Is that what you’re saying, Rogers? You’re trying to tell me that every effort I make to go through the day is not enough for you?”

“You know I didn’t say that.” He sighed, rubbing his face and trying to ease the headache that always appeared when you two had a discussion.

“Do I?” The challenge was there, something you would always do when you wanted to change the focus and subject.

“I’m not doing this with you, Y/N.” Steve got slowly close to you, afraid you would run away, you sighed when he caressed your cheek. “I care about you, you are beautiful the way you are, there is no need to go through this just to try to reach an un-existing point of perfection.” And the anger was back on you, backing away and feeling your eyes burn in tears of frustration, you laughed humorless.

“You think I skip eating breakfast with the men I love more than anything, because I want to be prettier?!” Kicking the couch to release more the bad feeling, you turned your back at him, continuing to yell: “I don’t drink that tasteless fucking tea to be skinny, you little fuck!”

“Then why?!” He finally screamed; Steve himself was feeling frustrated, seeing you breakdown and release all the pain you’ve been carrying for so long.

“I DON’T KNOW!” You took a deep breath, the sudden feeling of dizziness making you stumble back.

The floor seemed to be turning; you started to shiver when your mouth went dry. Before you could fall directly into the floor, Steve was there, catching you with a worried and desperate look in his eyes.

It was the last thing you saw before everything went black.

Great.

“She’s out of risk, but she’ll sleep for a while. Don’t worry, Steve.” You could distinct some voices, when you heard Bruce’s voice, you realized that you were at the Avengers’ tower, probably in the nursery. The one you spent a lot of time waiting for Steve to get better when he was back from missions.

With that thought, you draft back to sleep; you were so tired that you weren’t even able to groan at Steve to “get his cute little ass over there and hold your damn hand”, but as if he could hear your thoughts, he got a hold on your hand and kissed your fingers lovingly.

“I love you, my little stubborn.” The ends of your lips curled upwards into an involuntary reaction at his words, making him chuckle lightly and kiss your knuckles once again.

You woke up hours later; Steve had his head lying next to your hip and his fingers were tangled into yours, the smile coming out of you as you caressed his hair, bringing his hand to your lips.

“I love you, my little Mr. Perfect.” He plopped his head up, yawning and stretching before grabbing the control with a red button that warned one of the nurses that you were awake.

“How are you feeling?” Your boyfriend asked after sitting by your side, hugging you and swinging gently to one side to another.

“Like someone who fainted…” He laughed at your mumble, denying with his head and kissing your hair.

There was some minutes of silence; you noticed that he didn’t press the button yet, so you waited for him to talk.

“You know I love you, and yeah, I might go all ‘Captain’ on you, sometimes… So I’m asking now as your almost-fiancé, why?”

“Almost?” You cocked your brow at him, causing him to giggle.

“Y/N, answer, please.”

“I don’t know, love.” Sighing, you rested your head on his chest, adjusting yourself so you could be lied on your side “Maybe to have control of something… I can’t control what people say or think of me, I can’t control my chances of rejections, I can’t even control myself! But what I eat, how I looked… I thought I could control that, but apparently, I was wrong.” When the tears ran down your cheeks, you huffed in annoyance before wiping them angrily “Look at this, I can’t even control my damn lacrimal ducts.”

“Nobody can, life.” Sighing once again, you felt him pep kisses along your forehead and hair.

“Did you talk to Bruce, yet?”

“I want this to be a choice of yours.” Staring into his blue and sincere eyes, you cracked a smile, leaning forward to kiss him, trying to send all the love you had into that one kiss.

“I love you so fucking much, Steve Rogers.”

“I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH, STEVE ROGERS!” You screamed at your husband, his face was pale and he simply yelled back, too scared to be able to form any phrase. “IF YOU EVER DO THIS TO ME AGAIN, I’LL KILL YOU!”

“Hey, hey, breathe in, breathe out.” Bruce asked calmly, making you groan in pain at him.

