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wandaromanova · 3 years

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Lost

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of cancer, death, cussing

A/N: hello! i’d like to put a disclaimer that i am not in any way knowledgeable of the medical field and all of the terminology and information used in this fic was found through research! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiiiii !! can i request like an angst into fluff natxfem!reader one shot where the reader has a really bad day and takes it out on nat and hurts her feelings and so they go to bed angry. but the reader realizes their mistake and the next morning just wakes her up by showering her with love and then takes the whole day to do cute little date things with her? like making her favorite meal or like dancing in the kitchen to their favorite song late at night or just super fluffy things? if not, that’s okay!! have a good day <3

Summary: The heavy weight of her profession gets to Y/N and she takes her anger out on her loving girlfriend; Natasha Romanoff.

Word Count: 3K | navigation

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Becoming a doctor was no easy feat.

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Once high school is completed, one must receive your bachelor’s degree before taking the MCAT exam and applying to medical school. After four years of medical school, you must endure a year as an intern before being promoted to a resident.

Depending on what specialty one has selected, residency can span from three to seven years. Fellowships follow after but are typically an optional course that provides extra training.

Yes, there are a lot of necessary steps to take in order to set foot into the medical world, but somehow, the years of foreplay could never compare to being a full-fledged physician; and you knew this all too well.

You are a pediatric oncologist and your job was to diagnose and provide treatment to children and teenagers who had cancer. You specialized in hematology; the treatment of blood disorders.

You were the head of pediatric oncology in a Manhattan hospital. You dealt with a lot of patients, but a two-year-old little girl named Sarah was secretly your favorite.

Despite being diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia, Sarah’s positivity and playful personality never faltered.

Even if she didn’t understand the circumstances because of her young age, you knew she was suffering. Regardless of it all, every session you had with her was endearing.

You met with the child once a week to administer chemotherapy. Her enthusiasm never failed to have you awestruck. Most of your patients were exhausted from the treatments, but not Sarah.

She was a hyper child who would attempt to sing Frozen songs, performing as you tried to fight a smile from taking over your features. She had a stuffed Olaf doll that she brought with her to every visit and it was heartwarming to see her hug the doll close to her chest.

Sarah would even bring you drawings every week that you would keep in your locker. You’d admire each and every one of the drawings, even if you couldn’t really tell what they were.

You’d grown fond of the little girl in the past two months you had been treating her. You were also relatively close to her parents, who were probably the kindest people you’ve ever encountered. It made sense that Sarah was the ball of sunshine she was, she obviously got it from her parents.

Most times, parents were on edge and extremely short-tempered. If parents saw you often, that meant that their child was diagnosed with some form of cancer. Understandably, they would be rather hostile whilst interacting with you, but you never took their behavior personally.

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If you were in their shoes, you were positive that you wouldn’t be very friendly either.

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You had grown fond of the beaming child. You were aware that growing emotionally attached to patients was unprofessional, but how could you not?

You adored children and for that very reason, you had chosen a specialty that allowed you to help kids as much as medicine would allow. You always had a soft spot for kids and you found joy in helping them as best as you possibly could.

Sarah had a very good chance at pulling through. With consistent treatment and her young age, her survival rate was around 68%. Those were considerably good odds in these circumstances. Not to mention, the chemotherapy seemed to be paying off. At the rate she was improving, she was predicted to be out of the woods soon enough.

However, the child had developed a bacterial infection. Since she had been receiving chemotherapy, the treatment had damaged her white blood cells which are responsible for fighting off infections.

All you could do was provide antibiotics to try and fight off the infection. You had monitored her for some time in hopes of seeing any sign of improvement, but unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. Her immune system was extremely vulnerable and there wasn’t any way to reverse the damage.

Your heart was torn to pieces when you delivered the news to her parents. They broke down in the hallway outside of Sarah’s room as you informed them of Sarah’s rapidly shortened life expectancy. It was only a matter of time before the young child would pass and honestly, this was what you hated most about your job.

You hated that you couldn’t help every single patient. You hated how cruel the world could be to take away an innocent child from their loving parents.

You allowed her parents to spend time by her bedside. They laid on either side of her bed, clinging onto her for dear life. What broke you the most was the paleness of Sarah’s once glowing skin. Her smile was still present but didn’t quite reach her eyes like it used to.

Her parents quietly sang ‘Love Is An Open Door’ to Sarah. You felt your heart clench in a bittersweet way as you silently watched. Normally, Sarah wouldn’t hesitate to join in, but her lack of breath prevented her from doing so. All she could do was close her eyes and lightly nod her head along to their voices.

Sarah passed hours later and it was an extremely somber experience. Hearing the cries of parents who lost their children wasn’t easy and it never would be. Your job had its pros and cons, and this was the biggest negative.

You fought back your own tears as you exited the room, giving the two mourning parents some privacy after you recorded Sarah’s time of death. You found the nearest restroom and allowed the tears to fall down your face.

A pure soul had been ripped away from the world, never having the chance to experience the great things life had to offer.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

4 Hours Later

You trudged into your loft, immediately taking off your coat and hanging it up before tossing your keys on the small table by the front door.

Your girlfriend, Natasha, had heard your arrival and quickly exited the bedroom to greet you, a wide smile on her face. However, her smile fell when she noticed your defeated state.

Your shoulders were slumped as you slouched slightly and your eyes were dripping with sadness.

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Natasha approached you while you stood frozen in front of the door. Her hands came up to cup your cheeks as she stared at you in concern, her eyes scanning over your features.

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“I lost Sarah.”

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Natasha’s eyes widened and her heart sunk at your words. She was aware of how much you adored the two-year-old. Once a week, you would rave about the child and how adorable she was at the dinner table. You would go on and on about how Sarah would sing to you, draw pictures for you, and bring along stickers to place onto your coat.

The redhead loved how happy you looked whenever you spoke about any of your patients, but most especially Sarah. It brought Natasha some joy of her own to see you speak animatedly about Sarah; your happiness was her happiness.

So, the news hurt her almost as much as it hurt her. She knew how much you loved Sarah, despite never saying it straight out.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I know how much you cared about her. Are you okay?” Natasha’s voice was oozing with sympathy. You couldn’t help but feel irritated by her question.

You tore her hands off of your cheeks and walked past her and into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water as the redhead watched you intently.

“Am I okay? I’m fine! It’s not like I lost an extremely young patient today or anything. What kind of stupid fucking question is that, Natasha?” You took a sip of cold water to try and calm yourself damn, but your attempt was futile.

The redhead made her way into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as you took another sip of water, eyes burning a hole into her head over the rim of the glass.

“I know, that was a dumb question. I just want to help you, Y/N/N.” Natasha remained calm and patient as she spoke to you. She was no stranger to the loss of a person she desperately tried to save and knew all too well the sadness and anger that accompanied the tragedy. She was an Avenger, after all.

“I don’t want your help and I don’t need you!” You slammed your cup onto the counter as you raised your voice. Honestly, it was surprising that you hadn’t shattered the glass with the amount of force you exerted.

Natasha felt an ache in her chest as you yelled at her. She knew that you weren’t in the right state of mind and didn’t take it personally, but that didn’t make your words hurt any less.

“You save entire cities and I can’t even save a single fucking person!” You were turning red at this point, tears of frustration streaming down your face. The redhead hated seeing you cry, but she knew better than to approach you at this moment.

“Babe, you save so many pe-” Natasha’s tried to speak, but you quickly interjected.

“If you’re going to try and spew some philosophical bullshit to me right now, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear another god damn word from your mouth.”

The redhead looked down defeatedly. She had never seen you so upset, let alone direct your frustrations towards her. Her eyes fell down to the marble counter between you both before looking up at you. You were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath.

Without another word, Natasha retreated back to the bedroom, shutting the door softly behind her. You watched her until she was out of your view and let out a sigh. Your hands gripped the edges of the kitchen island, supporting your weight as you shut your eyes.

You brought a hand up to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose. After a few minutes, you made your way into the living room, chucking off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch. You didn’t feel like interacting with Natasha anymore tonight, knowing that you most likely wouldn’t be able to control your temper.

You were just so fed up with the painful losses you had to endure from your profession.

You knew that being a doctor was more dark clouds and thunder, than sunshine and rainbows, but you just wished that for once, the weather forecast would work in your favor.

The emotional day had finally caught up to you. Your body relaxed as you sunk further into the couch, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to a much-needed slumber.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha was still awake. She laid flat on her back and stared up at the ceiling in thought. She was mad at you, as much as she didn’t want to be. Natasha had gone through the same thing and never lost her cool with you as you had with her.

The redhead calmed down slowly, turning on her side and facing the empty space beside her which you normally occupied. She reached one arm out, her skin colliding with cool sheets, already missing the warmth of your body.

Natasha hated sleeping without you by her side, She didn’t feel complete when you weren’t steadily sleeping next to her, your arms wrapped around her body. However, she hoped that things would improve in the morning.

And with that thought in mind, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, clutching the sheets firmly in her hand.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

The Next Morning

You awoke to a blinding light, the morning sun shining through the windows and landing directly onto your face. You let out a groan and slowly sat up, stretching out your limbs with a groan. The couch wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, you were aching everywhere.

You sat there for a moment as the events of the day before caught up to you. Not only had you lost Sarah, but you upset Natasha. You immediately felt guilty as you recalled the harsh words you spat at her in a fit of rage. You felt like a complete asshole, and rightfully so.

You quickly stood up and entered the kitchen, retrieving some bacon from the freezer and eggs from the refrigerator. You grabbed two separate pans and washed your hands, making sure to get the coffee pot running before you began cooking.

Your girlfriend absolutely loved bacon, eggs, and coffee. She described the combinations as a ‘party in her mouth.’ So, this was going to be an ‘i’m sorry for being a bitch last night’ apology breakfast.

You got started on the meal and by the time you finished up and had the stove off, Natasha stalked out of the bedroom slowly. She eyed you carefully as she approached, you sent a soft smile her way.

“You made breakfast,” Natasha spoke and you shyly nodded your head. You moved away from the stove and rounded the counter. The redhead stood in her spot as you wrapped your arms around her waist, her arms reflexively going around your neck.

“I was an asshole last night.” You stated and your girlfriend nodded her head in agreement. “Yeah, you were a total pain in the ass, the absolute worst.” You rolled your eyes at Natasha’s teasing tone.

“I’m sorry for how I behaved. I was just so upset about… Sarah. I didn’t mean to take it out on you and I can’t even begin to tell you how bad I feel for yelling at you when all you wanted to do was help me.”

Your voice was full of emotion, your eyes boring into her emerald irises as you poured your heart into every syllable you uttered. Natasha smile gently at you, her fingers lightly tugging on the baby hairs on the nape of your neck.

“It’s okay. I know you weren’t mad at me.” You let out a sigh of relief as the redhead stared at you softly. She let out a small chuckle at your dramatics before continuing.

‘I understand how you feel. The team and I, we try our very best to save as many civilians as we can, but sometimes it’s completely out of our control. It’s the exact same situation.”

One of Natasha’s hands found its way to your cheek, gently cupping the skin as you leaned into her touch. You were listening intently to her every word, mesmerized by the calming rasp of her voice.

“Don’t dwell on what you couldn’t do, but give yourself some credit for everything you did do. I may not know what happened, but what I do know is that you tried everything you could, no?”

Natasha questioned you and you nodded your head. “I gave her antibiotics to fight the infection, but it was too severe.” The redhead rubbed her thumb against your cheek.

“All that matters is that you did your best and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.” Natasha ended her little speech as she placed a soft kiss on the tip of your nose. You couldn’t help but smile, an overwhelming feeling of happiness taking over.

“Thank you. I love you and your… what was it?” You furrowed your eyebrows in concentration before your face lit up. Natasha raised an eyebrow at you. “Philosophical bullshit. That was the words.” The Russian let out a laugh, shaking her head from side to side at your antics.

“Seriously though, I’m so grateful for you. You’re so amazing to me even when I don’t deserve it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Natasha’s laughter died down as your tone turned serious. Your eyes were so full of love and adoration as you stared into her eyes deeply.

“Well, let’s hope you never have to find out.” Natasha smiled once more and you couldn’t resist pressing your lips against her plump ones. Your mouths moved in tandem at a slow pace, enjoying the rawness and love that accompanied each movement.

You broke the kiss when air became an issue. Nat’s eyes fluttered open as you wiggled your eyebrows at her playfully.

“So, are you ready for some breakfast? Maybe after we eat, we can go on top of a rooftop and I’ll serenade you with a rendition of ‘Sorry’ by Justin Bieber.”

Natasha’s head flew back as she laughed uncontrollably at your words. “What? Do you not like the Biebs? If you want, I could play ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player from a boombox and hold it over my head, instead.” The redhead continued to laugh profusely and you soon joined in. Your arms tightened around her waist as your giggles subsided.

“I think cuddling on the couch and watching the Kardashians eating ridiculously large bowls of salad will do.” You nodded your head in agreement but didn’t make a move to release Natasha from your grip. She didn’t let go either.

The two of you just stood there, basking in each other’s embrace, a comfortable silence falling over you both.

Natasha never failed to say the right things to pull you out of the dark abyss that was your mind. She was completely right, as always. There would always be bad days, patients who were progressing one day and deteriorating the next.

However, there were also good days, and you shouldn’t allow the bad to overshadow all the good you’ve done. Like with Natasha, she wasn’t always the superhero she is today. She took her dark past and turned it into a bright future.

Nat didn’t let her bad days define her and neither should you.

Of course, you would always remember every single patient you had lost, but now, you would take the pain and turn it into motivation; motivation to improve yourself, not only in your professional life but in your personal life as well.

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You would do right by the ones you’ve lost and the one who stuck by your side; Natasha Romanoff.

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───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

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My Liability, My Deadweight

Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick

Collection/Series: My Liability, My Deadweight

Pairing: Richard B Riddick x Female Fat + Glasses Wearing Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T (Swearing, Riddick is Riddick, violence)

Warnings: Swearing, violence towards deadly alien creatures, violence from deadly alien creatures towards the reader

Summary: None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a holiday resort planet, relaxing by glistening waters and forgetting your troubles. Not traipsing through a deadly jungle on an uncharted planet with a just as deadly companion who seems torn between helping you and hating you.

Notes: So I guess this is going to be similar to Western AU Din in that i’ll probably write some stuff in the same sort of world/vein as this. I’m just interested in the idea of Riddick with a reader who is the opposite of a survivalist, who isn’t fit or strong, who is scared. The idea of Furyans having mates or soulmates that they don’t really get to choose and the idea of Riddick having to come to terms with the idea that the person he wants to protect so bad needs his protection more than most is interesting to me.

This is probably such a niche thing to write, not only because the fandom is tiny, but also because people tend to write Riddick fanfic where the reader or OC is extremely capable, but I wanted to write it. So self-indulgent fic coming up.

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Kratos is a horror show of a planet. It’s the sort of planet you’d never thought you’d end up on, the sort of planet that you saw on horror vids and read about in the tales of survivors of tragedy. You weren’t supposed to be on it. You were just on a short trip, just supposed to go to a stupid holiday planet, at the insistence of your boss that you needed a break from your desk, that you worked too hard. You were a city slicker, an urban citizen, not an outdoorsman or an adventurer, certainly not the sort of person who’d come to a planet like this. But, your pilot had needed to make a stop, said there was a problem with the fuel cells that he needed to check out. So you’d made a pit stop on a barely charted planet. Nothing good ever happens on a barely charted planet.

Covered in dense, muggy jungle, the planet would have been beautiful had it not been trying to kill you and your, for want of a better word, companion at every turn. It was covered in vibrant green forest, tropical plants, exotic and brightly coloured flowers (many of which, it turns out, were deadly themselves). There were brightly coloured bird-like creatures and primitive mammals that scurried through the trees and across the ground. It would have been beautiful, except for the limp in your walk from the burning claw marks deep in your thick thigh, except for the blood that followed in your wake, the dead bodies of the crew you’d left behind, and the yellow eyes that seemed to follow the two of you under the dark canopy.

After a stupid decision by your group to go out into the jungle to try and find a settlement of some sort, just because it had seemed like (as if there was any real reason to leave), you’d been picked off one by one. You could only describe the beasts as fucked up panthers. Two tails with stingers at the end, sharp spindly spines along their backs, an elongated neck, venomous fangs and sharp teeth and claws. They were hard to spot, silent in the underbrush and decidedly and most definitely deadly. The only reason you were still even alive was because of Riddick, because for some unknown reason the man, the murderer, had decided to stick close to you, like glue. You weren’t complaining.

At the time of boarding the ship for your trip it had seemed horrifying, to know that you were travelling on the same transport as Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, known murder, predator. He was the sort of man your parents whispered about, the sort of man that you never wanted to meet. He was someone from your worst nightmare. Now he is your saving grace and surprisingly not what you had expected of a notorious big bad. While he meets many of your expectations, crude at times, harsh, and physically intimidating, he defies them too. He is at times oddly gentle with you and, the mere fact he cares about someone’s survival other than his own, is in itself a surprise. A fortunate one for you.

“Are we nearly back to the ship?” You ask because your leg is killing you, because you so desperately just want to get off this planet even if it means being stuck in a confined space with a convicted murderer. You hate this planet, you hate the constant feeling of fear and of uselessness. You hate the truth of it all, that you are weak, vulnerable, prey not the predator. It has you realising your many weaknesses, many vulnerabilities, many failings.

“Shhh…” Riddick raises his hand out in front of you, a universal sign to stop, while the other comes to his lips in a shushing motion. If he were a dog, his ears might very well have pricked up at the slightest sound.

To you nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no unusual sounds or movement in the brush. You couldn’t see anything out of place. Just as you begin to notice the silence, the lack of sound, that is the moment everything goes terribly wrong.

“Riddic-” You were cut off by your own scream.

Things happen so fast that you don’t really have time to process them. One minute you are standing behind Riddick attempting to get his attention, the next a dark shape crashes into you and you’re on the jungle floor a heavy weight pressing on your chest and stopping your breathing. Your hands reach up instinctively, pushing against the creature in an effort to keep sharp gnashing teeth from your face, but you’re not strong and you’re not a fighter and you can feel your arms beginning to collapse already. Can hear yourself screaming for Riddick even as part of you thinks he’ll leave you there, abandon you to be eaten alive. There is a deep fear that this is it, this is the end. That it shall be painful, terrifying, lonely, and unfamiliar.

Claws scratch at your arms, blood runs over your skin in rivulets as you scrabble in the dirt. Then as suddenly as the weight came it was gone, hefted off of you with an angry roar and the sound of a knife hitting flesh over and over again. You don’t look, can’t bring yourself to look, just lie there and breathe, in and out. You don’t want to see him do what he’s good at, don’t want to see alien blood, a dying creature, the parts of him that are less than gentle. So you stare up at the canopy and catch your breath, feeling the blood flow down your arms, the bruises that ache over your stomach, hips and legs. Feel the relief flow through you, combat the shock, as you realise you are not dead, you are alive, and he did not leave you to die.

You’re rather numb in truth until you hear him muttering above you, “goddamn liability, deadweight…”, it shouldn’t upset you because it’s true. But it does, it upsets and angers you because you didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want any of this and you didn’t ask him to hang around, didn’t ask him to help you. You had no say in this. This was not your idea of a holiday, your idea of fun, or your fault.

It forces you to your feet, forces you, despite the blood dripping from your wounds, to stand and face him, despite the bruises, despite the pain, despite the fear. You find yourself planting your feet even as you sway unsteadily, standing with hands on your wide hips and a scowl aimed at a man that could kill you easily. For the first time you’re too angry to overthink your actions towards the man. For a moment you stop thinking and start acting.

“If i’m such a goddamn liability, then just leave me here! I didn’t ask for you to stay, Riddick! I didn’t ask for your help! If it’s such a fucking chore to have me along, if i’m really dead weight then leave me! Go!” You didn’t normally scream at anyone, it wasn’t your personality type. You were quiet, shy, retiring. A wallflower. You didn’t scream. You didn’t start fights. You didn’t do any of that. Anger wasn’t your natural response to anything. Fear was. But after being hunted down, time and time again by giant alien cats with venomous fangs and an uncanny ability to hide on a jungle planet, all while being called a liability, a dead weight by the one person you had to rely on, well, you were finally at your wits end. You were in pain, you were upset, frustrated and ready to just go home.

You didn’t understand it. Why Riddick even bothered with you, practically a stranger. You knew you were a liability, that’s why it hurt so much when he said it. You were soft, emotionally and physically. You were a slow runner, a poor fighter, had terrible eyesight that required glasses, you weren’t light on your feet or graceful and you certainly didn’t know much about survival. You were overweight, unfit and unsure on your feet. You were prone to panic and tears, you were easily emotionally and physically unbalanced. Until this trip from hell you’d been content in the inner rim, working a normal job, a safe life. Your day to day had been comfortable, safe. Easy. You weren’t cut out for this, for danger and potential death and had Riddick, this known criminal, one of the most sought after murderers in the verse, not decided to stick by your side you’d have died at least ten times already. It didn’t make any sense and your frustration at yourself, the situation and at him had tears pooling in your eyes. You didn’t ask for any of this.

“I can’t.” He’s so impassive, so calm, that it pisses you off more. It pisses you off how hard it is to read him, how he hides his eyes behind black goggles that stop you understanding him. How he hides all emotion from you so easily. How is he okay with this? How is he so calm when everything around the two of you wants to kill you, when he could have left this goddamn planet already if you weren’t slowing him down at every turn? How could he stand there above the body of some hell spawn creature and just stare at you like that, like everything was just fine, just normal? Like he wasn’t covered in it’s blood. Like you weren’t dripping in your own. Like you hadn’t almost died. Again.

“I..I don’t get it…? What do you mean you can’t? You could walk the fuck away right now. I can’t stop you! No one else is here to stop you! If you want to leave, leave! No one’s holding you back, Riddick! No one is going to stop you! I can’t bloody well can’t! Look at me!” You sound hysterical even to your own ears but you can’t help it. You are so scared, so confused, so frustrated, so panicked by all that’s happened, all that could happen. You gesture down to yourself, to the bloody coating you, the way you protectively hold yourself off of your hurt leg, the sheer stature different between the two of you. All the things that make it very abundantly clear that if he chose to simply walk away you couldn’t stop him.

“Listen, princess, it’s not that fucking simple!” The snap is almost relieving, that he’s not as cold, not as impassive as you thought. That he could break too. That he could be angry, that he could be upset, that this wasn’t just normal. Even as his steps closer cause your back to hunch, cause you to second guess your antagonist behaviour.

“I don’t understand!”

With a growl he’s crowding you against a tree, thick arms caging you in. He’s imposing, large, a head taller than you and the action has him taking over every one of your senses. He never touches you in anger and while the display is intimidating, it oddly enough doesn’t scare you. It almost feels secure. Perhaps because not once has he done anything to suggest to you that he would hurt you, every move he’s made has been to keep you safe. Every time he’s touched you has been to pull you from danger or bring you back to your feet. Despite his harsh appearance, his foul language and the deadliness that he displays at every turn, he has never once given you cause to fear him. To fear how he would treat you.

“You’re my mate, got it?! I don’t get to choose, I don’t get a choice! I can’t leave you! I just fucking can’t, so you’re a fucking liability and dead weight, but you’re my dead weight, got it? I ain’t fucking leaving you, we either both get off this motherfucking planet or we both get eaten by these fucks, princess. There’s no inbetween, understand?” Silver eyes flash at you as he tears the goggles from his eyes, his brow furrows and the muscles in his thick neck and broad shoulders bunch and move with every piece of tension that bursts through him. You are distinctly and sharply reminded that Riddick is a predator in every sense of the word, while you are prey. You are on two separate ends of the spectrum.

“Mate…?” Your eyes flit across the landscape behind his head, trying to process all those words and all their meanings. You don’t understand, you don’t understand any of it. But, those words soothe you in a way you can’t explain. He isn’t going to leave you. For whatever reason, for whatever this is, whatever he means, he isn’t going to leave you. You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. He’s not leaving, even if you’re a liability, a deadweight. Even when things get bad, he’s not leaving. He is, at this point, your only chance at getting home, getting away from him, of surviving. The panic in you begins to soothe, calm and settle.

“We don’t have time for this.” You’re startled by the sudden display of affection as the man cups the back of your neck and presses his forehead into your own, “Just trust me.”

“I do, Riddick, I trust you” It’s hard to explain, the trust you feel for him, the safety as you let him lead you once more through the jungle. You are bleeding, in pain and still ever so aware of the dangers around you, but you have an implicit belief that with Riddick you are as safe as you can be. That if there was ever a person to carry you through this it would be him.

You might still be confused, might not understand what he means by you being his mate or by his obligation towards you, but you know that he isn't leaving you for dead and that is enough right now. That is more than enough.

------------------------------

All Works Taglist

@charradelange @belfry-bat @gabile18 @beccaboo929 @trasheater

#riddick x reader #richard b riddick x reader #chronicles of riddick #richard b riddick #plus size reader #my liability my deadweight #fat reader #readerinsert #reader insert

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nejibaby · 3 years

Text

Memories

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: There are a lot of terrible things that have happened to you as an Uchiha that you wanted to forget. But with Neji’s help, you’re able to move on and move along. Things have started getting better for you, however, once the Fourth Shinobi War was declared, time seemed to start running out.

