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katsukikitten · 3 years

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A harem collab in which we go to a party with our v precious hero 18+ Smut boooiiii

Sitting across from him never did get easier. As much as you told yourself it would.

If anything it got harder and harder to share the same room as him, let alone air.

But you were lucky enough, or unlucky enough, to join the agency when you did and to be partnered with your big time crush FatGum. Although you idolized him you were sure he didn't remember you.

And how could he? He saved countless people a day so it should be no surprise that he had no idea who you were on your first day. Still, it stung.

And it shouldn't still sting or come to a surprise when he sets down a flyer on your desk. A huge smile on his chubby cheeks as he taps the sheet of paper.

"Can you believe it?! The agency is throwing a new year's eve party!" He practically gushes, lingering by your desk with his intoxicating smile. He rummages in his brown bag, setting breakfast onto your desk careful to avoid getting grease stains on the flyer as if you'd hang it up one day instead of shoving it into the trash.

"They have one every year." You shrug, thanking him for the breakfast but tossing the paper into the trash can. His smile never waivers as he pulls it from the fresh bin, returning it to the smooth wooden top.

"Yea but not at a fancy hotel and never an open bar! We should go!" His eyes crinkle in the corners and your heart hammers in your chest.

Little do you know he prays to the Gods you don't say no.

"I dont know, it's such short notice. Like next week ain't it?." At least it wasn't a no. He smiles, thinking of your competative behavior.

"Oh I see what it is." He takes the sheet from your desk, waltzing to his own, "You're scared."

"Tch, scared of what?" You hiss, snatching for the paper.

"Scared I'll out drink you!" He laughs at your cute scowl as you size him up. His metabolism was insane, and with him being in his larger state you might not be able to win.

But he didn't have to know that.

"You fucking wish you could out drink me! Remember the last party we went to? You showed your age and could barely stand!"

"Oi! I was much thinner then. I think luck is on my side this time." He slaps his belly and you smile. A genuine laugh fills the room causing Taishiro's heart to clench.

"Yea, yea." You wipe away a tear, "We'll see."

The day drags on and on, turning into a week of you glancing his way. Making sure he wasn't gaining any extra weight as he brought you your normal breakfast daily.

It wasn't until the day of the party did you gain the advantage, a fight almost turned wrong and Taishiro had to use majority of that stored fat for a deadly punch to stop the villain from terrorizing the city.

Still you'd never want this type of advantage just for a stupid drinking contest. Although he was not at his largest, he still had a considerable "dad bod" going on.

"I still can't believe they had a tux in this size so late!" Taishiro shouts into the locker room at the agency, adjusting his tie as he waits for you. Meanwhile nerves eat you alive as you stare into your reflection, wondering if this dress fit okay, smoothing the fabric over your stomach self consciously.

"You okay in there? We're gonna be late." He calls softly, hoping you aren't having second thoughts about going with someone like him.

"Coming!" You call back, glancing at your deep amber dress a final time before rushing into the hall.

"I was just thinking you were going to forfeit and then I-" Words die in his throat and he drinks you in. Beautifully complimented by the shape and color of your dress as he mouth hangs agape.

"Wow. You look…"

"Tai, I know, I look...different."

"Amazing, perfect, breathtaking." He gives you a pointed look, "Which is no different than how you normally look."

Heat creeps up the back of your neck and you're thankful he misses your flustered expression. The walk to the hotel and the brisk cold air gives you time to not only cool off but think.

Really reflect on the year, this horribly rotten, all bad luck year. Reminding you of all the times you had failed but also reminding you of all the opportunities you had missed. And not opportunities in the sense of promotions or saving people but opportunities to get closer with a certain somebody.

You glance up at him and he glances down at you, smiling in a way that sets your skin on fire and yet it makes you feel at ease.

Slowly you were coming to hate it.

"I'm excited that they decided to invite some smaller agencies. Means I can introduce you to some of the kids I interned. Well I guess they are adults now huh." He looks nostalgic, sad even as he stares into space. Opening the door to the large hotel and it the look sticks with him until he is just before the party doors.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." You huff as he places his hand on the small of your back, bringing you into the rented ballroom. Lights and sounds consume your sense as music dances around light conversation. You're beginning to wonder if a drinking contest was such a good idea that is before you see the CEO of your agency totally shit faced. You glanced down at your watch, it was only 8pm.

Taishiro guides you around the room with a "starter" drink, introducing you to old and new faces. Beaming with pride as he introduces you as his partner and not his sidekick like other heroes had done in the past. You hated how much your heart raced.

"And this is Kirishima! He was one of my best and most memorable! Kids got guts and heart in spades!" He slaps Kirishima on the back and the young man slumps forward with a sharp toothed smile.

"Aw come on, I wasn't that great…" He scratches the back of his head.

"I heard that's when you became 'unbreakable'! I think that's so cool!" You gush over the young hero complimenting him to no end.

"Stop. You'll give me a big head." He smiles, blushing furiously before his eyes wander to the closeness of the two of you and then they settle on your drinks, "You're not trying to out drink the infamous FatGum are you?"

You laugh loudly before leaning in close as if to share a secret.

"Oh, yes and I plan to kick his ass."

Kirishima returns your smile and stage whispers

"Taishiro-sama has lost a good bit of weight. I believe in you!" He winks before someone across the room calls for him, "Call me when you get really started!!"

Two hours pass and you find yourself sitting across from your partner with his sleeves rolled up. Showcasing those deadly forearms as he slams back another shot. Kirishima keeps tally on hotel stationary and announces the number of shots.

"You'll have to take five to be in the lead! You'll have two minutes to decide to forfeit or-" But before he can finish you're grabbing for one of the prefilled shot glasses.

"Kanpai!" You shout, slinging them down, ignoring how the room is spinning and how bright the light reflects off of the table full of empty shot glasses.

Kirishima's eyes widen as you down an extra shot for good measure, tallying the booze count with worry.

"Fat hero." He says, almost gritting his teeth, "You'll have to take seven to be in the lead."

The large hero leans on his forearms on the table, the alcohol he's had had mostly been processed and maybe your figured that out. That he was starting to lose his edge so he takes you up on the challenge knocking back the several shots as if they were water. You're eager to gulp down a few more praying it drowns out your feelings for the sexy man across from you, instead he lets his broad hand hover over the shot glasses. Silently giving you a reprieve and noticing just how much you're sweating, how blown your pupils are.

"Let's give it a minute shall we?" He smiles as you drown in his golden eyes. Biting at your lower lip and with a defiant grip you swallow down a final shot.

"Your turn." You focus hard to make sure your words didn't slur, not wanting this feeling or night to end. He snorts, shaking his head wishing you acted out any other time than this.

"I forfeit." He places his hands up and you glare at him as you wonder if he did it on purpose. Before you have the time to accuse the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer, the room lags as you try to place names with faces as they come close to congratulate you. As more and more people crowd you, the hotter the room feels. Politely you excuse yourself to an enclave balcony closing the doors tightly behind you as you gulp down air, desperate to cool off and douse the desire that burns hot in your belly seeping to your core.

"Fuck." You rake your nails through your hair as a hit of icy air skates along your skin leaving goose flesh in its wake. A steady warmth comes from behind you, voice deep as he speaks softly. You can tell he's using the same tone he uses on victims, trying not to startle them with his size.

Little did he know how much you loved how much bigger he was. A safe haven, protection embodied.

"Ready to go home?"

"No I'm fine! Perfectly fine." He sucks his teeth at your stubborn reply, leaning in close with his hands in the pockets of his tux.

"You look flushed...you seem out of it."

"I'm totally of sound mind!" A bark to which he laughs, giving in to the liquid courage as his large hand tilts your chin towards him. Flirting with a line he swore he'd never cross.

"Yea, if you're so sound of mind, would you let me do this?" He asks, leaning closer, lips almost brushing yours. Your breath mingles with his in little puffs of fog agaisnt the cool air and suddenly you're burning again.

From the inside out.

His lips touch yours, gently, passive at first and if he's trying to fight against his urges. Slowly he breaks away, amber eyes glued to your mouth before he sighs. Hoping he didn't just fuck everything up.

In an instant you're drawing him back to you, hands in his golden wheat hair and your fingers weave through the strands. Mouth opening and demanding more as his large hands grip onto your ribcage as if you'd float away.

And maybe you would, you felt like you could.

Frantically your hands demand more, exploring up his shirt, touching across his stomach and digging your nails down his back. His own hands follow suit, gripping at your ass and tits, memorizing every luscious curve until he is drunk off of you and you only. You moan into his mouth and with that he loses all restraint.

Shoving you against the harsh brick building, fisting your hair to tilt your head for better access, exploring your mouth with his well skilled wet muscle. Hands trailing beneath your dress to find your dress, squeezing at your thick thighs and when you moan in approval he moves higher and higher still until his fingers brush against the damp fabric. This time it is his turn to groan as he presses his hardened cock against you, your hips move to grind against his large fingers.

"Please Tai" It is soft, breathy, sending him into a frenzy as he gives you exactly what you want. Letting his fingers slip beneath the fabric to gather the slick between your folds, gently rubbing against your throbbing clit. You arch against his touch, exposing your neck to him, he leans over and bites. Placing kisses along your throat, making sure to be careful enough to avoid marks before his hazed brain causes him to speak.

To confess.

"Do you know how long I've wanted to do this?" He asks, plunging his fingers into your tight heat, stretching you as you mewl, "Ever since I first laid eyes on you. Kamisama you were perfect. And tonight. Fuck baby. Wearing my eye color for all to see. You want people to think you're mine?"

"Yes, Taishiro. I want people to think I'm yours." You moan, fucking yourself on his fingers before he takes over. Setting a quick pace before he curls his thick fingers just right, in an instant you're creaming against his digits. Crying out as he overstimulates you before he covers your mouth with his broad hand, reminding you just how much he dwarfs you.

It makes you cum again and again and he corners you against the wall. Cock twitching as he laps up your sinful faces with a gluttonous appetite.

"Please Tai, pleeeasse."

"What's wrong baby? My fingers not enough?" His cocky tone drives you mad and your hips buck against his touch before he withdraws from your heat. Panting he levels his gaze yo you.

"Is this what you want?" Peppering you with kisses as if you could deny him and his godly hands.

"Don't make me beg Tai…" You rasp, he gives a devilish smile.

"Then I won't." His hands slink up your dress, gathering it at your waist as on skillful finger pulls the overly damp underwear away from your soaking sex. He frees himself and you swallow, not realizing just how large he was, for a moment you worry you won't be able to take him.

"I'll be gentle." He coos, easing himself in an inch at a time as your stretch around his thick cock. Pussy fluttering as it adjusts to his size, he gathers your legs to his sides, squeezing your hips to keep from rutting into you roughly. He pistons his hips slowly, watching your face contort as he angles himself just right. Sensual thrusts have your legs and pussy squeezing him so deliciously tight. Still he worries he's going to hurt you.

"You okay?" Alcohol lingers on his breath and you swallow him whole with a kiss. Moaning into his mouth softly as he rocks you into one of your most intense orgasms to date. It's a slow build, undeniably intoxicating as his steady pace hits your spongy soft spot and his pelvis rubs against your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps and your body clamps onto the behemoth of a man tightly, stars dot your vision as he continues to fuck you through it.

"God you're so beautiful ya know? So responsive to my touch. Taking me so well baby." He purrs against your ear, "Makes me want to keep this pace all night."

He keeps true to his promise, bringing you to new heights at the steadiest of paces, causing you to lose count of how many times you've cum on his length. Pussy attempting to milk him dry as he palm swallows your screams. He looks at your features, your makeup running from delirious tears, mouth fallen opened in a propetial O as your hair clings to your skin.

"Kamisama you're like art." He kisses your quickened pulse, "Ready for me to fill you love? You're squeezing me so tight…"

He groans and all you can think of his him and the searing pleasure that courses through your veins to settle in your over sensitive heat. His cock twitches and you want nothing more than to be stuffed full of the Fat Hero's fat cock and his cum. But words are lost in your hoarse throat and all you can do is nod, moaning his name as if it were a prayer. It's all the encouragement he needs, quickening his pace as the crowd inside grows louder. Counting down from 10.

It's all lost to you and his hips snap against you, the brick scraping against your shoulders as his grip on you becomes so tight you're sure you'll bruise. Your body hyper aware of every little sensation as you drown in pleasure and warm amber sun, he groans, painting your walls in hot ropes of cum, your vision spots as your body arches to meet him as your spams a final time while his lips crash to yours.

All the while fireworks erupt over head, bringing in the new year on a literal high note.

He huffs, sweating as he looks at you, still buried to the hilt. Swiping his thumb over your cheek and running mascara before he breathes out so gently.

"Happy new year baby."

#fat gum x reader #fatgum x reader #fatgum smut #bnha x reader #bnha nye event

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blossom-hwa · 3 years

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Sunflowers |Summer| - JUYEON

Can’t believe it’s already Juyeon’s birthday!!! Hope deobiblr enjoys my contribution for the birthday of one of the best dancers in the kpop industry <3

I will be doing a taglist for Sunflowers, so if you’d like to be notified when the next part goes up, send me a dm or an ask! Post dates are also on my posting schedule :)

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, high school!au

Triggers: cursing

Word Count: 2.3k

Juyeon is just a sunflower, following the light of your smile.

Summer | Fall | Winter | Spring | Summer, Once More

TBZ Masterlist | Interwoven

~ in summer, a stranger comes home

. . . . .

It’s the middle of summer when your mom delivers you a little piece of seemingly innocuous news, a piece of glittering information wrapped in old magazines and tied with cheap string to disguise its sparkle. Her voice literally vibrates with excitement when she tells you, which probably should serve as a warning or a signal of some sort, but in your defense, you’re tired from a day of classes and research programs and just want to eat and die.

“Our old neighbors are coming back!” she bursts, a spring in her step that you haven’t seen since the day you were accepted to your current prestigious research camp. “You know, the Lees who used to live next door?”

You blink once, then twice before the information sinks in. A memory settles at the front of your mind. “The Lees?”

“Yes!” She smiles widely. “I missed Yuna so much, I can’t believe she and her family are actually moving back. Don’t you remember, you used to be such good friends with Juyeon?”

More blurry memories of playing in the grass and dancing in the living room with a chubby little boy flash through your mind. You remember playdates that turned into study sessions in middle school, study sessions that disappeared when Juyeon moved away. And though you’d like to forget it, you remember sobbing your eyes out the day he left at the end of summer, the weather turning to fall. Sunflowers were blooming that day, wreathing your lawn in an unfairly bright ring of yellow as you wrapped him in one last hug before his father started the car and the family drove away.

“Mhm,” you only say, taking a box of cookies out of the cupboard. ��I remember.”

“Won’t it be so much fun for you two to meet again?” Your mother’s smile turns suggestive as she side-eyes you. “You two were always so adorable together. Didn’t you once say he was your boyfriend in kindergarten?”

That memory makes you cringe. “Thanks, Mom, I was doing a really good job of forgetting that before you mentioned it.”

“Oh, hush.” She shoos you out of the kitchen. “You two were so cute together. I have no doubt you’ll be the best of friends again when they come back.”

“I haven’t seen him in four years, Mom,” you remind her. “People change.”

A glint comes into your mom’s eye. “Maybe so,” she replies cryptically, “but some feelings remain.”

Okay, so in hindsight, you should’ve taken a lot of what she said as a warning that your life was about to get flipped upside down by Juyeon’s homecoming. But with everything already on your mind, you more or less forget about the news until one day towards the end of summer, when your dad tells you to come straight home after your classes.

You stare up at him over your bowl of cereal. “Why?” you ask, mouth full.

“You don’t remember?” Your mom sits down just across from you. “The Lees are moving back in today, and we’ve invited them to dinner!”

Your brain buffers for a good few minutes before you finally recall your dad saying something about “dinner with the Lees when they come back” a couple weeks ago. “I didn’t know they already came back.”

“Well, they are.” Your mom’s fingers tap on the table with excitement. “You have your research, but we’ll be helping them move back in today, and then they’re coming over for dinner. We’ll probably already be home before you get back, so try not to look too messy, okay?”

Wincing, you remember the several still-recovering formic acid burns on your forearms from several days ago. You can’t hide those. “I’ll do my best,” is all you promise.

So that afternoon, instead of staying behind and chatting with a few friends, you find yourself walking down the sidewalk to the front of your house much earlier than usual. There are new cars in the driveway next door.

With the sunflowers beginning to bloom on your and your neighbors’ lawns, it feels eerily similar to the day Juyeon and his family left.

A slight wave of nervousness roils in your stomach. Quickly, as you walk up the pathway to your house, you try to untangle your hair with your fingers, straightening out your shirt as best as you can. As tired as you are, you don’t want to make a bad impression on your parents’ good friends. You don’t exactly want to look horrible in front of Juyeon, either. Even though he probably doesn’t have any idea what you look like anymore.

With a deep breath, you grip the doorknob and twist. It’s locked.

Frowning, you look down at the unmoving handle. Your parents must’ve locked it by force of habit when they came back.

So you knock.

Literally nothing could have prepared you for the boy who opens the door several seconds later to your pounding. He’s tall, muscled, with fine features and a curious look in his eyes, and he looks vaguely familiar.

For several seconds, the two of you just stare at each other, neither saying a word. As you’re trying to figure out why a really hot guy is at your house right now, a much more familiar woman appears in your line of vision, smiling widely as she holds out her arms to you. “Oh, my!” she cries, pushing past the boy to wrap you up in a hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long! You’ve grown so much!”

“Hi, Mrs. Lee,” you reply, still trying to figure out who the tall boy is. It isn’t until she starts pulling away that you realize he has her nose and her eyes.

Huh?

Then –

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

You nearly stumble back into the door from shock. “JUYEON?”

. . .

Juyeon thought his feelings for you had disappeared, he really did. When he moved away and thought he was never coming back, he took the love he’d held for you for so long, put it into a box at the back of his heart, locked it, and threw the key away. And as the years slowly passed, one after another, the box slowly disappeared from the forefront of Juyeon’s mind. He never forgot about it, but memories of you eventually stopped plaguing his mind day and night.

But that box never disappeared, not really. He thought it did, thought it dissolved into nothing over the years. Instead, it stayed, small but there, waiting for the right moment to burst and flood his body with the feelings he’d so carefully packed away so long ago.

That right moment is apparently when he opens the door to see a face he really never thought he’d ever see again.

Juyeon doesn’t recognize you, not at first. At second glance, he can pick out some distinct features that stayed the same (namely the sparkle in your eyes that hasn’t changed, even after all this time away). But during those first moments when he opens the door, he just stands there, trying to figure out who this person in front of him is.

Then it hits him, and the box of feelings explodes just as his mom starts pushing him away to wrap you in a hug.

You clearly don’t recognize him, judging by the curious looks you keep giving him over his mom’s shoulder. That makes Juyeon self-conscious – he hasn’t changed that much from when he left, has he? – and the embarrassment only compounds when you stumble back into the door, eyes widening as you yell his name in shock.

So, suffice to say, the conversation between you two at dinner is almost nonexistent. You look like you want the ground to eat you alive in your seat across from Juyeon, eyes barely looking up throughout the whole meal, talking only when someone asks you a direct question. Meanwhile, Juyeon’s stuck in his head.

Why, he despairs, didn’t these feelings actually disappear? Why does he still want to look into your eyes, get lost in your gaze like he used to so many years ago? Thoughts spin in circles in his head, thoughts of how you’ve changed and how you’ve stayed the same and how, oh God, his heart still races like no tomorrow when you meet his eyes for the briefest second before looking away out of embarrassment.