“Easy said than done! You’re not the one that is having a fucking small human being squeezed out of your vagina, Bruce!” He chuckled, denying with his head.

“I was talking to Steve. You’re going to faint, Captain.”

“Gimme’ your fucking hand, Steve.” Growling, you reached to the men of your life, wanting support and he was quick to give it to you.

“C’mon, love, let me have my little princess.” It was more than 5 hours in labor, but your little girl finally came out of you, and seeing your husband with teary eyes and a tiny little thing wrapped in a blanked on his big arms, you told yourself that it was worth all the pain.

It had made 3 years ever since you started your fight against anorexia, it was hard at the start, but Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, Bruce and Wanda were there to help you go through everything, and some months later, you finally asked Steve to marry you. After two years of paradise, you thought it was finally time to move even more forward after you were finally ‘cured’.

You gave a little stop on the modeling and focused more on acting and recuperating yourself, Steve was some years away from finishing his law school and you would always tease him that ‘he left the justice, but the justice didn’t left him’.

Obviously, you supported his decision of getting a degree, especially because you knew it was something he loved.

“What’s your name, huh, my love?” Steve moved closer to you while talking, placing your beautiful daughter into your arms.

“Her name is Peggy.” He looked shocked at your direction, but you had your eyes on little Peggy.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” Smiling widely at him, you grabbed his hand, kissing his ring.

“She was an important part of your life, Steve. Your first love, an incredible and badass women that went through tough things to prove her point in a world where the men ruled. She deserves at least this, doesn’t she?” The tears ran down Steve’s cheeks as he kissed you.

“Wow, easy there, tiger! You just had one baby, wait a little bit before having another.” The moment was broken by all the Avengers entering the room; you laughed at Bucky’s comment.

“Shut up and come meet your niece and goddaughter, dummy.” He smiled widely, eyes shinning as he ran next to the bed, not controlling a squeal when he saw your baby.

“She’s so tiny! Nat, look at it!” Natasha laughed at her boyfriend behavior.

“It, Bucky?”

“That’s right, Godmother, put that dumbass on his place!” You laughed, her eyes snapped at you in surprise and Natasha cracked a smile, slowly getting closer to the baby on Bucky’s arms, getting her so gently and lovingly that you swore you heard your baby girl sigh.

“We get the next one!” Sam and Wanda said at the same, making you look at them terrified.

“There will be another one?!” Steve chuckled, kissing your forehead, sighing in content and happiness as he watched all the Avengers cooing over your daughter.

“Thank you, life.”

“No, thank you.”

Condemn to a forever tagging: @fangirlandnerd @tommys-girl1980 @myplaceofthingsilove