Word Count: 2.1k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: I didn’t exactly follow the plot and somehow it turned so angsty 🙈 Please let me know your thoughts~

There are memories you hold so dear that you refuse to have them tainted no matter what. Most of those memories are of the times you spent playing or training with your brother Shishui, his best friend Itachi, and Itachi’s brother Sasuke. Those times were the golden days for you; the best of the best, if you may.

Conversely, there are also memories that you just wish would disappear. They’re the memories of incidents you wish didn’t happen at all. They’re the type of memories that you push at the back of your mind, because you believe that if you think about it or even spare a single second for it, then it’ll be more real. Because you’re in denial. You’re in denial not only about the death of Shisui, but also of the Uchiha clan.

But then there’s a single memory you have that always stands out. It’s a memory that you both want to forget and remember.

The tragedy of the Uchiha clan had changed the only survivors — you and Sasuke. You had already started changing a little because you had to deal with your brother’s death, but seeing the horrible scene in the clan’s district had been the icing on top.

Your drastic change had been evident on the day you came back to the Academy after you were discharged at the hospital. What once was a girl full of life had become an empty shell.

The moment you sat down entered the room, people had started talking. Mostly it’s just about asking someone else if you were an Uchiha or if they know about the clan’s misfortune. They were meaningless chatters so you easily drowned them out.

But there was a comment that had reached your ears. “Why is it such a big deal? People die anyway, it just so happened her clan died on the same day.”

The comment kept ringing inside your head but then someone beside you spoke up, “Don’t you have anything else better to do than talk about someone else’s life?”

He was met with silence so he continued saying, “People die everyday, it’s a fact. Some die because of illnesses, some because of old age, some because of poverty, accidents, or murder. As shinobi, we can die in the line of duty. But that doesn’t make death any less painful to the one left behind.

“If your family is alive, then good, but maybe use that brain of yours because logic says not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

Naturally, you want to forget about the unsolicited comment of your classmate, but you want to remember that among the students inside the room, one boy had stood up for you. Quite frankly, you needed his saving that day. Otherwise, you would’ve beaten yourself up for mourning too long.

And when you realized who that boy was, his words weighed even more. Because Hyuga Neji was a boy notoriously known for thinking that everyone’s fate is predetermined from birth and that luck plays absolutely no part in it.

“Not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

And for a hot minute he had abandoned his belief as he stood up for you.

It sounds hypocritical if you think about it.

But maybe just as he had saved you, you had opened his eyes just a little bit and helped him see that his beliefs were skewed too. In a way, you had helped each other, at least you hoped.

It’s because of that day, that memory, that you find yourself gravitating towards Neji.

It isn’t attraction at all at first, more like genuine curiosity about him and his life. But you didn’t get to know him further until the Chunin exams where he had disclosed the way of their clan. It’s at that time where you understood why he acts the way he acts.

You can’t help but wonder about how two clans with almost similar circumstances— both with kekkei genkai, both living in Konoha, both considered to be one of the strongest clans in the shinobi world— could have completely different ways of living. One clan is almost completely annihilated, while the other has slaves of their own blood. And if you’re being completely honest, you aren’t exactly sure which is better.

You have gotten the urge to talk to him after hearing his story, although you really didn’t know what to say. But then the chance never came up because of the chaos orchestrated by Orochimaru.

After the Chunin exams and the attack of Orochimaru, you hadn’t heard of Neji for a while since you’ve been tasked to help with the repairs of the village. And when you did hear about him, it was terrible, terrible news.

Sasuke left the village to seek power from the very person who just wrecked havoc in Konoha. His leaving alone left you in despair. What Itachi was to Shisui is exactly what Sasuke means to you, and him doing such a thing without even letting you know makes you feel like a failure both as a friend and as a family.

The news didn’t end there, however. Apparently the squad that Shikamaru had led to retrieve Sasuke had been severely injured and were on the brink of death — one of them being Neji.

You remember feeling guilt and regret burning your skin. You remember the shame of not being able to save Sasuke from the darkness and not being able to help the retrieval squad in any way. You blame yourself for the horrible things that happened.

Since then, you have made it a point to visit the squad in the hospital every day, making sure you apologize and thank them for their service. But admittedly, it’s Neji that you always stay with longer.

It’s not that you aren’t comfortable with the others, they’re really nice and easy to get along with. But they always have other visitors with them, mostly their team members and relatives. Neji, on the other hand, didn’t get as many visits since his other teammate, Rock Lee, was also injured because of his fight with Gaara. So Tenten and Guy sensei would switch visits between the two every other day.

Besides that, his clan members rarely ever visited. And you didn’t want him to be alone in such trying moments, especially when you didn’t get to do anything to prevent this from happening.

As closed off as Neji is, because of your constant visits, you have found a way to worm yourself into the walls he put up. And by the time he’s discharged from the hospital, you somehow became close friends.

From that moment on, you find yourself coming to Neji on times that you’re in despair and in doubt. You trust him enough to tell him your stories, worries, and fears because he doesn’t judge you. And he does the same with you.

Neji listens when you want him to listen, and talks when you need him to talk. He’s quite level headed and very much rational, and because of that he gives the best advice.

With him, you find yourself healing and growing. With you, he finds himself learning to forgive.

Neji easily makes you see things in a different way; a different light; a different perspective, and helps you become a better shinobi and a better person in general.

For you, Neji has such a comforting aura. While he’s sometimes cold and stoic around others, with you, he softens up. With you, he’s gentle; careful even. And it’s because of this that you find yourself admiring him more and more.

But before anything could happen — before you could even confess — the Fourth Shinobi War was declared.

Just like that, time seemed to start running out. And you have lost all hopes of being together with Neji as a lover rather than a friend.

The war is awful. Quite frankly, it overwhelmed you too much, too easily. The bodies lying on the floor with dried out blood reminded you of the massacre of the Uchiha clan. But the only person who’s able to calm you down and help you move along is Neji.

The both of you fight side by side, always nearby Hinata in case she would need help. When the night comes and the enemies cease their attack, it’s your turn to talk Neji into relaxing a bit because he’s started straining his eyes from too much use. And because it’s you who asked and it’s you who’s there with him, he knows he and the rest of the Allied Forces are safe, so he rests.

But somehow chaos ensues and in the middle of it, you both get separated. You’re worried deeply, but you trust his skills and his strength, and you know you’ll be reuniting with him again.

And reunited with him you did. But when you have found him once again, he’s blocking out the Ten Tails’ attack with... his body.

With desperation, you transported to his side as quickly as you can. Summoning your last bits of chakra, you use Susanoo to protect him, Hinata, and Naruto. The last thing you remember is the look of relief on Neji’s face, but before it could morph into worry, you have already blacked out.

By the time you have woken up, you’re in Konoha’s hospital. The first thing you see is Neji resting his head on the side of your bed, peacefully sleeping, looking as angelic as ever.

Your body aches with every breath you take, even more so with little movement. But you didn’t let that deter you from weaving your fingers along the Hyuga’s hair. He stirs almost immediately and then he opens his pretty eyes. He sits up upon seeing you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You softly ask.

He doesn’t respond to your question. “You’re awake,” he sighs in relief. “You’re finally awake. Let me go call Lady Tsunade and Sakura.” He stands up.

But before he can even take a step, you grab his wrist. “Stay,” you mumble.

Neji looks at you, reading your face. But then he nods and sits.

“Is it over?” You ask.

“Yes, the war’s over.”

“What happened after?”

“It’s a long story… but tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine. My body aches, but it’s not a big deal.”

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?!” Neji looks upset that it takes you by surprise. “Do you remember what happened? Didn’t you know you almost died?! You almost used up all your chakra to use Susanoo! That’s so stupid and reckless!”

His aggressive tone effectively gets you angry. “I did it for you!” You snap. “Of course I remember what happened! Even if I want to forget, the memory is branded in my mind! You fucking wanted to use your body to shield Naruto from that attack, didn’t you? How is that not stupid and reckless? Huh?”

Neji’s chakra flares up as he clenches his jaw. Yet, he doesn’t speak.

You breathe out, trying to calm down. You rarely ever fought with Neji and he’s never really raised his voice to you. With your body still tired and aching from the war, you didn’t want this conversation to escalate further so you try to diffuse the situation before it blows even more out of proportion.

In a low voice, you speak, “I was so scared, Neji. I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved.”

A tear falls down from your eye and Neji’s heart breaks at your forlorn state. “I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t…” you squeak. “I love you so much, I can’t lose you.”

Neji’s breath hitches at your declaration. He could hear his heart drumming against his chest.

You love him?

He doesn’t know if he heard you right or if his mind is just playing tricks on him. It happened before. He’s loved you for so long… and there have been plenty of days he dreamt of hearing you say you love him too. And right now he isn’t sure if this is the reality or just another one of his dreams.

As if you’ve read his mind — like you always seem to be able to do — you repeat your words. “I love you, Neji.”

It’s the confirmation that he needs. And hearing your words knocked the wind out of him. “I… I…” he starts saying.

But you’ve taken his stuttering and his pale, panic-stricken face as a sign of an incoming rejection, so you look down instantly and say, “It’s fine if you don’t like me the same way. I just hope we can still be friends after—”

“No, I… I love you too,” he breathlessly confesses before you even finish your rambling.

Your head whips up after the words left his lips. You stare at him, unbelieving.

And just as you did a while ago, he repeats his words with conviction, “I love you too.”

A smile makes its way to your face, and when he smiles back, you immediately know this is a memory you won’t ever forget.

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halstudandruz · 3 years

Text

Give In

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: Tragedy occurs after a night of passion

Warnings: swearing, talk of mentally abusive relationship, miscarriage/pregnancy loss

“Don’t come crying to me when you need support for that mistake.” Jared scoffed, bringing tears to your eyes at his words.

“I should’ve never come here.” You shook your head, “I should’ve listened to Jay.” You put your hand over your stomach protectively.

“Oh here we go again. Because Jay knows everything, and I’m supposed to believe that’s my kid and not his in there? Spare me.” He laughed in your face.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you I haven’t slept with him.” You yelled, getting angrier by the second.

“At least I can admit I fucked Sarah.” He shrugged.

“Well, I caught you so it’s not like you had an opportunity to lie.” You reminded him.

“I was doing perfectly fine the last 4 months. I must say though, I’m quite glad I won’t have to sit here and watch you get any fatter.” He smirked, a cocky look on his face. Trying to hurt you with his words.

“You’re such a jackass. I’m done with this.” You turned walking out of your once shared apartment, slamming the door behind you.

Jay had told you not to go there. Told you it would end bad, but you thought he deserved to know. He might’ve been a terrible boyfriend, but you figured he deserved a chance to be a decent father, but as always Jay was right. You and Jared had been together for over a year and your relationship was a rollercoaster. He was charming, but manipulative. He never hurt you physically, but he knew all the right ways to hurt you with his words, to make you feel self conscious, less than, and crazy. Then you found him in bed with your old friend, and that was the end of it. You finally had the courage to leave that you had been searching for. Except a couple months later you made the mistake of spending the night with him. The case you had that week really got to you. You were out drinking with your team when you caught Jay leaving with a nurse from Chicago Med, and jealousy reared its ugly head harder than ever before. Without thinking you ended up in front of your old apartment and the night did not end there. A month later you found out you were pregnant. Karma’s a bitch. Jay was the first person you told.

“You’re joking.” He looked at you shocked as you both stood in the break room.

“Believe me I wish I was.” You looked helplessly at him.

“Okay well what are you going to do?” He eventually asked after the shock wore off some.

“I’m gonna go apartment hunting this week. I swear I’ll be out soon.” You answered.

“What? No that’s not what I meant. I meant about the douchebag of the equation.” He explained.

“I mean I have to tell him.” You answered.

“What? No you don’t. You shouldn’t.” He countered.

“It’s his too Jay.” You tried to reason.

“[Y/N], if you go over there it’s going to end one of two ways. He somehow manipulates you into forgiving him or he hurts you worse than he already has.” He argued.

“So what am I supposed to do? Just lie to my kid when they’re old enough to ask questions?” You said.

“When did this even happen? You’ve been broken up for over a mon-“ He started to ask, but Adam interrupted your conversation peeking his head in.

“Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt,” he looked between you two suspiciously, “but we got a ping on Rudder’s phone.” He informed you guys as you followed him out the door.

You and Jay had been partners for 3 years. He was very standoffish when you first started. You were informed through the grapevine his last partner had left him and moved to New York. So, he had every right to be skeptical, but your relationship eventually progressed and you had a dynamic unlike any other. However, you were also like any other girl that came into contact with the younger Halstead, taken back by his good looks and determined yet soft nature, but he was just your partner. You worked together. You couldn’t get involved, and he was going through a rough break up. It wasn’t fair to try anything. Unfortunately, that didn’t lessen your attraction any further and it only got worse as your relationship developed.

Jay had offered to let you move in with him after you had caught Jared. You planned on finding an apartment right away, but things kept getting in the way and Jay wasn’t trying to push you out the door. Walking into his apartment you laid your keys on the stand hanging up your purse and coat before walking further in to find Jay sitting on the couch watching TV. Turning to face you he sighed immediately getting up to hug you, no words needing to be spoken. The anger finally took over showing itself by the tears that began to soak Jay’s neck. Eventually you gathered yourself moving to sit by him on the couch.

“I should’ve listened to you.” You laughed attempting to wipe the tears off your face. A small smile appeared on Jay’s lips as he shook his head.

“No, you shouldn’t have. You were right. This baby deserves the best life ever, and it wouldn’t have been fair to them if you didn’t give him a choice.” He said, hand tickling your stomach, making it flip at his touch.

“I just wish he made the right one.” You admitted, laughing.

“You deserve better. I’ve been telling you that since day one. I hated seeing how he treated you, how he changed you. You’ve always been too good for him, and you deserve someone who gives you and this little peanut the world.” He replied.

“Why can’t it be you?” You said after a few minutes of silence.

“What?” He looked at you confused, eyebrows scrunched.

“Do you know how this happened?” You gestured to your stomach.

“Of course I know how it happened.” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“No,” you shook your head adjusting yourself, “I mean do you know when this happened?” You reiterated.

“No. I didn’t want to pry.” He admitted.

“It was the night Hazel stayed over.” You explained, and guilt flushed over his face.

“[Y/N], I told you I was sorry about that. This is your apartment now too. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or feel like you couldn’t come home.” He started to apologize, making you laugh.

“No, Jay. I didn’t want to come home because I was jealous.” You said waiting for it to click.

“Jealous of what?” He looked even more confused making you frustrated.

“Oh my god Jay. Of you and her! Of you with her!” You huffed throwing your hands in the air. Taking a deep breath you shook your head, “I just didn’t want to come back and see her here, or god forbid hear her. When all I wanted was to be the one in your room.” You admitted getting nauseous at the thought of them together.

“I don’t know what to say.” He sighed after a few minutes of grappling within his own head.

“Oh god. I’m sorry I should’ve never said anything.” Your embarrassment took over, feeling your face turn red you moved to stand up and hurry out of the room, but he pulled you back down beside him, closer this time.

“No. Don’t be. It’s just...I wish it was as easy as that. Believe me I do..” He said, breath noticeably quickening at the thought.

“It can be.” You replied after a couple seconds of intense silence.

“[Y/N], we work together, we’re partners, you’re having someone else’s baby. There’s a lot of factors.” He explained, but you could tell he was trying to convince himself.

“Do you want this as bad as I do?” You asked gently, resting your hand on his, but he stayed quiet. “Just for one night. Can’t we just give into ourselves for one night?” You bargained your face inching closer with each thought, “if you don’t want this I promise I’ll go to bed now and we can never speak of this again.” You stopped a few inches from his face refusing to make the move. The decision was in his hands now. His eyes searched your face, breathing heavy, and you watched the moment his resolve gave away, throwing caution to the wind and groaning a quiet,

“[Y/N].” Before he closed the distance his lips meeting yours in an urgency you had never felt before.

You were woken up by a sharp pain in your stomach. Turning to roll on your back you collided with warm skin, belonging to someone who grunted pulling you closer with the arm wrapped around your waist. Remembering who it was you felt a small smile appear on your lips, but it was stolen away by another pain radiating from your abdomen. Wincing you gently lifted Jay’s arm attempting to slide out from under it, brain registering the wetness you felt between your legs. Jesus, you liked him and all, but you figured you could control yourself a little instead of waking up completely ready to go again. Shaking your head you slipped off the bed, the liquid between your legs growing, becoming a little too prominent with the accompanied pains. “Jay.” you croaked out voice hoarse, terror immediately coming to surface as the red came into view. He didn’t stir. “Jay!” You tried again bracing yourself against the bed as a dizziness started to swirl in your mind. At your insistence he grunted eyes slowly opening.

“[Y/N]?” He asked blinking and attempting to reach for where you lay minutes prior.

“Jay, somethings wrong.” You began to cry, panic obvious in your voice by the quivering, but trying not to scare him. You watched as his awareness finally clicked seconds later, sitting straight up in bed looking from the blood stained sheet to you. Another cramp hitting, this time making you fall to your knees just as Jay reached you, pulling you back up in his arms. Somehow throwing a shirt on in the process.

“Alright come on I got you. It’s alright baby. You’re okay.” He hurriedly helped you put shorts on as you had only been sporting his shirt from the night before. Cradling you in his arms, running down to his truck, and burning tire towards the hospital, lights and sirens echoing in the background while he weaved through traffic, pulling up to the doors of Chicago Med not too long after. Your head was shoved in his chest breathing through the pain. You felt lightheaded barely aware of all that was happening as you heard Jay yelling for a nurse before sitting you down in a wheelchair.

“I’m assuming you’re the father? Otherwise we can’t permit you-“ The nurse began to ask, even more panic taking over at the thought of being alone before you heard Jay answer with a simple,

“Yes.” After a few tests were done your suspicions were confirmed. You had lost the baby, and you didn’t know how to feel. Jay climbed into bed beside you pulling you into his chest letting the sobs soak his shirt while he rubbed you back, “I’m so sorry. I’m right here though, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here. It’s all going to be okay.” He promised kissing your head, and if it wasn’t for the man holding you, you weren’t sure if you ever would’ve believed that.

All Tag List:

@corebore123 @scarletsoldierrr @hehurst23 @beautiful-bunny89 @ingie @halsteadsway @malrunaway @smclelli @inlovewith3

Jay Taglist:

@justadreamxx @life-treatments @weepingfestivalmentality @toomuchtv95 @queen-of-arda

#jay halstead #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #Chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #tw: miscarriage #tw: pregnancy loss

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : calming the waters

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : rick grimes x reader

— summary : the switch from surviving on the road to living in a cookie cut neighbourhood hasn’t been easy on anyone, especially the leader of your group, you leave it to yourself to remind him it’s not all on his shoulders

— warnings : only brief descriptions of blood and violence .. usual stuff for twd

note: only at the end did i realise i left the opportunity for smut but im too tired to continue damn

Life in Alexandria has so far been strange to adjust to, you continue to find yourself waking up regularly through the night. Your body has relied so long on a broken sleep cycle it simply cannot switch off the switch as easily as you wish for it, and wish for it you do every night before bed. However, life refuses to heed to your desires, preferring to disregard them completely. Your family finds it amusing to tease you about the dark circles under your eyes, that is after you have had anything with caffeine in to rattle your system into a state of alertness.

How the residents have made it this far agitates you to no end, while you and your family have suffered tragedy and loss at the hands of people like the Governor, to the people at Terminus while they sat sheltered and safe from the horrors of this new world crawls under your skin. The thought scratching inside of you, they’ve never known pain as you have, the realisation comes as one of the sons of the Monroe family accosted you the moment you set out of the door.

“ ⏤ she keeps going on about this pasta maker. I’m telling you, she never stops. “

“ she never stops, huh? “ you ask, placing yourself on the porch step with your head lazily resting in your hands. You felt as soon as he began speaking to you it was going to be a conversation you would not be interested in.

The you from twenty five minutes ago happens to be correct.

This all began because Rick thought it appropriate to let you sleep a while longer, and while you do feel more rested than you have in the longest time you can remember, you can feel irritation tickling the back of your neck intensely. Oh, I’m going to kill him when I see him. A silent thought interrupts you rudely, you almost shake your head to be rid of it and focus back on Spencer.

“ yeah, she’s not someone you wanna be caught right now by. She can talk your ears off for days. “ he informs with a chuckle, completely unaware of your blasé attitude or uncaring for it.

“ you know, I can really imagine that. “

Every inch of you is buzzing with an uncomfortable energy, you don’t want to integrate with their community just yet, preferring to feel around and understand the dynamics of how everything works. When society fell into the flames from humanity’s last fight with the walkers, you were lucky enough to have been able to seek safety with your group back in Atlanta at the quarry, and these have been the same people you have spent time with, shared your meals with, everything done has been with them. Quiet town life has been a memory of a past life that has faded into nothing more than a grey blur, shrouded in fog. To live here? It’s like learning how to ride a bicycle after many years of letting it gather dust. Your ways are not perfect, but they’re perfect for you. For your own pace and peace of mind.

“ has my mom given you a job yet? “

“ uh, yeah actually she has. I used to be a preschool teacher before everything went to hell. “ you explain to him, your memories of the children you used to teach had been painful until Judith. The little girl had been what you needed to confront your past that you had been so quick to push away in order to survive. You can’t count how many times you’d come close to thinking about their little faces, and if they’d survived the initial chaos, refusing to even put a face to a possible death. You’d spent many days and many hours getting to know their audacious and bold personalities, it cut you deep to even imagine the days they were supposed to have, the lives they should have been promised extinguished so prematurely as if they had been no more than a flame of a candle burning in the night.

“ well, those classes are really small. You won’t have your hands full. I suppose you’ll probably be helping with the afternoon classes, we’ve got more teenagers here. “

“ mhm, I thought as much. “ your words are a small acknowledgement, though it deterred him little.

Spencer keeps talking and talking, every once in a while you mutter an ‘ yeah ‘ or an ‘ mhm ‘ and even at points humming in response. It’s obvious he means well and is trying to get to know you all but it’s just a simple clash of cultures, it’s why you’re unable to cut the conversation short so rudely. Even during the apocalypse being respectful hasn’t been wiped away.

Yet.

“ hi, Spencer! “ the sugary sweet tone of Carol interrupted the interaction as she greets Spencer and yourself, the broad smile ignites her features.

Although, you know her better to know this is not one born of genuine emotion to see the man.

“ I was hoping to borrow my friend here. Rick’s looking for them. “

Recognition lights his features up, his eyes widen in understanding her words. Never have you been more thankful for the older woman than currently, if there’s one thing Carol can be, is a miracle maker. Spencer backs away with little to say, bidding a goodbye to both of you.

“ Carol, thank you. “ you breathe, your hands move up to scratch your scalp as tension eased away into the open air. “ I thought he was never going to leave. “

“ yeah, I thought you were in trouble. I thought you were ready to kill him. “

“ believe me, if he spoke for two more minutes I was coming close to getting very creative with one of those blunt dinner knives in there. “ you speak, a short giggle plummeting from your lips at the thought.

“ he’s at the gate ⏤ Rick, that is. If you want him. “

A few more words of light hearted humour are exchanged between you, just little things. You have known Carol for a long time, one of the few people to continue to see her as a human after losing Sophia, yes she was in mourning, but she was still human. You never tiptoed around her, you offered her support as best you could and for that she continues to be grateful. Even in the prison, you became closer, as time passed on she took up something of a parental role in your life. Though you were old enough at the time to not need one, you accepted it. A slice of normality granted to you for what reason you have never found out, but one you wouldn’t seek out either, for some things happen without cause or reason, a mystery of life.

Turning around a corner, you’d realised you took a wrong turn around one of the houses, your sense of direction would have been your downfall had you not found the people you now call your family. Admittedly, you’d not spent much time exploring the vast environment that is home to these large homes, you still dedicated some time to mapping all the twists and turns. However, not even that has aided you. Despite this, you find a silver lining to getting lost.. you have been able to shake off whatever blades of irritation that sorely wished to cling to your being for longer, you wanted nothing more than to approach Rick without anything that could set him off.

Though few words have been shared between you both about how you all feel about being in Alexandria, it doesn’t mean you haven’t noticed a tension building its blocks within Rick. Knowing all he has been through, you’re worried that he will reduce himself to being no more than a caged animal, biding his time to break free. It’s why you’re searching him out, a discussion is sorely needed before anything should happen, chaos has a way of trailing your family like a puppy following its master.

“ there you are. “

Rick lays his sights on you in the distance, waiting for you to move closer before saying a word. You would go so far as to say it has been one of the few instances of genuine contentment as his features relax from the lines of strain it held not even a few moments previously. Your hands move straight to your hips, standing a few metres away from him.

“ oh, you were actually looking for me? “ eyebrows raise ever so slightly, you thought Carol had been simply nudging you in his direction.

“ just to check the perimeter. “

“ and you need me for that ? “ you question him as your hands move to rest on your hips, a knowing smile lifting your expression as you observe him.