Juyeon needs a moment. He needs a moment to breathe, to think, to reason himself through this whole situation, which is why he volunteers to wash the dishes after dinner. Your mom starts praising him for being a perfect son and he dutifully lowers his head in embarrassed acknowledgment, thanking the heavens that he’ll have a moment to actually think, before she then looks at you to ask, “Why don’t you help Juyeon too?” and the world starts crumbling around his feet.

In perfect tandem, the two of you start picking up empty plates and bowls and carrying them to the kitchen sink. The adults make their way to the living room, laughing and chattering loudly, which only makes the potent silence between you two more prominent.

“I can wash,” you offer awkwardly, still barely able to look Juyeon in the eye (which is perfectly fine, because he thinks he might combust if you do just that). “You can dry? If you’re all right with that.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Juyeon tries to flash a smile, hoping it isn’t too shaky (the thumping in his heart makes it feel like the world is trembling around his feet). As the water runs and you start passing plates over to him, he does his best to ignore how close you are, how easy it would be to accidentally brush your arm with his.

Silence reigns until half the dishes are dry, and then you open your mouth. “Sorry about earlier,” you blurt, embarrassment and shame visible on your face. “I, uh, didn’t recognize you at first. Freaked out for a second.”

It’s surprisingly easy to laugh at that, to laugh at a statement that’s so blatantly you. You still haven’t changed, Juyeon thinks – you’re still the same bluntly apologetic friend he was in love with four years ago. It cheers him when your lips begin to turn up at his burst of laughter, face still embarrassed but beginning to warm with some happiness. “It’s okay,” he says, drying the next plate. “I didn’t recognize you either, not at first.”

“Well, I guess we can say that we’ve both changed,” you acknowledge, finally looking up fully.

Your smile could bring legions to their knees, Juyeon thinks. It certainly stops his hands from drying the next dish – in fact, he almost drops it. Even though the curve of your lips is small and he can’t see all of your teeth, the sparkle in your eye more than makes up for it. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah.”

The two of you scrub dishes for the next few minutes in quiet again. Juyeon has no idea what you’re thinking, but he’s just trying to calm the beating in his heart.

This is not how he expected to feel when he moved back. Not at all. What he’s feeling isn’t even just everything he locked away at the end of seventh grade – somehow, the emotions have multiplied, compounded over years of neglect, and now he’s getting the full force of it.

“My mom wants us to be friends again,” you say, breaking the silence once again. “What do you think about that?”

Um, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? Juyeon thinks. Do you want to be his friend again? Or are you only trying to be nice to him for the sake of your parents?

“Well.” Juyeon bites his lip. “If you want to be friends again, I’d like that. But if it’s, um, just because of your mom, we don’t have to.”

At that, you smack a rubber-gloved, soapy hand against your head, shrieking slightly when you realize there are suds in your hair. Juyeon laughs, really laughs as he hands you a towel from a nearby rack. “God, I’m a fucking mess,” you groan, wiping the bubbles from your forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t want to be your friend again just because of our parents, that was just the only way I could think of to bring up the topic and yeah, I should’ve thought this out, I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Didn’t you get into one of the most prestigious research camps in the country?” Juyeon counters, hands moving automatically to take the towel from you and wiping off the suds himself. “You’re not an idiot.”

“Yes, I am.” You sigh. “I think it’d be nice to be friends again. If that’s fine with you.”

With your words fluttering in his heart, it takes Juyeon a good moment to realize he’s been standing with the towel pressed against your head for a full few seconds. Heat rising to his ears (he hopes you don’t see that), he quickly wipes off the last of the bubbles and returns the towel to the rack. “That’d be nice,” he echoes softly. “I’d like that.”

The smile you give him, tentative but much wider than before, makes Juyeon feel like he’s flying. He’s so far gone, he thinks, drying the last dish. He’s only seen you again for a few hours, and already your smile has him feeling some kind of way.

He’d follow that smile, he thinks. He’d follow that smile anywhere, just like one of the sunflowers on your lawn outside chasing the sun from dawn to dusk. That’s all he is, after all. A sunflower, following the light of your smile.

And as you look up, eyes scrunched as he says something to make you laugh, Juyeon doesn’t think he minds.

Not in the slightest.

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

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"Doppelganger" *Part 9*

I don't know if this counts as two chapters today, but there will probably be another one up late tonight which most of you won't see until tomorrow, so I think this is cool to drop now.

Reminder: We are nowhere near the end people, don't worry.

Part 8

Part 10

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

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

::Let’s rewind that back::

As soon as you felt that orange liquid run down your throat, your mind blacked out. You woke up in a dark, dark room. You blinked a few times, trying to get your bearings. And then in the distance you saw a light. You ran towards it, it was a small window. You ran to stare out of it, and you saw...Nevada? You could hear your voice echoing around you.

“Vada,” You heard your voice eerily happy. What the…? Then it dawned on you, what Rafael had said about being under Olivia’s spell. It was like he was stuck in his body, screaming to get out. This must be what was happening. Oh God, this was hell.

You saw “yourself” fighting the love of your life. There had to be a way to stop this, there had to be. You ran every direction in the pitch black, trying to find a wall to hit. You ran to the window, banging on it. You felt the room, your “head” shaking, hurting. The window began to crack, you yelled:

“RAFA!!!!!!” You heard yourself speaking. Your eyes filled with hope, but then the weirdest thing happened-- you could hear Nevada’s voice booming through your head.

“NO. YOU HATE HIM. KILL HIM.”

What the hell. What the hell?! No! This could not be happening. You saw your body push him away, walking back to Nevada, then making out with him.

This was a nightmare.

-------

The Next Day

Rafael decided to do something he really didn’t want to-- ask for Olivia’s help.

He nervously walked into the precinct, as soon as he locked eyes with Olivia the biggest smile appeared on her face.

Crap.

“Rafa!!!” She ran over to him and started to give him a kiss, but he stopped her.

“I--Uh, Liv, can I-- can we---?” He gestured to her office.

“Ooooh, private time. Absolutely,” She took his hand and led him inside.

“Now, where were we?” She wrapped her arms around his neck but once again he pulled away from her.

“No, Liv-- Look,” He sighed. “...The...me, that came to you yesterday. That wasn’t...me,”

“....What are you talking about?”

“I…” Rafael hesitated. He knew if he told Olivia about Nevada, she could tell the whole squad, maybe the entire police force. They’d always think he was Nevada pretending to be him, he’d lose his job, maybe his career if they never caught Nevada. But they had to catch him, otherwise he’d never see you again. So really, he had nothing to lose.

“It was Nevada Ramirez,” He finally admitted.

“...I’m sorry, what?” Olivia half laughed. “The drugpin of The Heights?”

“Yeah he-- we, have the same face,” He felt stupid saying it out loud.

“....So what are you, twins or something?”

“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “I...I had no idea. You know he’s always been a ghost, nobody’s seen his face before,”

“So how have you?” She raised an eyebrow.

“....He has Y/N,” He gave her a puppy dog face.

“Ah,” She nodded. “I see," She shook it with a sad laugh. So, yesterday when you were talking about ditching her for me--”

“That wasn’t me,” He gave her an apologetic face.

“Right,” She nodded sadly.

“You don’t believe me,”

“No actually, I do,” She continued to nod. “It did seem pretty odd that you would just come waltzing in here and denouncing your ‘true love’ for me,”

“Liv I’m sorry he did that-- I really am,” He laid his hand over hers.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” She shook her head with a sad laugh. “I guess I kind of deserve it,”

“Well--” Rafael made a face.

“So why did you come here then?” She gave him a look.

“Because I believe you when you say that you really love me,”

“You do?”

“Yes, but you need to believe me when I say that if you truly love me, then you’ll let me be happy with whoever I choose, even if it’s not you,”

“....So you want me to help you get her back,” She raised her eyebrow.

“...AND take down the most notorious criminal in New York,” Rafael added. “Think about what that will do to your reputation,”

“Right, because I care so much about accolades,” She rolled her eyes. “But...I guess I don’t really have a choice. I mean if I don’t help you, it’s not like I’ll get you anyway. And if I let her die, then I’ll never even recover our friendship,” She looked at him sadly. “And I do cherish that,”

“Me too, Liv,” Rafael took her other hand. “I swear to you, I really do,”

“Alright then--,” She smiled while squeezing his hands in return. “Where do we start?”

“....I’m gonna need your signature on some things,” He said in a "I'm really sorry to ask this but--" tone.

------

Meanwhile

Nevada paced his penthouse apartment while your body sat there like a robot. Inside the black hole of your mind prison, you were screaming at yourself to run, make a break for it, something.

“God DAMMIT!!! You screamed. You jumped up and down, pounding on your ‘eye window’. You felt yourself shaking your head, it was pounding. You were coming out of it.

“I…” You started to speak, but realized he still thought you were still under his power. You quietly stood up and tried sneaking towards the door while he kept pacing and looking at his phone, waiting on Rafael’s call. You had almost made it to the door of the penthouse when out of the corner of his eye, Nevada caught you trying to escape.

“Hey! No no no, you sit back down!” He commanded you.

“Fuck you,” You spat as you threw open the door and started to run out and down the hallway, but were met with two of Nevada’s men with guns.

“Ayyyy, hermosa,” Nevada shook his head with a laugh. “Do you think I’m estupido, not having constant supervision? I’m a very wanted man-- in many ways,”

One of the men grabbed you and forced your arms behind your back.

“Now why the sudden change, mujer?” He stroked your face. “Don’t you like being mi reina?”

“I’ll never be your anything, you piece of shit!” You yelled.

“Ooooh!!!! Kitty’s got claws,” Nevada laughed, but soon turned serious. “....You must need another dose, don’t you? Dios mio that’s annoying,”

“Keep her here, I’ll be back,” Nevada ordered his men who dragged you back to his penthouse. He sighed and walked down the hallway to the elevator.

“Always gotta do everything myself…” He shook his head. While he was walking, his phone pinged in his hand. A text from Rafael:

“I have your papers,”

“Ah, bien,” He smiled to himself as he got on the elevator. “At least something’s going right today,”

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

Nevada entered the old woman’s shop, with an unamused glare on his face.

“Ah what now, penjedo?” She crossed her arms.

“Tu anciana estúpida!” He grabbed her by the throat. “Why didn’t you tell me your voodoo only works in a time limit?”

“Well what did you expect, tonto?” She gasped as she wriggled in his hands. “Uno y hecho? That wouldn’t be very good business practice,”

“Ah I see,” Nevada chuckled as he released the old woman. “I can appreciate a good buscavidas such as myself,” His smile turned to an evil scowl. “But not with me. Now you’re going to make me enough of your poción that I can keep mi puta under my thumb for a very, very long time. Or I might not be so nice the next time I decide to visit your little pawn shop,”

“That’s going to take a while, cabron,” She scoffed.

“I’ll wait,” Nevada crossed his arms with a smirk, pulling up an old rocking chair.

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

It had been about an hour since Rafael had texted Nevada and he still hadn’t gotten a response. It was beginning to drive him nuts, thinking about why he wasn’t answering. What was he doing? What was he doing with YOU? It was torture. On top of that, he hadn’t gotten any sleep last night just replaying the events of last night over and over in his head. He knew you were in there, he saw you. And those brief moments that you were in his arms, he was terrified he’d never have that again.

“...You look like hell, Rafa,” Olivia’s voice knocked him from his thoughts.

“Thank you?” He laughed sarcastically.

“You should go home, take a nap,”

“But what if--?”

“I’ll forward your texts and calls to my phone, so if he responds I’ll call you and wake you up, okay?”

“....Okay,” He said reluctantly. He didn’t know how much he trusted Olivia with access to his phone, but it wasn’t like she could contact you and mess with you. He left her office and headed back to his place to take a nap.

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

Before he knew it, there was a knock at his door waking him from his sleep. He walked out of his bedroom and towards his front door.

“Liv you could have just called--” He started to speak, but the image in front of him rendered him speechless.

You were standing right in front of him.

“...Y/N?”

“Hi baby,” You smiled as you pulled him into a kiss. He picked you up and carried you inside, not breaking the kiss as he sat you on the couch.

“How did you--?” Happy tears started rolling down his cheeks as stroked the side of your face, before he had a horrible realization.

“....This isn’t real, isn’t it?”

“Not yet,” You smiled sweetly, stroking his face as well.

“Right,” He nodded with a sarcastic smile, remembering when this situation was reversed. Wait, when it was reversed.

“But this is you,” He held your face in his hands.

“Well duh,” You shook your head with a laugh. “You think you’re the only one who can dream walk?”

“...I don’t think that’s actually a thing,” He gave you a look.

“It is for us,” You pointed out.

“Because of our love?” He said semi sarcastically.

“Because our love can do anything, Rafa.” You placed your forehead against his. “Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

“I suppose I should have,” He chuckled.

“In fact, right now I’m not even under any of Nevada’s powers, the dumbass didn’t think he’d need to keep me under,”

“Wait so, so he’s not having sex with you right now?” His eyes perked up.

“Rafael!” You hit him playfully. “Gross,”

“Yeah you say that now…” He made an uncomfortable face.

“Look, we don’t have time to unpack all of...that,” You made a face, not really wanting to talk about what you’d eventually have to discuss.

“Just-- Just know, that whatever happens when you see me in person, whatever I say or do to you, it’s not me,” You assured him.

“I know that carino--” He smiled at you while stroking your hair.

“Yeah I know you know that but I need you to know that,” You took both of his hands and squeezed them tightly.

“...Okay?” He gave you an amused smile.

“Just-- I need to hear you say that you know that, okay?” You pulled his hands toward you.

“I just said--” He started but you needed this.

“RAFAEL,” You crossed your arms. “I am doing my damndest to astral project my brain into yours, the least you can do is humor me,”

“Okay Okay,” He softly chuckled, pressing his lips to yours. “I know it’s not you,”

“Okay,” You smiled, pulling him into a deeper, more passionate kiss. A kiss that rivaled your epic “yellow swirly memory floating” kiss.

“Te amo, mi amor,” Rafael whispered, knowing how much his spanish speaking meant to you. “Te amo mucho,”

“I love you too, Rafael,” You kissed him one more time before the both of you were pulled away back into consciousness.

----

Rafael was woken up by the sound of his phone going off, it was Olivia. She had forwarded you the text from Nevada:

“Excellente. Meet me outside your courthouse, wearing your black and pink suit. I’ll be waiting in a town car,”

Great…

------

“Hey amante, nap time’s over,” Nevada shook you awake from your nap in his bed.

“What now, Vada?” You grumbled sleepily.

“Good news baby, we’re going to see your abogado,” He smiled sweetly, before pulling out a champagne bottle full of bright orange liquid.

“But first...a toast,” He added with an evil grin.

Oh no...

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 years

Text

In Love and Death Part 11

Harry Potter AU

Link to Part 10

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating: M

____

“YOU’RE ACTUALLY GOING?”

Tonks shrieked as you brushed your hair. Turning around, you quickly hushed her. It had been a week since you agreed to go see the healer. Today was the day of your appointment and you were a bundle of nerves. How you hadn’t broken down and told Tonks yet was still a mystery. You had agreed with Regulus to keep things hidden until “something” happened and it was killing you to not tell Tonks. The two of you shared everything. Now here you were almost ready to spill the beans at any moment. Regulus, on the other hand, was calm and reserved as he typically was.

“Yes, and I need you to keep your mouth closed. Regulus didn’t want me to say anything.”

Tonks looked offended.

“Where is the prince charming?”

“Still on a mission with his brother. I am beginning to get worried. He knows that my appointment is today...or at least he is supposed to. I need to leave in like five minutes and of course he isn’t here.”

Tonks glanced down at her watch. She was trying to see Regulus’ point of view in keeping things quiet. The reasonable side understood. He didn’t want to start more turmoil than necessary. The “best friend” side, however, was screaming RUDE!

“I can go with you if you would like. I know that I am not Regulus but I don’t want you really sitting in that clinic alone.”

You shook your head.

“Thanks but I would rather go alone if Regulus doesn’t turn up. It is going to be awkward enough.”

Tonks finally relented.

“True. I have to know what happens. I won’t tell Regulus that I know.”

You smiled as she held out her pinky for a pinky promise.

“Fine. I’ll let you know.”

Half an hour later, you sat in the healer’s exam room on your own. As much as you wanted to be annoyed with Regulus, you couldn’t be. This was part of how things would be with missions and you of all people knew that.

A knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts as a tired-looking old woman stepped in. She looked down at the filed folder in her hands.

“Ms. Rosier, correct?”

You nodded as she sat down and continued to read over the report in her hands.

“So, you are unable to get pregnant and are trying to?”

“True.”

You commented. Deep down you wanted to congratulate her on knowing how to read but your common sense reminded you that this old witch was here to help you.

“It looks like your problems are due to childhood trauma and abuse. Here drink this potion every morning for the next week and a half. It tastes like goblin piss but will work. I have fixed women with a lot of worse issues than what I am seeing with you. Drink your potion then have your husband work his magic.”

You almost snorted at that comment. Damn, you wished Regulus was here to hear that. You could see him blushing over that comment. The prudish side of him would be coming out in full force.

“He will love to hear that.”

You replied as you shoved the potion in your handbag. The witch chuckled.

“I don’t know many men who wouldn’t be thrilled with the prospect of getting laid. Come see me when you think that you’re pregnant and we shall see how things are looking.”

“That’s it?”

You asked, confused. The witch nodded.

“Did you expect me to start poking around down there?”

You shrugged.

“I was expecting more than this.”

The witch chuckled as she stood up. For the first time, the healer seemed to warm up. She reached out and patted your shoulder.

“You kids really are cute. Trust me, Ms. Rosier, this is going to be a lot easier than you expected.”

Stepping back into Grimmauld Place, you were still taking in everything that happened.

“Well?”

You were pulled from your thoughts as you stepped into the kitchen. Regulus sat at the table while Tonks, Remus, and Sirius were standing at the counter. Blinking, you tried to play innocent.

“Well, what?”

You replied. Regulus rolled his eyes as Tonks stepped in.

“Regulus told us where you were going today.”

“Yeah, the healer.”

Sirius came in. You breathed a breath of relief before sitting down at the table.

“I have a potion that she wants me to drink then you and I have some business to do.”

You smirked at the expression on Regulus’ face. He sat quietly waiting to hear some tale of events or get chewed out for missing the appointment but you casually took the tea that Tonks offered you as if nothing had happened.

“That’s it?”

Putting your teacup down you smiled again.

“You know that is the same reaction that I had. I was expecting her to be shoved between my legs looking at my lady bits but she looked over a chart, threw a potion at me, told me to have Regulus work his magic, then bidded me a nice farewell.”

Evan, who you hadn’t even noticed come into the room, froze at the “lady bits comment, spilled his tea, then turned and walked out without another word. Regulus made a mental note to be sure to torment Evan a bit later.

Regulus, himself, was taking in what you just said and blushed as the realization of what the healer said finally hit home.

“Maybe we should leave the two of you alone so you can work some magic.”

Sirius said, bursting into a fit of giggles at the embarrassed expression on your face. Regulus was shaking his head.

“Stay out of it, Sirius.”

Sirius poured a glass of fire whiskey with a smirk on his face.

“No need to be a prude, Reg. We have figured out that the two of you have sex. Some of us have been lucky to see the two of you with your tongues down each other’s throats.”

“Why are you watching, pervert?”

Regulus snapped before focusing his eyes on his older brother.

“At least when we have a child, it won’t have an older brother trying to sell it.”

Sirius didn’t look up as everyone in the room turned to look at him. He innocently looked down at his drink as you frowned.

“What are you talking about, Reggie?”

You asked. Regulus shrugged.