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infinityknight25 · 7 years

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Deadpool vs Joker part one

Gotham city is a dark and very gothic seeming place filled with crime and villains. A place where “ Hi there! It’s me dead pool. Your probably wondering why I’m in Gotham. You see, I stumbled across some magic while in Dr. Strange’s abode and was tinkering with it and wound up traveling from my beloved universe to this one where the live action movies are terrible and the video games and and animated movies are great.” “ Ok Mr. Wilson who are you talking to?” a Gotham city detecive asked. “No one you would understand my rotund civil servant.” “All you super hero and villain types are all crazy I’m writting on your chart that I recommend you be sent to arkham asap.” A knock came at the door of the dimly lit interogating room. A man poked his head in. He was white haired very tired looking with a mustache as white as his hair and hadnt shaved the rest of his face in a few days. “Sergeant I’ll take over from here.” The larger detective seemed flustered as he walked out. The older man walked in he was taller and well built. “My name is James Gordon I’m the comissioner of the GCPD. Would you mind telling me how you came to Gotham?” “ It all started when me and my dog toto were living in this bronze colored world with my aunt and uncle. And I was a hopeful young girl who had issues with a mean old lady who hated me and my dog. One day she tried to take my dog and a horrible tornado came through and picked up our house my dog, the mean old lady and me and…” He dropped his fist onto the metal table showing he had reached his limit. “Why don’t we cut the crap alright. I don’t know how you got here but either way you solicited your mercenary skills to the falcones and succesfully killed Boss Maroni. Now I’m willing to look the other way on both these facts if you are willing to cooperate with my offer. We have a masked vigilante in Gotham known as the Batman. He’s disappeared as of late and we suspect it’s because he’s hurt. But that’s not the main problem right around the time you showed up in Gotham a high profile criminal escaped from Arkham asylum. He is highly unstable with multiple personality dissorder so much even that with some of his personalities not only does his personality change but so does his appearance. He calls himself the joker. Now here’s where you come in. From the short period of time that I’ve known you you’re the only person who is as crazy or crazier than him. ” “I’ll do it not cuz of what you have on me but because if he is as crazy as you say he is it’ll be loads of fun trying to get this Joker guy. Now one question do I need to bring him in alive?“ Commissioner Gordon sat thinking for a moment. ” At this time I don’t care what you do or how you do it. This man’s a menace and has hurt countless people.“ Another knock came at the door "Who is it?” Asked commisioner Gordon. A well dressed man in his mid 30’s being pushed in a wheel chair by an older gentleman who was in a very fine suit with gray hair and also had a tired look about him but not as tired as the commissioner. The older gentleman’s demeanor suggests a military background. “Sorry James I hope I’m not interrupting something too important.”“ Your fine Bruce I’m almost finished with this. Why don’t you and Alfred wait in the hall and we can catch up in a minute. Actually why are you in wheel chair?” Bruce chuckles “I had a bad skiing accident over in Europe I’ll be in this for the next couple of months.” “Ahem! Yeah hey! Hi. Dead Pool over here remember main character and such?” “Hmmm? Oh yeah Bruce this guy calls himself Dead Pool he was the mercenary that killed Maroni.” Bruce’s facial expressions tried to convey surprise like he had no idea what was going on but Dead Pool could tell other wise. “ Really ? Being out of the country I hadn’t heard much about it. I did hear that the Joker escaped. There was a story about it on the radio while we were on our way over here.” Gordon looks the direction of Dead Pool. “I think we have that situation well under control.” “I see the use of a masked vigilante can prove to be useful” “Okay my silence limiter had just run out you know your talking to Batman right? I mean cmon I bet this guy hasnt been on vacation since he was like fifteen. I bet some bad guy broke his back or something. Was it that super muscle freak who’s missing? Yeah I read the papers I know what” “shut up will yah!!!!” Shouted Gordon. He looks back at Bruce and Alfred. “ Sorry this guy is crazy but I think it will help take down the Joker. And with the Batman missing the extra help finding the Joker can’t hurt right?" Sitting there thoughtfully Bruce replied "Hmmm no I wouldn’t think it could hurt but is the goal to catch the joker and send him back to Arkham?” “Ha! Catch yeah that’s what I do pointy ears.” “Enough! I’m sick of your mouth one more word out of you and I’ll send you to Arkham. Geez your on crazy son of a.” “Um Jim I’m sure you have evertrying well at hand but if there’s anything I can do to help.” “Actually I could use some more ammunition and maybe some new guns. Oh! A driver I need a ride places can I borrow your butler?!” “Master Bruce if I may this might prove to be an ingenious idea that would provide Dead Pool with a certain inconspicuousness that could help with this mission . I’m sure that he wouldn’t put me in harms way.” “Ha! I mean yeah sure no harm will come to Alfred.”