“ ‘course I do. “ Rick’s tone matches yours, it’s been a while since you’ve heard even the faintest hint of amusement associated with the intense male. It’s alien in a sense, though you’re welcoming of it.

Few words are exchanged with the Alexandrian who has been tasked with guarding the gate, exchanging the barest of information you realise as you watch Rick. You hope that even an hour outside the walls of the town is enough to soothe even the slightest of the negative energy that surrounds his being. Your situation is not perfect, and it’s inverted to what you had been experiencing previously, but you believe in your heart that this has to work. The thought of your family not being able to survive yet another bout of the outside world terrifies you to your core, the ice that is your fear erupting from your centre at the idea.

“ is there a real reason why you wanted me out here? “

“ it’s been a while since it was just us, gettin’ hard to breathe in there. “

“ Rick, you know I’m always here if you need it. I hate to see you carry everything on your shoulders the way you do. “

The hardness that had embedded itself into his face slowly eases at your words and thanks you for your support, he reaches out in between the distance that separates you to slip his fingers between yours. A comfort warms you in a way that no heat could at the action, you’re unable to stop the laugh that bursts free with a splutter. Even back on the road, and he was at his wits end, he was never this affectionate. It’s not something you hold against him though, there were many more things on his mind that required more attention.

“ somethin’ funny? “ he questions you immediately.

“ seeing this side of you, it’s just a bit weird. A good kind of weird, though. “ you assure, continuing to walk over the overgrown branches. “ you’re doing okay? Like, really? “

“ just hard to get used to. These people have just been lucky. “

You nod in understanding, it’s been your first thought every morning since walking through that gate with months of dirt and grime that had accumulated, clinging to every inch of your skin. While blood from the dead dried into your skin, becoming part of you, they lathered themselves in floral perfumes and sprays. As much as you want to allow the venom to pool within you, to form a monster born of hate ⏤ you can’t.

In this world you can’t be driven by such emotions, to aim them at innocent people. Had you been in their position, would it be such an easy position to leave this protected bubble? A piece of the previous world left untouched by the cold, ghostly grip of the dead.

“ we can’t hold it against them. “

“ they’re weak, they could get one of ours killed. “ he quietly grumbles in response, his head shaking at the thought. They’d lost too much already, and he would be damned if he lost any more members of his family, especially now they’d reached an element of safety.

“ or they might not? “ you counter his statement, your eyes pleading as you stop where you stand, your hands still connected.

“ we can’t deal in maybes, we deal in certainties. “

“ what are you suggesting, Rick? That we take over? “ you ask, your brows dropping lower. You’d seen enough death and violence to last you a lifetime, you’d had enough for now. You can’t confirm if you have enough energy for another fight. Too much has been lost.

“ if it comes to it. “

“ this is their home now, our home. They’re not bad people. “ you argue lightly, not wishing for a heated disagreement out there. Any walker around would be attracted by the noise and then the smell of the living, you’ve begun to get used to not having to slaughter walkers every day.

“ no, but they’re unprepared. “

“ so were we at some point! “ inch by inch, you close the distance. You rest your grip on his forearms, trying to calm him no matter how useless it may or may not be. “ Rick, you’re trying to create a problem. I get this is an adjustment and if anything does happen, we’ll have you back. We will fight, but for the sake of safety.. we have somewhere to actually live. “

Against his better judgement he nods, just to put a stop to the conversation. He’d wanted to spend some time alone with you that held no prying eyes from Alexandrians, nor the entertained gazes of your group.

“ let’s just see how things go, and try not to keep things bottled up. It never works out. “

“ I’m not sure you want me to share my deep, dark secrets. “ he asserts with a playful inkling hidden poorly within his words.

A smirk lines itself into your features, you’re feeling the energy from Rick and you can’t deny that it feels good. You lift your chin higher, inching your lips closer to his, the warm glow beginning to burn brighter ⏤ a silent dare in the form of a quiet whisper on your tongue. “ try me. “

#twd imagine #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes oneshot #twd oneshot #twd fic

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crash-cinematic-universe · 3 years

Text

the worst part

pairing: peter maximoff/reader

summary: you’re the messenger that’s carrying the most heartbreaking message imaginable to the Maximoff household.

warnings: angst and thaaats it

notes: hey! so writers block and general mental illness/lack of motivation has been kicking my ass, but i didn’t want to leave you hanging for so long. here’s a super short angst fic that i think some of you will enjoy.

taglist: : @stranger-names @gooseyhouse @parkersdarling @amourtentiaa @toodles-me-doodles

You stood outside the Maximoff Household staring at the gold-painted door-knocker in the shape of a lion. The faint sound of Magda’s voice rings through the door, and after a few seconds, you can hear Wanda’s laugh as well. You were going to ruin that-- you hated that you had to ruin that. Wanda picked out the door knocker herself, deciding that a lion was a good guardian of their porch. It was worn down, and most of the gold had rubbed off and become a dull silver. Silver.

God, this was going to be harder than you thought.

The longer you stood on their porch, the more and more you felt the urge to run. You forced yourself to knock on the door, holding your breath as footsteps grew closer and closer. A very forced, very anxious smile found its way on your face as the door swung open.

Magda saw your chest tremble with your breathing, and immediately knew something was wrong. She’d known you for ten years now, since you arrived with Logan, Hank, and Charles at the ripe old age of 17. Peter had brought you over at least a thousand times since then-- Magda could read you like an open book. And judging by the way you glanced down at your lap, this open book had a tragedy to tell.

She invited you in with a smile, and the familiar home-y warmth overtook your body. Standing in their living room felt like being hugged by a human space heater. Peter always gave good hugs.

“Hey, Magda. I’m sorry this visit is so sudden, but it’s urgent. I didn’t think to call until I was already in the driveway-- it’s safe to say the last few days have been… hectic.” The award for biggest understatement goes too…

“No worries,” the tall woman pulled you into a hug. “It’s always nice to see you. You’re family, y’know.” Your chest ached, and you felt like you’d been hit by a car. The resolve you’d built for yourself was crumbling.

“Thank you,” This was the most genuine and raw you’d been in a while. “I, uh, I think we should sit down for this discussion,”

Magda led you to the living room-- the very same living room where you met Wanda for the first time. You sat on the couch-- the very same couch where Magda caught you and Peter lip-locked at least a hundred times. This was his home, the home that you had become so comfortable with. Photographs of the Maximoff Family hung on the wall, Peter's wide grin and signature silver hair stared at you from every possible angle. It felt wrong to be here without him; although, it just felt wrong to be without him.

“What did you want to talk about?” You folded your hands in your lap and examined them like they were made of precious crystals. You had played this discussion out in your head a thousand times and each time it ended in disaster. There was no easy way to go about this, but still, you were going to be as gentle as possible.

“Three days ago, the X-Men were deployed to deal with a hostage situation in Chicago. There was an apartment building that a legion of mutants took control of and were threatening to detonate to prove a point. It was… difficult, to say the least. There were a couple close calls, but as always…” There was something about the way you spoke and the way you trembled that echoed in Magda’s brain, making a pit of dread grow in her chest. You took a deep, shuddering breath, “Peter saved the day.”

“He went in alone with virtually no plan, and still, he got almost everyone out,” The emphasis you put on the ‘almost’ made Magda shudder. “There was one person left. A little girl who hid in her closet. Peter went in again, but this time--” You bit your bottom lip so hard you feared you’d break the skin.

“He didn’t come out.”

Silence hung in the air, thick and heavy and filled with the disgusting reality that you were cursed with. Magda looked expressionless, her eyes trained on the small coffee table that sat between you.

“What happened to him?” Both of you knew the answer to this question, but the both of you knew it needed to be said out loud.

“Well, after he went in the captors set off a bomb in the basement. The building collapsed and--” Your voice broke. “He used himself as a human shield. We found them in the rubble not long after the collapse. The little girl survived, but Peter didn’t.”

There it was. You hadn’t realized that you had started crying until the hot tears hit your palms, the painful reality hitting you like a train. You couldn’t look up at Magda, you knew you’d never recover from seeing the look on her face. Of course, as hard as this was, Magda’s job was harder. She was the one who would have to break the news to Wanda and Lorena-- the thought alone made you cry a little harder.

“What happens next?” Magda sounded monotone and hollow, a natural reaction to loss.

“Well,” You sniffled, “That part is kind of up to you. You can choose what happens to his-- what happens to him. He could be buried around here or back at the mansion or you could, uh, you could choose one of the alternatives--” At this point, you were effectively breaking down. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t talk about Peter like he was a possession, like he was a corpse to bury and nothing more. But that’s what he was. He’s dead. He’s dead, and there’s nothing you can do to change that.

Peter Maximoff is gone for good, and in his wake he leaves behind the broken pieces of the family he once had. You and Magda were adults, you both had the chance to really, truly know him for almost his entire life. But Wanda? Lorna? They were just kids. There were kids at the mansion who saw the one and only Quicksilver and a beacon of hope. Peter is leaving behind the young mutants who saw themselves in him; and that, without a doubt, is the worst part.

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #wandavision #xmen

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Healing Touch

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Yixing x Reader

Summary: Medical school abroad was the last line on your to-do list before starting the rest of your life. Everything was going according to plan. Everything, that is, until tragedy strikes your campus. In the wake of a professor’s untimely death, you’re partnered with the cute boy with a breathtaking smile in the newly combined labs. You find yourself unable to resist the dimples and shy glances, but his life is here with no plans of leaving. Will you continue on as planned or will you accept the hand that Fate had dealt you?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Final

You were anxious, but you couldn’t describe exactly why. Was it as narrowed down to Ran and Yixing simply interacting? The two worlds colliding? Or was it as broad as the fact that Yixing was stepping into your apartment?

The place wasn’t dirty. Both you and Ran were diligent on keeping on top of the dishes and dusting. You weren’t necessarily the “make your bed everyday” type, but it wasn’t too much of a jumble of sheets. There were no leftovers out on the counter or crusted plates in the sink. The air smelled of artificial citrus thanks to the plug-in that Ran kept up with on a steady rotation.

Ran ushered everyone in and then closed the door with no concern of a noise level. “Pizza should be here any minute.” The only responses she received were silent nods.

It was awkward as the three of you stood around, no one talking, no one moving towards the available seating in the living room. Ran often brought friends over and they naturally made themselves at home. Whenever Victoria or Amber were in town, you met up with them at coffee shops or restaurants serving brunch. Your apartment was not a typical place to congregate. It was your sanctuary, the place you went to in order to get away. Now the outside world was coming in and you weren’t sure what to do.

“Yixing, you want a drink?” Ran offered.

He nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

Ran shot you a very pointed look before whisking off to the kitchen. Yixing’s eyes roamed over the mostly empty walls. Neither you nor Ran were good with tools so ramming a nail into plaster didn’t seem like a logical way to spend an afternoon. Any decorating done to give the apartment a homey feel was done on the side and coffee tables. Ran’s novels were stacked in with your medical textbooks for easy reaching. Picture frames containing silly faces and fond memories sat on top of the wooden surfaces. Your favorite was the one of you and your aunt mid laugh, soaking wet from the water ride that had splashed from behind. Wherever you went, that picture went too. Yixing found it after a few seconds, walking over to it like in a trance. He picked up the cheap, plastic black frame with a gentle hand. A dimple made an appearance in his right cheek as he studied the photo.

“You look like you had fun.”

A small laugh pushed out as the memories of that trip flashed through your mind like a PowerPoint. Lost chargers, multiple changes of clothes from water rides and dropped ice creams, and dozens of wrong turns to get to the right ride. Neither you nor your aunt were good at working the app made for the amusement park, but that only added to the adventure.

“We did,” you replied. “That was right before my freshman year here. One last hurrah before moving on to adulthood.” That was what your aunt had said, anyway, though both of you knew she meant it sarcastically. She didn’t believe in full adulthood. A little bit of childishness was necessary to live life to the fullest – a concept that you couldn’t quite fully understand in words but could when you were looking at her. Yixing nodded, the smile growing by a few centimeters as he set the frame down again. Ran entered from the kitchen and handed him a steaming mug of fresh tea. You nearly hid your face in your shirt when you noticed which cup Ran had chosen or the gesture of a gracious host.

Little chibi figures depicting characters from your favorite drama danced around the porcelain mug. It was cute in your eyes when you’d ordered it from the online shop. Now, it was mortifying. You just hoped that Yixing assumed that it was Ran’s and that Ran didn’t mention anything to the contrary.

“Thank you.” Yixing blew on the steam that danced from the caramel colored liquid and took a sip small enough for a mouse. Still, no one sat. Ran glanced at you with a curious expression. If she was telling you to do something, you weren’t able to pick up on what that thing might be. Miraculously, you were saved by the door knock.

Ran shuffled over to the door to answer it. Yixing leaned down and placed the mug on the coffee table and that’s when it hit you.

He still wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him into your bedroom while Ran was distracted with the delivery guy. You let go of Yixing and started rifling through your closet for a more unisex shirt.

“What’s wrong?” Yixing asked right behind you.

You jumped at his sudden closeness but didn’t look behind you. “You’re still just wearing the jacket. When Ran notices, she’ll start asking questions.” Your fingers landed on an old band t-shirt that you hadn’t worn in a while. The black was a neutral color and most of the wording was faded. You doubt Ran would recognize it. “Here. Put this on.”

Seemingly laughing at you in his head, Yixing smiled and unzipped his jacket.

The first time you’d seen him shirtless, you were too distracted by the hiker to take real notice. Now that he was the only one around and standing in your bedroom… heat exploded all over your body. And the jerk seemed to notice as he took his time to take off the jacket and push his head through the shirt. You scurried around him and poked your head out of your room just in time to see Ran hand over the tip, closing the door with the pizza boxes in hand.

“Smells good,” Yixing commented as he snuck up behind you once again. He really needed to stop doing that.

“And its still warm, too,” Ran cooed, having heard him. She took a long whiff. You couldn’t help but take one, too. Delicious. Your mouth was already swimming when you sat down at the table. You didn’t even remember telling your feet to move. Ran grabbed plates from the cabinet before flipping open the lids, engulfing the apartment with that familiar scent. “Bon appetite!”

“Thank you for dinner,” Yixing said again. He was always so polite. It was endearing. So much so that you had paused midbite and started staring at him with a grin of your own pulling at your lips’ corners.

Ran chewed through a mouthful before answering. “No problem. You just have really good timing.”

A silence that you couldn’t quite call comfortable settled over the meal. You thought over and over of what you could say to continue a conversation, but all options fell flat. The consequence of that? Ran jumping in.

“So, Yixing, how do you know (y/n)?”

“We have class together,” he explained, not bothered at all by the questionnaire he was about to receive. Or he was simply unaware that this might only be the beginning.

“Which one?”

“Human physiology.”

Ran’s eyebrows shot up. “The one that just combined? So, did you have the other professor?”

Yixing nodded solemnly. “I did.” Though there were still several bites left of his current slice, he put it down and folded his fingers with his elbows resting on the table. “She was a good teacher.”

“That’s what I heard a lot,” Ran agreed. “It’s scary what’s going on. You never know who’s going to be next. I heard that there might have been another attack today.”

You looked at Yixing thinking that he would do the same given your shared knowledge that there was indeed another attack, but he didn’t turn his head in the slightest. He kept staring at the table. You knew this was bothering him. It was written in every facet of his posture and face. But Ran didn’t seem to notice.

“I think they should send the rangers out and put down the animal. I mean, I hate to kill anything that is just living its life, but there’s obviously something wrong with it. Like it went mad or something. Putting it out of its misery might be—”

“Ran, do you have plans tonight?” you jumped in.

Ran blinked as her mind quickly changed gears. “Yeah. Hae In is picking me up in a few minutes and we’re going to go out. You two are welcome to join us.”

“That’s okay,” you answered for both of you. “Thanks, though.”

Ran grinned cheekily. “I kind of figured.”

A quick succession of knocks rattled from the front door. Ran leapt up and ushered her friend inside.

Hae In, a girl whose personality was as bright as her blonde hair, waved excitedly at you and Yixing. “Hey! Ooo, that looks good!” She was quickly distracted by the pizza, grabbing a slice as soon as Ran gave her the okay. She swallowed down a few bites. “I’m Hae In, by the way,” she said to Yixing. “Are you (y/n)’s friend?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, a bit his previous light coming back. “I’m Yixing.” Standing up, he held out his hand for her to take.

“Nice to meet you,” Hae In shook his hand after wiping the grease off on an unused napkin.

“We should probably get going,” Ran suggested. “You know Marnie will take forever and we want to get there before they start charging covers.”

“No kidding,” Hae In giggled. She waved goodbye and followed Ran out the door.

Yixing turned to you. “They seemed nice.”

“They are,” you nodded as you stood to your feet and started clearing the table of the dirty dishes. Yixing was soon on his own feet, helping by moving all the leftover pizza into one box and then closing the lid so it could fit in the fridge. You rinsed off the plates, the water plashing all over the counter. After a quick clean up, you put the plates in the dishwasher. Yixing had moved on to the living room. He was seated on the couch, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his thighs and looking deep in thought. You sat down beside him. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he said none-too-convincingly. He sat up so he was now sitting back into the couch. “I’m okay. It’s just been… a day.”

You snorted. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

He didn’t respond to what you had said. He changed the subject in a sharp turn. “This shirt’s comfortable.”

You frowned, confused. “Yeah, its old so its been washed a few times. But it was soft like that when I bought it.” What were you even saying? Why were the two of you talking about your shirt? Honestly, you wanted to forget for a second that he was wearing your clothes at all. Because then you mind drifted to what was underneath the cloth.

“I think I’ve heard of this band,” Yixing said as he tugged on the front where the members were proudly displayed in a tough-guy fashion. There were a few breaks in the plastic-y photo that split some of the faces at odd angles. “They’re a pop group, right?”

You cleared your throat as you shifted in your seat. “Yeah. I guess you could call them that.” Why were you suddenly dying of humiliation? Why should you have any anxiety over what music you liked? One fear might have been that he was one of those people who looked down on others for liking such “shallow music.” You never thought the group in that way. If the vocals were good, who cared if the songs were mostly about love? “I like them anyway.”

To your surprise, Yixing was smiling. “I like them, too.”

In your heart, you were sure he was saying something else. Implying someone else that he really liked.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. Because… well, you were realizing that you liked him. Very much. More than a friend. You liked Yixing. And you wanted him to like you, too. While you weren’t a mind reader, you thought that maybe there was a chance that he already did.

Going with the second thought that popped into your head, you looked at him shyly. “Thanks for coming along when you did, by the way. I don’t think I would have been to get him help in time if you hadn’t.”

Instead of returning your soft expression, Yixing remained stoic. He reached out and touched your cheek with the tips of his fingers. They were warm against your skin – No, not warm. Even with the minimal contact, you could feel the fire. It felt like a constant wave of sunshine pulsing into your skin. By sheer instinct, you leaned in deeper to his touch. That was encouragement enough for him to shift so now his palm was against your cheek. The reaction to pull away coursed in your mind, but you couldn’t bring it to fruition. If it had been anyone else, you would have been up and off that couch, putting plenty of room between you and them. But with Yixing… you simply wanted to move closer.

And someone did.

You weren’t sure if it was you or him – your money would have been on a mutual understanding, an equal pull that shifted both of you like magnets. But there was no gnashing of teeth or crumpling of shirts. It was a softer collision. A hesitant one. Your hands dug into the cushion to force you not to move as his lips brushed against yours. When he pressed more, his other hand came up and pulled you in closer by your hip. You didn’t resist, encompassing the space that was his lap.

That fire – that heat and warmth like a log alite on a winter’s day – was everywhere now. But just as it was growing, it was also drifting farther back in your mind. Yixing’s presence, his touch, was consuming your thoughts. You were not the kind of person who did this. You shied away from intimate moments like this. The weeks you had known Yixing were short, but that felt like a detail of little consequence. You believed yourself safe in his embrace.

The kiss ended abruptly. With hands that were simultaneously harsh and gentle, Yixing removed you from his lap, placing you on the cushion beside him. He gave no explanation for his sudden switch in direction. You weren’t sure what for, but the urge to apologize was swelling up, like you were the only one who had crossed a line.

“I’m… sorry.”

Yixing rubbed his eyes, releasing a sigh. “No. Don’t be. I just… I need to figure some things out first.”

“Some… things?” Was he… already seeing someone else? That’s what that usually meant, right? In all this time, he had never mentioned having a girlfriend. He wouldn’t have let you borrow his jacket if there was a chance that another girl might see it. Unless— unless she didn’t go to the university in town and they were in a long-distance relationship? The more you thought about it, the more your stomach was beginning to churn.

“I know that’s— What I mean is—” With another heavy sigh and a shake of his head, he stood to his feet. Not looking at you, he concluded, “I should… probably go.”

You were in state of confusion and sadness as he hurried out the door. Your eyes stayed trained on the last space that he had occupied. This was exactly why you didn’t do things like this. No moment of bliss was worth the terrible heartache that was always doomed to follow. Bringing your feet up on the couch, you made yourself as small as possible. Minutes went by. You weren’t sure why you didn’t move. Was there some stupid part of you that was waiting for him to come back through the door? Things like that only happened in the movies or a teen novel. As if to prove yourself wrong for why you were still in that spot, you peeled yourself up and walked into your room.

Laying there on your bed, folded like a store window display, was the jacket. Divided more than ever, you continued to stand in your doorway and stare at the last remaining evidence of Yixing’s presence.

As soon as he was outside, Yixing whirled and threw his fist into the grimy brick. Shaking out the pain, he cursed at himself under his breath. Stupid. He didn’t lash out like this. It wasn’t the right way to work out his anger. Even if it was towards himself.

The wolf both cheered at the line he’d crossed and whined at the sudden retreat. Part of him knew what the outcome would be once Ran left the apartment. The right thing to do would have been to say goodbye immediately and leave. But he had you to himself and to a wolf with his mate, that was a drug that couldn’t be discarded. So, he sat down on that couch, waiting for you to join. Sitting so close, Yixing’s muscles had tightened from the restraint. And then he snapped.

The scent rolling from you was too great to resist. Besides, you were leaning in, too. You were wanting it, too. Lips so soft as they kissed him back. Minseok had been right; it was like heaven on earth.

Then his mind pulled him back to hell.

A hiker had been attacked right around the time that he had blacked out. Again. And this time, they’d lived to describe the animal that had charged on him. A gray wolf. The same color as his own fur.

He fought against the thought that it might have been him. He held on tight to the chance that it was coincidence. But if it wasn’t… he couldn’t risk you getting hurt. If he did something to cause you harm… he’d never be able to forgive himself. He needed to get a handle on this, and fast. He just hoped that you didn’t hate him for the stunt he pulled back there.

In his pocket, his phone rang. Thankful for the distraction, he pulled it out and then the gratitude scrambled away.

It was Junmyeon.

Already knowing what this call would be about, he answered it. “Hello?”

“Yixing? Where are you? I need to come back to the house for a family meeting.”

He didn’t even bother to pretend to not understand. He didn’t ask for the reason to cover his current state of mind. “Okay. I’m in town, so it’ll take me about an hour to get home.”

“We’ll wait for you.”

Exhaling as his thumb hit the red button on his phone, Yixing pushed off the wall of the building and hopped into his car. A back and forth debate carried on as he drove down the backroad. Would he tell his pack what was going on and risk being ostracized? Or did he try to do this on his own and risk everything?

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kominum · 3 years

Text

rewatching old sailor moon and thought of like... disgruntled tuxedo mask!corpse but with unrequited love because i’m a glutton for angst

wc: ~2.2k

warnings: death of a minor character, implicit knowledge of sailor moon lore, modern twist, unedited

please send in ideas you might have that i could write short blurbs for! this was honestly fun to write.

It’s a scratch he can’t itch. It’s what has him waking up in cold sweats, confused and moderately annoyed that his hard-earned sleep has been so rudely interrupted. He hates the cape, he hates the itchy suit, he abhors the top hat – and the only things he doesn’t really hate are his baton and endless supply of darkened roses.

The first time he transformed, he was half-asleep and struggling to understand why he was speeding down the highway and parking two blocks away from some random back alley. His pain was relatively dulled, which was surprising, and his body suddenly possessed a world of fighting skills that felt foreign yet familiar. All he could recognize was a slightly disheveled woman cursing and just trying her best against some odd form of demon spawn, and before he knew it, he’d thrown down a dark purple rose and engaged in combat. Once said woman found an opening, she took off her headband/tiara, performed a throw that would put professional frisbee players to shame, and the monster disintegrated into dust.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, body hunched over and hands on his knees. “What the fuck was that?”

“More like who the fuck are you?”

“Fuck if I know,” he muttered and dusted himself off.

“What’s with your get-up anyways?” She failed to hide her snickering. “You’re 3 decades behind.”

“Do I look like I want to fight in a suit? Plus, you’re fighting in some rendition of a schoolgirl uniform.” Her black thigh-high boots were killer, but he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction.

“You should’ve seen what it was before, but I was able to make some changes. Good heads-up for you and—”

“Sailor Moon, are you okay?!”

Oh. So she’s got a talking cat, too. What in fresh hell was going on? Did he take something? But also—“Your name is Sailor Moon?”

“We’re working on the name change,” she grumbled, bending down to let said feline jump up her arm and settle on her shoulder. “Anyways, uh…thanks. I was kind of in a bind, but I’m usually not I swear. Good timing, I guess?”