“Ask Sirius. It's his memory.”

Sirius finally looked up.

“I did not, oh wait, yes I did. He was so cute when mum and dad brought him home then he started screaming and taking up all of the attention.”

“I was a baby, you idiot.”

Regulus replied with a haughty frown. Sirius turned his attention back to you.

“So...anyway... I sold him to the old widow next door. Mum had to go get him back then I got the shit slapped out of me. So, Y/n, have you told Evan or Moody about the little plan that you two have cooked up?”

You had started to open the potion and looked up like a child who had their hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Well, no. I figured they could find out when it happens. It will be a lot less painful to deal with Moody after it happens. As far as Evan...he’s a smart boy...he’ll figure it out.”

Regulus’ eyes flickered back to you.

“He has an idea already. He heard you mentioning your lady bits and walked out.”

You stood up and went to the sink. How you missed Evan’s awkward and brief entrance was beyond you.

“One less thing to worry about.”

You downed the potion and automatically winced. Remus, who had been quietly listening from his place by the sink, met your gaze.

“Alright?”

You shook your head.

“Tastes horrible.”

You stood silently for a few minutes wondering if this was how Remus felt when he had to drink his “monthly” potion? If you, you felt sincerely awful for him.

“Well, I don’t feel any different.”

You commented. Tonks grinned up at you.

“It probably takes a bit to take effect. Might as well go work some magic.”

Regulus put down his drink and stood up.

“I’m out of here. Come find me when you need me, Y/n.”

A few hours later you stood helping Molly cook dinner. You had grown closer to the woman since everyone was held up in Grimmauld Place. At first, you thought there were too many people together but it actually wasn’t that bad. Molly had quickly become like the mother that you never had. She had been showing you how to do crafty little things that didn’t involve dark magic. You couldn’t help but smirking at the thought of how your grandmother and mother would be devastated that you didn’t have a Kreacher doing basic chores. Kreacher was enough of a basket case without asking him to do too much.

“Y/n, may I ask a question?”

You nodded as you finished cutting up a chicken. Molly put her knife down before turning.

“I overheard you talking about a certain potion.”

Molly had waited to bring the subject up when Regulus was out of the room in addition to every other man in the house. This was a conversation that she wanted to have without a bunch of “other ears.” Hermione sat at the table finishing up a salad. Molly was fine bringing this up around her.

You, meanwhile, put your own carving knife down.

“Yes, I went to see a healer about my not being able to get pregnant. She gave me a potion to try.”

Molly noticed how Hermione instantly stopped shredding the lettuce and started blinking. The young woman turned in her chair as Molly smiled.

“Are you sure that the two of you are ready for this? It's a big step.”

You were quiet for a moment before speaking. Were you ready...yes and no. You did wonderfully with Teddy but he wasn’t your child. What if you messed this kid up like your parents clearly did with you? Regulus’ childhood wasn’t much better. Two “damaged” people raising a child seemed like a bad idea.

“I know. It's really big but we both want it. I guess I will have to slow down a bit. That was Regulus’ one term and it makes sense. I’ve never liked the idea of being a housewife but maybe it won’t be so bad.”

“You don’t have to stop being an auror just because you are a mother. Tonks does a fine job at it.”

Molly commented.

“Had it been a few weeks ago I would agree with that comment but I was thinking about it...I thought about my childhood and Harry’s childhood...I don’t want my child growing up without parents. Molly, what if I’m a crappy mum? I didn’t have decent parents and neither did Regulus. What if this kid ends up as messed up as we are?”

Molly quickly reached out to cup your cheeks. She knew right away that it was time to go into “mum mode.”

“You will do just fine...both of you will. You’ve done great with Teddy. You also have a lot of support.”

Your worried expression eased up as Molly patted your shoulder.

“You have plenty of time to get ready. It will probably take some time for the potion to start working fully.”

Hermione meanwhile, finished up the salad before politely excusing herself. She had to warn Harry before the inevitable happened and found out in some horrible way.

Harry and Ron sat playing wizard chess when Hermione came into the room. Neither looked up at first. Hermione closed the door before turning back to her friends.

“I need to talk to the two of you.”

Harry’s eyes rolled up immediately noticing Hermione’s worried expression. He had grown used to being wary of that particular expression. When Hermione wore “that” look something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?”

Hermione sat down as both boys turned to face her. This conversation was not going to be easy. It didn’t matter how many times that Ron or Hermione told Harry to let go of whatever crush that he had on you; he hadn’t. Ron could have told Harry over and over that you were an adult now and had no interest in a younger man fifty times and Harry wouldn't care. Neither Ron nor Hermione could decide which crush was more damning…the crush on Cho or the one on yourself.

“Harry, I overheard Y/n and Mrs. Weasley talking. Y/n went to see a healer today.”

Harry frowned. You didn’t seem sick when he ran into you earlier that day. Granted, neither Harry nor yourself had really spoken since the spat over Regulus.

“Is she sick? What did Y/n say?”

Hermione took a breath before beginning to fiddle with the fabric of her jeans.

“Not that kind of healer, Harry. Regulus and Y/n are trying to have a baby.”

Harry’s mouth dropped while Ron looked confused.

“Why would they want to do that?”

Hermione shot Ron a glare.

“Ronald!”

Ron quickly recovered from his mistake and realized what Hermione was saying. He quickly turned to Harry who sat blinking. Harry sat motionless for a moment before jumping up to pace around the room.

“Why am I not surprised? Date someone for a short period then have a baby with them...makes perfect sense. Of course, she wants to make a family with him. Why wouldn’t she? Y/n won’t have to worry about him getting killed by some vindictive dark wizard or worry about…”

Ron quickly came in.

“Harry, I mean, she is a Slytherin like Regulus. Harry, what do you expect mate? Those two feed off of each other. Regulus is as sassy as Y/n, if not worse. Y/n will say something sassy and Regulus has the perfect back up comment. You won’t get far with trying to insult him.”

Harry sat down and took off his glasses to hold the bridge of his nose.

“That isn't what I meant, Ron but thanks for that. I’m going to get some air.”

Harry didn’t wait for Ron or Hermione to respond before storming out of the room. He was halfway down the stairs when he noticed Regulus sitting on the sofa in the small room off of the kitchen.

“I’ve got to be out of my mind.”

Harry muttered before walking in. Regulus didn’t look up from the book that his eyes were glued to. He didn’t even seem to notice Harry or care that the other boy was standing in front of him looking very upset.

“Regulus, I want to talk to you.”

Regulus didn’t lookup. He knew it was Harry without having to look at him.

“Um...okay.”

Harry opened and closed his hands a few times. It was taking all that he had not to lose his temper.

“I don’t think y/n needs a baby, it's too dangerous and you’re too old for her.”

Regulus finally looked up. He raised an eyebrow before smirking.

“Are you her father?”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest.

“No, he’s sitting in there looking confused.”

Regulus turned to look over his shoulder where Evan sat at the kitchen table muttering to himself... Rolling his eyes, Regulus turned back to Harry. It would be easy to hex the little fool for talking to him but you would also get mad at him. He didn’t feel like dealing with that at the moment. You being pissed at him wouldn’t get you underneath him anytime soon.

“Yeah, there he is. I guess I should only care about what he has to say but I don’t. Your opinion also matters little to me. I get that you’re chosen one but you're not god. Tell you what, I’ll consider your previous comment and put it in a filing cabinet in my brain. When I get the time and the desire to think about it...I will. Now run along and play in the street.”

Regulus went back to the book that he was reading as Harry’s furious expression intensified.

“You’re an ass.”

Regulus chuckled.

“Yeah. I’ve been told that. It's a real character flaw.”

“If Y/n gets injured by being with you...I’ll…”

Regulus looked up again.

“Alright, kid, I want you to listen to me. You care about her. I get it. There isn’t anything wrong with it but she’s my girlfriend and that won’t be changing. I’m sorry that you had all the bad shit in your life happen but, hey, crap storms happen. You don’t want me as your enemy. Now, as I said, run along and play.”

“Play?”

Harry snapped. Regulus nodded.

“Play...or whatever you kids call it nowadays.”

Before Harry could respond, you stepped into the room. You were immediately worried by the furious expression on Harry’s face and Regulus’ cool as a cucumber “this kid isn’t bothering me” demeanor.

“Reggie?”

Regulus looked up at you with a small smile. You weren't sure what you missed but had a feeling that whatever it was Harry was on the losing side.

“Yes, darling?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Regulus stood up without another word. He had a feeling where this “talk” was going and he didn’t mind in the slightest. He glanced over his shoulder at Harry before speaking once more.

“Hey, kid, watch out for cars when you are playing in the street.”

_______

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cinearia · 3 years

Text

The way the flowers remind me of you

Summary: Emerie values her work with your store in a world where it was not expected of someone like her. That routine is different, varying from her work, to her reading, and her time with her friends, that the time she spends with Nesta has become something common when she gets a new friend.

Except that the things she feels when it's just her and Nesta is not exactly what someone think for a "friend"

----------

Packing new merchandise became easier when Emerie shop started to have more customers. When unloading and organizing everything on her own started to pay off after receiving the profit from sales. It was a lot of work for one, but it was how worked with her for a long time.

She would swear with her soul, most of the time requiring more mental than physical strength to complete the task completely, in which it seemed more advantageous to drop everything. She had no friends and money to risk getting into debt. Whatever had to do, Emerie had to do alone. In the first few days there she noticed the looks she got when people heard that she claimed her father's store.

The loading gave her physical strength, at least. And the little time Cassian stayed to train taught her the damage it could do if she wanted to hurt someone and turn most manual jobs less suffering.

Your primary purpose, however, was defense, to make time to run while immobilizing. Emerie refused to put her hands up to hurt someone in vain, even if he is a filthy drunk man. Like being proud of a wound she caused, things that her father and uncle often did. Emerie has always chosen to find another solution that does not necessarily come from violence.

What could come up with after leaving a black eye on someone, she didn't want to know. She had no interest in being in a leather uniform that looked more like a second layer of skin than a suit for battle. Calling herself a warrior seemed so distant from what she saw herself, although it was fun to be with her friends.

Curious, being in that store is where was she find more comforting than holding a sword. Even if at any moment she is threatened to lose it. At this point, the chance went to zero. Training with those two warriors at Rhysand court served a purpose. How long had Bellius not come? How much profit has started coming into the store in the past few weeks?

It was enough for her to say that the whole fight was worth it. That not even the title of warrior could take away. Only Emerie knows how she felt.

For how long did you have to do all the calculations by herself? Pack and tidy each showcase, listening to one of your cousins who was not grumbling that a certain part was wrong, that other needed to be fixed, there were two more boxes to be opened. Look at the splinters on your fingers, cousin. Careful with the nails. He never bothered to take them out - he was a woodcutter once, he knew how those things hurt. Her aunt, who once had some of her dresses sewn and intended to order her wedding dress, asked about Emerie ingrown toenails, ignoring the bandaged fingers and purple stains.

Most of the store that has been redecorated, except the glass and the walls, was by her. Emerie was proud to say that she did it. But anguish came from nowhere every time someone in her family commented on it. Although they did not know that it was Emerie who did most of the work, it was her who chose what the store would look like.

It wasn't the most perfect place in the world, it had parts peeling off, but it couldn't be that bad.

From Bellius smile, he knew his words hit her.

Once Emerie forgot to mask her dark circles under the eyes with makeup. You are so tired. A luscious tone as a lullaby.

If she shrugs, they can deviate from that subject and say how much shrugging was disrespectful. If you just sigh and say you had more to do, they would say everything they had to say and leave. Emerie could lean over the bed and think, rest on the blanket and resist the urge to slip under the covers and not go out for days. She could reconsider for the thousandth time and accept defeat as a good loser, go somewhere else, build a market stall, or work for another store - if she wasn't spiteful.

Was it wrong not to know how to feel after her father died? How Emerie can be angry if he showed her the store, let her pass the free time as she wanted there. How Emerie is going to feel sad if he doesn't come to her comfort when she begged them to not cut the wings, was in tears with pain, and ignored his gaze at everyone who flew away?

Emerie already noticed pity in his countenance when noticed the change in her movements, the difficulty of getting up, which was already constant before she cut her wings. Emerie case seems more critical. Maybe because she was born that way? Or because she got worse when she lost her ability to fly with much of her motor activity?

Where it had been clear as Illyrian skies when the man of the family was last seen going off to war as she looked… Simply horrible. How she had to beg to go to a specialized doctor, not the one who was there when her clipping happened. Other than the one who'd been at family lunches on weekends longer than Emerie had in her life, but who had always been a good attraction for him and any young woman who came to age of majority.

For one who can tell them that Emerie moves might not change. That being born that way did not make it synonymous of frailty. No one needed to cast a pitying look on her every time they noticed.

Even though it's useless to wait for the look people gave her since that day to stop, they'll still remember how she was before the clipping, how she tried to fight, how she cursed everyone around her, how there was little, very little, chance to the doctor hit her, if your father hadn't.

A relief just to know she wasn't mistaken. That not everything she said was pure female hysteria or post-clipping stress. A good doctor would tell that it wasn't just her high hormones, that breaking out of her comfort zone wasn't running counter to everything she believed. And even if Emerie started to develop that ideia though the years, hearing someone say it aloud was a final sentence that she was not crazy.

There was a feeling growing inside her that many others also had. Emerie wanted to know how they managed it, how they buried and buried for the decades that were left to them. Without wings, but with thousands around her, with a pair who would take her being and soul and cradle all her desires as long as there's something in return.

They came in so many ways, disguised themselves as docile words, in a different skin, so that if you ever realize you've left one walled prison for another, it's too late. And there's a lot to just turn your back on. Can be a baby in the arms, but just the security of a family can provide to a single person. If Emerie was really smart, she would have seen it in time, and maybe, just maybe, she still could fly.

Gwyn heard it from her mouth. Emerie has never heard your voice low before. She let her braid her hair while told where she would go if the store didn't work. One day she could go to the Dawn Court. Gwyn's eyes lit up at the idea.

One day it would take a long time, but it was possible. In addition to the mountains of Illyrian, further south of Prythian, there would be something that interested her that would make her leave that territory. Something she didn't know and didn't allow herself to think about when she grew up. Emerie didn't have a reason, since Illyrians didn't usually leave their homeland, but it was also possible.

Emerie stopped limiting the things she think, she doesn't know when she started to, even when more obligations fell the more she become a woman, but began to fear what was out of those lands. If she can't run a store, what makes her think she could travel to another court?

Gwyn spoke encouraging words. Said that Emerie would pay for her trip to some strange library at the Day Court. That she will pay the presents that Gwyn will bring to the other friends in the library of the priestess. And it would be so rich that it would finance Nesta's trip as well.

The worst was that it seemed like a good idea, but she was never sure what Nesta wanted living there and never asked her where she would like to go. Anywhere but the mountains of Illyrian? She guess, so. But where?

What was the High Lady sister doing in those mountains with a body that definitely didn't look like a warrior? The sister who cut off the head of the King of Hybern, for sure. But why was she there? Why there, if she leaves with the blood boiling all the end of conversation with that general? What did she think when they talked about her High Lord when she corrected them saying that he was not her High Lord? What Emerie could know with those disconnected facts that she can't notice?

Nesta had been visiting for months and Emerie still had no idea. When Gwyn finish her work, she get together with the other women in the library for some kind of stupid game or conversation. Something they do after work and bring Gwyn to meet anothers Nymphs and others storys that she really wanted to hear, wich was great seen her interact with the other woman there. Meanwhile, it was just Nesta and Emerie.

Nesta smiled a lot when it was just them. It fell apart when Emerie smiled back, and thought, and stared, something inside turning off and on again, trying to regain her senses, and looking away quickly.

Emerie learned to notice the first signs in Nesta, as if she saw a side of her that not even her family – her sisters, in fact – knew about. Your presence became frequent, common in that environment. When Nesta went back to home, her scent was there, pervading the chair near the counter.

A scent of lilies, or hydrangeas, Emerie didn't know how to differentiate, floating in the air while she was doing some task.

Just focus on checking some corner of the store until it becomes just a smell of flowers. She opened the back window to run the late-afternoon air, warmer than Illyrian winter wind, dispensing with her friend remnants, and went out to buy her ordered dinner on two corners. Then the cycle begins, following her own routine.

At that time, everyone was already closing their shops, receiving good night from the neighbors, taking her food and making her way back.

Nesta huddled in her room, enjoying reading in an armchair next to the bed, interrupted by Cassian or Azriel call for dinner. If she forced herself to eat as much as she needed, as much as Emerie insisted that she have to do, she soon returned to her reading after splinters exchanged with the general. Maybe given more attention to Cassian, turning a fight into something more, smelling the fight of his skin and a perfumed essence in hers, rubbing the skin on each other like the characters in the books she read. Emerie embraced the cold of the night, smelling of the warm breads in the bag she carried mixing with a flower shop near her store. She was able to smell the lilies and the violets and to distinguish, when leaned, the hydrangeas sprouting from a vase.

And then the cycle started again. Her daydreams disappeared with sleep, as they accompanied Emerie when she tried to dream a dreamless night and Nesta's face disappeared with her consciousness. And would come back the next day. And again. And again. And again. To the point that she didn't remember when it started.

Emerie only sold clothes and utensils, but maybe all this had to be a sign to sell flowers too.

The bell rang just before a person was on the other side of the store. Emerie lifted her body, containing the sound that would come out of her throat with the effort, seeking to balance her body with the wings. Her senses were slow since the cut on the wings, but after so long trying to get used to the different joints, Emerie disguised it.

A book was between Nesta chest and her arms crossed. If she tried to hide, it was a very flawed act to use thin arms, and too late when she took him behind her back.

How does she manage to carry weight with them? Emerie noticed some new body mass. For training with the general, for sure. Over the long sleeves of a blue-violet dress, her skirt came loose from her waist. On the spine a brown corset to adjust the spine. What for, exactly? Did Nessa ever relax her spine?

"I want to give you something"

Emerie met her eyes, looking into hers and at the same time her whole body. Rarely did Emerie dress like the women of the High Court. Nesta can combine the simple and the beautiful at once, nor matters wich one is majority.

Emerie, on the other hand, wore the apron she liked so much, because she was the one who sewed it, and a brown dress. Somehow, Nesta looked at her as if she were the tallest lady of any court.

She shouldn't be excited about that feeling.

"What would it be?" Emerie smirked.

Nesta lifted her chin, level with hers, spine erect and shoulders low. The thin neck stretched as if it were going to detach from the body. Reached out to deposit a small book in the middle of the counter. Emerie fingers almost turned him toward her, if an orange tulip wrapped in two tiny daisies didn't get her attention.

Emerie looked from the flowers to Nesta. Her face was impassive.

"Would it be for me, too?"

Nesta shook her head, anxious or neutral, Emerie couldn't say anymore, but saw her swallow hard before turning to the book. Picked up the flowers by the stem, closely examining a tulip and the daisies adorning around it. Emerie was never a fan of flowers, but the color matched the cover of the book. She read the title out loud.

"I think it suits your taste" Nesta said "It has romance, a little bit of smut, but a lot of mystery. The author balancead between and it was... Really great. It's a special edition. I got it at the bottom of a bookcase when I was polishing the books"

Emerie noticed the lines of folds at the edges of the cover, and, flicking through quickly, some idiot thought it a good idea to fold the pages as a highlighter. The leaves denounced their long years, disagreeing with the polished cover several times and an outdated edition.

"Well, thank you" Emerie thanked her and held up the flowers "And thanks for that too, although I don't know where to put them"

The words came out with her regret.

"Tell me what you think when you finish"

"Did you get it from the library?"