“Welcome to the munitions wing of Wayne enterprise’s Deadpool.” said Bruce. The munitions wing had several rooms that branches off the main room but it had almost a garage type feeling to the main room it was wide open with a concrete floor. And a few long steel tables throughout. On one of the tables was a wide array of guns. Pistols, machine guns and high powered rifles. “Oh boy! It’s just like Christmas!” exclaimed Deadpool. “I’ll just take these and some of these.” he said sweeping pistols and machine guns into a duffle bag. “It’s like Batman is my Santa Claus who knew?!” Bruce chuckled. “Come on do you really think that a billionaire in his mid thirties would run around in a suit of black spandex fighting crime. Isn’t that what the police are for?” “Aww so cute you trying to act like your not Batman. Also once this is over I would like to get home to my own universe where our movies rule the box office and our top hero is from the same planet we live on. Here is the magic ritual I used to get here but it won’t work to get me home. Any idea on how I could?” “Hmmm I’ll do some studying on this and get back with you.” Bruce said taking the information from Dead pool. “Sir! Sir!” an employee came in wearing a white Wayne enterprise coat. Presumably a scientist. “You have to come see what’s on the tv.”

“City hall has been attacked and the mayor has been taken hostage as well as several others employed by the city of Gotham.” a female news anchor on the tv said. She was dark haired and appeared to be of German decent. “ Hmmm I bet she smells nice.” said Deadpool. Everyone turned and looked his direction “What?” “Wait I’m getting information now.” The anchor waa listening to someone talking to get through her earpiece. “ The captor has a hold of a news camera and has requested….” suddenly the screen switched to a different camera. It was inside city hall, what appeared to be the mayors office it was dark. Too hard to tell what was going on but you could tell the camera wasn’t focused on anyone. “Ha ha ha ha!” the camera turned to show the joker in the mayors chair as the room got brighter. The Joker was wearing a deep purple suit with with a white shirt and green tie. His hair was slicked back and green. A face white as snow but not from makeup. Lips blood red with scarring around the mouth that looked like he was permanently smiling. But he was smiling as well. “Citizens of Gotham! Your new mayor is ready to make his initial speech.” “Dang I should’ve made some food I never watch good dramatic tv without food. Can we pause this so I can raid the vending machine? Oh I saw one of those frozen vending machines they have chimichangas! I have to have chimichangas!” Dead pool exclaimed. Again everyone turned and looked his direction. “What?” “First I an decreeing that all inmates from Arkham be released immediately. Secondly I am now hiring more city employees. If no one applies. Well then they will be drafted. Like my new scretary.” The camera turns away from the Joker to a woman sitting on a couch. She was middle aged and had blonde hair. The most notable feature was her bizarre smile. “Joker must have used some sort of Neuro toxin on her. If can get in there and stop Joker we can get to her and whoever else and develop an antidote.” said Wayne. “If my demands aren’t met in 30 minutes. Well then I will blow up city hall with everyone in it.” The camera went through the door in the hallway showing the building lined with explosives. Joker laughed maniacally “Deadpool can you disarm those once your inside?” Bruce asked. “Yeah I would think so. Just incase though we may want there to be some sort of evacuation plan. Alfred I’d say it’s time to go.” They started to head for the door. “To the Wayne mobile.” Deadpool said in a Batman voice.

Our hero and his ride……“Shhhh lemme take over for a while said Deadpool.” “I’m sorry sir did you just shush and then refer to yourself in the third person?” Alfred questioned. “Eh kinda you wouldn’t understand it…..you know it’s a crazy thing.” “Hmmm I see well you and Joker should be well matched then.” “In a deep sounding narrator our hero contiued to tell his own story while he new found companion continued to drive the very fancy limo belonging to Batman….err I mean Bruce Wayne sorry I forget you guys don’t like to give out your "secret identities” Dead pool said notably.“ "My and I thought the Joker was strange.” “The sleek black ultra fancy limo pulled up outside the ghastly city hall and our hero grabbed his bag of goodies to kill er I mean to capture the evil Joker. Dead pool said in his deep narrator voice again. Switching back to normal voice now. Thanks Alfred and you know what story teller guy why don’t you take the story telling back for a bit I’m gonna be busy for a tad.”

#deadpool #wade wilson #bruce wayne #gotham #gcpd #joker #dc comics #dc #marvel #mercwiththemouth #alfred pennyworth #commissionergordon

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