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” But she was already in the wind, hopping from roof to roof with no inhibitions, and left him completely dumbfounded.

His silly attire dissolved back into his previous clothing as he ambled back towards his car, thought not exactly at his own will. But he shrugged, slid into the car seat, and dialed the only person he could think of who would readily pick up at this ungodly hour of…2:37AM. That was just the start, and he can’t tell if things went downhill from there.

He should backtrack.

He met you almost two years ago at a hospital.

You had been waiting anxiously for your boyfriend to come out of surgery after being in a bad car accident, biting your nails, occasionally pacing back and forth, smoothing your hands worriedly against your jeans, and gnawing your bottom lip to death. It was midday, sometime after lunch, and he’d come in for some routine checkup he can’t remember what for now, and sat a few seats away from you in the tiny hospital coffee shop. He’s no therapist or expert, but he highly doubted that any caffeine would alleviate your anxiety. Yet you sat there with two to-go cups and a granola bar wrapper, and something told him to stick around for now.

He’s never been one for a lot of small talk, but you looked to be about his age and no one else was with you. Tragedy tasted most bitter when alone, and some force of the universe told him to at least say something, anything. So he stuffed his hands into his hoodie and shuffled awkwardly to your table, tentatively asking a, “Hey, uh…is everything okay?”

You’d looked up at him with wild eyes on the verge of tears, heart battering against your chest, and the only intelligible thing that left your mouth was a “Huh?”

And he’d casted a gentle grin, eyes laced with a mixture of pity and concern, and asked again his first question. “My boyfriend’s in surgery. He got in a bad accident. There’s um…roughly two hours left, I think.”

“And you thought coffee would make it better?” He jutted his chin towards your large cups.

“Hot chocolate,” you chuckled. “I’m not keen on torturing myself like that, not now at least.”

“Well, I’ve got an appointment soon but I should be done before his surgery’s over…want me to come check up on you?”

Dumbfounded was the best way to describe your expression, and he was so close to retracting his offer before you gave him one of the most thankful smiles he’d seen in many years. “I’d really appreciate that.”

He nodded. “Sounds good then. Give me a sec.”

At the counter, he paid for another cup of hot chocolate and added in a chocolate chip cookie for good measure before bringing it back to you. “I hear chocolate helps.”

“Thank you, again. Go, don’t want to make you late.”

But an hour and a half later in the waiting area outside surgery, the doctor came out with a solemn expression, and you all but collapsed into the plastic chairs, tears leaking like waterfalls from your eyes. Part of him wanted to bail and go because there wasn’t much he could do, but it wouldn’t be right to leave you to drive home now. He wanted to make sure that you were calmed down, all cried out, and breathing properly so you could at least operate a vehicle safely.

The same unknown force had him offering you his number in case you needed anyone to talk to, yet the conversation sat empty for weeks until curiosity and guilt ate at him. He tapped out a message, deleting it, then another one, more deleting, before he settled on a plain, “It’s the guy from the hospital. I know it’s been a while but…how are you?”

Your reply was almost instantaneous, to which he worried if he’d accidentally woken you up at 4:13AM. First, it’s a casual, “hey, thanks for checking up on me! I’m doing okay,” but he knew better. And the other shoe dropped in the form of a simple, “I miss him.”

It’s a quiet, heartwarming friendship. You know nothing specific about him – he’s incredibly vague on any identifying information. Hell, you’d be willing to bet that the name at the hospital was a fake one. Nevertheless, he’s one of your closest friends. You know he mainly works online, has a lot of trouble sleeping, is chronically ill and has a number of medical conditions, his general disposition and feelings on things, but overall, just wonderfully easy to talk to.

Yet something just feels wrong about falling in love with him. It’s a horrid combination of guilt and disbelief. Are you rebounding? Are you subconsciously searching for your dead ex-boyfriend? Are you so desperate for romantic connections that you’ve twisted yourself into believing you love a man that you’ve seen fewer times than the number of fingers you have?

You come to peace with it when his custom ringtone chimes softly on your nightstand in the middle of the night. Rain or shine, stars or none, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him. Nothing has ever woken you up so quickly, not even alarms on interview days. “Hello?”

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Kind of, but it’s fine. What’s up? Wait,” you interrupt yourself and listen carefully to your speaker. “Are you…driving?”

“…yeah.”

“Should I ask from or to where?”

“I…honestly don’t know. Something felt off, felt like I had to get out of my place and just fucking do something. So uh, I drove somewhere and just started driving back home.”

You curl up under your sheets on your side and plug your earbuds into the phone. “Well, did it get rid of whatever you were feeling?”

“I think so? Honestly couldn’t fucking tell you. Still really bizarre to me.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you murmur. “Well, feel free to call me whenever you feel like that again.”

“I don’t wanna fuck up your sleep schedule though. Feel like it’ll happen more often than I’d like.”

“How about this – if I don’t pick up, it’ll just be my nice way of saying ‘fuck off, too busy sleeping right now’?”

A soft, deep chuckle warms your chest and cheeks. “Sounds good. So how’ve you been?”

“Well, you know…”

It’s the same night that you think you might have a chance at love again. You fall asleep with his voice weaving stories and tales in your ears and wake up to a message that says, “Wow, didn’t know I was so fucking boring that it made you snore so loud.” The hope that creeps through your veins is dangerous and thrums urgently whenever you get a call or message from him.

And as bright as a star, it all comes crashing down in a firey blaze.

You crash into a girl as mysterious and serenely beautiful as the moon with a talking black cat one afternoon. She exudes a gorgeous amount of confidence in her stance as she protects you from a creature that looks like it’s out of a horror video game, and you can only stare in awe. The cat from before yells instructions at you, throwing what looks like a pen with a red cap on it and you blindly follow them. Your subsequent red heels feel incredibly comfortable and you can’t remember the last time you wore a skirt – but there’s no time to ponder as you push the girl you were admiring out of harm’s way and somehow manage to direct fire at them from your fingertips.

The monster burns and screams in agony before getting hit with what looks like a glowing frisbee. Your savior wipes the dust off her outfit before extending a hand out to you, “Welcome to the club, Sailor Mars.”

Say what now?

“There’s gotta be a better name than that,” is the first thing you say as you get pulled up. She throws her head back and lets out a charmingly obnoxious laugh. “We’ll work on changing it. I can tell we’re gonna be good friends.”

“Her name ended up being a rip-off of my name,” the cat quips and receives a scowl from the supposed plagiarizer. “I’m Luna, and this is Sailor Moon, or Lunaria she says.”

“You gotta admit, that’s cutting it a little close,” you agree and Lunaria flips the bird. “How the fuck am I going to change Sailor Mars? Also, can I do anything about this outfit?”

“We can go shopping tomorrow for sure. Luna and I can fill you on everything and – oh, before I forget, there’s a guy—”

“So it looks like you don’t need my help?”

You freeze in your steps, startled by the familiar baritone approaching you two. He was involved in all this?

“I told you, I don’t need your help—”

“Is she new?”

“Yeah, which means, we really don’t need your help. She’s got actual fire power. Literal fire.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool,” he accepts. “Good to meet you.”

You spot a set of veiny fingers that appears in your peripheral and you tentatively turn in his direction, hoping that your hair will obstruct your face as much as possible. “Same,” your throat manages to squeak out as his warm hand engulfs yours in a firm handshake.

“Get out of here, Corpse,” Lunaria chides and lets go of you to push a finger to his chest.

“I’m only here because you fucking needed saving. Now you’ve got another person dragged in.”

“I told you, I’m not some fucking damsel in distress,” she hisses. The mirth in his visible eye only causes the infuriation to grow and swirl more vigorously in her gut.

You watch the exchange from the sidelines as Corpse’s teasing only increases and provokes Lunaria further, disheartened that you’ve never heard him laugh so much in one exchange before. Dread from deep within your veins begins to freeze around your heart, something so set and undeniable that causes your brain to realize that falling in love with him was a mistake. It was the kind of mistake that would strike you with pain for years and the intense foreshadowing has you spinning on your heel and bounding through an alleyway. Your outfit shifts back to what you’d been wearing before, the characteristic weight of your phone in your back pocket seeming heavier than ever.

You call him that night, holding in a deep breath when the dial tone breaks midway. A rustle, a breath, and then, “Hey what’s up?”

Oh god, you scream to yourself as your heart shatters at the bottom of your chest. His voice, again, cannot be misconstrued as anyone else’s – the inflection, the tone, the volume, everything belonged to him.

And the universe told you then and there that he, undoubtedly, belonged to her.

#corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #sailor moon!au #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband angst #corpse angst

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pradaksj · 4 years

Text

7 Rings | 01

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 12,000+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, terminal illness, this chapter basically just sets the foundation of this story up so sorry if it’s a little boring

♛ summary: In need of money for your mom’s medical bills, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, blackmail, get your money, and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em. ❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist || next chapter

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

“Why Y/N?” his voice cracks, the look of betrayal evidently on his face.

"I never—" you sobbed. Your throat felt swollen and you stuttered, pitifully trying to speak the words in your head. "I never meant for it to go this far," you said at last.

How did you end up here? Where did everything go wrong? When had the rabbit hole simply become too deep? The sounds of several voices echoed in your head.

You could hear him calling your name, begging no demanding an answer, but all you could do was stare off into space, thinking of everything that led up this exact moment.

If only you could turn back time.

3 Months Ago.

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Oh the irony.

Sighing, you turned off the radio of your run-down 2006 grey Hyundai, which every morning you had to cross your fingers and hope that the engine wouldn't burn out on you. The rumbling sounds of the engine starting up never failing to catch the attention of pedestrians walking by.

After several frustrating minutes of struggling to parallel park, you sat in your car and allowed yourself to sulk for a moment. Another day, another dollar to make. Even if it meant having to deal with rude and entitled customers all day, your school loans plus your bills just weren’t going to pay themselves off anytime soon.

“One day at a time Y/N, just one day at a time,” you reassured yourself, placing on your mandatory logoed hat, and mentally preparing yourself for another day. If only you were rich.

Friday Night.

Despite being tired from work, visiting your mom was something you always felt like you needed to do every so often, plus her homemade meals were quite often a bonus considering how lazy you’d often get to cook food for yourself. In fact, the pizza shop near your apartment not only having your order, but voice completely memorized for whenever you called. The young employee quickly interrupting your greeting with a, “Pepperoni pizza, half sausage, half Hawaiian, and a pink lemonade?” surprisingly no longer offended you as much as it would back in the beginning.

Your mom certainly didn’t mind the company as it inevitably got quite lonely living by herself, but she knew she couldn’t smother you forever as much as she would love to. College was a necessity for you in her eyes, a ticket to a better life that wouldn’t require you to scrub the floors of the rich as she did.

And maybe it was because you were more mature nowadays, but conversations with her had now also seemed to be much more meaningful. Well that and the two of you didn’t butt heads as much as you used to compared to when you were nothing but a temperamental teenager whose biggest life crisis was whether your crush glanced at you in the hallway or not.

Of course the boundary and respect of a mother-daughter relationship was always there, some of your jokes sometimes garnering a “I’m not your friend, I’m your mother” speech from her, but nonetheless your relationship with her in a way was very much like a friendship. It seemed as if with every visit you learned new things about her, the different stories she shared with you from her youth always having an underlying lesson that you could apply to your own life.

“I really needed this,” you said while chewing on a mouthful of bulgogi. Small stains of sauce at the corners of your mouth, as your mom’s cooking never failed to make you feel like a little kid. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her now twenty one year old daughter who in her heart was always going to be just a little girl.

She got up from the small wooden dining chair, picking up any leftover dinnerware as she prepared to start washing dishes, all while at the same time listening to you as you babbled on about work.

“I mean really, how hard is it to say thank you,” you rolled your eyes, dramatically sticking your chopstick into your bowl, as you were recalling one of today’s customers who kept snapping their fingers at you as if you were their very own personal servant.

“Well it’s a good thing it’s summer, you don’t have to worry about college so mu—” The sound of glass shattering on the floor abruptly caught your attention. You looked up at your mom who was now dead silent, her face which was now extremely pale, and her breathing which had suddenly became erratic. What you didn't know was that your mom had suddenly felt as if the world spinning, the feeling of disorientation becoming too overwhelming.

“Mom? Are you okay?” you quickly got up, grabbing your mom by the forearm in a means of trying to redirect her from the kitchen to the couch at an attempt to get her to relax. You unlocked your phone, fingers slightly trembling as you called the ambulance.

“Just breathe okay. You’re gonna be okay,” you kept trying to reassure your mom as you waited for them to pick up which at the moment felt like an eternity. Your leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation as you kept glancing at your mom who was trying to keep her breathing in control and her eyes open. “Do not close your eyes on me, you hear me?” your voice began to feel shaky, eyelids brimming with tears, the pulsating feeling of panic flowing through your veins.

“Hello, what’s your emergency?”

You hated hospitals. Who didn’t? The smell, the yellow-toned ugly lighting, and the feeling of anxiousness the whole place gave people. For you though, the hospital was a reminder of tragedy, a reminder that whatever comes in here never walks out the same whether you’re a patient or not. Fifteen years ago, it made your mom a widow left having to pay remaining hospital bills all while having to raise her six year old daughter.

So here you were now, fifteen years later sitting at her bedside waiting for her to wake up, stuck in the same position she once was. You stared up at the ceiling counting each time the overhead lights flickered as you tried not to get so lost into your thoughts. Everything had happened in what felt like was the blink of an eye, guilt was beginning to seep in. Why hadn’t noticed anything earlier? Maybe in some miraculous way you could’ve prevented this, you thought to yourself.

You turned on the small TV that the hospital provided in every room, flipping through several channels hoping you'd find something that would be able to distract you.

“Shut up and kis—” K-drama. Next.

“Watch ou—” Action movie. Next.

“Kim Taehyung gets physical with paparazzi, the heir to Kim Enterprises spotted —” but before you could place your full attention to the entertainment newscast you turned your attention to your mother who was now beginning to shift in her sleep, her eyes now slowly opening, clearly in a daze as to where she was and how she got there.

“Hey ma,” you softly whispered, giving her a warm smile as you held her hand tighter, beginning to rub small circles on her palm.

“W-what happened Y/N?”

“You fain-”

“Ah you’re finally up,” you turned towards the door, seeing who you assumed was the doctor in charge now walking in.

For a doctor she appeared quite young, her petite figure and wrinkle free skin a defining factor in her appearance. You formally greeted her, a wave of anxiousness now overcoming you. “Dr. Whitney Han'' is what her name tag read, but it was what was in small font beneath her name that made your heart feel as if it feel down to the pit of your stomach. “Oncologist,” meaning doctors who specialize in the study and treatment for cancer.

Faintly clearing her throat, “Hello, I’m Dr. Han,” she introduced herself, reaching her hand out for you to shake. She smiled at your mom who was still in a slightly groggy state, but aware nonetheless. “So Ms. Y/L/N, you seemed to have suffered from what we call a syncope, meaning an episode of passing out, it’s usually caused by insufficient blood flow to the brain, a result of hypotension,” you nodded following along with what she was saying,

“When episodes such as these occur, it tends to mean that there’s an underlying cause and so we decided to run some tests on your mother to cross out any possibilities, and well there’s never an easy way to tell anybody this...” her gaze lowered for just a slight moment until she quickly regained her composure, but it was just enough for you to just know. She continued with what you assumed she’s told hundred’s if not thousand’s of patients in her career. For her it’d be just another day of work, but for you it felt as if the world stopped.

Whatever she had said after couldn’t be heard because the only thing you could hear was the sound of your blood pounding in your ears, and an intense beating against your chest. You could see her mouth moving, but nothing seemed to be coming out, everything suddenly becoming a ringing noise to your ears.

Fight or flight is what they call it. When a stressful situation triggers you to either run or stay, and at this moment you just wanted to run, but you knew you couldn’t. You knew that at this exact moment, everything was going to change because whether you liked it or not, the carousel never stops turning.

You slowly glanced at your mom who seemed to be in the same paralyzed state as you, her face stoic of any possible emotion.

“With treatment chances of survival are of course immensely improved, the treatments are harsh, but taking your mom’s age and clean medical history I think she can definitely handle it,” Dr. Han tried to give you a small smile, but even she knew situations like these were always tough. No matter how many years of experience she had, the countless tragedies and rare miracles she’d witnessed in her career, every case was different. Her job as a doctor was to make people like you and your mother feel more comfortable with their situation, but never make any promises.

“Now treatments are done in intervals, and will probably have to be done starting from now until about three to six months which is when we usually see improvement, meaning you will have to permanently stay here for that time. From what I’ve seen with past patients is that treatment can be very costly without insurance, and well I know a lot of physicians don’t like to talk about expenses with patients, but—”

“My mom doesn’t have health insurance. I know,” you harshly broke the deafening silence, interrupting her before she could continue, not wanting to hear anymore of her pity. You had no reason to give her attitude, no reason to direct your anger towards her, it wasn’t like she caused any of this to happen, but you just couldn’t help it. The atmosphere in the air was stiff, any next word out of her mouth and you’d probably go ballistic. “C-can we just have a moment alone? So we could just um process everything,” you stammered, lacking to make any eye contact with her.

“I’ll be right outside in the hallway, let me know if you have any questions,” she gave you and your mom one last tiny sad smile before making her way out.

Once the door closed, you thought that you’d be able to breathe properly again, but the same heavy feeling on your chest remained. It wasn’t until you felt a grab at your hand that you were brought back to reality.

“Hey we are going to be just fine Y/N,” your mom whispered to you as it was now she who was rubbing your hand in an effort to comfort you. A weak smile appearing on your face, of course your mom would be comforting you despite it being her who's sick. “Come on lay down with me,” she then began to scoot to the side in her already tiny hospital bed, trying to make space for you.

And for a small everlasting moment you felt like a little girl again as you hugged your mom, tears silently falling from the corner of your eyes, the soft sound of her humming comforting you. You let your head relax onto her shoulder, your breathing somehow finally under control. The question of “What are we going to do?” slowly disappearing from your mind, letting yourself drift off to sleep in the arms of your mom.

Sunday Morning.

In the following days after, you had helped your mom move her necessities into the hospital room that she’d be staying in until her treatment was over and she could be discharged. You had contacted your landlord informing him that you’d be cancelling your lease as you now had plans to move back home. The only reason you had your own small apartment in the first place was because your mom thought it’d be better to live near campus and not waste so much money on gas going from campus to your job and then back to your moms place. Despite her protests on the cancellation of your lease, you had done it anyway.

“Ma someone has to live there, or else it’d just be useless to continue paying rent. We can’t just leave it empty for the whole year, someone could break in or even try to live there for the while that you’re not there. I mean imagine walking in on some strang—”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want you living there, and move the decoration a little more to your right,” she says while making a motion with her hand as a way to guide you. For the past hour you had been putting up flimsy removable decorations all across the beige hospital walls at an attempt to make her room look less depressing than it already was.

“I already told you, I’ll be just fine. I already asked Yuna to help me get my stuff, and you’re acting like everyone in the neighborhood doesn’t know who I am, and it’s a lot faster to get here from home. I just need to start looking for a second job in the meant—”

“Ah about that,” your moms sudden interruption causing you to stop what you were doing , now tilting your head in confusion, “I called Mr. Choi and told him about me no longer being able to work for the meantime that I'm here and well that’s when he mentioned something about going on vacation, and needing a temporary assistant… and that he needed someone to run some business like errands for him and well I may have mentioned you and that you’re majoring in business and how you’d love to work for him…” she tried zooming through the last part but you had heard it all.

“Wait what!”

Mr. Choi was your mom’s boss, having been his housekeeper for as long as you could remember. Endless long nights of making sure whatever multimillion dollar penthouse he or his other snobby friends owned looked squeaky clean, just to be paid like any other minimum-wage worker minus the tip.

You could still vividly remember the nights when you were younger being babysat by your neighbor, anxiously waiting for your mom's knock on the door signifying that she was back home, and just how exhausted she’d look as she took off her housekeeping shoes, too tired to even look at the pile of sealed letters on the sturdy coffee table. A constant reminder that she was going to be working for that man for a very long time.

For a long time you had wondered how she was able to do it all. Were there nights where she felt like just giving up and simply letting everything she’d work so hard for to collapse?

Your mind flashing back to the night before you moved out for college. It was about 3 in the morning and anxiety had been keeping you up the whole night, the fear of moving somewhere you were unfamiliar with creeping into your mind. The sound of muffled tears coming from the living room snapping you back into reality. Slowly you had gotten up from bed, opening your door wide enough to leave a crack that you could visibly see through, desperately trying to avoid having the door loudly creak.

And so there she was with a wax stick candle in her hand, quietly whispering to herself a small recital, the sound of several wailed “thank you’s” coming out of her mouth, grateful that she had made it this far. The old framed picture of your dad on the coffee table making it hard for you to fight back your own tears.

Nights where she was sure your landlord would knock at any moment to kick you guys out because the rent was going to be late, nights where she’d silently cry herself to sleep because it killed her to say no to something you desperately wanted from the store, and nights where she merely missed the love of her life. Doubting herself as to whether she was doing a good job in raising you, simply wishing she could have someone give her some reassurance. And having to hide those feelings because she didn’t want her daughter to find out that the person she had once given a “Happy Mother’s Day to the Strongest Mommy in the World” card with a colorful doodle of herself in a cape was in fact not strong at all, but acted like she was because she simply loved her daughter too much.

And so that night instead of going back to sleep, you slowly made your way into the living room, silently enveloping her in a hug, no words having to be spoken. Promising yourself that you were going to work hard in college, and get each other out of the small cramped apartment to which you guys called home. Life of course had different plans, which brings you back to one of the causes of your stress and worries: Mr. Choi.

Oh how you despised that man. One would think a rich man like him would’ve offered by now to pay for all of your mom’s expenses considering the years of servitude, but no. He only fed into the stereotype you already had of the rich, the only people they cared for were themselves.

“So you’re basically telling me I have to quit my job by tonight, and do something I have absolutely no experience with?”

“Yes! You need to start getting all the experience you can get in the world of business, and him being on vacation is perfect. Less stress, and I assume it’ll be better pay than that restaurant you’re working in.” Oh how you hated how naive your mom could be sometimes, it always led to Choi taking advantage of her and her kindness.

“Mr. Choi lives—”

“In the city which is not at all far from here, the only reason you work at that lousy restaurant is because it’s near campus, yes or yes?”

“And when school starts?”

“Mr. Choi should be back by then and he can find someone new to replace you,” you dramatically groaned, the fact that she had reasonable answers to your questions bugged you.

“But-”

“But nothing! You’re a hard worker Y/N, who knows you may even meet someone who could change your life around in that area. You’re young, about to be a college graduate, you need to start printing out resumes and Mr. Choi is a big name in the indust—”

“I get it, I get it,” you said chuckling at your mom’s enthusiasm, “and who's going to keep you company then?”

“Ah well the nurse was telling me last night about the events they throw here every week for people like me who are staying here for a while and trust me I’ll be just fine,” she winked at you which raised a laugh out of you. Who knew your mom could be so… social. “Just try and visit hmm... at least once a week.”

“Once?”

“I’m telling you Y/N, we will be just fine. Stop acting like I’m dying anytime soon.” she said, “now what do you say? It’s just until the end of summer.” You began to consider your options, money was definitely the weighing factor here.

Sighing once you had made your decision, “When do I start?”, a giant grin now appearing on her face.

Sunday Night

“Well that’s the last of it,” you sighed in relief as you finally were able to close the trunk of your car after several minutes of struggling to compress your things in order for everything to fit in your small car and not make any double trips back.

“Finally! You know for someone who claims they need to save money, you sure do like spending it on such small useless things,” your best friend, Yuna, complained.

“Oh because you were so much help,” you huffed, she had no right to complain considering all she did was loudly munch on her chips, watching the pitiful sight of you nearly fighting your trunk after several failed attempts of it not closing. She raised her hand in defense.

You and Yuna had met in the 8th grade after the two of you were assigned as partners for your geometry class, casual conversation about latest idol debuts and fashion trends had blossomed a beautiful friendship. For a while you thought that college was going to cause the two of you to grow apart, but in fact you two became even closer. It had become a friendship where you didn’t need to see each other everyday, nor talk about absolutely everything all in one moment. Everything was always at its own pace between you two, the boundaries having been silently set.

You had told Yuna of your situation and rather than try to get you to cry about your feelings and awkwardly comfort you, she instead agreed to help you move out, letting her actions speaking louder than words. Of course Yuna’s definition of help differed from yours. but it was the thought that counted. She knew that when you were ready you’d talk to her about everything.

“Well apartment D2 you’ve been... “ you paused, recalling the amount of times you’ve nearly burned something, now scratching your neck, “...decent to me, but it’s time for a new chapter,” you whispered to yourself, anxious for the weeks to come.

The drive home like almost all of them had the two of you singing to both current and childhood songs without a care in the world even though you two weren’t exactly what people would consider “good” singers. Occasional voice cracks seeping through the bass of the speakers, garnering a laugh from the two of you.

By the time you got home and finished unpacking, you were not only exhausted but extremely hungry.