A wave with her head.

"Is that allowed?"

"Gwyn said yes"

"Gwyn say yes to many things"

A smile appeared on her dark salmon-colored lips and a light brush on your cheeks.

"Nobody would notice. It's not like I'm the only one to pick things up without Merril knowing. If you knew what the Priestesses do when they're alone" she winked "It's good to distract them, have a little fun. Gwyn even got along with some of them"

"Good. We're not the only who are going to endure her"

Sometimes, Emerie feared they would think that everything she said was true. Nesta laughed. "Oh, not really" she left her hands on the counter, close to her body.

Emerie felt on the other side. A scent that was definitely hydrangeas rising as she heard a lower voice, soft as a flower, from Nesta "Don't worry"

She stared at her, gray blue eyes glued to hers with unbelievable attention. The way Emerie, she reflected that second, never saw Nesta look at anyone. To a favorite book in her hands? For a suitor? For Cassian?

Has anyone ever looked at Emerie with such interest?

"I wouldn't think of leaving you anytime soon"

Emerie smiled, she couldn't tell from the way Nesta smiled or for the irony.

For the irony, of course.

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

A one-shot of what I would think if it were Nesta x Emerie. Because Nesta deserves more than Cassian does to her (sorry, but I completely dislike Nessian) and Emerie deserved more development.

So, this is just an au that I did very quickly and just to do. I also like their friendship, but I would also like to see them as a couple.

Could it be a crackship? Yes, but I don't regret it yet.

#emerie #nesta archeron #emerie x nesta #one-shot #a little more emerie-centric #cause she deserved more #nesta too #i really hate nessian #anti cassian #anti nessian #and a little anti inner circle but they don't appear #nesta is sapphic

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misssophiachase · 3 years

Text

All You Never Say - Part 4a

Mr Mikael and Mrs Esther Mikaelson and Dr Grayson and Mrs Miranda Pierce request the pleasure of your presence at the wedding of their children:

The Hon Elijah Edward Mikaelson and Dr Katherine Elena Pierce

On the twenty-third of June, twenty-twenty one, 1400h at Ely Cathedral followed by a reception at Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire

Dress: White Tie

23rd June 2021, Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire - 8:47am

“What do you mean the beagle ate the wedding cake?” Caroline hissed, shutting the door behind her so as not to alarm the bride on her big day.

“Well, I can detail the stages of destruction, but yes, the Mikaelson's beloved pet dog decided to taste test the cake early, long story short.” Caroline was certain that the housekeeper’s use of “the Mikaelson’s beloved pet dog” was clearly by design.

Caroline was all for adorable dogs, especially those that were photogenic for the wedding album like Tully, but not those who scoffed the cake before the ceremony had even begun. Especially given that extra amount of fondant and extra tier which cost the earth.

But given the way Tully looked at her with those imploring, brown eyes and the telling evidence of frosting smeared across her chops, she was close to calling it a day.

Who needed cake anyway? It was worth way too many calories and most people would be so drunk that far into the festivities it wouldn’t even matter, right?

“So, I see you’ve met our cute but pressing problem.”

Caroline turned to see the best man in all his glory. And by that she meant those unkempt curls, sly grin and a fitted, tank top that should be illegal given those arms on display.

Was this their thing? Just running into each other partially clothed. She looked down at her ensemble self-consciously glad for the shorts, t-shirt and the Maid of Honour monogrammed robe that she greedily pulled across her chest.

“Our problem?”

“Because a problem shared is a problem halved right, wedding buddy?”

“Wedding buddy? Oh, you mean the same guy who wanted to document the lost ring for speech fodder?”

“It was a joke but clearly you don’t know what that means, grouchy.”

“Oh, like that time you let your dog, albeit cute, eat the wedding cake before the ceremony. I only hope the Bride and Groom figurines are still firmly intact at least?”

“Well, their passing was most definitely mourned,” Klaus noted. Caroline was trying to be mad, but he was doing that thing where he looked cute so as to avoid her wrath. Bastard.

“So, what you’re telling me is that we have no cake or cake topper and the wedding is due to start in 5 hours?"

“I mean there’s some cake left, albeit a mess, but if the guests want to eat it off the floor...”

“Yeah, I can see the Prime Minister doing that. You are not helping, Mikaelson. Look, I’ll call the baker, they must have a back-up cake on hand, otherwise why are we paying them such an exorbitant amount? I mean it’s a cake, like it’s hard to bake one of those,” she rambled, the reality of the situation making a sudden and ugly appearance.

“Okay, I didn’t want to tell you this because you are clearly already upset but the baker has no wedding themed alternatives,” Klaus explained, shooing away both the guilty canine and her loyal housekeeper in the process, no doubt by design. This was not the news Caroline wanted to hear and clearly he knew it.

“What?"

“You are not going to lose it, not on my watch, Forbes.”

“I am not losing it,” she hissed, finally finding her voice. “But she is your dog and that makes you responsible for my mood.”

“She is a Mikaelson, I mean expensive taste comes with the territory,” Klaus replied. Caroline, meanwhile, felt the brief spell he had over her lift.

“Can you please stop offering up annoying commentary? We have an emergency, one that needs to be rectified STAT.”

“What I didn’t get to say was that the baker has two other cakes on hand.” Caroline’s ears pricked up, maybe all wasn’t lost.

“I’m listening,” she murmured.

Klaus pulled his cell from his pocket and swiped through his phone. “These are the options.”

He leaned in closer so she could see the photos but in the process his arm grazed hers and she was momentarily blindsided and not focused on the pressing emergency. It reminded her so much of two years ago, when she’d felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her towards him.

Caroline told herself he must have been dreaming at the time but that didn’t take away from how it had felt. It felt good, really good.

“Alright, love?” She looked up into his blue eyes, only deciding too late that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

“I’m just shocked by...” she paused, her eyes hurriedly flickering to his cell screen. “Congratulations on your Retirement, Bernie?”

“I’m sure we can change a few letters around or something,” she gave him a look which plainly said it wasn’t going to happen. “Right, here’s the other one."

“Happy 6th Birthday to our Unicorn Princess? Don’t think Kat would mind being called a unicorn princess at all but not sure about Elijah...”

“Well, what suggestions do you have, Forbes?”

He had a point, there were none that forthcoming but then it hit her.

“The bomboniere.” Caroline was surprised she thought of it given she was so caught off guard by his close proximity and the unfolding situation.

“The what?”

“I don’t have time to explain wedding terminology right now, I have a bride to reassure that everything is peachy. Just meet me in the kitchen in twenty minutes and put some clothes on while you’re at it.”

“Only if you do,” he smirked. Caroline didn’t wait before slamming the door in his smug face.

There were so many things to reconcile with Klaus Mikaleson and not just her feelings. Last night they’d shared more than a sandwich in the kitchen and two years ago...well that was another story.

Perch, Los Angeles CA - 14 February (two and a bit years earlier)

Caroline felt like she’d finally hit rock bottom.

Not because it was Valentine’s Day.

Or that she was single.

That wasn’t the worst part of her predicament. She was currently...well, before she could lament her situation a bell rang out, breaking Caroline from her regretful thoughts. She didn’t have time to bid Phil the Chiropractor farewell because a burly looking brunette appeared immediately in his place.

“Tyler.” Apparently there was no need for an actual greeting or for Caroline to ask his name in the first place. I suppose they only had two minutes so he was getting straight to the point. Caroline couldn’t blame him given how painful this whole thing was.

Caroline was going to kill them. First Bonnie, who wanted their apartment to herself tonight so she could cook a romantic dinner for current boyfriend Jeremy. Clearly he hadn’t been present at her most horrific of food failures given they were still dating.

They’d been living together since Bonnie relocated to Los Angeles nine months earlier and Caroline was enjoying rooming with her best friend again after so long. Then she got a boyfriend, even if he looked twelve, and Caroline was relegated back to her usual existence. It wasn’t like Caroline wanted or needed a boyfriend because her schedule was busy enough.

Which took her to the second person she had to blame. Lexi. Her colleague and friend, who decided they should spend the evening speed dating so Bonnie could “get it on with her boyfriend” as she put it. Caroline figured the fact she’d already signed them up weeks earlier and only asked right before a deposition hearing were the main reasons why she had no choice but to agree.

Now, here she was, pretending to be interested in Tyler and shooting deliberate looks in Lexi’s direction who seemed unaffected given the way she was attempting to read her guy’s palm. Smooth.

“I don’t think I got your name?”

“Huh?” She looked into his warm, brown eyes feeling guilty she’d been blatantly ignoring him.

“Your name?” Before she could reply, she heard a very familiar voice call out her name.

Then he appeared in all his gorgeous goodness, his ability to wear a suit had not waned since they’d seen each other last at a mutual friend’s engagement party. Why he was here of all places, she had no idea.

“Caroline, sweetheart.” Sweetheart?

“Do you know this guy?” Tyler asked, the confusion obvious. She didn’t blame him.

“Of course she knows me, I’m only her boyfriend.”

Her what now? Caroline was too shocked to speak let alone reprimand him for being a presumptuous idiot.

“You have a boyfriend? Then why are you here?”

“I’d like to know the same thing, mate,” Klaus agreed, his hands crossed over his chest. Caroline was madly trying to crawl under the table just so everyone would stop looking at her like she was some two-timing girlfriend.

Lexi meanwhile seemed to be enjoying the entertainment from afar, raising her champagne glass in salute, even if she had no idea what was happening. Caroline wasn’t enjoying it at all. She wanted to scream at him for being such an ass but at the same time a rescue from this situation was an equally enticing prospect.

“I…”

Before she could find the words, he found them for her.

“It’s my fault, sweet cheeks,” he implored, pushing past Tyler and placing his hands in hers. Caroline was trying to ignore the electricity it generated but also the horrible pet name he’d bestowed. Like he couldn’t have come up with something normal? “I neglected you and for that I am so sorry but just know that I will love you, always and forever.”

Was he kidding? Next thing he’d be pulling out a cracker jack bracelet or resembling any one of the romantic leads in a Nicholas Sparks adaptation. Caroline made a note to tease him about his taste in movies and television later.

However it seemed their audience didn’t mind one bit. Women and men nearby were more interested in fawning over the scene playing out than resuming speed dating. Even their organiser seemed transfixed.

She hated him, especially for interrupting her night and being the smug pain-in-the-ass she knew so well but she needed to get out of there fast and he was her ticket.

“Honey bear,” she cooed, noting the slight twitch in his jaw. Caroline knew he was trying to withhold his signature smirk. But why did he have to smell so good withholding it? His hands were still firmly intertwined with hers too. “You took me for granted, so why should I forgive you?”

Now he was trying to contain an eye roll, only someone who’d known him for that long could tell. And she was loving every moment especially if he was going to crash her speed date and embarrass her in the process.

“And for that I am eternally sorry, baby cakes.” Caroline had to really try not to dry reach. “But you are the one for me. We are destined to be together forever, like soulmates.”

As much as she wanted to draw this out and force him to eat those horrible and predictable platitudes, this show needed to end. Now. Given Tyler’s defeated expression she knew it wouldn’t be too difficult to transition to the bar and to a much-needed straight vodka on the rocks.

“You were an imbecile, Mario, but I’m willing to consider a reconciliation if you stop being an asshat and promise to worship me forever.”

Before she could relish in her response and the slight tugging at the edges of his crimson lips, he’d pulled her up and moved them towards the direction of the bar. No doubt because her demands were slightly out of the question and he was starting to feel embarrassed himself. Served him right really. Given half of the people were entranced by their conversation and the rest were clearly dubious she decided it was good timing to high tail it out of there.

“Worship you forever, someone clearly has tickets on themselves,” he muttered, gesturing to the barman. “And who is Mario? I so do not look like a Mario.”

“Says the man child named Mario who called me sweet cheeks and baby cakes."

“I was clearly being sarcastic,” he shot back, gesturing for a shot. “What was honey bear all about then?”

“You barrelled into my life uninvited, and last time I checked you don’t live here.”

“I'm in town for business and was having dinner with colleagues. Had I known it was going to be dinner and a show I might have arrived sooner.” Caroline chose not to respond immediately, just drank her vodka in one, long gulp. “Someone is thirsty.”

“I need to drink to deal with you.”

“Says the girl speed dating,” he whistled. “I mean you can be difficult and kind of abrasive, Forbes, but I never thought you’d speed date in a million years.”

“I am only doing this for Bonnie because she wanted the apartment to herself to cook for her date and then my friend Lexi signed me up without telling me,” she rambled.

“She’ll have another vodka,” he gestured to the barman. “So, I take it this boyfriend hasn’t sampled Bennett’s cooking yet? I just hope you left the fire extinguisher in plain view.”

“That’s what you took from all of this?’"

“I feel like if I delve too deeply I’ll be too immersed in all the Rebekah type drama and we both know that is not my thing.”

“I’ll be sure to pass on your best wishes to your sister,” she growled. “So, why involve yourself and embarrass me like that in front of total strangers? Let me guess, you’ve got no one to play with and were bored?”

“Don’t underestimate my ability to find a playmate, love.” The way he drawled “playmate” was making places below feel like they hadn’t in a long time. So much so that she didn’t even try to bite back. “Anyway, I thought it would be fun,” he teased, his left dimple making an unwanted appearance at that exact moment. “And I could tell you you needed rescuing.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress you need to save, Mikaelson,” she argued.

“Says the girl who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here,” he shot back. “So, you’re welcome.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” The patrons began to chant and tap their glasses, Caroline only just realising they seemed to have an audience of very interested speed daters watching their every move.

“I’m going to need more vodka,” she muttered, “But not here.”

Roosevelt Hotel, Beverly Hills - 2 hours later

“So, this is where you bring all your playmates?” It was the first thing that came to mind when Caroline spied the king size bed taking pride of place in his suite. They’d spent an hour at 25 degrees, the hotel’s poolside bar and were now in his suite.

Inexplicably.

Okay, maybe not so inexplicably.

Caroline wasn’t one to go to a guy’s hotel room - especially this particular one - but between the vodka buzz and the fact Lexi had picked up and Bonnie was enjoying her night in their apartment there wasn’t much choice about where to go.

The vodka had helped loosen her usual inhibitions and, although she’d never say it aloud, Caroline was enjoying his company. Although, if anyone asked about this temporary bout of insanity she’d blame the alcohol.

“ Says the woman who was questioning the existence of said playmates only a few hours earlier.”

“So, you won’t mind if I do this?” She stated, not bothering to ask his permission as she discarded her heels and jumped onto the perfectly made bed. He stopped what he was doing momentarily, his eyes transfixed on her short, black dress and bouncing, blonde waves.

“I’m going to have to tip the maid extra now,” his voice was low, husky almost.

“Maybe she deserves it,” Caroline shot back.

He didn’t respond immediately, just shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. She was watching him do it like it was in slow motion. Then he rolled up his shirt sleeves. Who knew forearms could be so...appealing?

Caroline was starting to think that she was entering some sort of alternate universe she needed to escape, if only just to keep her sanity and self respect. I mean he was Klaus Mikaelson and she wasn’t one of his “playmates.” Not by a long shot.

“Drink?”

“Water, please,” she replied immediately, he cocked an eyebrow as if to say she was no fun. “I’m a cheap drunk, what can I say? And who knows what else I might trash in this place under the influence?”

He seemed to accept her response, busying himself with drink preparation. “So, why exactly did you go speed dating in the first place?” He asked, filling a tall glass with ice cubes.

“I told you,” she panted, finally tiring of the activity and making herself comfortable on the expansive bed. “Bonnie…”

“I heard that version,” he pressed. “But I want the real one.”

He passed her the water and made himself comfortable on the bed, his aftershave combining with the dizziness and messing with her overall composure.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, and maybe you don’t understand, but spending it alone can kind of suck,” she confessed. “Especially when your roomie kicks you out of the house.”

“I just hope you kick Bennett out on Halloween as payback.”

“You like Halloween?”

“You have no idea, love,” he chuckled. “No rose petals or corny ballads, just blood, guts and general mayhem.”

“Noted.”

“It’s just this ridiculous Hallmark Holiday,” Klaus offered, stretching out further and grazing her legs in the process. “It creates unrealistic expectations.”

“So, it’s Hallmark’s fault?”

“Hallmark is the tip of the iceberg,” he explained. “Every candy company, every florist, every jeweller and don’t even get me started on those terrible things they call romantic comedies.”

“You don’t like romantic comedies?”

“I try to steer clear for my own sanity, Caroline.”

“Not tonight,” she murmured, an idea suddenly coming to mind. “If I’m forced to stay in this mediocre hotel with you then...”

It was a lie and they both knew it but suddenly the less tipsy version of herself felt like she needed an excuse to stay the night with her best friend’s brother in such close quarters.

“I demand a movie marathon.”

“Terminator, Rambo, Rocky?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Mikaelson,” she shot back. “And I happen to know there is a marathon on television tonight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“I’m deathly serious,” she answered. “But before we start, I’m going to need some popcorn and a shirt.”

“You want my shirt?”

“Not the shirt you’re wearing, lover boy, don’t get so excited. But I can’t sleep in this dress.”

His eyes seemed to linger a little too long on her body and Caroline was trying to do everything in her power to remain calm. Luckily he broke the silence not too long after.

“I’ll get you a shirt, but I’m not going to enjoy these movies at all, understand? I am only watching these ridiculous excuses of cinema because you’ve taken my television hostage?”

2 hours later…

“So, the apparent “virgin who can’t drive” ends up with the step brother? I mean I’m not surprised given the poor and predictable plot but is this kind of union legal in the state of California?”

“For the fiftieth time, he’s not related,” she growled, throwing a few popcorn kernels in his direction. This is about Cher realising that material things in life aren’t everything.”

"Whatever you say, Forbes. Although, tell me after this movie ended she ditched the mansion, the jeep, the designer plaid and knee sock combination outfits and moved to the Valley?”

He was annoying but also eerily observant.

“Yes, I mean maybe? People with money can change.”

“They’ve clearly never met Mikael or Esther.”

He said it quietly but Caroline couldn’t mistake the pain in his voice. She knew about his difficult past but they’d never been close enough to discuss it and given they were lying in the same bed it didn’t seem like the best time to open that pandora’s box.

“Do I have a great choice for you next,” she promised, her eyes sparkling, hoping to lift the mood.

2 hours later…

“Are you crying?”

“No, for the last time I have allergies, Caroline.”

“Inside?”

“The pollen level was high today and the doors in these rooms are forever opening and closing. Maybe the maid doesn’t deserve such a big tip after all.”

Maybe it was cruel, but it was on television and there was no stopping the effects of the Notebook on even the most emotionless male.

2 hours later…

“I thought I’d seen everything,” he scoffed, stretching out tiredly. “She paid a guy to be her wedding date?”

“Not just anyone, he’s hot.”

“He’s an escort.”

“I think it adds to his overall appeal. He knows how to treat a woman because of his experience.”

“And how many escorts have you met?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wow, if you ever show up to a wedding with a stranger, I’ll be asking for their credentials,” he joked. “Wait, you think he’s attractive?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“Each to their own I suppose, but that aside, the whole premise is just unrealistic.”

“It is a movie.”

“Yeah, a romantic comedy,” he shot back. “Case closed. Now, can we please sleep already? I think I deserve it after that marathon effort.”

“Fine,” she conceded, leaning across to turn off the lamp. “I have to say your shirt is very comfortable.”

“It should be," he replied, snuggling into the covers. “That’s my lucky Ramones t-shirt.”

As her head hit the pillow, Caroline was wondering why he gave her that particular shirt to wear. She couldn’t deny just how good the worn fabric felt against her bare skin and how the faint hint of his aftershave consumed her senses.