“I’m gonna go get us take out,” Yuna announced, getting up from the couch and grabbing your car keys from the rack, almost as if she read your mind.

And so while she went to get that, you laid on your small childhood bed, staring at the ceiling. You laughed at the multiple glow in the dark stickers you had crookedly placed onto it several years ago, and cringe at the posters of second generation idols you had sloppily posted up on your walls when you were fifteen, now unaware that you were subconsciously grinning.

It surprised you that your mom for the most part hadn’t moved anything around from your room, for the most part it looked almost exactly as how you left it years ago. The same old baby blue duvet covered your metal twin-sized bed frame, decorated with grey fluffy throw pillows which at the time you thought made you a professional interior designer. Your fingers grazed over the framed pictures you had on your small desk (minus the ones you took to college) of past memories including a photo of your dad piggy back carrying a five year old you who had the biggest smile on her face. A small reminder of what life once was.

You could feel your eyes getting watery as you continued to stare at the photo, and so you quickly snapped yourself out of it, deciding that you already had enough emotional turmoil on your plate. Instead you plopped back onto bed, unlocked your phone and began to scroll through Twitter occasionally laughing at some memes.

A certain retweet had caught your eye causing you to let out a scoff, “Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” The Kim family were almost insufferable, their names practically plastered everywhere across Korea. Especially Mr. Kim’s son Taehyung who somehow always managed to get his name across the headlines whether it be on TV, magazines, or social media.

“Famous for being a brat,” you muttered to yourself, but ironically before you could click on the link you had heard the door open and close, resulting in you locking your phone and immediately getting up from bed, your stomach desperately ready to stop growling.

“Im baaaack!” Yuna dramatically squealed, placing the foam takeout containers on your small kitchen table. The scent of the warm food making your mouth water. “I know it’s chilly right now, but the stars are out tonight, so I say we go eat at the top,” she then gave you the puppy dog eyes.

“You don’t need to make such… disturbing...faces for me to agree, you do know that right?” you teased, trying to hide your smirk.

“Fuck you,” she responded to you while playfully hitting your shoulder.

Despite it being summer, when you had walked outside you immediately felt the crispy cold weather, but it was something you and Yuna had grown accustomed to. The countless number of late nights climbing up your metal ladder to get to the rooftop and watching the small tiny stars had made you two somewhat immune to the nightly cold. Your mom sometimes would even climb up herself to bring hot cocoa, rightfully worried that the two of you would freeze yourselves to death.

You see your apartment, like the rest of your complex, wasn’t in the greatest condition. The infrastructure of it mostly relying on a mix of cement and brick, rust engulfing most things along with metal bars on each complex’s windows in order to prevent break ins. Crime was not something uncommon in your area, but something that you were used to hearing about as you got older.

What made the whole situation more ironic was that the rich were separated by a simple six way motorway, acting almost as a bridge between two completely different worlds with their skyscrapers and condos looking down upon you guys. It was only at night when the stars were out and you looked up at the navy blue sky that you felt like for a small moment none of it mattered. The warm milky glow of the moon never failing to soothe you, reminding you that even in the dark there was light. Reminding you that even now which felt as if was one of the darkest hours in your life, there was going to be light. At least that’s what you hoped.

“This view just never gets old,” you whispered, amazed at the moonlight’s reflection, the speckle of stars only adding to its beauty. Your eyes had once again become watery, a sudden state of reflection washing over you, but you quickly composed yourself before Yuna could notice.

“What time do you even go in tomorrow?” Yuna asked, her eyes still primarily focused on the view above.

“Well their flight is at 1PM so my mom told me I should get there by at least 11AM so he can explain everything to me, show me around, and all that other stuff.”

“I don’t see why you have an attitude about it, you’re acting like it’s the worst job in the world!” she scolded you.

“I know I know, I’ve heard it all already,” you rolled your eyes recalling your mom's lecture and that she expected your attitude to be fixed come Monday morning.

“Well you gotta do what you gotta do,” Yuna mumbled while shrugging her shoulders and continuing to eat her food.

“You can say that again.... ” you acknowledged her remark, secretly scared for tomorrow, silently hoping that all went well, “and I thought I was a slob,” you snorted, watching how sloppily Yuna was slurping her noodles. She raised her hand, smacking you on the shoulder.

“Hey, watch—”

Monday Morning.

“Where you’re going, you asshole!” you shouted over your window, your irritation fixated at the man who cut you off without signaling. God how you hated driving in the city. All the one way signs, the assholes who called themselves drivers, and the narrow streets which were hard to maneuver in. It all caused unnecessary stress, but here you were nonetheless.

“Turn right in 1.2 miles,” you let out a snide scoff as you entered the parking lot, there was nothing but car of the year models ranging from Mercedes Benz’s, BMW’s, Range Rover’s, and more. All making your car look worse than it already did.

Making your way into the lobby, you were in complete utter awe of the place. From the giant diamond chandelier hanging from above to the sparkly interior design which screamed Hollywood glam. The ivory colored double staircase reminded you of Titanic, the color scheme of the whole place was overwhelmingly beautiful. You could only imagine what Mr. Choi’s condo could look like as you made your way to the front desk.

Ding.

To your surprise a boy, a very handsome one to say the least, appeared from what you assumed was his office. He looked no older than you, his hair dyed a crimson-red color giving him a youthful appearance accompanied with a face that had both sharp and soft features. Before you could ponder on why such a good looking person was working and not living at a place like this, your thoughts were interrupted.

“Hello, welcome to The Oaks condos, how can I help you?” he asked, sounding eerily similar to a robot. It reminded you of yourself at your old job, something you certainly would not miss.

“Um I’m Mr. Choi’s new assistant,” you looked for his name tag which coincidentally he didn’t have on, but you could immediately see his shoulders relax once he had heard the words “new assistant”.

“Ah yes! You’re Ms. Y/L/N’s daughter right? Y/N right?” you nodded in agreement, a smile now appearing on his face, causing the corner of your lips to turn upward. Wow was this guy handsome, you only hoped that the heat you felt on your cheeks wasn’t visible to the eye.

“Your mom called me to give me a heads up. I’m Hoseok, I’m what you can consider the receptionist around here,” he said, reaching his hand out for you to shake.

Hoseok. The name sounded so familiar, you could’ve sworn you'd heard your mom mention the name a couple times.

A light bulb then went off in your head, as you remembered the countless number of times she had tried setting you up on a date with him, but wow did she fail to mention that Hoseok had the literal face of a GQ model.

An awkward cough brought you back to reality as you had realized that Hoseok’s hand had been stuck out for quite some time, you were now certain that your face must’ve resembled a ripe tomato. You quickly returned the handshake, internally scolding yourself for making yourself look like an idiot. Here you were, a grown woman, acting like a teenager again.

“So um, you seem um ... pretty young to be working here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he teased, “I replaced my aunt after she retired and the owner of this place trusted her to teach me well, and well I guess I’ve been doing a pretty good job if I’m still employed,” he explained, playfully winking at you, confirming that he knew the effect he had on people. You stood there in silence, deciding that it was just best to say nothing, look pretty, and nod. Thus causing him throw his head back and laugh, making small claps with his hands. With the way you were acting, you couldn’t blame him. He must’ve thought you were some kind of walking circus act.

“You’ll get used to it, you know...” you now had a look a look of confusion on your face which only made him laugh harder, but before you could ask him any questions, he changed the topic.

“Well I assume your mom gave you Mr. Choi’s key pass, correct?” you shyly nodded no in response. “Ah I see, let’s go ahead and get that set up for you then,” you watched him as he began to type some things onto the computer in front of him. Compared to how fast his fingers were moving across the keyboard, he made you like a complete newb on the keyboard. The boy was clearly now in his own zone.

“First name, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

“Last name, Y/L/N?”

“Yes.”

“You see where that X mark is on your left?” he pointed at the microscopic mark on the floor to which you followed, “Okay now look at where that pretty gold flower is on the wall, and say cheese!” Before you could even properly prepare yourself you heard the sound of the shutter go off, immediately causing Hoseok to begin cracking up.

He turned the desktop computer to face towards you, showing the horrendous picture the camera took of you. One eye had come out mid-blink, your mouth slightly agape from fixing your hair in the moment. “Hey that’s not—!” Before you could start complaining, Hoseok had quickly interrupted.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! It’s only for the program’s database which only Rachel and I see? Ain’t that right Rachel?” Rachel? Who the hell was that?

Glancing around to see who this Rachel person was, you were surprised to see a very old woman seated behind the front desk seemingly caring less about what he had said, a permanent scowl on her face along with a small groan coming out of her mouth as a response. “That’s my girl,” Hoseok jested, “Now you,” he dramatically pointed at you, “come back over here.”

You muttered a quiet “Whatever,” peeved by his little antics. Maybe it was because Rachel was old but you could slowly see why she had that look on her face.

“Place your index finger on the small machine when it lights up,” he pointed to the small biometric scanning machine, similar to the ones used at the DMV. Following the simple instructions you allowed the machine to scan your finger, assuming it was going to be used for something important around here.

All you could do was observe him as he finished typing who knows what. You observed how his eyebrows quirked as he continued to type, a satisfied smile gracing his lips once he was done.

Too caught up in his appearance, the sudden tug at your hand had caught you by surprise, yanking you from where you were standing. “I’ll be back Rachel! I’m going to show little Ms. Y/N here around,” Rachel as before. only grunted in response.

“So here of course we have the lobby, this is where all the..” he glanced around making sure no one was around before whispering, “snobby folks come in and out of every day. Them and their visitors of course, so hopefully you don’t have to interact with any of them.”

“I don’t think all of this will be neces—” before you could continue he pulled your hand again now guiding you towards another area. You glanced at the time on your phone, hoping this so called tour wasn’t going to take too long.

“Right here is the entrance to the patio and pool area, which is what you’ll use your fingerprint for as well as entering Mr. Choi’s condo and any other amenities we have around here,” he reached into his pocket pulling out a laminated card, “but if for any reason our system’s down then this right here should do the trick for amenities only, you’ll have to come up to the front desk if the finger pad in the elevator isn’t working. For precautionary reasons of course,” he explained, most of it pretty self explanatory, except the elevator part but you assumed he’d get to that soon.

“So the entrance to every apartment is through the elevator which is right there on your left,” You followed him as he began to walk towards it, placing his finger on the elevator’s finger scanning pad, “The stairs are really only here for decoration considering no one uses them, I mean unless of course you want to climb up 7 flights of stairs everyday,” You quickly nodded your head no, “Only resident’s and employee fingerprints allow the elevator to open but,” the two of you stepped into the elevator, “the fingerpad inside the elevator only allows certain people to access certain floors. Since Mr. Choi’s going to be out on vacation with his vacation, you are currently the only person with access to his floor,” you raised your finger, slightly confused.

“Don’t you technically—”

“I do, but let’s say I were to enter a resident’s condo without their explicit permission, they’d immediately be notified through their phone as I’m also under strict contract.” Your mouth made an “O” shape, impressed by how everything was ran around here. Another question then popped up in your mind as he clicked the elevator’s 7th button.

“Well what if there’s more than one person in the elevator? What then?”

“Ah good question! Since you don’t know any of the residents here yet, I suggest you always try to go into the elevator by yourself, and if the situation arises where you feel uncomfortable or paranoid about who's in the elevator with you then just go back down to the lobby of course and wait it out, but we’ve never had any cases of break ins or anything like that. Especially not in an area like this. Things around here are ran very smoothly,” he shrugged, “I mean around here the burglars don’t wear black ski mask and carry scary weapons. In fact the real criminals live on these same floors,” he deadpanned, slightly catching you by surprise.

“I know what you’re probably thinking, who the hell makes an elevator an entrance to their home? I thought the same thing when I first started, but for some reason they see it as some kind of luxury feature around here...”

“Mm it’s expected if I’m being honest,” you chuckled, slowly finding the confidence to make small talk with Hoseok without getting so flustered. A pregnant silence had made it’s way into the elevator.

“I’m sorry about your mom by the way...” though he had said it out the blue, you could feel the sincerity behind his words. All you could do was give him a small smile of acknowledgment, feeling as if it was too early to feel someone’s pity. “She talks about you a lot...” he said, causing you to smile.

“My Y/N is going to one of the top schools in all of Korea! My Y/N is going to become a successful businesswoman! My Y/N is so pretty Hobi, a boy like you should take her out some time!” he mimicked your mom’s voice, now causing you to genuinely laugh.

“That definitely sounds like her,” you giggled, your cheeks now becoming a tinging shade of pink at the mention of her trying to playing matchmaker.

“You should’ve seen her face when I told her I was gay,” your eyes immediately felt as if they had bulged out of your eye sockets, your face now completely red at his previous words. He on the other hand was now laughing as hard as ever, his hand clutching onto his stomach from laughing so hard.

“I told you you’d get used to me,” he said in-between laughs, tears now welting out of his eyes from his laughing fit. Things definitely started to make sense, especially now that you were inconveniently remembering how your mom had completely stopped mentioning Hoseok in any romantic way to you. You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment because here you were already fantasizing about the dude.

“You're also probably wondering why I’m working at a place like this, that’s what most people ask me when they visit round here, but...”

“I’ll have to answer your questions some other time Ms. Y/N because well here we are! I’ll have your parking pass ready by the time leave but for now just place your finger on the scanner and off you go,” you followed his instructions, opening the doors of the elevator, stepping out, and waving a small goodbye watching him return the wave as the doors slowly closed. In all honesty you were genuinely happy at the fact that you had made a friend around here even though you were still slightly embarrassed about the moment that had played out only minutes ago.

But before you could dwell on it any longer, you heard a voice call out your name, “Ah Y/N, good you’re here right on time!” You formally greeted who you presumed was Mrs. Choi, slightly surprised at the fact that she even knew your name.

“You don’t have to be so formal. Muah. Muah,” she pulled you in for a hug and giving you a kiss on each cheek like the French do. “I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, tell her I send my condolences.” You returned her fake smile, not expecting yourself to despise her this early on. Oh were you glad she wasn’t going to be around.

Mrs. Choi in a way reminded you of Regina George’s mom despite not having any kids. Needles and plastic were definitely her best friends, and her attempt to try and act younger than her actual age was quite cringe to watch.

Soon after greeting each other, two pomeranians began to circle around you barking. You bent down trying to pet them, but you guess they picked up the snob’s attitude because all they did was continue barking and one even tried to bite you.

“If it isn’t Y/N, I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!” you snapped your attention to the man himself, Mr. Choi, who was coming down his stairs with a thick black luggage case in his hand. The last time you saw him was around 9 years ago when he had lived on the other side of the city. Your mom had to take you to work with her that day because your neighbor was unavailable to watch after you and you were still too young to be home alone.

Mr. Choi had definitely changed in appearance, his once full head of black hair was now clearly balding, he had gained some weight, and overall looked like a man who had long been worn out. You couldn’t help but think that this vacation was probably needed, especially with a wife like his.

“I’ll wait for you in the car my love. It was nice seeing you Y/N, I’ll see you in a couple of weeks!” she squealed, waving goodbye as she stepped into the elevator, the dogs following right behind her.

You could hear Mr. Choi sigh, probably already mentally preparing himself for the next 10 weeks. So this is what a pretentious marriage looks like, you thought to yourself. You theorized that Mr. Choi must’ve only married her for her looks and she for his money, and well no wonder there were no kids in the picture. It’d be the ultimate death of both of them. You actually felt pity for the man, but it wasn’t like he didn’t have a choice in marrying her.

You brought your attention back to Mr. Choi who must have been rambling on for some time now, “My most recent assistant just quit on me for no reason,” a genuine puzzled look on his face, “something about me being too overwhelming for her, as if I'm supposed to know what that means,” he scoffed. “So when your mom mentioned you well I knew I could trust her!”

Your mom truly never failed at mentioning you to whoever and whenever she possibly could, it was both a blessing and a curse.

“So… what exactly am I going to be in charge of?” You blurted out, the question had been lingering in your mind since the night prior.

“Good question, I’d show you around, but time is on the essence. I basically just need you to organize my office, file paperwork, organize Amelia’s closet, go run errands for me, pick up documents, but most importantly I’m going to need you to attend certain events in place for me, but of course just introduce yourself as my assistant, apologize as to why I couldn’t be there, and most importantly keep your eyes and ears open. In my world we like to keep… tabs… on one another,” your eyebrow quirked in curiosity, “and since I won’t have any signal I expect to have a report ready for me when I come back so I’m caught up with everything of course,” he grabbed something from the coffee table, “I made a planner for you with everything that needs to be done on a day to day basis,” he then proceeded in handing you the bulk gray planner, “It includes passwords, data sheets, and all that good stuff.”

You were amazed at how his demeanor had changed from clumsy-like to serious businessman in the blink of an eye. It was actually quite intimidating.

“Finances need to be kept in check, investors need to be accommodated, and well I just want to come back to everything being normal,” he began to gather the remainder of his stuff, “also your money is going to be wired to your bank account on a weekly basis and well that’s really it. I’ll see you in 10 weeks Ms. L/N! Good luck!”

“Good luck..” you quietly repeated his final parting words back to yourself, watching as the elevator doors closed. You could see why his last assistant quit, you didn’t even know where to start. You took a deep breath deciding to make your way up to his office, your day was just getting started.

The condo may have looked like it came out of a show from HGTV, but Mr. Choi’s office looked like it came out of an episode of Hoarders Buried Alive. There were scattered papers everywhere, his desk was practically hidden by all the stacks of papers. Food wrappers and aluminum soda cans thrown around like the slob he was, the stench making you want to throw up.

“Oh my God…” you said to yourself, this man was just a mess.

You skimmed through some of the papers all of them having to do with different things ranging from firm performance, finances, legal forms, and much more. You could already feel a headache coming, but at the end of the day this was your job. You grabbed some storage boxes and began to label them with a black marker.

Your plan was to separate the papers into two sections: Important and Unimportant. Once you finished separating, you’d then shred what you deemed unimportant, and further organize what was important by date and then transfer them to his filing cabinets. It would take time, but it was the only method you could possibly think of. Your goal was to stop by 3 and then start working on Mrs. Choi’s closet.

You put on your earphones and began to play some music so that you wouldn’t be so stressed while organizing everything.

“Breakfast at Tiffany’s and bottles of bubbles…” you hummed to yourself and before you knew it, it was already 3. You had thrown out all of the trash in his office, and for the majority part most of his papers were organized.

You sighed, now to get started with her damn closet.

Mrs. Choi’s closet was its own giant room, marble shelves stacked with bags and shoes, racks full of clothes, jewelry sparkling under their display showcase. The sparkling glass chandelier on the ceiling adding an extra oomph to the room.

Hermes. Gucci. Chanel. Versace. Burberry. Balmain. Louis Vuitton. Saint Laurent. Fendi.

Any brand you could think of was in this closet, it was unbelievable. The closet had to be worth several thousands, no millions. So many questions were running through your head. How could someone just have so much? What do you even do with this amount of clothes? You were truly left speechless.

Shaking your head, you began to pick up all the clothes on the floor deciding that it was best to organize everything by color, your day almost done.

By the time your alarm went off it was already six which is the time that Mr. Choi had said you could leave, and it wasn’t like he was paying you extra for staying any longer and doing more work. For the most part, you had finished with both the office and closet and were just ready to go home, jump into bed, and watch some Netflix.

You went down the elevator, satisfied at your first day on the job. This was going to be easy, you thought to yourself.

Just as you were leaving the lobby you heard Hoseok, “Hey I had your parking permit printed out!” You stopped dead in your tracks, turned around and walked towards his desk. It wouldn’t hurt to make a little bit of conversation, right?

“Ah I had forgotten about that, thanks,” you chuckled.

“It’s no problem! The parking officer loves giving tickets.… so how was your first day?”

“Um not bad actually, a little boring to be honest,” you pondered at his question, for the most part you were being truthful, “Tomorrow I’m supposed to go and get Mr. Choi’s Mercedes Benz checked out, and then from there go and pick up some paperwork from some legal firm, transfer it onto his computer.”

“Well at least he’s not around to be over your shoulder, he practically had his last assistant going nuts,” he responded, laughing at the memory.

“Well I’ll see you tomorrow,” you yawned, giving him a small wave goodbye.

“Hey well let me know if you ever need anything, and I’m being serious,” and to that you nodded, taking note of what he said.

Monday Afternoon.

[Incoming Facetime from: Ma 💞💗💓💕]

Immediately you clicked “accept”, having just gotten home and tidying up a couple things around the apartment.

“So how was your first day?” your mom immediately questions you, clearly eager to know.

“It was pretty decent ma, nothing I can’t handle,” you chuckled, “but wow was that man’s office practically a pig pen,” you complained only causing your mom to start laughing.

“Oh I know,” she comments, only causing you to roll your eyes.

“I think these 10 weeks should go by quite smoothly if I say so myself,” you sounded genuinely optimistic, “I met Hoseok you know,” your embarrassment had long subsided, instead finding it hilarious.

“Ah my Hobi!” your mom sounding delighted at the mention of the young boy, “a hard worker that boy is I'm telling you.”

“He seems like it,” you had long concluded that he was when he had been explaining everything about the residency to you. He seemed like one of those people who even though they disliked their job, still put in their absolute everything into making sure they were the best at it. “You shoud’ve seen me giving him the googly eyes earlier,” you joked around.

“Hobi is—”

“Gay, yeah I know. I had to find that out the hard way,” you covered your face with your hands, playfully sulking.

“Why do you think I stopped trying to set the two of you up,” your mom laughed.

“Mm really ma? I would’ve never guessed,” sarcasm dripping from your words.

“Hey remember who you’re sp—”

“Anywayssss, how are you holding up out there?” you took a sip from the cup of juice you had served yourself earlier, your mom’s dismissive expression returning back to a smile.

“Well the food around here is horrible! I told my nurse that they should let me in the kitchen for a change, but all she did was laugh!” You grinned at the idea of your mom actually working at the cafeteria for the sake of it.

"Ah well I’lll make sure to bring you something on Wednesday.”

“Did anything arrive in the mail today about the invoice for everything?” your mom asked, a look of worry now on her face.

“No ma, and don’t even worry about anything like that okay? Focus on your treatment, and you let me handle the rest alright?” your voice now becoming stern, leave it to your mom to start worrying about finances.

“I know, I know, but I know some fees were coming up and well—”

“And I’m telling you to leave it to me, okay?”

“Ah okay then, well I'm going to sleep already,” she yawned, ��they’ve been prodding needles in me all day,” she tried to say it as lighthearted as she could, but she quickly regretted it as she saw the sudden sad look on your face.

“Goodnight ma, I’ll see you Wednesday alright?”

“Okay then Y/N, I love you.”

“I love you too,” and with a small pressured smile, you clicked “end call”. An immediate sigh coming from your lips as you glanced at the several unsealed envelopes on your coffee table, many of the scattered papers stamped with a red “PAST DUE”.

School, rent, the water bill, the light bill, the gas bill, your phone bill, the old hospital bills, the new ones, all due in such small amounts of time with almost no room in-between dates to rest.

And so that night you laid in bed staring at your ceiling for what felt like hours unable to go to sleep. The only thing on your mind was how you were going to get the funds to pay for everything because well if you didn’t then you’d be left in hospital debt with an eviction notice right at your door and a whole bunch of other problems that you didn’t want to think about.

Deciding that it was best to get a breath of fresh air, you made your way to the rooftop, watching as the scattered stars glimmered in the sky. You sorta wished that life could be like those childhood TV shows where a shooting star would pass by and make your wish all come true, but the fact was, is that your life isn’t a movie or a tv show. This was your reality, and you were just going to have to suck it up.

You unlocked your phone and texted the only person you possibly could.

[To: Yuna 🤍]

[10:09] you up??

You tapped your foot, waited for her to reply.

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:10] i'm offended that that’s even a question tbh

[you]

[10:11] you think you can come over? pleaseeee 🥺

[10:12] ik it’s late and you’re probably tired and work tmrw but i just rlly need some company rn

[From: Yuna 🤍]

[10:13] i’ll be there in 10, don’t judge how i look

[you]

[10:14] when have i ever…

Soon enough you heard a knock on your door.

“I brought your favorite snacks,” Yuna had a giant grin plastered on her face to which you couldn’t help but smile at. Her makeup-free face and bright Hello Kitty pajamas told you that she was probably in bed when you texted her.

Once she slid off her shoes, she was quick to make herself feel at home by jumping onto your couch. Hell, this was basically her second home.

“Do you work tomorrow?” you asked her.

“I called off, I’ve already accumulated a lot of hours anyway and well I might as well start putting them to use,” she stated, as she munched on a freshly opened bag of barbeque chips.

Yuna was a retail clerk at the local mall, attending fashion school at night in hopes of landing herself a future internship, but like you was currently on summer vacation. Even in middle school, becoming a world renowned fashion designer had always been her dream, having gone to the the principal’s office a countless number of times because she added some kind of tailor to the plain old school uniform whether it be bedazzles or embellishing some kind of bizarre pattern onto it.

Yuna though was sadly a case of a prodigy without the resources, accepted to one of Seoul’s top fashion schools when the two of you had graduated high school. You were there the day she opened her letter of acceptance, the two of you along with her family celebrating by going to one of Seoul’s most expensive restaurants. But just as you were there the day she was accepted, you were also her shoulder to cry on the day she realized that the money she had saved up wouldn’t even cover a quarter of tuition costs, and her applications for scholarships had all fallen through.

What you admired most about Yuna was that disappointment didn't stop her from trying. Her designs were truly one of a kind, and you weren’t even saying that because she was your best friend and had a bias towards her. You could only hope that one day she’d be recognized for her talents.

You grabbed your blanket from your room and sat next to her on the couch. She stared at you while you flicked through different channels on the TV, sensing that something was wrong.

You could practically feel her burning a hole through your head and so you decided to answer the question you knew was looming in her head, “I’m not okay,” you mumbled, letting out a sardonic laugh. “I’m trying to act like I am, but I'm just not,” you stared off into the TV not wanting to make eye contact with her, “it’s just not fair,” you whispered, confused with yourself as to whether you were sad or angry.

Yuna could feel her heart wrench as she listened.

“My mom’s been nothing but a kind person, I’ve been nothing but a kind person, and so I can’t help but ask why? What did we do to end up in a situation like this?” you hadn’t even realized that tears were falling from your eyes until you felt the salty drops of water make their way onto your lips, dripping from your chin, “The whole time I was in Mr. Choi’s condo looking around at the million dollar paintings, and organizing his wife’s thousand dollar outfits I kept thinking to myself how can a man like Mr. Choi just not care? He didn’t even bother to ask how she was...” you seethed, the emptiness in your voice had now become anger.

Yuna scoffed, “The rich are always looking down on us like we’re just nothing but money makers to them, demanding their respect like they deserve it for free.”

“I just,” you paused for a second, “I just don’t know what to do, I think I might have to start looking for a second job or something, or maybe even take a gap year...” you breathed out, running a hand through your hair in distress.

And maybe one could call it fate with what you and Yuna had seen on your TV that night. Destiny perhaps. Whatever it was, it was going to open the doors to a brand new world. A world that you had only ever caught small glimpses of.

“Kim Taehyung is officially Seoul’s most eligible bachelor, our sources have confirmed that he and on and off again girlfriend Sunhi have called it quits permanently this time. The reason you may ask? Rumor has it that she was caught cheating on him,” the entertainment reporter had a giant grin on her face, “That’s right ladies, the heir to Kim Enterprises is back on the market.”

Pictures which you assumed were recent showed Taehyung partying, drinking, flashing expensive cars, and at red carpet events for major fashion brands. “Tweet us using hasht—” you changed the channel on the TV, bored of the topic at hand.

“I swear he’s the only person they talk about nowadays, I mean literally he’s everywhere!” you chuckled, turning your attention to Yuna who for some odd reason now had a look of disbelief on her face.

“Y/N… how did I— no how did we not think of this earlier?” Yuna got up from the couch like an excited toddler causing you to tilt your head to the side in honest confusion.

“What the hell are you talking about now,” you said, laughing at how childish she looked. She was now pacing herself back and forth across your living room, her adrenaline practically visible.

“You know I don’t normally believe in this stuff but holy shit this has got to be a sign!” At this point you were convinced she was talking to herself considering she wasn’t even making direct eye contact when she said that. She frantically ran her hands through her hair, “I mean you have the quote on quote resources, the clothes, my fashion expertise, the car, the events, and he’s single now. Oh my God how did we not think of this,” you carefully listened to what she said trying to piece everything together. Resources? Clothes? Was she talking about Kim Taehyung?

Your eyes immediately widened when you put two and two together and realized what she was so excited about, and it was now your turn to get up from the couch.

“You’re literally insane you understand that right!?” you stared at her, completely baffled. You thought stopping her from pacing around would bring her back to reality and get that grin off her face, but if anything it did the opposite.

“Y/N! What are the chances that as we’re talking about your finance issues and then something like that comes up! What are the chances that you literally work for a millionaire who's going to be gone for several weeks and expects you to attend his events! You can’t tell me that this isn’t hmm… I don’t know… Fate!” All you could do was stare at her in disbelief as she began to mumble something about this being something “straight out of a movie”. You were waiting for her to laugh and tell you this was all some kind of joke, but you soon realized she was being serious.

“The fact that you’re actually being serious about this is ridiculous!”

“And the fact that you think it’s ridiculous is what’s really crazy!” you shook your head refusing to accept what she was alluding to.

“Yuna! Let’s be rational he—”

“No, just listen to me Y/N. Please,” you looked at Yuna who had now calmed down, her face completely serious, “I know it seems out of the ballpark…” you nodded in agreement, “You have the opportunity to infiltrate the rich, and not just anyone but the Kim family! You know how many rumors there are about that family and their business!” she shouted while adding extra emphasis on the word infiltrate as if this was some kind of spy movie.

You sighed, “And how exactly would I do that? How could I not get caught up in lies? Why the Kim family? Why not not just steal some of Mr. Choi’s belongings and sell them on Ebay or something? Just what exactly are y—”

“You didn’t let me finish!” you grunted in annoyance. There were just so many questions running through your head, did she not realize the risk in what she was proposing? The consequences?

“You’re a stranger in their world, a brand new person … a brand new identity! You already have to go to these events as it is, and you can’t steal anything from Mr. Choi and sell it because I mean clearly he knows who you are. They, as in the rich, do not,” Yuna knew she had managed to grab your attention based on the look of skepticism on your face, “And technically you’re not going to be stealing Mrs. Choi’s clothes, you’ll be um ... borrowing them.” she flashed a giddy smile, “10 weeks Y/N, 10 weeks to get Kim Taehyung to fall in love with you, blackmail money out of that family, and then poof you disappear without a trace!”

“You have no idea how many questions are running through my head at this very moment.”

“And I think I can give you answers to them all, but please Y/N just think about it! It would solve all of your problems, financially at least,” you jokingly hit her shoulder as she teased you with the last part of her sentence, “you wouldn’t be doing it for yourself, you’d be doing it for your mom.”

“For my mom…” you mumbled to yourself. Yuna stared at your blank expression. She could only assume that you were letting everything sink in before making a decision. On one hand you’d be able to pay for all of your expenses while still getting your job done, but on the other you'd be using someone under a false pretense in order to blackmail money out of them. You’d literally be infiltrating the rich. You were scared. What if you got caught? Would you go to jail? What would happen to your mom?

You had made your decision.

“I trust you Yuna… I really do…” she now had a worrisome look on her face, “and so..” without even realizing it Yuna had been crossing her fingers, “I’m in.”

“Oh my God,” she let out a sigh of both relief and disbelief, a beaming smile on her face.

“But!” her smile quickly disappeared after hearing your tone, “we need to plan this thoroughly, like a solid proof plan by tonight on pen and paper, you got me?” she nodded in agreement, “and I think there’s someone we need involved in this... “

She tilted her head in confusion.

“Who?”

Tuesday Morning.

“Yuna this is Hoseok, Hoseok this is Yuna,” the two shook hands giving one another a warm smile.

Yuna began eyeing you in a way of saying “Are you sure about this?”. You understood why she was skeptical of Yuna whether or not she’d agree to everything, hell you had your own doubts. What if Hoseok said no? Worse, what if he completely snitched you out? Then you’d be stuck with no job, no money, and probably blacklisted from all major companies in Seoul by Mr. Choi himself with the label “thief” over your head. You had to reassure yourself that everything would be just fine, “So what brings you guys here?”

“Well I was hoping I could talk to you um…” you glanced around, “somewhere private,” you whispered giving him a shy smile, “maybe up in Mr. Choi’s condo,” you offered remembering that Rachel could possibly be hearing (though you highly doubted she’d care).

“Oh um… sure, let me just tell Rachel to cover for me,” he awkwardly dismissed himself to the back.

“I don’t know Y/N … he seems like the type of person to not want to risk his job..” Yuna whispered to you, she was clearly on high alert.

“He told me I could ask him for anything, and well I know I’ve only known her for about 24 hours, but I don’t know… something about him just seems reliable, I can't explain it. It’s just better to have him on our team than to be suspicious of us. I can’t do this whole infiltration thing being paranoid that the receptionist is going to snitch on me when he sees me walk out with clothes worth thousands of dollars,” you replied, “And if this really is playing out as a movie like you say, then we need someone whose tech savvy.”

“You have a point,” she chuckled, “wait how do you know he’s good at computers again?”

Your mind flashed back to the night before, while Yuna was asleep you had gone full stalker mode on Hoseok to get to the bottom of who he was. After hours of looking through different social media platforms you had ended up finding both his Twitter and Instagram @/junghsk, where he had pictures of his college graduation from 2 years ago. Major? Computer Science. It explained why he looked like he was in some Matrix movie the other day, and though of course it didn't mean automatically he was an expert, he definitely must’ve been better than both you and Yuna combined when it came to programming which is something (based on your plan) you were going to need for future endeavors.

You also came to find out that he was an avid animal lover, taught cardio dance classes on morning weekends, likes to live tweet show series such as Games of Thrones, and is in a committed relationship with someone named Min Yoongi. What could you say? You liked to do intensive research.

Once Hoseok returned the three of you went up to Mr. Choi’s condo, the elevator ride up was definitely awkward compared to the day before.

Yuna was in clear awe of the place. You could tell she wanted to give herself a personal tour, but you shot her a look dismissing the idea as she could easily do that later.

“We should sit,” you suggested pointing to the kitchen’s island, "Yuna can make us all some instant ramen,” she immediately shot you a look of annoyance, but didn’t argue with you making her way to the pantry.

“So...” he quietly mumbled at an attempt to break the ice, making small tapping noises on the island’s surface with his fingers.

Flashing him a pretentious smile, you awkwardly glanced around trying to think of something to make small talk with, “Um do you like Games of Thrones?”

Immediately he grinned, you expected a “yes” to come out of his mouth but instead he said, “Ah so that was you yesterday!”

The color drained out of your face , wait what? He began to laugh, making small claps as he threw his head back, “You were stalking me,” his face scrunched up as he began to tease you.

“What are you talking about?” your tone becoming defensive along with your eyebrows furrowing, only causing his fits of laughter to become louder. His index finger wiping the tears that began to form in his eyes.

“Don’t act like you didn't like and unlike my picture at like 3 in the morning!” He suddenly pulled out his phone, showing the notification which he hadn’t cleared from his phone, showing your username and the words “liked your photo” following right after. You had forgotten about that...

It was already 3AM and you were beginning to doze off, eyelids barely even open. You saw the white heart on Instagram appear on a 56 week old picture which you immediately unliked, also causing you to jolt out of your comfortable position in panic.

Damn you Instagram. “Whatever you need must be pretty important if you’re up at 3AM instastalking me.”

“Oh shut up—”

“Well since you were on there, what hair color do you prefer on me: red, brown, or black?” You scowled before muttering a quiet “brown”. “Really I’ve been told red looks best on me, hmm...” he pondered, pressing his index finger onto his bottom lip. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about anytime soon or ...” he said, his tone coming out more demanding than he intended, but Hoseok was the kind of person that didn’t like to beat around the bush, rather preferring to be told things straight up as they were.

“Okay..” You started, explaining to him of your situation starting from your mom, to the bills you needed to pay, why this job just wasn’t enough, why you needed to go ahead with your plan, why you needed him to be in on everything, and emphasizing that you weren’t doing this for yourself but your mom. By the time you finished explaining, Yuna was already done making the noodles.

Hoseok sat there in silence, you could hear your heart from your chest, your fingers getting slightly sweaty as you thought of the different possible outcomes. The deafening silence had made you feel like you guys were there for hours. Honestly, you could have heard a pin drop.

It wasn’t until you saw his signature smile beginning to form on his face that you could’ve sworn you felt bricks actually fall off your shoulders.

“Okay let’s do it,” he stated as he began to slurp on his noodles.

“You’re in?” Yuna asked in complete shock, eyes completely widened. He nodded in return clearly enjoying his food, “You don’t have any questions? No concerns?”

Hoseok shrugged, “Mm well of course I’m curious as to what exactly the plan is, which I’m sure you’ll be explaining to me soon, but nope. I’d probably say no if the cause wasn’t for something important,” he looked at you giving a warm compassionate smile, “and this has got to be the most interesting thing that’s happened on this job for the past 2 years so there’s that,” his brows knitting remembering past situations with residents, “and lastly these snobs deserve what’s coming to them,” he finished off causing all three of you to laugh.

“Well then cheers to mission… ummm... “ Yuna placed her finger on her chin, causing you to facepalm yourself as she was trying to think of a name for something so irrelevant.

“7 Rings,” Hoseok interjected , “like the Ariana Grande song. I want it, I got it!”

“You like my hair gee thanks just bought it!” you guys simultaneously sang at the top of your lungs, clinking each other’s drinks.

And so that was how mission “7 Rings” came into fruition, but of course like everything else in the world, nothing ever goes as planned. If only you had realized then that things were going to change, whether they were for the better or for the worse… well that was for you to find out on your own.

author’s note 🧚🏻 : SK has universal health care but for the sake of the plot we’re going to have to pretend they have a private healthcare system so please don’t attack me lmao. Also please like & repost as it keeps me motivated to write and update faster !! Thank you in advance if you do 💞

#btswritingcafe #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung fic #taehyung/reader #taehyung fanfic #tae fic #tae fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan smut #taehyung x reader #taehyung series #7 Rings #kim taehyung #kth #kth fanfic

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corrupt-fvcker · 4 years

Text

Friends (ARC Trooper Fives x fem!Reader)

Friends ( ARC Trooper Fives x fem!Reader Headcanons )

Warnings: angst, fluff, NSFW themes, enemies to best friends to lovers trope

Word Count: 2.7K

Author’s Note: i love fives so much,, he needs more content :,)

Fives never thought in a million years that he’d befriend you, much less harbor some sort of romantic feelings that he shoves down deep within his subconscious.

You — the only non-clone in all of the Grand Army that managed to snag the title of ARC trooper, while all the other humans were either Jedi, medics, mechanics, or deck officers.

In fact, he didn’t really want to like you at all.

You have an ego, and it wouldn’t surprise him for a second if you were just another rookie that was in over their head, looking at clones as if they’re numbers.

Though none of it really mattered because you weren’t assigned to the 501st legion, you’re part of the 104th and Fives figured that he could go on with the rest of his life without ever meeting you.

But then you get transferred, and the next thing Fives knows is that you have the nerve to sit next him on the gunship.

He doesn’t talk to you.

Doesn’t even really look at you unless his gaze his concealed by his helmet.

He notices that, yeah, you’re easy on the eyes.

Plump lips, hair that he wants to tug on, legs that he wouldn’t mind wrapped around his waist.

But then he reminds himself that he doesn’t like you–

No.

He can’t stand you.

He manages to avoid you, both on and off the battlefield.

Though he can’t help but notice that you’re not bad in combat.

You can handle yourself and usually take out quite a few clankers.

And he’s not the only one that notices.

All of his brothers are enthralled by you.

Of course, it’s Echo of all people that becomes your confidant.

Which Fives doesn’t like at all because that’s his best friend.

And Fives most certainly isn’t jealous when he catches you and Echo betting who can take out the most droids between the two of you.

Even though that was Fives and Echo’s favorite game.

And he’s about ready to swat you upside the head when you ask him if he wants to join the bet, like he wasn’t the one that came up with game to begin with.

But then you save his ass.

Literally rip the head off a clanker that had managed to sneak up on Fives while he was busy brooding.

So reluctantly Fives decides that he’s going to give you a second chance because he was absolutely sort of an ass to you.

Luckily, you’re used to the surly deposition of Commander Wolffe, so you don’t hate Fives for being so abrasive towards you over the past few missions.

So when Fives offers to trade ration bars with you because he somehow noticed that you don’t like the bantha-flavored supply bars, you accept with a polite smile and offer him the rest of the water in your canteen.

And from there it doesn’t take long for the two of you to become close friends.

Fives quickly learns that you are quite mischievous.

Sneaking out past curfew to have a few drinks at a dingy cantina.

Replacing Crys’ special conditioner with blue hair dye that perfectly matches the 501st armor.

Making cheeky comments just to watch even the mightiest of clone troopers blush like a schoolgirl.

It only takes about a month for Fives to realize that he likes you a little too much.

And everything just felt right when it was just you, Fives, and Echo spending time together in between missions.

But then the mission at the Citadel goes wrong, and it’s suddenly just you and Fives.

And to make matters worse, you were injured.

Fives had never ran so fast in his life, racing to medbay as soon as he finished his mandatory mission report.

As soon as he throws open the door to your room he notices that you’re crying.

He’s never seen you cry.

His heart aches at the sight.

And despite the better part of him knowing that he should keep his distance, he’s pulling you into his chest and holding you as you weep.

He cries too, missing his brother more than ever.

He’s not sure how long he holds you.

It felt like forever, yet he still craves your touch as he reluctantly pulls away.

You’re fast asleep, exhausted.

Your eyes are swollen and your plush flesh of your cheekbones are raw from rubbing at the tears that streaked down your face.

You don’t wake up when he softly presses an innocent kiss to your forehead.

The next time you see Fives, it’s midnight and he’s knocking on your door an entire week later.

Physically, you’re completely healed from the mission at the Citadel.

Unfortunately, you’re not doing so great mentally.

Neither of you are.

The grief that consumes you both swallows your pride whole, leaving you in his arms for the better part of the night.

Hours pass, the two of you sitting on the same couch Echo split a starcherry margarita during a rom-com movie marathon (Fives couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t a chick-flick fanatic).

You’re legs rest on either sides of his thighs, your head lying on his collar. He’s leaning against the plush cushions of the couch, arms enveloping you.

Neither of you speak for a long while.

Just two friends indulging in the warmth and comfort the other has to offer.

“You okay?” You eventually ask hours later, quiet and uncertain. Voice timid like you’re afraid your words will break him.

The answer is clear.

No, I’m not okay.

But he doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t speak before he’s most definitely not okay and he’s quickly realizing that he’s going to lose everything he’s every cared about to his fucking war.

He lost Echo.

He’s lost parts of himself.

And he’s probably going to lose you.

You -- his best friend in the entire galaxy. The woman that never ceases to impress him, humble him. You, the crazy trickster whose smile steals the breath from Fives’ lungs and the thoughts from him mind. You, the one person in the universe that he’s loved so wholly that he doesn’t think he could ever convince himself to do otherwise.

He wouldn’t recover if he lost you.

He couldn’t recover.

His wounds will heal despite the pain he feels for Echo.

But never for you.

The cuts and bruises he gains from losing you will never fade or close, scarring his body permanently until life grows too painful to live.

He can’t lose you.

He prays that the Maker will answer his pleads.

Please don’t take her away from me.

He doubts the Maker is listening to some clone’s prayers so then turns to the Force.

Please keep her safe. Please keep her alive. I need her.

He’s not sure how the Force works and he’s certain that he never really will, but he prays to it nonetheless. He’d do anything if it meant keeping you by his side.

He makes a promise to himself, to the Force, to the Maker, and to Echo that he will spend whatever time he has left with you enjoying it to the fullest.

Because if you’re going to be ripped away from him by sunrise, he wants you to be in his arms until the sun peaks over the horizon.

“Fives?”

With a shaky breath, he brings himself back to the present.

Hesitantly, you lift your head from his chest, peering up at him through your lashes. The first thing you notice is how pale he is, his normally tan skin drained of color.

“Please talk to me.” I can’t bear losing you too.

The words slip from your mouth incredibly soft as you stare up at him, your face hovering only a few inches from his.

Fives tilts his chin down to look at you, moving impossibly closer.

You can feel his breath fan over your face and you swear that if you spoke your lips would brush against his.

“I can’t lose you too.”

His bottom lip brushes against your cupid’s bow when he speaks, and your heart stutters in your chest.

You blink, trying to remember how to form words. “You’re not going to. I promise.”

You both know the promise is useless. Neither of you have any say on whether or not the next mission will be your last.

Though you promise him anyways.

Your heart wrenches as you repeat yourself. “I promise.”

Fives surges forward with a gentle purpose as his lips collide with yours.

You freeze.

He’s your best friend.

You shouldn’t kiss him back, you should politely push him off of you and tell him that you don’t have any feelings for him.

It would save you both a lot of pain.

Falling in love during a war?

A tragedy waiting to happen.

“Please, sweetheart.”

You kiss him back.

Mirroring his passion with equally eager kisses.

His lips are unexpectedly soft, a pleasant surprise that causes you to hum absentmindedly in appreciation as his gloved hand gently cradles your jaw, tilting your chin upwards to deepen the kiss.

You lose yourself in Fives’ touch.

His tongue tracing your lips.

Your teeth dragging his bottom lip into your mouth.

His bare hands firmly running down your sides until his grip tightens around your hips, tugging you closer.

As blissful whimper scrapes from your throat, Fives forces himself to look at you, your swollen lips smacking as he pulls away.

“Fives,” you whisper as a shattered plea.

Fuck.

You’re stunning.

He could spend the rest of his days gazing into your lust-blown eyes and leave this universe content.

He leans forward, latching his mouth onto the smooth skin of your jaw.

It’s like fireworks exploding inside of your chest at the sensation, the coarse hairs that litter his face prickling your sensitive skin as his deliciously warm tongue dragging up the column of your throat.

You’re not sure where he learned to kiss like this, and you’re not really sure if you care.

But as you grind down into his lap, you realize that you’re willing to do anything to protect the man that you’ve grown to love.

He grunts at the sudden pressure against his crotch, jolting slightly before his teeth scrape the delicate skin of your collar.

“Need you,” you admit in a broken breath of a whisper, your head lolling back at the feeling of his lips marking your skin.

He’d give anything to make you happy, but the last thing he wants to do is rush and mess things up.

He doesn’t want you to fuck him out of pity or guilt and then pretend like nothing ever happened.

He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more.

His bare hands grasp the hem of your shirt, ripping his mouth from your neck to gaze into your eyes.

You whine because you feel like you’re going to explode if he doesn’t kriffing touch you.

But Fives would never take something that you weren’t willing to give.

“Can I?” He questions breathlessly, though you’re nodding your head before he can even finish his sentence.

He doesn’t realize that you’d let him do anything to you.

He yanks your shirt over your head, tossing it haphazardly over his shoulder.

His head dips down, lips pressing a sweet kiss to your sternum before sucking a dark mark into the flesh of your breast.

If he were anyone but himself, you would’ve been embarrassed by the pathetic noises you were making. But you remind yourself that Fives is your best friend and that you can trust him.

The warm cavern of his mouth is now latching onto your hardened nipple and biting softly as his hand is rising to toy with your other breast.

White hot bliss is creeping through your veins, flooding all your grief and worries, filling you up with a pleasurable warmth.

“So perfect,” Fives murmurs, tone burning with need as the amber pools of his irises are corrupted with a darkness you’ve never seen in him before.

Fuck, you love him.

You know that you do, perhaps you’ve known for a while.

Ever since you sat next to him on the gunship and he scowled, the tattoo on his temple wrinkling before he yanked his helmet over his face.

He was ridiculous, but you loved him nonetheless.

Maybe that was why you loved him so damn much.

His goofy smile made your heart stammer in your chest, even though everyone else seemed to swoon at how all his brothers would smirk.

He was brutally honest with the ones he cares about, sometimes to a fault that would make you want to pull your hair out when he says something awfully true in public aloud.

How Fives would drink a starcherry margarita and still look incredibly macho and sexy.

Yeah, absolutely ridiculous.

But you love him so damn much.

Fives pulls away with a soft pop, gazing into your eyes with such adoration that you thought you were going to melt into a puddle.

His thumb grazes the heated skin of your cheekbones and leans in. “I love you.”

He was precious to you, and you’d go any lengths to keep him safe.

Maybe that’s why you pull away.

Stumbling to your feet and tugging your shirt back on.

“Hey.”

Two strong, battle-worn hands gently grasp each side of your face and tilting up to meet Fives’ gaze. His eyes are swimming with worry and concern, though his steady hold on your face keeps you from avoid the unavoidable. “What’s wrong?”

You feel his thumb brush against your cheek, smearing something warm and wet over your skin.

You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not when you’ve already hurt him this much.

“I- I can’t,” you sob, shaking your head but he doesn’t release his hold on you. “I can’t do this.”

His brows furrow, tattoo creasing. “You can’t do what? We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can take it slow.”

He’s trying to comfort you, but he knows his words aren’t helping as the tears heavily streak down your cheeks.

He already knows what’s coming.

Please don’t take her away from me. Don’t do this.

“Us,” you breathe out through cracked sobs. “I can’t do us. Not now.”

Love has no place on the battlefield, not when you’re both serving on the frontlines.

Duty will always be the death of love.

His eyes say the words that are caught in his throat.

You’re breaking my fucking heart.

You want him to hate you.

It will be easier for him.

When the day comes that a droid gets too close and you aren’t fast or strong enough, it’ll be easier on him.

He doesn’t deserve to have the one person he loves to die.

He wouldn’t be able to handle it after Echo.

But you figure that he might be able to handle losing someone he used to love.

Maybe he’ll luck out and hate you when the day comes.

Maybe then he’ll realize that everything you’ve done was to protect him.

Or maybe he’ll just continue to exist without you, the only person to ever break his heart.

“Please don’t do this,” he begs, his voice weak and broken.