Sleep was immediate.

When she woke up the next morning and felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her towards him Caroline relished in the feeling. She assumed life would go back to normal but for now she was happy to live in the moment. It was probably better that way.

Read on AO3 HERE

#klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic #all you never say #klaroline #misssophiachase

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vanaera · 4 years

Text

The Heart Holiday | Act 1 | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing your PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives manager!yoongi x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat)

Wordcount: 11, 798

Warnings: Lots of curses from two emotionally-constipated characters (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | This fic is in part with FWL’s Valentine’s project, The Luv Library: Romance. I had this premise about a Valentine’s holiday for a while and finally, I got to use it for this fic.

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Ten seconds are enough to look at Min Yoongi. Two seconds to look at his unkempt, unprofessional, and stupid fringes that nonsensically cover his already small eyes. Three to look at his stupid, smug smile. Another two for his overly-confident stance—leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands clasping together—as if he’s better and of higher power than anyone else around the room when he’s just a measly representative of the day for the Creatives Team. And the last three seconds—they are enough to look at his mocking eyes, his jeering gaze, and the arrogant quirk of his brow.

This is the same look he gave to Y/N when he got promoted ahead of her. This is the same look he flashed to Y/N when he berated every word choice in her reports. And, this is the same look in his face when he ruined her presentation which could have been her ticket way out from this hellish job. Smug, arrogant, and proud, Min Yoongi is set to ruin Y/N’s life. And all Y/N could do now is glare at him and hope her eyes could set him on fire so it will be easy for hell to swallow him up and—

“Y/N?”

Y/N whips her head to her right, “S-sorry?”

Nancy Kim clicks her tongue, “Why are you just standing there, glaring at the windows? I told you to distribute the copies among the room.”

“R-right,” Y/N gulps and rushes forward. She hands the copies of last month’s Travel Loca issues among the representative of each department. Gracie from the Marketing Team sneaks her a small smile, which Y/N returns. However, that smile falls into a frown when she reaches the devil himself.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Min Yoongi greets, chin rested on his palm. When Y/N doesn’t greet back, Yoongi takes it upon himself to wink at her. With a huff, Y/N slams down the copy on the table in front of him, enough for the glossy, firm cover page to hit his pile of notes and cause some pages to fly off the table.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nancy calls out, sighing. She waves away at Y/N and the latter takes it as a cue to sit back on her chair. Nancy leans back in her huge black chair, “Okay, let’s get the ball rolling. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

Y/N seats herself on the chair by the corner of the room, behind Nancy’s chair, far from the round meeting table. Every team representative starts to report their progress last month and their suggestions for the next, next month’s issue. Meanwhile, Min Yoongi is still busy picking up his notes on the floor. When he’s gathered them back, now in a sloppy stack, he looks from his crouched position and flashes Y/N his middle finger. She flashes back a finger at him, grinning. Y/N looks down at her small pocket notebook.

“Y/N – 1. Yoongi – 0.”

So far, this morning is really good.

Y/N hates Min Yoongi, and this is beyond an understatement. She hates him so much that the word “hate” started to become insufficient to describe her tantamount distaste for that man. Y/N blames his last name for that. “Min” should not be how his last name spelled. It should be M-E-A-N because that man is beyond mean.

When Y/N first met Yoongi, she knew there’s something off with him. He stands so arrogantly, so prideful as if he deserved every bit of the floor space of Travel Loca’s Main Office when he just got hired because there’s no other job-seeker that has actually applied. Yoongi looks at other people as if he’s any much greater than them. Lazy eyes, far-off gaze, indifferent façade—he just looks at you as if he’s listening when he’s actually just hearing so he can make some witty comeback. And Yoongi talks like a dictator know-it-all. He corrects every word people say here and there, like “Y/N, are you sure it’s ‘demonstrate,’ not ‘visualize’? We can’t physically see something if there’s nothing to see,” or “Y/N, you shouldn’t say ‘Xerox.’ It should be ‘photocopy.’ Xerox is just a brand, our junior high teacher told us so,” as if every word anyone says but him, will always be wrong. Yoongi talks as if no one but him will always be right and that everything around him does not deserve a bit of his attention unless they prove their worth to him.

And it frustrates Y/N to no end that no one seems to see his real form but her. Because apparently, Yoongi is “amazing.” Yoongi knows a lot of foreign places, having traveled to Malta, New Zealand, Hawaii, and yaddah yaddah, making his first-hand knowledge essential to the Writing Department. Yoongi has a lot of expertise in various editing apps, and he’s willing to teach the tricks and nicks to it to anybody. Anybody but Y/N. Because behind closed doors, Y/N knows his true face: Min Yoongi is a thick-skinned, double-faced bitch. That even if his name is on the tip of the tongue of anyone around the office every single morning, his quick promotion as manager of the Creatives Team a never-ending topic starter, Y/N knew the real story. Because Min Yoongi started out as Nancy’s Personal Assistant…just like Y/N.

Nancy Kim is the best photojournalist in the history of travel magazines. God-tier even, because when Nancy is just an intern in The Traveler’s Foot, she wrote the best articles Y/N has ever read. It didn’t matter if they were about a cliché tourist spot that has been featured over and over again or something bizarre that could make anyone wonder someone in their right mind would actually go there. Nancy is the goddess of travel journaling and Y/N obsessively consumed every article she wrote during her entire senior high and college life. So, to be able to get accepted in a company Nancy built, as Nancy’s personal assistant, is a sweet as fuck dream come true. Y/N didn’t care if she has to go home by 12 A.M. or 1 A.M. as Nancy said PA’s always have to leave the office after their bosses left. Nancy just shows the dedication to work one must have. Y/N didn’t find it tiresome when Nancy has to send her back-and-forth for errands both for work and personal life. She’s learning how to be resourceful while being good at time-management all at the same time. She’s learned a lot from Nancy. So, seeing Min Yoongi be so lax at work after getting hired frayed Y/N’s nerves to no end.

Yoongi doesn’t keep a tab on Nancy’s schedules just like Y/N does. He says there’s no reason for such rush to keep every event on track because Nancy will just cancel or push forward them anyway. It’s true, Nancy does sometimes mess up the week calendar Y/N arranged for her, but still, not tabbing anything on your work diary is still an evident proof Yoongi slacks of. He even takes a nap in between work hours for God’s sake. Yoongi also likes to talk behind Nancy’s back: of how inconveniencing, overbearing, and unnecessarily over-the line abuser she is as a boss. He tells this to Y/N day in and day out. Yoongi even mocked Y/N’s work ethic as a “willing subservience to work slavery.” He mercilessly reduced her dedication to work as blind obedience to an authority for the sake of monthly paychecks instead of hard, honest efforts to learn the essential skills in travel journalism.

And, it’s not a miracle no one finds out about this. Because when Yoongi is indeed caught, he finds one loophole in his and Y/N’s dynamic as co-PA’s for Nancy and implicitly, oh so subtly, turns it around against Y/N. Y/N remembers one time when Nancy berated them two for not inserting her friend Rosa’s son’s first birthday party into the 6 PM slot of one Monday in March. After her long sermon, Yoongi apologized for not encoding it into Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet. Y/N handles Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet, not Yoongi. Nancy knows this. So, after her 9-12 shift that same Tuesday, Nancy reminded Y/N of her replaceability in Travel Loca during one of the most tension-filled elevator rides in her life. She went home to her flatmate, Mina, in tears which did not permit her to get an ounce of sleep. Y/N turns up the next day at work, red eyes and red nose close to make Rudolph the reindeer run for his title, only to know from the call logs that Yoongi did not receive Rosa’s call because he was sleeping when Y/N outright told him to take over the phone because she needed a bathroom break.

Min Yoongi is mean and Y/N has seen the last straw of her respectful tolerance to people ticked off by this insufferable man one cursed Thursday night of September.

Thursdays are horrible. It is always assured to be the worst day Y/N will have in a week. Either an investor will change their mind about a deal with Travel Loca, or Nancy will lash out at her because of stress from stupid shenanigans of her rebellious teenage daughter—Thursdays always have it out for Y/N. Y/N can already tell this so when Nancy called for her at 10:30 P.M. to give her a run-down of her schedule for the weekends and the upcoming week. It is already an established routine that Nancy will have Y/N over to her office to give a schedule report at any time of the day. It’s just happened this day that Yoongi took a leave and Y/N shouldered every task to be done, easily wearing her out in the afternoon.

Y/N is close to crying right now because of exhaustion and it does not help that Nancy is wearing a sour face. She does not even look up at Y/N from her laptop when she said, “Tell me this week’s schedule.”

Y/N pulls up her notebook and traces her pen over her notes, “Tomorrow you have an 11 AM meeting with investors from VanTae Apparels. At 1 PM you will have an online meeting with our overseas partners, JM Restaurant Group. We also have to submit the Kim Yuna special feature by 2 PM and at 3 we have the Travel with RM to interview. And–”

“Push the Travel with RM to 2. We’re holding the Yuna feature ‘til next week because Jennie is writing as if she’s still in college.” Nancy presses a hand over her forehead and huffs, “The Writing Department has been consecutively disappointing me with boring, generic articles. Are fresh pieces non-existent nowadays?!”

Y/N looks up, eyes wide, hands sweaty.

Nancy turns back to her laptop, “What else is on my sched?”

“Um, O-on Saturday 4 PM, you are invited to your friend’s, Rica’s baby shower, and for 5, you are invited to Jungsoo’s son’s 1st birthday party. Then Sunday 2 PM is Hana’s sister’s daughter’s 1st birthday party. You are also invited to Nick and Ken’s wedding on Friday and–”

Nancy clicks her tongue, “Cancel them all. I have no time for these parties and meaningless chit-chats that always have these housewives bragging how great their husbands are or their children’s stupid what-nots.”

Y/N nods and slashes through her notes, “Okay.”

“So send them my apologies and give them a $300 gift instead.

“Okay, ma’am.”

Nancy turns her swivel chair to face her, “Did you get my daughter the unpublished sequel of The Swallowing?”

�� “Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles, recalling her last week’s adventure and success. Maybe Nancy’s mood will lighten up if she knew how she accomplished such an impossible task. “I got to grab a copy after weeks of talking with R. Lewis’ manager. Luckily, R. Lewis caught wind that it’s for your daughter. So he agreed to give me the copy. I actually have it right now, let me go back to my table –”

“You don’t have to. Suzie changed her mind. She doesn’t like The Swallowing anymore. Return the copy and get her the unpublished sequel instead of Bird and Foe.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly falls as she stammers, “S-sure, no problem.” Deep inside, Y/N cannot help but think to herself, “Yes, Nancy may be fickle-minded and forgetful of differences in company protocols that intervene with such transactions, but she cannot just disregard my hard work! All the money in my train tickets and brain cells have gone all in the drain for nothing—Okay, calm down, Y/N, this is Nancy. Nancy can help you to write the best articles in no time. This is just training for the real deal—

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“S-sorry, what?”

“I said, where’s the USB I told you to get from my laptop at our home? I need the files for the JM Restaurant Group.”

Oh shit. The USB. Y/N told Yoongi to get it since he lived nearer to Nancy’s residence in West Street than her. And since, Yoongi’s on leave, the USB is—!

“And first thing in the morning, I want you to go to the Writing Department to get some fresh stories. I do not want to personally see them or else I will be able to fire one whole department in a day.”

At this, Y/N fiddles with her fingers. “Umm, I think I have a story.”

Nancy quirks her brow.

Y/N wrings her hands behind her back. “I-it’s not yet polished and I still have more to cover on–”

“So, you’re already telling me it’s bad before you even pitch a formal proposal –”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she rushes to Nancy. “No! I-it’s about the Write and Backpack Trip Club. The-they’re a club of unpublished writers, usually late 30s, who met on Facebook and decide to travel together to the countries or places their stories are supposed to take place.” Nancy tilts her head and Y/N picks up her tone. Her hands start to quiver with her voice as she says, “People think—people think it’s hopeless. Like, like, they’re wasting their lives on something so trivial instead of focusing on their jobs. But this club gave them a purpose to still reach for their dreams even when people tell them it’s already too late. And I just,” Y/N wipes a stray tear on her cheek–which she doesn’t know if it’s because of her attachment to the club, Nancy’s new orders, or her frustration at Yoongi for leaving all their responsibilities on her–but she sucks them up and breathes out, “I find it really inspiring to have the courage to seek out your purpose when everything in the world is against you.”

Nancy stares at her, brows furrowed. Another drop of tear falls from Y/N’s eyes. Nancy fixes her eyes back on her laptop. “The USB, Y/N, I need it now. A.S.A.P., capiche.”

Wiping her cheeks again, Y/N nods, “Ye-yeah, capiche.”

Y/N could not remember any time she’s rushed out the office as fast as now. Yoongi’s cell is out of reach and nothing is present in Y/N’s mind but to just run out of the building. She needs to clear her mind. She has to think of a solution. She can’t go back to Nancy empty-handed. Nancy’s already unimpressed of her sloppy work for this day, much more at her uncalled emotional breakdown in her office. She will definitely get fired for sure this time.

The cold dry wind hits Y/N’s face the moment she pushes past the large glass doors of the Rockfort Building. The night sky has blackened into dark indigo and the establishments that dot the neighboring grounds of the building have blurred into monotonous dim shops. With just their solar lights left on, the rest of the complex looked like a washed-out commercial center. The only thing that stands out has to be the small mango tree just a meter away from her—the center-piece and quite the only humanizing element of the harsh Rockfort Complex.

Okay, this is great. Y/N always tend to get the best ideas and solutions when she’s standing near this tree. She proved this twice. First, when Nancy demanded her to re-do all their presentations for VanTae Apparel. Y/N managed to slay it by getting inspired by the mangoes and editing the templates to look like nature’s rendition of Van Gogh’s starry night, which happened to be the favorite painting of VanTae’s CEO. And second, when Yoongi messed up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy’s personal events by misnaming each invitation, this mango tree provided her peace to quickly fix everything up before Nancy gets to the office.

Put your thinking cap on, Y/N. What should you do? Should you rush to Nancy’s house now? Oh no, maybe Yoongi already got the USB. Should you go then to Yoongi’s house? Shit, I don’t know his house address—

“Here’s $25, sir. Thank you!”

Y/N freezes. It can’t be.

Y/N turns to her right only for her eyes to land on a man with a familiar jet black mop of hair, standing about two meters before her, talking with a blue-vested delivery man.

No. No. No. NO. Min Yoongi cannot just swoop out of nowhere and sound so chirpy like that while I have to stress over a problem that I DID NOT create. I cannot get fired in a company I’ve spent my life on for two years just because of this man’s unreasonable incompetence!

Fueled by the purest form of aggravation, Y/N stomps ahead and brushes Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn back to her.

“Oh, hi, Y/N.”

“‘Hi?!’ ‘Hi,’ yourself, Min Yoongi!—"

“Oh my God,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “she’s Adolf Hitler again.”

“Adolf Hitler?!” Y/N scoffs, “Say it for yourself, Min! You’re Hitler because you’re twisted enough to ruin my career because doing shit in yours is not enough. Where’s Nancy’s USB?!”

“If you’re going to talk about work again, I gotta leave. If you didn’t know, a ‘leave’ is a leave.” He emphasizes the last syllable as he starts to walk toward the street.

Letting common sense knock into her, Y/N momentarily disregards her pride and runs after him. When he rounds the corner of a clothing boutique, she slips by his side and places herself in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking him.

Unlike his usual work attire, Yoongi is clad in a black hoodie and denim ripped jeans, an ensemble that remarkably turned to look horrible in 0.5 seconds just because he’s wearing it. Y/N deduces it’s just Yoongi ruining fashion because he 24/7 looks like an asshole.

“What, are you just gonna stare at me?”

Yoongi’s voice brings Y/N back to her purpose. “No, I’m here to tell you, you forgot to do your job—Nancy wants her USB for JM Restaurant Group right now.”

“Well, I don’t have it, sweetheart. Work hours are already over so practically, I’m in no responsibility to do whatever the fuck Nancy wants,” the man quips back, smiling.

Y/N cannot help but snap. “Why are you even here in Rockfort, then? You didn’t turn up for work and now you’re just casually strolling in front of our building. You didn’t take home at least a quarter of our tasks and dumped everything on my shoulders like an irresponsible, signature free-loader high school groupmate. And now you think it’s okay to tell me ‘sorry, I don’t have the USB’ when I told you yesterday to bring it today?! I cannot believe what an asshole you can be, Yoongi.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “Okay, chill, tiger. To answer your question, I am here because my friends and I hung out at a bar near here. Not that you will understand, of course, considering your whole life revolves around work, work, and work. Ooh, and Nancy,” Yoongi grins. “How can I forget you idolize Nancy? Actually no, you worship her.”

Y/N’s face falls into an indignant scowl, “I do NOT worship Nancy! I respect her. Which you also should do because she employed you, not the other way around. Also, I have friends! Mina is my friend!”

“Correction, Mina is your only friend at work. And she happened to be your flatmate and college buddy first before you both had luck to also be co-workers. So no, your friendship with Mina is out of the equation.”

Y/N opens her mouth to tell him Mina cannot be out of the equation when Yoongi beats her, “And second, how could I be a free-loader? A leave is a leave. Our job description did not say we should also take work home. You are the only one who does that because you’re paranoid. So don’t impose your so-called work ethic, that is actually masked obsession, to me because I am a mentally healthy person. I don’t want to have a stick in my ass like you do.”

Y/N steps closer to Yoongi, making the latter cock a brow at her. “I’m not paranoid, Min. It’s you who is the problem. You don’t take this job seriously. You don’t take on responsibilities like a mature adult. You think you’re so great just because no one told you you suck at something when you were a kid. Well, let me tell you now. You suck at plain human decency, something that should be innate in every people. You’re so high up your ass you think you can just do anything and get away with it and you–”

“If you’re just going to insult me, can you do that tomorrow? My food is getting cold.”

Oh no. Nancy’s USB. Y/N closes her eyes and releases a long sigh. She thinks her eyes already did a 360 by the time she managed to fix her composure. She looks up at the man in front of her, currently giving her an amused look. Y/N’s voice cracks as she says, “Yoongi…This is the only time I will ask a favor from you. Please help me with Nancy’s USB. I just want to end this night and go home peacefully without her chewing my head off further more. So please, please, please, can you just help me for once?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi scratches his chin, “let me think about it first.”

“Yoongi, please!”

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi grimaces, “considering you practically begged to me for dear life, I, as a human with pure soul will help you out despite all the shits you said to me—”

“Just help me out!”

Yoongi slaps your reaching hands, “Stop, I’m not yet done with my speech. Anyway, considering this as a favor, not a request, I expect a return of favor, too.”

“Sure, fine, anything!”

“Okay, I think I may or may not have slipped in Nancy’s USB in my bag,” Yoongi breathes out as he reaches for his black satchel. “Oh yeah, I totally have it,” he says, flashing the orange 32 GB USB in front of you.

What the fuck. All this time-!

“Why didn’t you tell me you already have the USB?!”

Yoongi nearly guffaws, “Didn’t I tell you a “leave” is a leave? Wait, oh my god, you should see yourself, sweetheart. You’re about to pop a vein.”

“Min Yoongi, I fucking hate you!” Y/N snatches the USB from Yoongi’s hand and stomps back to the direction of the Rockfort Building. The man doesn’t seem to go on his own way though because Y/N hears him holler “Same sentiment too, Y/N!”

Y/N doesn’t turn back. She just raises a middle finger up that she’s sure Yoongi will not miss. And he did not, for the man’s faint chuckles only continued.

The travel back up to the 12th floor seems like the longest elevator ride Y/N has ever been on. Every additional second into the constricted metal box feels like a one-second deduction from her own lifetime. So when the elevator doors open to Travel Loca’s floor, the air is immediately knocked off Y/N lungs. But not because of relief. Nancy stands in front of her, bags in hand, and obviously upset.

Y/N quickly steps out of the lift. “Nancy, here! The USB!”

“You took too long. Just e-mail them to me. I have to cram-reading them in the morning anyway because a certain someone forgot to do their job.” Nancy brushes by her shoulder and steps into the elevator. “You know, Y/N, if I’m paying you to make my life easier for me and instead, you’re making it harder, your position in this company is useless.” Nancy presses the button for the parking lot. The doors close in front of Y/N, letting her see the disappointment on Nancy’s face for the last second of the night.

Y/N goes home twenty minutes later, worn out, and ready to sleep the second she reaches her floor. But when she opens the door, Mina’s smiling face greets her, and she immediately rushes to the sofa next to her bestfriend.

“Mina, oh my god, I have so much to tell you.”

“Me, too!” Mina giggles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s arms, “Can I go first though?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Y/N smiles, fixing her seat.

“Well, remember last week when I told you I finally confessed to Mark?”

“Mark, as in, the café barista Mark Tuan?”

Mina jokingly hits Y/N’s arm, “Yes, what Mark would I be talking about?”

“Sorry, you know how I get so spaced out when I’m tired and groggy. Anyway, what happened?”

“Well, Mark finally said yes!” Mina bursts into a wide grin, arms outstretched in joy. “I finally get to date Mark!”

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you, Nana,” Y/N engulfs Mina into an embrace, “I can’t believe you’re finally in a relationship! I mean, who would not want to date you? You’re smart, pretty, and funny. The boys have missed out on you for seven long years. And now, there’s finally someone who has eyes and can see what a gem you are. And damn right, Mark would see that. It’s not every day he can have a gorgeous girl court him for six months after getting rejected twice.”

“Oh my god, stop bringing that up!” Mina playfully slaps her back and Y/N chortles.

“Okay, okay, I’m just joking. What I really mean is: Mark is a lucky guy. I’m glad he finally realized what an idiot he will be if he rejects you again for the third time when you’ve been with him through all his problems. He won’t find another beautiful girl willing to ride his motorcycle with him in a huge-ass dress just to help him deliver orders in time. You’re the total package Mina and I’m so happy Mark has realized it.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” Mina laughs. She sways the both of them in their hug, “Mark has an impossibly high standard to meet now because of you.”

“Mark doesn’t have to meet any standards,” Y/N snickers, “You already drool at his face the moment we enter The Daily Bean.”

Mina detaches herself from Y/N and dramatically places a hand over her chest. “How can you remember that so well and not who Mark is?”

Y/N shrugs, “Because I’m not staring at Mark and eye-fucking him 24/7.”

“Oh my god, I do not!” Mina giggles, making you laugh again as she hugs you tight once more. Mina’s fingers card through your hair as she murmurs “But you do know, Y/N, even if I’m in a relationship now, I’m not gonna leave you alone. Even if Mark will start to occupy the top priority in my life, it doesn’t mean you will lose your spot in the top-pest part of my list. You know you’re still and will forever be my number one, right?” Y/N hums at that, closing her eyes from the head massage Mina is currently giving her. She feels Mina nod, “Right, you should because you’re practically my baby.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! Who would wash the red stain on your pants and underpants in the girl’s CR while you prance around the cubicle only in a top because you bled through your bottoms during your period, much more, on our Christmas Party, other than me?”

Y/N grimaces, “Oh god, you didn’t have to bring that up.”

“You hit right through me when you said I eye-fuck Mark so yeah, eye for an eye, bitch,” Mina cackles as she finally unlatches her arms around her friend. “Anyway, I’m finished with my story of the day. Your turn. What happened tonight?”

Y/N bites her lip, unconsciously easing an inch between her and her bestfriend. Mina is in a good mood today. Y/N doesn’t want to ruin it by ranting off about how horrible Yoongi is again. She knows Mina. She will listen to her rant about another bullshit done by her co-PA and she will also indulge in an insult-fest against the man. That’s just their dynamic: Y/N’s enemy is Mina’s enemy and vice versa. So as Y/N looks at Mina’s smile which doesn’t do much covering up her dark eyes, which have grown from staying up late to wait for her to come home for multiple nights on end, Y/N decides it’s enough negativity for the day.

“It’s nothing, Mina,” Y/N shakes her head, forcing a smile on her face, “just another tiring day from work.”

Mina tilts her head, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Y/N flashes her another smile as she heads for her room, “I’m totally fine. Just tired. Congratulations to you and Mark again.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Mina replies, but the look on her face tells Y/N she’s unconvinced of what she said. Seemingly aware that her friend needed space, Mina turns back the TV. Before Y/N closes her door, she hears Mina chuckle to a punch-line in the airing sitcom.

Y/N flops on her bed face down. If Yoongi didn’t put much of a fight and just handed her Nancy’s USB when he knew he already had it, then maybe this night won’t be so horrible. Y/N would have given Nancy her USB in time, and her boss could have acknowledged it as a peace offering to her unremarkable work performance that day. Y/N would have totally rejoiced with Mina with her full heart into it and not force a smile on her face when such an announcement deserves much more celebration.

Y/N releases a stifled scream into her pillow. Thursdays are really the worst and it’s all Min Yoongi’s fault.

However, what Y/N didn’t expect is that the following week will get much worse. The Writing Department is late in their deadline, causing the online publication of the September issue to be pushed in the first week of October, a big deal late to the releases of their magazine competitors. Thus, Nancy became more pissy and naggy, giving Y/N a cold shoulder for the longest streak in her work life. Nancy became more frigid when Y/N failed to get Nancy the copy of the unpublished sequel of Bird and Foe. Y/N tried her best, she really did. It’s just that the publishers of Russell Park refused to give another copy because they said they cannot give out two unpublished copies at the same time. Of course, this turned out as a lazy excuse to Nancy, making her dump additional workload on Y/N’s already staggering pile. But that was not what made Y/N’s last week of September the worst week she’s ever had. It was Min Yoongi getting promoted as a staff member to the Creatives Team after giving Nancy the unpublished Bird and Foe sequel.

Ringing phones, staff members running to- and fro- the beige faux wood office floor, and the occasional requests for coffee from the break room–Travel Loca is buzzing with life as usual. But not for long though, because the clock hands are currently on 12:49 P.M. At 12:57, it seems everyone on the floor have gone silent. Almost everyone taps their foot against the floor. All eyes were set on the digital wall clock. Some have even glanced on their own wristwatches to check if the wall clock was right. The hands start to move. Everyone gulps.

The hands hit one o’clock. Everyone scrambles off their swivel chairs. Some have bee-lined for the break room. Meanwhile, a huge mass had created a bottle-neck of office workers at Travel Loca’s main door. No one is left on the staff chairs, except for one: Mina Young.

The accountant slides her swivel chair to the left. Her hands meander through her large file cases and when she feels a cold, ribbed metal surface on her index, she smiles. Mina pushes the on-button and immediately, the then-silent office space has now become a replica of her own flat.

“Good morning everyone! Today seems an extra sweet day than yesterday because you know what? I can smell and see the sweet aroma of those dark, chewy chocolates and those pretty pink balloons surrounding our streets. That’s right folks, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner! Which also means–drumroll for me, Alexa–Holidays are about to sweep in! It’s just three weeks to go, folks, note that! So, for our dear, sweet listeners, I hope you already got your hotels booked and your plane tickets ready so you can finally have that amazing buffet, relaxing spa, or a fun tour around places you’ve never been with your very lovable significant others! I’m sure all of you will have that wonderful, exciting, and pleasurable rendezvous away from school, work, and any responsibilities. Just make sure to channel in on our station if you want the best playlist to get you in the mood for some steamy, passionate, and intimate time–”

“Mina, will you turn off that radio?”

The short-haired brunette frowns at her friend, whose also frowning at her. Mina pushes up her glasses on her nose, “Why? You know I always listen to this station during break time. Plus, Nancy is not here.”

“Still, it doesn’t excuse how irritating that DJ sounds.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plops herself on another swivel chair. “His voice sounds like there are two styrofoams gyrating each other in a sweaty club.”

Mina’s jaw drops as she turns off her portable mini-radio on her desk. She faces Y/N with a frown this time—actually a scowl now. “Kim Seokjin’s voice is like creamy velvet to the ears! Also,” she scrunches her nose in disgust, “you did not just sexualize non-living objects so casually as if you’re not aware that the mental image you’re painting is so disturbing.”

“First off,” Y/N turns to her, swivel chair squeaking in her abrupt movement, “you’re already seeing Mark Tuan for you to have any weird fantasies about Kim Seokjin and his voice or how cute his laugh is when it literally sounds like he’s an old man dying on a choked-out old joke. And second, sexualizing objects is not illegal by law and even if it so, I did NOT sexualize them. They are just the perfect representation of how Seokjin’s voice sounds.”

Mina purses her lips and props her elbow on her desk to cup her face. “Cut to the point, Y/N. Just tell me what is with you today. You barged in furious in here for no reason, threw a fit at the break room, and now you’re ruining lunch by insulting Seokjin for something so trivial.”

“Trivial?! His voice is fucking irritating! Just because he’s handsome does not mean his voice will also sound good on the radio. It’s like listening to a whale dying while making mating calls–”

“The point, Y/N?” Mina cuts you with an unamused look.

You deflate in your seat. “Fine, it’s Min Yoongi. He made it a point that he is more intelligent and capable than me in our 10 AM meeting with Nancy for this month’s spread. Said he knows more about weird facts and trivia about Sweden because I never got to travel outside this fucking country when I damn well know he only uses some advanced search engine to look for info like the computer whiz that he is! I went so many times on his Facebook to know he posts nothing in his wall but his work achievements—and his dog! Of course, if you went outside the country, you will post pictures in your wall, ‘cus social media sites are just platforms masked as an outlet for free expression when we damn well know it’s just a place where you can brag and be not called out for being arrogant. And damn hell, Min Yoongi does not have any out-of-the-country pictures posted there. What only comes close is his picture of that gumbo he said he made—yeah, quotation marks—because it looks too good to be made by his ugly crooked hands and even if it’s got this aesthetic background not expected to come from this fucking country, I still think he just photoshopped it.” Y/N crosses her arms, “Bet that gumbo did not even taste good.”

Mina scrunches her forehead, “Are you the only flawed person Min Yoongi sees? Why does he always have to nitpick every single bit of your work? He just criticized your last week’s report because of your ‘poor articulation.’”

“Right?!” Y/N leans back on her chair. She groans, “I still remember how he sabotaged my files for Nancy’s professional and personal events. Who in their right mind would change the contact names to mythical creatures? Rica’s 2nd baby shower was named ‘Merlin’s Demon Baby’s Party?’ It’s a baby event for God’s sake!” Y/N looks at her friend, “I swear Mina, one day I will get a brain hemorrhage because of Yoongi’s shits.”

Mina winces, “Please don’t. I don’t want to be the one to tell your mother you already died before you even managed to pay your housing loans.”

“Hey! Don’t attack me like that,” Y/N slaps the back of her friend’s chair. Mina, choking on her spit first, erupts into a fit of giggles.

Unfortunately, it seems lunch’s fun will be cut short as Y/N hears Nancy’s megaphone’s speaker start up, “Calling for Y/N to come into my office. A.S.A.P!”

Y/N scrambles from her seat as Mina sees her off with a sad wave. Pushing through Nancy’s glass door, Y/N could see the lines of ridges forming on Nancy’s forehead before the latter can even eye her.

“Y-yes, Ma’am? You called for me?”

Nancy pins her a look, “You’re asking me if I called you? Are you deaf? Did you not understand what I said?”

“Yes!—I-I mean on the understanding part, yes, not about being deaf or something hehe-“

“Y/N,” Nancy clasps her hands on her table, “I called you here because I have something important to tell you.”

Y/N nears her table, pulling up her notebook and pen.

“I need you to work in the Creatives Department for the next two weeks.”

Y/N’s fingers freeze. She looks up at Nancy with eyes as wide as a goldfish. And before she can brain-filter out her words, they’ve already escaped her mouth. “What do you mean I have to be in the Creatives next week? I’m your personal assistant, not Min Yoongi’s!”

“Y/N, I didn’t say you will work for Yoongi. He’s not the head of the Creatives. Steven Spielberg is,” Nancy gives the girl an unamused look, waving her off from her desk. Y/N bites her lip as she takes two steps backward. She didn’t know she’s rushed up too close to Nancy’s table just at the prospect of Yoongi and her working together came from her boss’ lips.

Nancy leans back on her chair, “I know you two have this petty children-in-the-playground fights ever since the start of October last year. I get that your differences are too great to be bridged anytime soon, thus the reason why I grew tired telling you to stop doing your cat and dog thing because I know you two wouldn’t listen anyway. You two just like to bang heads whenever you like—”

“But, it’s Yoongi’s fault-”

Nancy raises a finger, “But, Y/N, this is really important. I will be out-of-the-country for the next three weeks for both some business and family matters. Hence, why I cannot bring you with me as usual. And why I will need you to work under Steven for the meantime: to report to me about any of their progress. The Creatives’ current designs will have us late into this month’s deadline and I do not want this business going down anytime soon because of a weak holiday cover. So, as my PA, you will report everything about their progress to me, and you will report my feedback to them. At the same time, you will tame your childish fights with Yoongi to a minimum so Travel Loca will function as well as it can be while I’m not physically here. Understand?”

Y/N nods, “understand, Ma’am.” She doesn’t have a choice even if she wanted to object. Whatever Nancy dictated is already set in stone.

“Also,” Nancy looks at Y/N, “since I will be off the next three weeks, my schedules for the weeks in my absence will be pushed and packed on the following week. So, I expect you to still work on your station—and work even harder after I came back. Understand?”

More workload? Y/N internally groans. She doesn’t like work getting reduced early into the week then doubling into hell in the latter part of the month. She likes them evened out—everything is balanced, familiar, and predictable. Nevertheless, Y/N only nods, “yes.” “No” doesn’t exist in Nancy’s dictionary.

Nancy returns to her laptop and waves her off, “Okay. Then, capiche.”

“Yes, ma’am, capiche,” Y/N makes a quick bow and scampers out of her boss’ office.

When Y/N reaches her station, she sinks herself into the cushion of her seat. First, Min Yoongi belittles her researching ability in the morning meeting. Then now, she will work with him for the majority of three weeks. After that, another hell will start because of Nancy’s incoming packed schedules.

Y/N’s eyes land on her laptop and she immediately sees her calendar. January 16, 2020. Thursday. Y/N releases an inhumane groan. Of course, the goddamn Thursday curse. When will she ever live?

“When will I ever die?” Y/N sobs into Mina’s shirt. Her friend keeps her arms around her tight as she cards through her hair.

“Hey, don’t think so negative,” Mina coos, “Think of this as an opportunity to finally have Nancy off your back.”

“Yeah, as if working with Min Yoongi is better than that. He already ruins my life when we only physically encounter each other in meetings and breaks and lunches. Imagine working with him for a whole fucking day!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I take that back,” Mina hugs her friend tighter.

Y/N continues, “And after enduring all that, my workload will quadruple when Nancy comes back after three weeks! I already experienced this during her daughter’s debut last year. When Nancy said a pile of work will come, it fucking means four metal file cases of work. I spent the last two weeks of August plunging myself into an abyss of papers. I did not sleep for two weeks straight! And now— I will have three weeks-worth of hell work to come after spending three weeks working with the personification of Satan. Can the world just eat me up?!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Mina pulls away to hold her bestfriend at arms-length, “What did you say will happen in three weeks?”

Y/N closes her eyes, “Another hell will come because a shit-pile of work is coming in three weeks! Mina, I’ve been telling you this since morning-”

“Y/N, after three weeks, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Y/N’s eyes immediately shoot open, “What?”

“Look,” Mina clicks on her phone and flashes Y/N her calendar app. “Today’s January 17. Exactly after three weeks is the Valentine’s week.”

Y/N’s jaw drops ajar, “Oh my god.”

“Yes, Y/N, oh my God. It’s the fucking Heart Holiday.”

“…The country’s long-time problem with their low birth rate has driven the government to build another department that will help its citizens build, manage, and maintain healthy relationships. The Department of Relationship Management was established in 2015, and ever since then, there have been impressive developments in our country’s birth rate. One of the best programs of DRM behind this wonderful growth is the Heart Holiday, the holiday held in the week of Valentine’s Day. It grants any person employed in a private sector one week of paid holiday vacation leave as long as they are currently in a relationship. Meanwhile, education establishments and students are given one week off their academic calendars without regard to their relationship status. Isn’t that sweet? The only downside to that, folks, is that government employees can only have two days of paid holiday leave on the 14th and 15th. But, still, a holiday is still a holiday! So for our lovely listeners, start planning your vacation trips and hangouts! Especially when Cloud 10 Airlines is there to make your holiday week even sweeter with their 70% discount on local trips! Just contact 675-9859 and 568-987—”

“Mina, can you turn off the radio?!”

“Again?!” Mina heaves, “What’s with your aggravation streak these days against Kim Seokjin’s voice?”

“It rattles me,” Y/N half-screams, plopping into the swivel chair next to her friend’s cubicle. “Yesterday, he already announced that goddamn timeline of the DRM and ‘all hailed’ importance of the Heart Holiday. Why does he have to repeat it again today? In that overly-enthusiastic voice, too, as if he’s never read of that script again and again?!”

“Y/N, it’s how broadcasting works. It’s one of the most awaited holidays in the year, so of course, they will nab as many advertisement deals as they can.”

“Well, I don’t like how they work!”

“You cannot just tell a radio company to stop working,” Mina turns in her chair to face her friend, “Also, stop venting your frustration on Seokjin. He doesn’t even know you hate his voice. Routinely doing this noise pollution doesn’t do anything at all. Just tell me what made you upset today.”

“It’s Yoongi!” Y/N scowls. “He won’t explain to me the technical editing terms on Steven’s report for Nancy! He said a five grader can even know what they are. I went through fifth grade, Mina, and I did not freaking know about any photoshop shit!”

“Well, that’s because you’re old.”

Mina looks up and sees Yoongi hovering her cubicle.

Y/N’s scowl deepens, as she turns her chair to the direction of the intruder. “As if you’re any much younger. From what I know, you’re four years older than me, dumbass.”

“Well, at least I know what Steven is talking about,” Yoongi props his chin on Mina’s cubicle.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Because it’s your freaking line of work! Of course, you’ll know about it!”

“Well, you’re now working most of the time in the Creatives Team and you don’t know it. What does that make you, then? I’ll give you a hint: It’s what you called me three seconds ago. Starts with the letter ‘d’ and ends with the letter ‘s.’”

“What? You think you’re so smart now just because you know that vector-mask-thingy?! News flash, Yoongi, you did not graduate with any Latin honor. I did! So, who’s the real dumbass?!”

“You damn well know Latin honors doesn’t actually have any effect on real life. Practical knowledge has—especially knowledge about terminologies used in digital designing. Which you need because you won’t be able to report anything to your god Nancy. Because, well: You. Don’t. Know. Anything. Like. Always.”

“Min Yoongi, fuck you–”

“Guys, guys, guys, can you stop?”

Y/N gives Yoongi another glare before fixing herself back in her seat. Mina puffs, “Yoongi, can you leave us alone for a while? We’re talking here and you just invited yourself in our conversation.”