You pull yourself from his grip, trying to ignore his own tears that are painting his face.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, tilting your gaze to the floor. “I- I think you should go.”

Fives shallows thickly, unable to stop the tears from falling.

I can’t lose you.

He realizes that he already has.

You won’t. Your promise is just as empty as it was earlier.

You don’t move, not even when you hear your front door close and the sound his footsteps fade away.

Your arms are wrapped around your middle, trying to keep yourself from collapsing on the floor and bawling.

You try to convince yourself that you did the right thing.

Because it will always be easier to lose an old friend than to lose the love of your life.

#fives x reader #fives x you #arc trooper fives x reader #tcw #star wars #my writing #self insert #reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #corrupt-fvcker #arc trooper fives #angst

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hecallsmehischild · 3 years

Text

Recent Media Consumed

Books

The Road to Wigan Pier by George Orwell. First, I actually appreciated the foreward to the “Left Book Club” copy, even though it says that anyone who is not a member should disregard it. It gave an interesting rebuttal to parts of the book. That aside, I’m not totally sure what to make of the book. On the level of descriptive writing, I rarely find something this richly penned. But it’s loaded with concepts and lingo and even a monetary system I’m unfamiliar with, and that hampers my understanding of the points. I get the general gist, but all the finer points are very lost on me, simply because I’m an American millennial.

The Subtle Art of Not Giving A F*ck by Mark Manson. I’ve seen the “F*ck” series titles floating around here and there, and I’m intrigued by a couple of them. The idea of this one is that people give way too many f*cks about everything, and that you really need to pick where you give your f*cks in life and never give a f*ck about anything that doesn’t line up with your values (in a nutshell). It’s an easy and interesting read. It’s interesting to me that, in the wake of what I hear was many years of positive-mood and high self-esteem type self help books (most of which I’ve only heard of and never read, were they before my time?), we’re getting a backlash of “Yes, life sucks. Yes, life has pain. Dealing with pain and failure appropriately is a part of life. Accept that, or lose yourself to complete entitlement” type self-help books. I’m curious what this trend produces in people over time. I’d also like to highlight that this book has the best discussion of dividing “fault” and “responsibility” that I’ve ever read.

Shows

Loki. WHAT EVEN. WHAT EVEN. WHAT. WHAT THE. WHAT THE. FRESH… THE FRICK FRACK PADDYWHACK???!!!

Mushi-shi. So, turns out the first time I watched this I somehow started on Season 2, and my source cut out before the season end… no wonder I was pretty confused. So I started re-watching this and… I remember how incredibly unsettling this anime is. It’s equal parts gentle wonder and soft horror, a blend that is very difficult to describe unless you’ve seen it. Much like Mushi themselves, eh? I think I’ll balance this out by ending each watch session with an episode of Log Horizon rewatch. That’ll keep the emotional balance intact.

Claymore. I ended up dropping this one halfway through. It has an interesting concept, but the “things that bug me” points mounted pretty fast. In the early episodes, everything is so dark that it’s hard to see what’s going on. There’s a huge amount of monologuing and info-dumping IN monologue, and this goes on even mid-fight, and even CALMLY mid-fight. Yes, this isn’t the only anime that does this, but it decreases my enjoyment. It’s difficult to take the story seriously when the big bad yells, “Why can’t I defeat you?” to the weakest-but-somehow-also-the-strongest member of a team, and then have a colleague of the team member calmly explain to the big bad exactly why he’s unable to land a blow, then they take off his head together. This show has a lot of that sort of thing. I’ll read up on how the series ended, not interested in slogging through the other half.

Elfen Lied. This is a re-re-rewatch for me. I stumbled on this anime when I was newly inducted into anime-watching and, well... given that Princess Tutu was my very first anime, this one was a real shock to my system at first. By all accounts I should have dropped it and run screaming at the time, but I couldn’t. There was something about the sheer tragedy of the story that called to me. Plus it was VERY short. So I returned to it from time to time. Now that I’ve developed more of a feel for what I do and don’t like in a story, how does this hold up? The relationships are terrible, imo, and the whole thing about diclonius is never explained enough (and I still don't understand the ending) but it's STILL hard not to be pulled in by the sheer tragedy of the series.

Movies

300. I haven’t seen this movie since college. Is it weird how much I enjoyed it as a romp? Yes, there’s death and tragedy, but the dry humor and utter gung-ho-edness of it is infectious. It’s a good flick, I’m really glad I went back to see it. And I also finally understand Leonidas telling the traitor, “May you live forever.” Damn, man. No wonder he flinched.

Weathering With You. GORGEOUS. I need to see more by this animator… LIGHT. WATER. FOOD. I hear they’re calling this person the new Miyazaki? I CONCUR. And the story is sweet and beautiful and just yes. Yes. Oh, look, he made something else before this movie…

Your Name. Okay so I have mixed feelings about this one. On the one hand, fantastic story and, once again, gorgeous animation that all makes me want to track with this creator in the future. And the twist definitely socked me in the gut, I didn’t see it coming. On the other hand, I feel like this movie hits an extreme of “show, don’t tell” in a way that comes awfully close to a negative. I didn’t think that was possible, but this movie switches timelines, POV, points in time, etc, so rapidly that it becomes difficult to keep track of what’s going on, properly. I could not imagine watching this movie in theaters, it has to be watched with a remote in hand to pause, rewind, rewatch, discuss what the heck just happened. It’s like watching Mystery Skulls videos, with that level of rapid fire little details that are incredibly important to the plot, but for a feature length film. Also, after some discussion, I came to see (and agree) that there’s a foundational issue in the main relationship that doesn’t bode well for the future, as much as I rooted for them to be together. Still, it’s an incredible movie and I can see why it was the highest grossing movie for Japan a few years back.

Games

Diablo II. I’m really happy. I live in a house with my husband and his best friend, and in the past year or so we’ve begun playing games together. This is the sort of game I would never have gone to on my own because I actually need someone in the room who I can ask, “Hey, how do you assign attacks again?” or “Hey, is this piece of gear better than the piece I’m wearing?” I don’t like playing the number game on gear so much, but I let the two of them dress my character up and then I back them up in a fight and enjoy myself. Looting and exploring for treasure is probably my favorite aspect (says the person who plays Breath of the Wild just to forage for mushroom and herbs), although as a level 20 Amazon I’m now shooting out waves of 8 arrows at a time, and that’s pretty epic too. It’s a special kind of joy to find out you actually like a type of gaming as long as there’s people there who can explain things along the way and who don’t get annoyed at re-asked questions. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m having a blast playing Diablo II in a group. And as for the other game we play together as a group…

WoW Classic. I covered this before, but back then I was a lowly level 17 Dwarf Hunter. Now I’m a lowly level 36 Dwarf Hunter. With a mount! I have epic skills like explosion traps, poisonous shots, and multi-shot. My wolf has gained a ton more skills, too, and is (or so I’m told) a pretty effective off-tank. I have been told I am an effective DPS person, which makes me very happy. I really enjoy this kind of gaming, but specifically when I’m in the same room as the people I’m gaming with. Communication is a lot easier and we work really well as a team that way.

#recent media consumed #child loves books #child loves movies #child loves shows #n00b gamer child

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

Biting Dust - Ch.3

Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again…

Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

5.5k ; Content Warnings: Mentions of scars, mention of injury, mention of blood ; NSFW (Masturbation [Kylo jerking off], leather kink, scent kink/turned on by smells, mild praise kink)

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You wake up with the sun, with the earth. The sky blazes in a pink and purple blanket of clouds, cacti juttin’ up proudly from the ground, a black silhouette against the pale light of mornin’. The birds are your first call, the alarm mother nature herself has set for you, the one which you’ve obeyed every day for as long as you can remember. There’s too many of them, the chirps, all of them in an off-beat harmony that goes on echoin’ over the gorge.

The water is your second alarm, the soft rush of the river as it twists and turns ‘round the bend a thousand feet below. The sound of it alone has you sighin’ with relief, knowin’ you’ve made it to water. Water wasn’t too easy to come by out in the desert, but the chicken scratch on that map had done you good, had led you straight to where you needed to be.

The sound of footsteps approachin’ is your third alarm – and this alarm was one felt deep in your gut. Sittin’ upright real fuckin’ fast and holdin’ the gun steady in the direction of the sound, you blink away the sleep sand from your eyes and level a glare so mean it coulda killed the sonofabitch stranger on the spot.

But then you open your eyes a little further, and you focus on just who the sonofabitch is, and you sigh.

Oh right, you can’t help but think with a groan. Kylo Ren.

He looks well rested, if a little scruffy. Scruffy, you think with a scowl, how the hell does he look so sleep mussed and yet still handsome? That wasn’t right, not one damn bit.

The events of the day prior come slammin’ through you all at one, and you toss the gun down lightly as you fall back onto the bundle of sacks that you’ve called your pillow, stretchin’ your limbs way high up over your head. Kylo is chipper, a mornin’ person it would seem, and he’s standin’ over you blockin’ out the sun from your eyes like a gentleman.

“Mornin’ Angel.” He greets you, offerin’ you a hand. “Sleep tight?”

You regard the hand, regard him.

The fact that you woke up at all is a surprisin’ one – a damn surprisin’ one. You’d’ve thought, well, you were almost certain he woulda left you stranded, if he left you alive at all. But there he was, his hand outstretched, and you take it, allowin’ him to help haul you up onto your feet.

“You didn’t kill me.” You say instead of a proper greeting, and Kylo rolls his eyes.

“Well that would go directly against the proclamation I gave to offer my protection, now wouldn’t it?” He replies sarcastically, puffin’ on that same cigarette he had worked on last night.

You try not to think about how good it looks between his crooked teeth.

“Those were just words.” You shrug, avertin’ your gaze and regardin’ the horses. Agnes and Sam seemed to be chumming up real nicely, the both of them grazing side by side on the few desert plants that managed to grow near the gorge. “I didn’t think you’d actually meant ‘em.”

“If there’s one thing you should know ‘bout me, it’s that I say what I mean and I mean what I say.” Kylo is serious in a way that makes you raise a brow, and he continues, “Too many tragedies get born from mis-communicatin’, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know.” You lie, not feelin’ like divulging anything about yourself to this man, not yet. You don’t know him, don’t trust him, how could you?

Yes he didn’t go killin’ you when he had the chance but what if that meant he was savin’ it up to kill you later? What if --

“Are you hungry?” Kylo interrupts your train of thought before you can spiral down into a paranoid place. It was just strange, so damn strange, the way he regards you so calmly. Even up in the tree he had spoken to you like he’d known you your whole lives.

You were sure you’d never met him, a face like his wasn’t one folks seldom came across, and one even less likely to forget.

Dusting off the beautiful Hopi blanket and folding it neatly, you think the question over. Really, your stomach was still pretty full from the meals you’d enjoyed at the hotel, and you knew that the earlier in the day you started eatin’, the hungrier you’d be later on. It was a tough life, and on your own you’d gone too many days without food at all in your belly, so the thought of givin’ any of it up now didn’t sit too right with you.

“I’ve got some dried fruit and nuts in the knapsack,” You say anyway, because really energy was good and you would need it to deal with him, this man. Kylo nods once and makes to rifle through the knapsack, and you don’t know what comes over you but you offer, “We’ll split it.”

Kylo looks at you with an expression you can’t quite place. He looks caught off-guard by that, by the offer. And maybe he was, food bein’ so scarce out here in the desert the way it was, particularly for a coupl’a outcasts like yourselves. You try not to think about those two dollars you gave up the day before.

You wonder if Kylo’s got any money, what might be in his knapsacks he rides around with.

“I boiled us come coffee.” He blinks, and you blink too – well, you think, there’s one thing he carries on him.

The fire from last night must’a smoldered out while the both of y’all were asleep, because there’s fresh brush smokin’ up into the morning sky when you turn to take in the sight of the tin coffee pot bubblin’ away. As a matter of fact, Kylo moves over there now with the fruit and nuts in his hand, fixes a cup while it’s nice and fresh and so it don’t get scorched. You’ll have to drink from the same cup, you realize, because you don’t have one. The only thing you’ve got are the canteens for water, and you can’t go pourin’ coffee into that.

“How long have you been awake?” You ask, gratefully accepting a big handful of nuts and some dried apricots.

“Before the sun, wanted to get the coffee started, and needed to go lookin’ for some salve, for this here burn.” Kylo tilts his head to the side and exposes the nasty red gash that winds itself ‘round his throat. He grumbles and scowls, “Hurts like a bitch it does.”

You toss back a big swig of the coffee and crunch down on a couple pecans before you pull one of the bags over and begin openin’ up the different pockets and pouches, lookin’ for the jar of ointment you know is there.

“C’mere.” You wave him over when you do find it.

It ain’t a big jar or nothin’ like that, but it’s still good, smells just fine. If anythin’ was gonna soothe that burn it would be this. You had purchased it from a medicine man some months back as a precaution, and though you know you’d have to use the whole thing on him eventually, it beat lettin’ the ointment spoil and wastin’ the money.

Kylo sits close to you, real close. Too close, the way he was yesterday, in your personal space. You’re wary of him, but he sits real still, eyeing the ointment. It’s now that you actually take time to look at what he’s wearin’, as you push his clothes out of the way.

He’s got a long coat somewhere, you remember seein’ it hangin’ around his body up in the tree. He’d been hidin’ a smartly fitted pair of brown corduroy trousers and heeled boots, a white button down with billowing sleeves, and a dark red waistcoat underneath it. There was a gold chain peekin’ out of one of the waistcoat pockets, and you’re pretty sure it’s a watch.

You wonder if he’s got someone’s picture in it.

Somehow, this close to you, he’s enormous. Absolutely the biggest man you’ve ever seen, his hands alone are longer than your face, you can tell just by the way he runs his fingers through his long dark hair.

He sits still, real still, and closes his eyes. Ever so gently, you scoop up a little bit of the salve and hold your breath as it makes contact with his neck. Kylo doesn’t wince, doesn’t do anything as you smear the ointment against his angry skin, and you have to admit, you’re impressed. Even if this were another exaggerated display of toughness, you’re impressed.

You make sure to cover every bit of the rope burn, mostly because you don’t want it to get infected. It’ll likely scar, but Kylo’s got bigger and badder scars to concern himself with, you doubt that this one will bother him much. And if it does, well, too fuckin’ bad, at least he ain’t dead.

“Thank you.” Kylo says softly, his voice deep in the quiet of the morning. He’s so close, too close, as you close the little jar and put it back in your knapsack for when you know you’ll have to reapply it for him. Kylo watches as you do so, bringin’ his cigarette back up to his lips and humming, “You’ve got magic in that bag or somethin’?”

“Not magic, just a lifetime of shit.” You say, and for the first time that you let him see, you smile at him.

Kylo’s still too close, and he doesn’t go movin’ away once the bag is closed and you pluck the cup of coffee from his hands, bring it up to your lips and take a sip of the bitter brown brew.

“I reckon we’re goin’ down to that there river, ain’t we?” Kylo nods in the direction of the bend, and you smack your lips, the coffee coating the roof of your mouth.

“You’d be reckonin’ right. It won’t take long, maybe only an hour on account of havin’ to be real careful the horses don’t slip, and then we can move along the river.” That was the plan anyway.

Yesterday you’d been privy to a nice long soak, and it had done your muscles wonders, but you had a bundle of bloodied clothin’ you needed to get washed and get washed ASAP. You were still in the blue dress, and you knew you’d feel much more comfortable in your ridin’ clothes, except the ridin’ clothes were stained through with dried blood right about this time.

That was going to be a bitch to get out, you think as you sip your coffee, but you try to remain optimistic about it. Really it only mattered if the blue dress stayed nice, that was the only one townsfolk were liable to see.

“Where are we headed, when we follow the river?” Kylo takes the cup of coffee back and pulls a deep swig out of it.

“I’m going to Colorado.” You make a point of emphasizing, and he only frowns with something like concern.

“Central City or Victor?” He chews on his lip, his good eye a little too bright, a little too interested.

“I’ve heard nice things about Victor. I think there might be a good chance of gold there.” You shrug with one shoulder, feigning interest.

Whatever Kylo might be after, whatever he might want, you don’t want him to know that you want this more, more desperately than anything anyone could ever want.

“So it’s gold that you’re after.” He muses, and you snap your head to glare at him.

“It’s freedom I’m after.” You’re real quick to correct him, not wantin’ you to think that you’re just some greedy person wantin’ to get their hands on every last penny they can. You knew people like that – had known – and you never wanted to be anything like them. It’s just that, “Freedom don’t come cheap, and gold’s the best place to start with something like that.”

Kylo looks down into his coffee for a long while, contemplatin’ what you’ve just said. You wish you could see inside his head, wish you could hear what he was thinkin’. Was he the same? Was he itching for a plot of peace and quiet and calm?

Where had he been headed, when you’d found him?

“I can take you there, to Victor. I’ve been before, so I know the way. Shortcuts through the canyons and everything, I swear.” Kylo pinches out the cigarette and sticks it back in his pocket, clears his throat a little. “I’m good for it, you’ll see. Besides, it’s less conspicuous to go travelin’ in pairs than for a woman to go ridin’ into town alone, ‘specially a rough town like Victor.”

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you.” Unless yesterday, you’re not quite so venomous with the way you respond. In fact, you find yourself in a rather teasin’ playful kinda mood now that the caffeine is perkin’ up your system. “I seem to recall between the two of us, I was the one cuttin’ you down.”

Maybe Kylo’s in a playful mood too, because that almost gets a smile out of him.

“Fair enough. But seeing as you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future anyway, might as well take advantage of my good sense of direction.” He points out, and you have to ask:

“What’s in it for you?”

Kylo hesitates on that for a little while. He looks over to the rising sun, now well into the sky. It’s no longer purples and pinks, but the pale blue you’ve grown so used to seein’ hanging over your head. Birds fly high above you, their wings spready wide.

You wish you could fly.

“My gang’s waitin’ for me there. We got separated few weeks back, and that’s always been the meet-up spot. I’m hopin’ that, if they’re alive, they’re there and waitin’. I’d like to at the very least get there to find out.” Kylo says finally.

“Those would be the Knights of Ren.” You muse, still not really believing him. You’ll call him Kylo and you won’t kill him for it, but you’re not convinced, not really.

“That they would.” Still he sticks true to his story, and something changes in his voice with the way he talks about him, “They’re the closest thing to family a guy like me could ever get, and if I’m bein’ honest with you Angel, I’d very much like to get home to them.”

You sigh and get up, brush off the sand from the skirt of your dress and offer him a hand.

He looks at it, looks at you, then back at it, and with a hopeful glimmer in his eye, he takes it.

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The journey down the canyon is done in silence, mostly outta concentration. Neither of you want to distract the horses as they make their way down the perilously narrow pathways carved out of the canyon by millions of years of rivers flowin’ through these parts, so you stay quiet.

It’s nice, the quiet, gives you time to appreciate the beauty of it all. You’re surprised Kylo manages to shut up for two seconds, with how chatty he seems to be. You can’t go blamin’ him too bad though you suppose, if he’s been on the run as long as you have, if he’s been alone as long as you have, a fresh face to talk to was probably the most welcome thing Kylo could’ve asked for.

Eventually, you do get to the bottom of the gorge, and Agnes and Sam both make a beeline to the river’s edge. You and Kylo have to yank on the reigns and get them to slow down, they’re too excited and it would be really shit to have all your bags soaked.

An hour or two after breakfast you find yourselves face to face with Horseshoe Bend, the lush vegetation that grows right along the bank. The water is a rich blue, and the land around it is a deep green, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something this magical, so refreshing after eons of red and orange dirt.

The first plan is to fill the canteens, which you do right away. You fill them all up until there ain’t no air left, and then you fill ‘em up some more. Then, you decide, you have to wash the blood outta your clothes.

Kylo watches you do that right on the bank, doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t ask any questions, and for that you’re grateful. You wouldn’t have the answers to go givin’ him. He leaves you to your own devices as a matter of fact, walks away from where you’re kneeled over the steady stream of water to go tend to Sam.

Something comes over you, and idea, a notion poppin’ into your head.

You begin to strip down to nothin’, not a stitch of clothing on you, and you tiptoe into the river.

It’s a risk, of course.

But it’s also a challenge.

He wants you to trust him. Trustin’ means vulnerability, and you can’t think of nothin’ more vulnerable than this. If he wants you to open yourself up to him, well shit. He’s gonna have to open himself up to you too. So there you are, naked in the river. The water is cold against your skin, the current whooshing between your legs. Every now and again a fish bumps into your shin, and you suck in a small breath of surprise as it passes you to continue its journey down the river.

Your back is to Kylo, givin’ him time to make a decision – join you or not. You haven’t decided yet what you’ll do if he joins you, but you hold your breath and wait.

A few moments and some rustling later, you hear the light splashing of Kylo stepping in too, and your pulse pounds. You’re not quite right next to one another or nothin’, but definitely close enough that he should be able to hear you when you chew your lip, the inside of your cheek, and ask,

“Are you lookin’?”

You don’t know what answer you want him to give.

“No.” Kylo says, says it hesitantly. He doesn’t say it like it’s a complete sentence, like there’s more he wants to tumble out of his mouth, but nothing comes.

“Do you want to?” You whisper, turning to face him.

You smile briefly, because he’s turned away from you too.

Only for a moment though, before he’s glancing over his shoulder and lookin’ at you, really lookin’ at you.

Exposed, is how you feel, in a word. Your shoulders are squared and your chin is raised in defiance, your tits out above the water. It’s almost a dare, seeing how long it’ll take him to glance down, to break the staring contest you’ve found yourselves in.

He breaks first, you find with a small thrill, as you watch him look at you, take in the sight of your body. His is…a marvel. Incredible, really. He’s so wide? Impossibly broad, the kind of shoulders you could sit on with no problem. And he was wide all the way down, stomach not tapering down to trim hips – no, this man was sold through and through.

Solid, and covered in scars. He shows them off proudly, the same way you show yourself. It’s a challenge, a dare, a plea. You don’t know what you’re askin’ for, but it’s a plea nonetheless. Hesitantly, he takes a step towards you. He’s askin’ for permission in this silent way, a hand outstretched. You bite the inside of your cheek and take a step towards him.

This dance continues, one step after the other, the both of y’all coming to meet in the middle.

It’s the water, you reckon. The cooling river washing away your sins, your crimes. It took the blood out of your clothes, will it rinse the very same from your hands?

Suddenly, somehow, he’s too close again.

This time, for some reason, you don’t mind.

You tilt your head the barest bit, and whatever you’re askin’ for, he seems to be answerin’, by resting his forehead against your own. He hunches down and curls himself around you to fit, to make up the distance from bein’ so much taller than you, and he lets out a contemplative sigh.

Silently, you stare into each other’s eyes. This close, you focus on the mangled and marred one he’s got, the scar that goes with it. It starts from his browbone and carries all the way down to his shoulder. How did a man go about gettin’ something like that, you wonder. He’s sure to have a story for it, somethin’ like that, somethin’ as big as that always had a story.

“I like the way your leather smells…when you’ve been ridin’ all day.” He says abruptly, doesn’t break his gaze from yours, lookin’ from your left eye to your right with the only one he’s got left.

You blink rapidly, unsure what to do with that information. Unsure what to do with him.

Unsure what to do with yourself.

“What’s it smell like?” Your ribcage expands when you take a deep breath, a steady breath.

“Like sweat, the earth.” He replies hungrily, his eye darkening with what you know has to be lust, “It smells warm, like it’s still alive. It smells like you.”

“And what do I smell like?” You stare him down, making him sweat even there in the cool of the river. It’s fulfilling, seeing him sweat under your gaze.

“I – I don’t know.” He admits, voice faltering.

“Do you want to find out?” You whisper, eyes wide, terrified.

When was the last time you did this sort of thing with someone? You can’t remember, not as far back as your memory goes – and it goes pretty damn far. You’ve never done this, not with another person, not in broad daylight. And what would you do, if he said no? If he thought you a cheap loose woman now, if he –

“Please.” He whimpers, and oh.

Oh.

He was the kind of man you’d been dreamin’ about, wasn’t he? The kind who needed a firm hand, who wanted to be put in his place. Made sense, it did, if this was really Kylo Ren, surely no one would dare try out of fear of bein’ shot. Well, he’s not got his pistol on him, and your hands are already smoothin’ up his chest, already draggin’ up to his shoulders, around his neck, fingers weavin’ into the hair at the base of his skull.

Giving and encouraging little nudge, Kylo ducks his head down and shoves it into the crook of your throat, already taking in deep gulpfuls of breaths, smelling you. He must like it, must like the way you smell, because in seconds you can feel his cock filling out hard and thick, pressing against your stomach. It’s huge, and that shouldn’t surprise you given the rest of him, but it still does.

Without so much as a second thought, you let one of your hands wrap around it, and Kylo immediately moans.

“Your cock’s hard for it?” You lick your lips, curious, wanting to see where this takes you, where the two of you will go.

“Yes.” He replies straight away, and something about that trips your brain up. He likes answering your questions, he likes doing what you say, he likes when you’re pleased with his answers. You can tell by the way his cock gets harder harder harder, and you give it a squeeze.