Yoongi chides, “Well, tell your friend that if she wants to shit-talk a person just a meter away from her without the said person barging in the conversation, she should keep her voice on the down-low. Not screaming around like a crazy ape.”

Y/N’s jaw drops open, “What crazy ape?! You’re the crazy ape! You look like a fucking gorilla who accidentally get dwarfed by a tooth fairy and-”

“Min Yoongi, just leave us alone,” Mina gives the man a pointed look.

Yoongi shrugs and detaches himself from her cubicle. He heads back to their office but he doesn’t completely leave the room without giving Y/N a middle finger.

Y/N’s mouth drops open in disbelief. She turns to Mina. “See? Isn’t it obvious he just wants to make me the bad man to Nancy again? What kind of person are you to not cooperate with your co-worker like a goddamn adult? I don’t get why no one sees this bitch’s true face but you and me! I just want to freaking tear off his face, make him wipe it in his ass, then place it back on his head since he’s such a literal ass—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mina clasps a hand over your shoulder, “don’t get too homicidal. What you just said, aside from disturbing, is very disgusting.”

Y/N slumps in her seat and crosses her arms.

Mina sighs. “Okay, yeah, I know, Min Yoongi is the worst. But I don’t want you to do anything stupid so let’s not talk about him for a while, ‘kay?” Y/N nods. Mina leans back in her seat with the nth sigh for the day. “Okay, I got some update from Jaehyun.”

Y/N leans forward. “What did he say?”

Mina gives you a sad smile, “He already has a fiancé.”

“So soon?” Y/N scoffs. “He was just courting me two months ago.”

“Yeah, well he’s getting married this week. Whatever,” Mina waves off, “I don’t like him for you anyway. He dresses like a college fuckboy.”

“Okay, what about Dahyun?”

“Already married.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “and she didn’t tell us?”

“Yeah, I already nagged her on the phone. She said it all kinda happened too fast–her and Sana. And the marriage was in New York. We’re too broke for out-of-the-country trips to attend anyway if we were informed.” Mina smiles, “She said she’s gonna invite us to the Christening of their baby.”

“Okay, I’m glad she still cared about us. Oh,” Y/N pipes up, “what did Jackson say over the phone?”

Mina gives you a tight smile. “Getting married, too. And guess what, the invitations were already in our mail box when I went to get our bills.”

“Momo?”

“Engaged. She and Heechul just broke out the news a week ago.”

“Sam?”

“Married. And 4 months pregnant.”

“Jongdae?”

“Engaged. Also has a baby in way.”

“Hana?”

“Engaged.”

“Changmin?”

“Engaged.”

“Jaebum?

“Engaaaaaged.”

Y/N throws her hands in the air, “Why is everyone getting married?!”

“Well, we’re in our late 20s. It’s the “marrying age” they say. It got more enphasized when DRM’s programs had succeeded in encouraging hundreds of people to marry in the recent year. Even my mom already expects Mark to propose by next month. We’re just dating for 6 months!” Mina cringes. She pulls Y/N’s chair closer to her to hold her hands. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. It kinda slipped my mind that we always apply together for the Heart Holiday every year. It’s just that Mark and I—”

“Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. You’ve been pining after Mark for about two years and now look at you—together, stable, and in-love half into the year! I don’t want you to fret having a relationship with the boy you liked for so long.”

“Yeah, Y/N, I know,” Mina closes her eyes. “It’s just sad and unfortunate everyone we know are already in relationships.”

“Yeah…” Y/N nods and the two fall into silence. Why is everyone conveniently in a relationship just in time with the Heart Holiday? What, the whole world suddenly knew the loophole in DRM’s program? Y/N and Mina studied that for a whole year! This is unfair. Y/N cannot be the only single person out there who’ll miserably work in the office while everyone gets to have the time of their lives—wait.

Y/N grabs Mina’s hands. “Hey, Nana, I know we said co-workers are off-limits because Nancy will definitely know it’s a ruse. She’ll block my application form before it can even have the seal from the HR. Especially when she found out our lesbian “relationship” was fake after you and Mark updated your civil statuses.” Mina winces and opens her mouth to apologize again but Y/N cuts her with a finger to her mouth. “Nancy will definitely call me a liar and grill my head if she finds out what we’re planning to do now. But look, Nancy’s out of the country. Teddy is the general supervisor and she’s the next in the hierarchy. We damn well know her 45-year-old heart is soft for some nicely-woven romantic story. Even more, in an office setting—the bane of every middle-aged woman’s sappy romantic heart. So, what do you say?”

Mina lets out an exasperated breath, “That crossed my mind, too, you know. But, Y/N, the thing is—the whole Accounting Department is in a relationship. And the same goes for the Writing, Marketing, Logistics, and HR. All of them are either in a relationship, married, or getting married.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyebrows curve up high, “How come I didn’t know this?”

“Uh, because you’re busy working for Nancy day-in and day-out? Also, I just happen to be friends with Jisoo from HR. She’s in charge of the company’s relationship records. Sometimes, she slips in everyone’s stories while we listen to WWL Radio during break time.”

Y/N bites her lip. This can’t be happening to her. Not now. Not when the most un-objectifiable reason for a break from Nancy is about to slip through her fingers like fine sand.

Mina scratches her nape, “I…may have someone in mind though.”

Y/N’s eyes look straight into Mina’s. “Tell me.”

“Well, the entire Creatives Department is either married or engaged save for one.”

Y/N holds Mina’s hands tighter. “Who?”

“Min, Yoongi.”

Y/N must be going crazy. She thinks she must be growing a nest of vultures in her brain now, the mother routinely picking on her numerous dead brain cells to feed to her young. It doesn’t help that the bags under her eyes have started to droop like a waterfall, forming a sad saddle of grey on her cheeks. She cannot even remember the last time she had a decent meal. All she remembers is the finger foods Mina hands to her station every once in a while.

The universe is being unfair to her and it is all taking a toll on her body. They weren’t kidding when they said adjusting to a new environment is an entire whole work in itself. The Creatives Team runs a completely different routine. Large monitors crammed with multiple editing softwares Y/N cannot understand surround the studio-size office space. There are drafted papers and previous issues scattered in every possible corner, some even gathering dust by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Y/N is not even sure if anyone has re-arranged their desks in the last few months. The Creatives’ work ethic is loosely bound on schedules and everyone seems to be doing everyone else’s job. Except for Y/N, because Steven is the only one willing to share their team’s progress to her. But that alone is not enough for her daily report to Nancy because Steven is always busy in his computer. More unfortunately, everyone is wary of her. Y/N’s sure she even saw Kim Myungsoo clutch their design folders closer to his chest when her eyes glanced at his cubicle.

Sure, Y/N expected everyone will have their guards up on her. Who wouldn’t be when they know Nancy still has eyes on them even if she’s countries away? But still, it doesn’t lessen the pain on Y/N’s self-esteem and the stress on her back. If Y/N can’t get someone to talk to her, she won’t be able to provide a more substantial report to Nancy more than just reading Steven’s printed reports verbatim.

Y/N is desperate to find a workmate to discuss everything happening in the Creatives with her, but unluckily for her, she only has someone she wishes to not even breathe the same air with. Of course, no one in the Creatives wants to talk to her except for Min Yoongi. He’s an insufferable ass who doesn’t know when to shut up. He welcomes Y/N every single day with an annoying “Yo, Y/N” and an unneeded commentary about her outfit, like how yesterday he told her “I know retro is in but I didn’t know grandma blouses are deemed stylish again.” He blabbers about his unnecessarily extensive general knowledge about every South Asian country, even if Y/N countlessly told him she didn’t care. He brags about the cover designs and templates he did in the previous issues, flipping the pages too close in Y/N’s face while he speaks about colors and mixing like Y/N is an imbecile about basic color combinations high school students used in their PowerPoint presentations. Yet despite them all, Yoongi still refuses to explain to her the jargon in Steven’s reports.

Y/N tried her best to keep herself from bursting and giving Yoongi an earful of sense. Yes, everyone knows she does not like Yoongi but Y/N doesn’t want them to know to what extent she can go to express them, afraid of embarrassing herself. But in her defense, three days into the first week without Nancy, Yoongi has gone as far as to chip a small bit off Y/N’s mug in the break room. The mug with the “creative juices” in cursive printed around its body—Mina’s gift from college. Y/N’s patience meter was blasted off the roof. It will be safe to tell that at the end of the day, Y/N has screamed the hell out of Yoongi that everyone can be sure the latter’s ears may have fallen out of his head. Steven was close to reporting to Teddy what just happened. It was just Y/N’s remaining luck that helped her successfully and implicitly begged Steven not to do so by telling him calling Yoongi “a mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk who should eat his shit because people are what they eat and he is obviously the biggest shit in her life,” is just her “unique” way of expressing co-worker appreciation to the man.

Aside from putting up with Yoongi’s Satanic attitude, Y/N has to endure Nancy’s intermittent calls with her forever pissed voice coming in first thing in the morning until in the late, ungodly hours. And despite Teddy’s patient guidance over Y/N’s “transition” to the Creatives Team, Y/N’s still close to digging a six-feet deep hole in her station. No, not because of Teddy or Nancy. It’s because she poured her remaining effort dedicated for work by spending the entire week going through every staff member of Travel Loca. Y/N thought Mina must have overlooked a face. That it’s possible Jisoo skipped on a detail she told to her friend. But despite learning Lee Minyoung from the Writing Department is going to call it quits to her boyfriend just after Valentine’s, or how Michael Park from Marketing is about to pop the ring to his girlfriend just right on Valentine’s Day, the looming fact Y/N dreads presents itself on January 24, two weeks before Valentine’s: No one else in the office is single but her…and Min Yoongi.

Of course, it didn’t surprise Y/N, Yoongi must be single. With that know-it-all façade and condescending tone wearing you out like a 24/7 walking instruction manual no one even asked for, who would even like to date him? One week with him as a co-worker alone already makes Y/N want to throw herself into the flaming hot pit of the nearest volcano.

But it’s only two more weeks before Valentine’s and Y/N is desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures. Y/N did a last-minute check-up on her and Mina’s lists of contacts—phone, social media, e-mails, everything under the sun—only to come up with nothing. Mina’s “marrying age” theory must be true because everyone, every single one, of their acquaintances are already married or getting married. Y/N then changed up her game. She started to opt for resources she never thought she will ever use in her life: dating apps. Tinder, Bumble, The League, Grindr—name it, Y/N had made every account for every conceivable dating site. She even spent the most of her break time this week hiding her phone beneath her desk and swiping right. But even this last considerable option proved to be pointless as all the replies she received are either honest “sorry, not interested,” rude “you’re no fun,” or out-right salacious “suck my dick.”

This then left Y/N no choice but to consider the most unspeakably horrendously unfortunate option she didn’t even want to have. Min Yoongi is her only choice left. And for that, Y/N spent two days making an elaborate plan. She can’t afford any loose threads or plan-holes that can further make her at the mercy of the infuriating jerk. However, even if she made everything as seamless as it can be, Y/N knows it will be the worst decision she’ll ever make in her life. Mina also expressed the same concern, even apologized for planting that small information about Yoongi in her friend’s mind. But even her friend’s day-by-day discouragement to push through with her plan is not enough to deter Y/N.

Because even if just thinking about the plan makes Y/N feel the world is about to crumble and swallow her down in its unending, fathomless depths; even if it makes her want to set up an appointment with an exorcist, Y/N knew she won’t back out. It’s not viruses or bacteria, it’s a seeded idea that is the most contagious living entity that can take hold of any human being. And the moment Y/N realized there’s no other ticket way out of her dilemma but Yoongi, she knew this thought will haunt her for nights on end.

This is the reason why Y/N’s currently standing by the corner of the Creatives’ office when it’s already 6:46 P.M. while almost everyone has left the office. Almost, because Yoongi, apart from her, is the only one left in the office as Steven requested him to finish a color palette by tonight. Y/N gulps a thick blob of saliva. Sweat runs thick on her forehead. God, if Mina could see what Y/N’s about to do, she will be already by her side, yelling for her to just give up. Y/N shakes her head. This is Mina’s fault anyway. If she didn’t plant the idea in her head, she wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t be creeping behind a door like a disgusting stalker. She wouldn’t be profusely sweating in an air-conditioned room like a guilty murderer. She wouldn’t be-

“What the hell are you doing behind the door?”

Y/N shrieks and jumps a half-foot away from her spot.

“The hell—what’s gotten into you?!” Yoongi frowns, “And why are you even here?”

Y/N’s brows meet together in her forehead. But before she can speak, Yoongi’s snickers drown out the words in her throat.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’ve come as far as spying on my work. I didn’t know you’re going to be this petty,” Yoongi sighs and puts his hand on his waist, “Well, if you think going through my work laptop will get you to understand Steven’s report, I’m sorry to say you won’t get anything, little girl.”

Yes, it’s true. The words did die out in Y/N’s throat. It’s just flames of anger sweeping in the valleys of her mouth. Y/N surges forward, fists clenched tight, “‘Little girl’? I am not a fucking little girl!”

Yoongi grins, “Then what should I call someone who’s a foot smaller than me?”

“What fucking ‘foot’?! We’re just inches apart! Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror? You’re not even that tall!”

“Says the one who’s looking up at me just to level her eyes with mine,” Yoongi raises his brows, “and who’s now standing a little too close to me because apparently, standing a socially-decent foot away won’t enable her to see my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she immediately takes a step back. She doesn’t get how easy it is for Yoongi to rile her up that she instantly forgets how to control her body. When she looks up at him, the man is smirking at her. Her mouth aches to tell him he actually looks stupid with that lopsided smile if he thought doing it will make him a tad bit inch sorry excuse of “sexy.” But then, Y/N remembers she has a purpose tonight. She didn’t just waste an hour waiting in the excruciating office space of the Creatives Team just to get nothing done.

Y/N closes her eyes and breathes out. When she opens them again, she looks at Yoongi in the eyes. “I’m not here to fight with you, Yoongi. I’m here to make an offer.”

Yoongi scoffs, “An offer? You? Are you hearing yourself right now? In case you weren’t informed, I don’t need anything from you. And I didn’t—”

“You’re single right?”

Yoongi gawks at her, “W-what?”

“Well, I’m single, too. And Valentine’s week is coming in two weeks.”

“So?”

Y/N tries not to grit her teeth, “So, that means the Heart Holiday is also coming. Nancy is bound to come back during that time, too, with an obvious incoming large workload to come for me. I can’t afford to hole myself up in this office while everyone gets to enjoy a paid holiday week. And since you have an affinity for disliking your job, I figured you also wouldn’t want to go to work during Valentine’s week.” Y/N crosses her arms, “So I’m here, Min Yoongi, to give you an offer: Fake date me for two weeks to make it to DRM’s PRS’ application deadline. When our application gets approved, we part ways and never speak about what happened in these two weeks. It’s a win-win situation. I don’t get to work during Valentine’s. You also don’t get to work, and we both will still get paid. So, what do you say?”

Yoongi just stares at her. Y/N could feel cold sweat running from her scalp and down to her back. Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he being so silent? Is he about to make fun of her and bring it up to work tomorrow? Oh God, Y/N shouldn’t have even gone through with this plan. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad, bad, idea that should have never been entertained and buried in a trunk of embarrassing memories, never to see the light again—

“I’m in.”

Y/N freezes, “W-what?”

Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N. He leans forward, closing the distance between their faces into mere six inches. Y/N doesn’t need to crane her head up anymore because this time, their eyes are finally leveled with each other.

Yoongi smiles, “I’m telling you, Y/N, I’m in in your plan.”

Y/N looks at him. She just looks at him. Five seconds have already passed. Yoongi should be laughing in her face right now. But the man did not, and takes a step back away from her. He fixes his satchel on his shoulder and closes the Creatives’ glass door behind him shut. When Yoongi looks back at Y/N, he gives her a shrug, “Hey, if you’re not going home, I am.” He heads for the main door, hands dug into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes just follow his figure. Before Yoongi completely gets out of the office, he hollers, a hand cupping over his mouth, “I said I’m already in in your plan. You can go now. See you tomorrow.” He sends Y/N one last smile.

It takes Y/N five more seconds before she breaks her frozen stance. What did just happen? Yoongi didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t put up a fight. He….agreed? Just like that? This is impossible. This cannot happen! Yoongi doesn’t agree, he argues! Always! And he just doesn’t bid her goodbye and “see you tomorrow.” Yoongi annoys her with one last hit of “goodbye, grandma.” And Yoongi doesn’t smile. He smirks. He just pulls up one side of his lips, squints his eyes, and snorts. Y/N must be going crazy. This is not Yoongi! A whole different man has suddenly appeared before her. This cannot be!

But despite all the things going back and forth in her head right now, there’s only one looming thought on top of them all that had Y/N release a staggered breath:

What the fuck did she just get herself into?

next | series masterlist

Disclaimer: This first chapter is based on Netflix’s Set It Up (2018), particularly Nancy’s briefing scene and the USB scene. Netflix’s Set It Up (2018) is the inspiration for this fic and so I based Ms. Nancy’s personality on Lucy Liu’s portrayal of Kirsten Stevens! Ms. Lucy Liu was fantastic in her performance! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners. The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Anyways, if you wish to watch the movie, don’t worry about encountering any spoilers in this fic!

A/N pt. 2: Hi hons! I decided to cut this fic into parts as this will be very long (hello banter dialogues). Writing a 25+k wordcount (so far, this is my assumed final wordcount) may overwhelm a lot of readers and make them not want to read this anymore ☹ Anyway, the succeeding parts will be released soon as I already have a detailed storyboard and outline for this mini-series so you don’t have to wait that long. Thank you for giving this fic a chance, hons. Also, feedback is more than appreciated. Tell me what you guys think! ♡♡♡ \(> u

Taglist: @fangirls94 @ditttiii @chogiyeol-utopia

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fangirl-on-bitches · 4 years

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Bittersweet

Javier Peña x Female!Reader.

Word Count: 4k approximately.

Summary: You and Javier have a particular way of saying goodbye, so particular you get a surprise when you get back to the US.

Warning: a lot of cursing, a bit of pregnancy shenanigans, a lot of dialogue and a little messy plot and timelines lol.

A/N: Okay, listen before you continue. When I was younger I used to write, maybe not with the best grammar or the best plot, but sure as hell with a lot of creativity. Now I just can’t be that creative to write a complete fic or hc, so if you find this boring or a waste of time I’m really sorry. If you like this, I appreciate it as I really made an effort to finish it (a crapy ending anyways). I’ll be sincere, I had this idea and couldn’t get it out of my head so I wrote it. I feel like the scenarios aren’t realistic to what could happen in real life (I feel like they are forced or way too dramatic) I really hope I don’t waste your time. (and yes, I chose the name in honor of Pedro’s role in triple frontier)

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You were cursed. Definitely.

You were back in the states, had been for a few weeks, enjoying the warmest sun Miami had to offer along with Connie. You loved relaxing by a peaceful beach after years of chasing after Escobar with your life on the line every hour of every day.

That day you were really excited to wake up and meet Connie to go to the beach, it had been so long since you saw her and little Olivia. You felt at the same time a little uncomfortable with your body that day, bloated and kind of heavy, like there was extra gravity, but the excitement overwhelmed whatever other feeling you might be having.

The beach had some people because it was a nice day, so you lounged along Connie and baby Olivia, eating fried fish with chips as it was beach food. You were laughing at something Connie said about Steve, something about being a pain in the ass, which you agreed with. It was all fun and games until you felt horrible nausea and a pushing need to vomit. Connie, being observant noticed immediately.

“What’s wrong?” before you could answer you ran to the restaurant’s bathroom, puking whatever food you had that day. Connie came close behind you. She gave you a paper towel so you could wipe your mouth.