“For me or the leather?” You whisper, mouth run real dry. You shake your head and speak low in his ear, makin’ goosebumps shudder through his flesh with a groan when you say, “You can take care of it, if you’d like. If’n you need to.”

Releasing his dick, Kylo groans at the loss. His hand replaces yours, and he begins a slow stroke. His face is still tucked into your neck, and he’s still breathing hard, breathing you in. You can’t see much because of the way he’s shoved himself against you, you can’t see past the wall of muscle that is his shoulders and back, but you can feel it.

His hand speedin’ up, twistin’ the muscles in his arm twitching and spasming as he grunts softly, groans. Your ego swells at the thought that all of this is because of you – before your mind catches up and scolds you for the thought. You were probably just a body to him, to Kylo. Just another pair of tits, a naked woman for him to feast his eyes on.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice wobbly with how he’s workin’ at his dick, jerkin’ himself off.

“No.” You shake your head, your mood souring just the tiniest bit. Him wanting to kiss you helps soothe your thoughts, so you keep your tone light, “But you can taste me. Come on cowboy, taste me.”

It was the right thing to do, to say, because the moment your words leave your lips, Kylo’s tongue is pressin’ against your pulse. He moans outright, his hips bucking up into his fist, shoulders curlin’ in on themselves so they can press him closer to you. Your arm curls around his waist, friction against your nipples as he shudders and shakes against you, laves his tongue and licking up the sweat that’s started to collect.

Your pussy throbs, so turned on by him, too turned on – but you won’t let him watch you do that, not today. You’ve won this battle, this test, this challenge for trust, he will win another day. You’ll find some secret time to touch yourself, to slide your fingers between the folds of your cunt and rub at your clit and come around your fingers like you spend so many nights doing; although this time, you’re sure you’ll be doin’ it to the memory of him,

“Angel, oh – ughn, that’s good.” He moans, voice gravelly and deep, the back of his throat clickin’ with want. Your name, your name sounds divine comin’ outta his mouth, and you want to hate how much you love it, how it makes the pit of your stomach flutter.

Ain’t nobody ever said your name that way before, not like this.

“I’ve got you.” You soothe him much like you used to soothe the childr—no, you shake your head, not the time, not the place. Kylo’s whining and crying, you can feel the wetness against your neck as he licks your throat, sucks on it, worries it between his teeth as he tastes you.

He comes before he can give any warning, aside from the way his body tenses up all of a sudden.

“Mmm, ah, ah,” He shudders as he spills over his hand, his fingers blockin’ it so it don’t go arcin’ up onto you. You appreciate that, the consideration, even though you wouldn’t have minded one bit. You’re in the river after all, and the river washes everything away. He winces and sighs and groans out a little, “Fuck.”

“Hm?” You don’t step away from him yet, you don’t go nowhere. You stay close, right there, too close.

“Probably shouldn’t’ve done that in the water we’re supposed to drink.” Kylo grumbles, slightly slurring his words.

Something about that makes you want to laugh, and you only rub his shoulder. He looks up at you with that big brown eye, the other one milky white, the reflection of the universe, everything and nothing inside of it all the same.

“I’ve already filled the canteens, but the current will take it.” You say like it’s no problem, because it ain’t no problem, not really. You don’t know what to do next.

What comes next, in times like these? You don’t have the know-how, not really, you don’t know what to say. So you simply grab a bar of soap that’s been resting on a rock that justs outta the river, and wade deeper into the water, tossin’ over your shoulder, “Next time aim somewhere else.”

-------------------------

Later, much later, when your clothes have dried and you’ve changed into clean outfits, the both of y’all walk a great long distance against the river’s bank. Sam and Agnes must be thrilled, you think, to be out of the immediate blaze of the sun, the cliffs of the gorge sheltering y’all as you keep close to the river.

Kylo doesn’t say much, but he does walk beside you and not in front of you, and he’s earned a shred more respect from you for that.

“What were you doin’, stealing the sheriff’s horse?” You ask, the question havin’ been on your mind all day.

For the first time, he doesn’t react well to your questions, stops straight in his tracks with a murderous scowl, and for a second, you think he really could be Kylo Ren.

“I didn’t go stealin’ no fuckin’ horse!” He fumes, hands wavin’ all wild like as he talks, as he explains, “Sam had gotten herself all interested in the town and wandered off in the middle of the night. I had to walk eight miles followin’ her fuckin’ prints in the sand only to find her integrated into the town. When I tried to explain that she was mine, they didn’t believe me and strung me up.”

There’s a lot of questions there that you could ask, but the one that blurts out before you have a chance at a real thought it,

“You tracked her prints for eight miles?”

You stop walking too, impressed. You hate to admit that you’re impressed. You were so used to runnin’, so used to avoid bein’ caught that you never really learned how to chase.

“It’s easy when there ain’t no wind.” Kylo doesn’t move, regards you carefully as he explains, “Nothin’ to blow ‘em away.”

“What about when there is wind?” You demand, not sure why you’re suddenly so interested. Maybe you’re jealous, is that what this is? Jealousy? Maybe he’ll teach you, you think, maybe he’ll show you.

You think about your wanted posters, how yours is only 25,000 and his is 100,000. You wonder what else he might be inclined to show you.

“I’m real good at that sort of thing, my uncle taught me. Tracking, trapping, hunting, herding, you know.” Kylo says, “When it comes time for dinner tonight, I’ll show you.”

-------------------------

He hunts a cottontail, for dinner.

You’ve never been able to catch a cottontail, you think, as it roasts slowly on a spicket over the fire that you and Kylo built once you’ve settled in for the night. You’re a long way away from Horseshoe Bend now, but you haven’t left the closeness behind. Further along the river you and Kylo have set up camp for the evening, and this time, you don’t worry too much about him guttin’ you in your sleep.

You still worry about it o’course, but. Not too much.

“Shit.” You sigh as your teeth rip into the meat when he hands you your portion, and Kylo’s chest puffs with pride.

“At the rate we’re goin’, we’ll be headin’ into a small town tomorrow.” He replies quietly, biting into the rabbit he serves himself, “Smaller than the last one, by a lot. I think they got maybe three public buildin’s, the rest all houses and farm. We’ll need a cover story, because there’s gonna be questions.”

“You wanna be my brother or my cousin?” You hum, and Kylo looks at you funny.

“I’m too old to be your brother.” Kylo’s quick to respond and he says that too harshly, a sour subject that you didn’t know. Well how were you supposed to know, you think, trying not to get angry with him for snapping at you.

“How old are you?” You wonder, because really, you know so little about him, you know so little about anyone in the world, you realize.

“Too old to be your brother.” Kylo whispers, and you nod in resignation. There was enough sharing today, you think, enough testing the waters as it were.

“Cousin it is then.” You finish the last few bites of the small rabbit and begin to settle down atop your pillow made from the knapsacks and satchels, fishing out your favorite blanket and tugging it around your arms, “We’ll figure the rest out in the morning, I’m tired.”

It’s quiet, for a while.

Nothing but the sound of the river, and the fire that separates you and Kylo, a wall between you. You listen as he rustles and shifts around on the hard ground, no pillow and no blanket again. He puts his hat over his face as a cover against the light from the flames, you watch discreetly from the corner of your eye.

“It’ll be cold again tonight.” Kylo whispers.

Come sleep next to me.

“Goodnight, Ren.” You reply.

I can’t. Not yet.

Not yet.

#kylo ren/reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren/you #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren fanfic #adam driver character #adam driver fanfiction #adcu #kylo x reader #kylo x you #reader insert #my writing #historical au #wild west au #outlaw!kylo ren #biting dust

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con-fection · 3 years

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ASHES TO ASHES | jim moriarty x reader | part 1/13

Summary:

Jim Moriarty has always loved fairytales. In particular, grim, macabre ones that end in bloodshed. You've been abused by your step-family for years - in every meaningful way, you embody the story of Cinderella. Except, in your version, Cinderella murders her family and burns the house down. When Sherlock Holmes is assigned to find the killers of your step-family, he inadvertently becomes obsessed with you. And when Sherlock is obsessed, Jim Moriarty becomes a man intrigued.Word Count: 4k

Most fairy tales follow the same format. A lovely, picturesque life, subsequently followed by a tragedy, a period of hardship, all of which is solved by the power of love. The dashing prince saves the damsel in distress, and they remain happy and in love forever, having easily recovered from the trauma of the tragedy and hardship.

Originally, fairy tales did not end quite so nicely. They were macabre, morbid and horrifying. Just as real-life has a tendency to be. They weren't an idyllic escape from everyday life. They were nightmarish stories that reflected the fears of society.

By 1815, The Brothers Grimm had compiled several stories, among them The Frog Prince, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel... and Cinderella.

The latter had always, always been your favourite. You had memorised every line, every word, every single mark of punctuation. You could recite every single version of the story off-by-heart. All of the variations sparked a deep-rooted curiosity in you.

How could the same story end so differently?

All that changed was the person reciting the story - and they would chip away at it, changing it piece by piece, passing it down orally, until it was barely recognisable. In some versions, the characters got their happy ending. Cinderella would marry her Prince Charming with the help of her Fairy Godmother. In others, they didn't. One of her vile step-sisters will hack off parts of their feet and marry Prince Charming, and Cinderella would be left alone.

Sometimes minor aspects of the story would change. Different variations would feature doves, her dead Mother, fairies, and occasionally, the glass slipper would be golden.

Your version was entirely different to anything imagined before.

...unbeknownst to you, however, was the fact that you weren't the only person that liked grim fairytales.

---

Your mother's battle with her myriad of diseases had been one that had defined your childhood. She had been ever-so frail, perpetually in and out of hospitals, constantly deteriorating. There was more than one occasion where you had watched her drop to the floor, her body entirely limp, and you had to be the one to call the ambulance. There were always, always, blood-soaked handkerchiefs strewn around the house.

She was plagued by illness, and in some ways you were suffering just as much as she was. Most children were afforded the luxury of not having to confront the idea of death - often they simply could not even comprehend it. You weren't so lucky as to experience that naivety.

There had been no play-dates for you, there was no time to entertain any other children when each moment had the potential to be her last. Every single waking moment was occupied with the crippling, gut-wrenching fear that one day she might fall down and that the paramedics wouldn't be able to find a pulse.

Every night you would go to bed praying that she would be there in the morning, that she would get her happy ending, that she could read your favourite fairy-tale to you night after night.

"And Cinderella and Prince Charming lived happily ever after, the end!" She would say, smiling brightly as if she hadn't read this to you so many times that she was bored of it. Your mother could probably recite it by heart now, too.

"Do we get a happily ever after, Mommy?" You had asked one night, right after your mother had set the book of fairy-tales down on your bedside table.

"If you pray, God will answer." She replied, ever-so-vaguely, fiddling with the little golden cross necklace dangling between her collarbones. Now you can recognise that she didn't look surprised by your question, rather, she was in the throes of longing for that happily ever after.

You liked 'happily ever after'. It was a comforting lie that you would willingly believe. In 'happily ever after' there was no pain - in your idea of a happy ending, your mother would recover and you wouldn't burst into tears the moment she staggered out of the room.

But 'happily ever after' had to come after years of torment and misery. It always did. There was no story in which the protagonist began happy and remained that way for all eternity. That would be dreadfully boring, and yet it was what you yearned for the most. Boring and happy would be good.

Her death was a mercy - quick and painless, in her sleep. Her funeral was equally as brief as her life, a bleak affair that you can hardly recall. You had been so, so young then, and the tears just wouldn't stop coming, rolling down your face as your chest wracked with sobs. You can't remember much about it, other than the feeling of your father's hand on your shoulder and the awful, almighty bitterness that threatened to send you to your knees.

Naturally, your mother's funeral had been one of the worst days of your life. She looked so small, so ashen in her casket. Her lips were completely unmoving, drawn into a thin line. Never again would she recite your favourite bedtime story. She didn't look like she was sleeping, not when all vibrancy had been removed from her skin, to the point where it was practically grey and she smelled like a chemical preservative that made you wrinkle your nose and sob even harder.

But, even worse than the funeral had been the wedding.

It had been horrifically easy for your father to move on, and to find comfort in your step-mother, Verona. You had only met her once before they were married.

"Honey, I want you to meet somebody." Your father had said. He looked so happy, smiling in a way that you hadn't seen him do since before your mother died, his lips curved upwards and a strange look in his eyes. "This is Verona, and she means a lot to me."

He looked at Verona the same way that you looked at your fairy-tales. They were an escape, a place where you could pretend that things were different and that you were happy. Verona, with her perfectly curled hair and pearly-white teeth, was his escape, his happy ending. You wanted so badly for her to be yours, as well. It wasn't to be.

"Hello," She cooed down at you. She could smile so sweetly, her peach-pink lips drawn upwards to reveal just a flash of white teeth. It was so saccharine, so lovely. Her voice could take on this mellow, melodic tone. It reminded you terribly of a siren's call - beautiful, and so, so alluring, but it wasn't something that you should put your trust in unless you wanted to drown. Verona always looked down at you - there never came a point where you were to be considered an equal. Never.

There was something about her that made your skin crawl. She was a vile lady, with a wicked grin, honey-blonde hair and long nails that looked like talons. To you as a child, you came to view her as practically a witch, clawing her way into your life just to destroy it for her own amusement. Your father was completely and utterly blind, incapable of seeing any flaw within her.

Now that you were older, you could see her as more than a one-dimensional figure that was simply labelled 'the villain'. She wasn't a nice person, not by your account, but she was complex. Verona was always distant from you, eternally glacial and condescending whenever nobody was watching. She wasn't like that to everybody, though.

Along with the step-mother came two of what you had assumed to be Satan's most accomplished demons. They had inherited a fascinating ability from their mother. The instant your father was in the room, all torment would cease. Whether it be pulling your hair, or vandalising your possessions, they had an innate ability to tell whenever your father was close by.

Verona loved them. It was the only time where she seemed to be genuine in her affection. She would dote on them constantly, cooing at them and reading them stories in the same way that your mother had once done for you. She could pretend to tolerate you in public, and at first, you had lapped it up, basking in her siren's call voice and gazing upon her like she could be your escape, too, like she was something to be cherished, to be worshipped.

She bombarded you with an eternal cycle of love - so much love that you couldn't even feel the pain of losing your mother. She would treat you like you were her own daughter. She would pat you on the head and speak to you so sweetly. And after, would always come the abuse. The screaming, the slapping, the hissed remarks, the threats.

It was hard to deify her after that. So, Verona became the villain, the terrible step-mother who was always there to hold you down.

The wedding itself had been hosted at the very same church your parents had been married in. Their vows were exchanged between what you remembered to be Verona's awful giggles, and you yourself had been a flower girl, along with your step-sisters.

Somehow you managed to feel even worse than you had at your mother's funeral. It wasn't really acceptable to scream and cry at a wedding, so you did your best to look at the very least neutral.

You had spent most of the day staring at the gaudy paper garlands strung from the ceiling, doing your best to avoid thinking about the three women joining the family.

Everybody seemed to adore your step-sisters. They were perfect when they had to be, blonde angels with blue eyes and the sweetest disposition. Aubrey and Alora - twins that were identical in every sense of the word. Your father loved these girls, and he loved his new wife. It was like his previous one, and his first, biological daughter had simply been discarded and pushed to the periphery.

There were no more blood-speckled handkerchiefs strewn about the house, no more pills stashed above the sink, and no more quick trips to the hospital. Instead, there were Verona's lipsticks, and your step-sisters' toys. Pictures of them dominated the mantle place. Their achievements were the ones to be celebrated.

"Well done, Alora. We're so proud of you."

"Oh, Aubrey, you're so smart!"

Any incidents of your step-family's cruelty that you did manage to complain to your father about were either dismissed as the lies of a girl acting out as a result of her grief, or as some minor sibling rivalry that you would get over in time. In fact, your father seemed delighted when he interpreted it as the latter. Sibling rivalry meant that you were coming to see each other as sisters.

"You know, one day, when you grow up, I bet you're doing to be so glad to have Aubrey and Alora. I know that you girls don't always get along, but this is a good thing. They're your sisters." Your father had said, so gently, so softly that you wished for a moment you could believe it - that it was true and you could bring yourself to be thankful.

It flooded you with some kind of resentment - that he could be so passive, so enchanted by Verona and her perfect daughters, that you could become practically irrelevant. That of all of them, your concerns were the ones to be disregarded.

That resentment didn't fade when he died.

It had been an accident - a car-crash. It hadn't even been his fault. He had been on his way home to you, and some maniac had run him off the road. It could have happened to anybody. It should have happened to somebody else. It should have been something you saw on the news and thought about briefly. Instead, you were left an orphan.

His body was far too mangled for any kind of open-casket funeral. By the age of twelve, you had been to two funerals - one for each parent. What most children would do is to hope they were happy together, reunited in heaven. That's what you should have hoped for. Instead, you would pray, over and over again, every single fucking night, that they were burning. That they were being roasted in the flames of hell, and that they were screaming out for your forgiveness.

God hadn't listened when you had asked for your mother to get well and recover from her illnesses, nor when you asked for her to come back to you. Life had been so cruel, and so, you reasoned that its creator must be cruel, too. Perhaps God would listen if you wanted to inflict pain, instead.

The resentment didn't fade - rather, it intensified. After that, you really didn't need anybody to read Cinderella to you.

You had lived it.

---

The first person to rise was always you. It had been that way for years, the beginning of your well-established daily routine.

It was so cold, down in the basement. It wasn't given the same insulation as the rest of the house - and why would it have been? Your parents had mostly used it for storage, primarily for things like your bike, tools, and those family picture albums that you couldn't even bring yourself to open. At the time, there was nothing down there that had really deserved to be kept warm.

It was in rather poor condition. The bricks that comprised the walls were all cracked, and the black paint covering them was chipped and unevenly applied, the shelves looked liable to fall down any minute, and there were piles and piles of things everywhere. There is a saw lying on the ground, next to a few planks of wood that your father had never had an opportunity to use for anything and a stack of cannisters of gasoline that you eye affectionately.

There was always a breeze blowing through the basement, too. Your parents had discarded what they didn't need and stored it in the basement, and once they were both dead and buried, your step-mother had done the same to you.

Your old bedroom, where your mother used to read you bedtime stories and you would fret over her health, had been stripped bare and subsequently turned into Verona's walk-in wardrobe. You had been relegated to the basement, left to freeze whilst fur-coats and cocktail dresses got to enjoy central heating.

To keep warm, you would bundle yourself up in whatever shoddy blankets you could find. They would scratch at your skin and you would shiver against them, grinding your teeth together and hissing at the cold, silently cursing at Verona. It wasn't entirely uncommon for you to wake up and discover your lips had turned blue. It would worry you sometimes, that if it got too cold, you would simply die in the night and there would be nobody to notice.

It was early enough that you could hear the birds cooing sweetly outside, singing to one another as they flit through the branches in the trees outside. It was such a lovely thing to watch, and even lovelier to hear. It's such a pretty sound. You're not entirely sure that your step-family have ever woken early enough to hear it. If they hadn't before, then by now they had certainly missed their chance.

This was meant to be when you would start your chores. Your step-mother had left you to take on a maid role in the house, cooking and cleaning for them, waiting on them hand and foot, scrubbing the floors and surfaces until they shined. It filled you with rage.

Of the four of you, you were by far the best in every measurable way. Verona and her daughters were harpies, beasts with perfect faces that managed to fool just about everybody they came into contact with. Your father had been just one of many that was too naive to see it. They didn't bother with the pretenses around you - you had always seen them for what they were.

By now, you should be starting to sweep the bottom floor of the house, and making breakfast. But today would be different.

You creep up the stairs, your eyes constantly darting around the house, searching for any sign of the other inhabitants. They aren't awake, and you don't expect them to be, but it's always good to check, just in case.

Verona's left her purse on the countertop, next to a wine glass with a pink smudge on its rim and a pair of black elbow-length gloves she'd worn to a dinner the night before. The mere sight of it makes your lips curve up into a sneer. It's the ugliest shade of pink lipstick - vibrant and bold in all the wrong ways, but she somehow makes it look good. Of course she does - it's a talent of hers, really, to make the worst things seem not simply palatable, but also tempting.

You leave the wine glass, there will be no need to clean it today. With a sharp intake of breath, you open the purse, snatching all the money you can from it. Fortunately, Verona likes to keep most of her money in cash, so there's a decent amount. There's enough, at the very least.

The kitchen is obsessively cleaned - every surface shines from your efforts. It's clinical, sterile even, and the smell of cleaning products still permeates the air. There's a broom in the parlour, but you won't be using it.

Never before had you done anything like this. Today was a day that you had fantasised about for years, exploring and navigating different variations of it before constructing the master plan. These steps you were taking had been carefully considered, each and every action poured over obsessively, to the point of madness. All aspects of the plan were to be treated with reverence - they had practically become holy, and you recited them more often than you would prayers.

Already, you were breathing too quickly. There was adrenaline in your system, and your hands were slightly clammy. Nerves - but you weren't nervous. Not really. This was a burning, scalding anticipation that writhed around in your gut and clawed at your insides.

You allow yourself a brief moment to try and relax, letting your eyes flutter shut and letting your shoulders drop. There is a need to be tense - everything hinges on today, on whether or not you accomplish the plan.

When your eyes open, you immediately gravitate towards the knives. Before you select one, you go for Verona's black silk gloves, putting them on and admiring the way they look against your skin, and how smooth they are. They're the kind that's awfully expensive, but they look glamorous. She had worn them just the night prior, when she went to some fancy dinner.

They're hauntingly elegant, a mark of sophistication that contrasts so nicely with what you're about to do. They're a rather lovely way of ensuring that there's no fingerprints left in the house.

It's then that you pick a knife - a weighty silver meat cleaver with dark grey indentations on the handle. They make it look almost porous, and you know that the knife had been part of a set, a gift from one of Verona's friends who was into the culinary arts.

It's heavy, and you test the weight, passing it between your hands, looking at it reverently. The birds are still singing, chirping in harmony, nature's soundtrack to what is about to become a horrific crime. Whether the birdsong will harmonise with screams has yet to be determined. It has the potential to sound like a symphony - a completely lovely cacophony of everything you enjoy.

The meat cleaver shines in the soft sunlight - simply holding it makes you feel assured.

---

You create your own version of Cinderella. One where the house burns down.

The evil step-mother and bratty step-sisters are already dead when the match hits the gasoline that's long-since soaked into the floors. They had been hacked to pieces, their throats split open, almost to the point of decapitation. The blood would seep from the gaping wounds, spilling onto the bed sheets and staining their blonde hair red. They had looked so human in their sleep, so unsuspecting.

There wasn't even any time for them to awake and feel terror, or shock. That, at the very least, is a mercy. You had never really intended for it to be - it was more of a practicality than a fantasy. In the fantasies, the executions had lasted far, far longer.

As a child, experiencing the pains of loss, you had prayed for your parents to burn, so that they may feel as much pain as you. There was no way of knowing whether or not God would come to answer your prayers, so you decide instead to burn the people you can reach.

The meat cleaver is placed back into the kitchen - there's a chance that the wooden knife block may burn and char it and obscure the fact that it was the murder weapon. You keep Verona's gloves and you keep the cash.

There's something so beautiful, so incredibly vindicating about watching it all go up in smoke.

The house burns so beautifully. Flames dance in the windows, consuming the lacey white curtains, creeping their way up the ceiling until the roof catches fire and slowly caves in on itself, the slate-grey tiles becoming charred, crumbling and sliding over one another.

The birds stop singing. They squawk in agitation, fleeing from the nearby trees and taking to the skies. They, much like you, evacuate and watch the show from afar. They start their birdsong afresh once they're out of danger, singing proudly.

Plumes of smoke take to the air, contaminating and invading the morning sky. It's so dark, so thick that it's liable to block out the sun. The smoke's descending to the ground, too, sweeping over the grass like a terrible, ominous fog, rolling over the street and barrelling towards you in waves.

Your eyes and throat burn - you can feel the heat, even from a distance. You're breathing in wisps of the smoke - it's so strong that you feel simultaneously feel like you're choking, juxtaposed with this great, overwhelming sense of freedom. It smells so horrible you want to gag - it's not like the comforting smell from whenever your father would barbeque. It's stifling, oppressive, even.

And yet, despite your eyes watering and the feeling of nausea that the smell inspires within you, you doubt there has ever been a sweeter smell.

The flames flicker so brightly, swaying in tandem in a variety of oranges, reds, yellows and even a flash of white. They're so bright you can see it reflected on your skin.

The plan has been completed. You're entirely satisfied, and yet you're left directionless. Everything has amounted to this moment - to the burning of the monsters. This is your happy ever after, you think.

You stand there, bathed in an orange hue, simply watching, for as long as you're able.

Inevitably, you have to leave. You're rather tempted to dash back across the street and take Verona's car, if only to steal away another thing she loved. Her daughters, her life, her car. But you don't, as much as you would like to. It's another whim, another fleeting fantasy that has to be sacrificed for the sake of your freedom. Perhaps the car would burn, too. It's relatively close to the house.

Getting caught would simply transfer you from one life of imprisonment to another. The inner city of London seems as good a destination as any - it's not too far, and there nobody will know your name.

#jim moriarty #jim moriarty x reader #bbc sherlock

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