“Okay, I might be sick.” you admitted flushing the toilet.

Of course, your mood just plummeted to the ground when you were sitting in a private room in the hospital. Connie couldn’t check you, but she was looking for her friend on-call, meanwhile, you looked as baby Liv (as you called Olivia) slept peacefully by your side.

You didn’t like hospitals. They reminded you of your time in Colombia, and although you weren’t shot, your compañeros might have been shot multiple times. There had been too many close calls and so many lives lost, you just got the creeps whenever you heard a gurney moving.

Soon, Connie came back and carried Olivia outside, leaving you with her friend. She presented herself, and asked routine questions. How are you feeling? What happened? Does something hurt? Is your period late? Did you fall and hit your head? Do you have any diseases? Or do you take any medication?

“I do have nausea and I threw up after eating.” She nodded as she took your blood pressure. Then you started thinking. You were thinking really hard.

Your period was late, you didn’t remember how late, but it was late. Two months ago, Steve and you caught Escobar. Steve went straight back home and you had to stay, to finish completing paperwork. Then Javier was back in Colombia to follow the Cali Cartel, but you were assigned back to Miami and couldn’t stay.

To be fair, you were glad to be back home, but you really missed Javier. When shit went down with Los Pepes you were pissed off at Javier. You knew he usually overstepped the line to get intel, but this time he had stepped so far off the line, he wouldn’t be able to see the line.

The night before he left you decided you would drink your consciousness off because you hated to even think that Javier Peña was living in Colombia; after a glass of a really strong Rum and Cola you decided against it and knocked on Javier’s door.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, suggesting that he wasn’t up to listening to more of your nagging. Your head had a million thoughts racing, you wanted to tell him so many things varying from ‘you are an idiot’ to ‘why the fuck did you do this?’ but the only thing you articulate was something like ‘I don’t want you to go’

Javier’s face softened, although you cast down eyes couldn’t actually look at his face, he had stepped aside and invited you inside. “Do you want something to drink?” you shook your head, looking around the apartment. It was almost empty, but it has been pretty empty since the beginning. You sat on the floor, Javier following with a beer in his hand.

“Will you come back?” you asked him, but you already knew the answer.

“I don’t think so, it depends on the higher ups in the states” you nodded, looking at him. You were really going to miss him. “Look, it’s not like we won’t see each other anymore, when you guys catch Escobar-” you laughed humorlessly. How long would that be? Months, another year perhaps?

Both of you stayed in silence for a while. “I should go.” you told him, standing up, he stood up as well.

“You shouldn’t go.” He told you, squeezing your shoulder tenderly, a familiar touch. You looked at his sweet dark brown eyes, a silly small smile playing on the corners of your lips.

“What do you mean? You have a plane to catch tomorrow.” you remind him, wondering if he was drunk, he clearly wasn’t. His hand, which was still on your shoulder, moved to cup your face. For a second, you were lost and didn’t understand what was happening, until you looked at his eyes again and understood. You didn’t wait for him to lean down, you just wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

You would lie if you have never felt curious as to why every informant in Colombia gave Javier the intel he wanted. After that night you understood why. He was passionate, attentive and a really generous lover. You might have even believed him if he had blurted out an ‘I love you’.

The only reason why you let this happen was because Javier was supposed to stay in the US, officially he wasn’t your (or Steve’s) compañero anymore. And that was true, even when he came back.

“Okay, so your results are in. After you told me you’ve been missing your period for quite a while, I drew some blood to analyze it.”

“Yeah, it must be stress. You know, I worked in Colombia with Connie’s husband and moving back here plus all the work I have to do was really stressful. Also, I had a UTI back in Colombia, I wasn’t drinking enough water and I read that the strain might move my period a little.” you started rambling. For some reason, you felt jittery, almost anxious at the look on the Doctor’s face. She had a grin in her face, really big and excited.

“That may delay your period for two weeks, but it won't magically make it disappear, dear.” She read the results once more and nodded to herself. “As I suspected, you are pregnant.”

“W-w-what?” you mumbled. “But I didn’t pee on the stick.” clearly, your brain had short-circuited.

“I have some pregnancy tests if you wish to take them yourself, but the blood analysis is pretty accurate.” she offered with a nice smile. You nodded and took the box going to the bathroom, trying to focus on reading the instructions.

The stick said you were pregnant. And you knew exactly who was the father.

You sighed at the papers you were reading, the office already empty, way past dinner time. Since catching Escobar, hours were cut short, but to you they were really slow. Steve wasn’t there, he had left a few weeks ago, Javier obviously wasn’t there. It was just you, some files and occasionally some booze to help you relax before sleeping. Thankfully, you would be leaving shortly.

On your way back to the apartment complex you stopped by a grocery store. You needed ice cream, and lots of chocolate, and some chips. Probably some booze too. You had bought a flask of whisky that reminded you of Javier, although whisky might not be your first choice of booze.

That same flask almost fell to the ground when you saw goddam Javier Peña entering his apartment, a big suitcase by his side.

He also noticed you, the dark bags under your eyes and messy hair evidence of your hard work.

“Oh my god” you whispered, unbelieving. You walked and hugged him, relieved to see him again. “You are back?” you stupidly asked.

“Yeah, they want my intel and help to track down the Cali Cartel.” he answered.

“Well, that’s weird.”

“What?”

“My orders are to finish paperwork and return to Miami. They didn’t tell me to stay to help.”

“Well, it’s a different operation this time, more discreet.” he tried to hint you that it wasn’t just DEA business anymore, it was more a CIA kind of work. You invited him to your apartment, that had two boxes of things you were going to give to charity, you didn’t need all this stuff back home, you already had them.

He explained his situation while you shared the flask of whisky and bid good night like the old times, no kisses or sex, or nothing like that. Which was fine.

Everything was fine for the next few days. Javier even helped you pack your stuff and sort it out. The night before returning home he offered to go to the bar you always went to with Steve and him on Friday’s or Saturday’s (sometimes even a Monday)

Both of you drank like you always had, but instead of bidding goodnight and going to bed separately, you both had sex. Again. It was probably a coping mechanism, the way both of you said goodbye to each other. Such a complicated method.

So, so complex that now you were pregnant.

With a child.

Javier's child.

It had to be his, you only had sex with him within the last 3 months. Since Colombia you hadn’t have sex.

This was bad. It was complicated. You didn’t plan for a child; working at the DEA (chasing after Escobar) left you almost no time to think about dating, much more less building a fucking family.

Could you do this? Hell yeah, you are an awesome strong woman.

What you couldn’t do was tell Javier.

When you came out the private room, you were fidgeting with your hands, Connie came and took them. “I’m pregnant.” you blurted out. Connie looked at you shocked; then you noticed little baby Olivia wasn’t on her arms.

Steve, in all his blonde mustache glory stood with his daughter on his arms, looking as shocked as Connie. “What?” he asked.

“Who is the father?” Connie inquired.

“What are you doing here?” You asked Steve.

“I came to pick up my wife and daughter for dinner. Why don’t you come with us and tell us more about this?” You nodded out of inertia, but you looked at your hands while walking, Connie hooking her arm with one of yours.

As you sat on traffic, you tentatively touched your belly. It was... normal. No kicking, no large or really hard belly. It was like there was nothing there.

You would have declined dinner if you knew the questionnaire that would come from the Murphy’s. Well, questionnaire would be an exaggeration, but you didn’t really like the single question they were asking.

“Who’s the father?”

“I- I can’t tell you.”

“Why? We don’t know him?” you sighed and reassigned. You knew they would ask forever.

“Please, please, please you have to promise me you won’t tell anybody. Both of you.” you looked pointedly at Steve. He nodded but held your gaze, trying to figure out what you were really trying to say. A second later he muttered something.

“Jesus fucking christ.”

“What?” Connie asked but soon realized. “Oh, no way. Javier?”

“It’s Javier.” you confirm their suspicions.

“Are you certain?” Connie asked.

“Of course.” you paused and then added. “You can’t tell him Steve.”

“What? Why?” he sounded slightly offended.

“I should tell him first. He should hear it from me.”

“I can’t believe this. The minute I come back home you two just pound at each other.”

“It wasn’t like that, and technically you were still in Colombia the first time.”

“The first time?” he asked with a chuckle, he looked very happy.

“The second time I was the one leaving!” you paused, moving the food around your plate. “How the fuck am I going to tell him? I can’t just call him and be like, ‘hey I’m pregnant and you are the father. How’s the Cali stuff going?’. This kind of news aren’t told over a call.”

“But it’s different, it’s not a normal situation. Javier could be in Colombia for years.” Steve reminded you.

“It wouldn’t make a difference. He can’t come back until his work is done.” You rolled your eyes, there was no good alternative.

“So you plan to just hide this from him?” Connie asked, her look full of pity, if it was for you or Javier, you didn't know.

“Only until I know he’s coming back. I’ll check on him every once in a while. I’ll need you to call him too, Steve. I don’t want him to suspect me.” He sighed but nodded nonetheless. You sighed as well, a million thoughts racing through your head.

You called Javier that same week. Of course, it was unexpected for him but really welcome. Colombia was not rainbows and sunshine. “So how’s the Cartel treating you?”

“It’s a fucking nightmare, but hopefully it won’t take long. I can't talk too much over the phone about this, who knows who might be listening.” he sighed, sounding really

“Yeah, you are right.” for a minute, you thought about telling him. Then you decided. “Please take care and be careful.”

“Of course compañera.” he assured, you could practically hear the smirk in his lips. After ending the call, you pressed the heels of your palms in your eyes. How in the world were you going to tell him?

––––––

A month turned into two, and then five months flew by in the blink of an eye. Javier was not coming back for the time being and your belly was starting to pop. Your head was still working on how in the world were you going to tell Javier, which was the only problem you had right now. It wasn’t even a big problem, if Javier wanted an out of fatherhood he was free to go, but you had been so happy since day two (day one was a full shock) that you honestly didn’t care.

You were getting way too ahead of yourself. Maybe Javi wanted to be a father and he would be really happy with the little baby. But that wasn’t the Javier you knew, and that’s why you were so afraid to tell him.

Today looked like the best day to tell him. You were going to probably get to know if the little baby was a girl or a boy. You were waiting patiently for him to pick up the call in the hospital public phone. After a while, he picked up.

“Hello?” his voice sounded gruff and stressed.

“Hi, compañero. How are you?” you asked, a hand on your belly.

“As fine as I can be here,” he answered. “What did you want?” he asked abruptly, almost tired of talking to you. It stinged a little.

“I just called to check in…” you lied, maybe it wasn’t the best time to tell him after all.

“I’m going to be as clear as I can. Don’t call me, unless you are fucking dying.” you felt a piercing pain in your throat, a tight knot forming, making it really difficult to talk.

“Fine.” you hissed and hanged the phone, tears slipping down your cheeks. Fucking hormones. Fucking Javier.

Connie, who was waiting for you anxiously to come back, hugged you. “It’s okay sweetie, it’s okay.” you nodded and wiped your tears.

“I’m okay. I just need to focus on my baby and myself right now.” you told her and rubbed your belly.

“Of course honey.”

–––––––

It had been a really smooth and sweet pregnancy, you were really happy with your 5th month old baby boy Francisco. He was really sweet, but he had so, so much of his father, the resemblance was uncanny. Deep brown sweet eyes, and a mop of soft brown hair.

Javier had not called you since that horrible last call. You knew he called Steve every once in a while, but you asked Steve please not to tell you anything about him. Both Murphy’s just assumed you had told Javier about the pregnancy and that he had not taken it well.

This was a lie. Javier had no idea you were pregnant, much more less with his child. But he was still in Colombia, so unless you told him he would not hear it from anyone.

It hurted you deeply, not being able to tell your son who his father was. However, all around your house there were pictures of Steve, Javi and yourself from Colombia. Connie and Olivia were there too, even Carillo.

Anyways, the baby was too young to notice the absence of his father. Maybe by the time Francisco starts wondering about daddy, Javier would be around the USA to talk.

Your son cooed and asked to be held up, it was time for his nap. Just in time, you thought, Steve was coming over to pick him up as you were going to meet your best friend in an hour or so. Your baby boy soon fell asleep, you held him in against your chest, rocking him gently.

Then the doorbell rang.

“Steve, you are early. Fran just fell asleep.” you told Steve. But it wasn’t Steve. Javier fucking Peña stood in the door way, his eyes looking at your son. You frowned and tried to hide Francisco’s face sneakily from him. “What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too, compañera.” he said, but his mind was not entirely focused on whatever he was saying. His mind was in the baby, and about how quickly you had moved on.

“Don’t compañera me.” you hissed, in a hushed tone, the baby in your arms sleeping soundly. “Come in.” you told him, as you turned around to leave your baby on his cradle.

Javier looked around, looking for any sign of the baby’s father. But he only found pictures of you, Steve, Connie, baby Olivia and other people he knew. Then he started thinking, what if the baby was his child?

No, that’s not possible.

“So?” you asked, really anxious. You had no idea he would be here. You were not prepared for this. But really, would you ever be prepared?

“I came to apologize.” Javier simply said, his hands on his hips.

“Took you a little long.” you said, rubbing your hands together. “If you apologized sooner I could have…”

“Could have what?” you exhaled and sighed, trying not to cry.

“You are not supposed to be here.” you whisper, your voice cracking softly as you sit on your sofa. Javier sat by your side and you felt the weight of your decisions constrict your chest, making it harder to breath.

You were a horrible, horrible person. How could you deny him knowing he was a father? That he had a child? It didn’t matter how angry you felt, or how much of an asshole he had been. The baby was made by both of you. He had the right to know.

“I’m sorry.” he was not sure why, but he really was sorry. You shook your head, and started to tell him that you were sorry, repeating like a prayer. “Hey, hey” he tried to calm you down, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “Breath, baby. Breath.” you complied, breathing deeply. After a minute of silence you took his rough big hand and held it, squeezing it slightly.

“Javier, I got news for you.” you started, and felt his hand tense. “The baby boy, Francisco, he’s your son, our son.” He looked at you, his eyes wide, looking like a deer in the headlights. “That time I called you, I was pregnant, and I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me after?”

“You told me not to call you unless I was fucking dying.” you exhaled and stood up. “Look you don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to, I had Francisco because I wanted to, but I didn't expect anything from you.”

“Not getting involved? What are you talking about?” he asked offended.

“I’m sorry, and I mean no offense, but you don't strike as the kind of guy who would want a family, or children.”

“And what the fuck do you know?” he raised his voice a little, making you cringe a little.

“I’m sorry, and I can’t do anything to return back time.” you told him sincerely. A loud whine was heard from your room, where the crib was. You sighed and went to your room, to calm Francisco down. Unbeknownst to you, Javier followed you looking how you delicately held him and rocked him. The baby’s eyes were still closed, he was just a little disturbed.

You looked at the door frame, Javier stood there, looking at the child. You walked to him, your intentions clear. “Do you want to hold him?” you asked your voice soft and soothing. Javier gulped, feeling suddenly nervous, he didn’t know how to hold a baby, what if he dropped him? “Don’t worry, I’ll help.” you offered, a kind smile in your face.

Javier extended his arms and you walked closer, softly passing your son to Javier’s big arms. Francisco whined a little and Javier’s face cringed, making you smile. “Hold him against you,” you helped, gently pushing his arms, closer to his chest. Francisco was fast asleep again. Javier just looked at him, marveled. You guide him to the sofa, making him sit there with your son. “I’ll be right back.” you tell him, and at the panicked face he made, you had to quiet your laugh. “You’ll be fine.”

You called your best friend, telling her you wouldn’t be able to meet her. When you stepped back on the living room, someone knocked on the door, it must be Steve. You opened the door and gestured to him to be quiet, pointing at the couch, were Javi sat (finally) relaxed.

Steve did not enter the house as you promised to call later. You returned to the living room and sat beside them, contemplating how peaceful they looked. Javier had moved your son, laying him against his broad chest. You caressed the baby’s hair, looking at him with doe eyes.

“Want to stay for dinner?” you asked standing up. Javier nodded and then lay his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. You smiled and entered your bedroom to change your clothes into something more comfortable.

You had nothing figured out, but you were happy knowing your son had a loving father to grow up with. You’ll figure your relationship out (if there was going to be one).

After some minutes, you heard some gurgles coming from the living room. Javi fell asleep, and Francisco was wide awake, looking at his father curiously, moving his little hands. You took the baby from him, kissing his chubby face. “Your daddy is sleeping, baby. C’mon, let’s give you some mashed banana.” you told him, caressing Javier’s hair back.

You spent some long 20 minutes feeding and nursing your baby boy while you also checked dinner. Javier, still fast asleep on the couch, woke up with a start, touching his chest, as if missing something. “Where’s the baby?” he asked, looking around.

“He’s here, Javier.” you told him from the kitchen, a silly smile on your face. Javier sat by the table, feeling self conscious at the baby’s gaze over him. His son’s arms moved up and down, talking unintelligible gibberish. “He likes you.” you commented, cleaning his chubby face. Javier held his hand out and Francisco took one of his fingers, squeezing with his baby strength. Javi’s heart skipped a beat.

Eating together was really weird, but at the same time it felt right. You noticed Javier’s tired face and wondered if he came straight from the airport. So you asked, sparking some conversation. You talked about what finally happened with the Cali Cartel.

“You got a place to stay?” you asked, but you knew the answer. “You can stay here if you want. Hotel’s are really expensive right now.”

“You sure?” you nodded. You forgot how well you clicked with Javier, it was a nice reminder.

He helped you with the dishes, and then went to shower, getting his suitcase for clean clothes. You prepared Francisco for bed, giving him his formula bottle after changing his diapers.

You saw Javier getting out of the bathroom, and thankfully had the decency to wear full pajamas, you would have fainted at the view of his bare chest.

“So, I’ll go to the couch, do you have a blanket?”

“What are you talking about?” you asked. “I was going to tell you to sleep in the bed with me. We already shared a bed before, so I don’t see a problem. Plus, I could use the help if Francisco wakes up.” you commented with a cocky smirk. You usually wore just a t-shirt to bed, but today you had to use full pajamas, like Javi did.

“Okay.” Javier said, not really convinced. Francisco was asleep already, his father caressed his little hand with his finger. You were already under the covers, ready to hit the bed, Javier looked tired too.

He laid down, under the covers as well, looking at the ceiling. He moved looking at you, you were both face to face, generous space between both of you. “I’m sorry.” You shook your head, and took his hands on yours.

“Sleep Javi, you look tired.” you kissed the back of his hands and closed your eyes, sleep getting the best of you. Javi smiled, his face soft, getting a little closer, leaving his hand on yours, then he shut his eyes. He had never felt more at home.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #javier x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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elyvorg · 4 years

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Imagine if the students successfully “defeated” Monokuma in trial 5, and also that Kaito incidentally had about one more day to live as of that point in time. (This is the end result of my trial 5 AU, not that any of the story in that post is particularly relevant to the AU story I’m about to present here.) An anon suggested to me that, from here, the students could demand that Monokuma owes them a life – in other words, he has to nurse Kaito back to health for them.

I had my doubts over whether it’d be the right call to actually trust Monokuma with Kaito’s health in that situation… but then again, that’s the fun part. What if they did make the mistake of entrusting Kaito’s life to Monokuma? What cruel things could he do while still technically complying with their demands?

Here’s what I thought of: Monokuma “saves Kaito’s life” by making a huge Flashback Light full of Kaito’s backstory plus all his experiences throughout the killing game itself, and all those memories get shoved into a fresh body. This would create a new person who is essentially still Kaito and is also perfectly healthy. Ta-da, Kaito gets to live!

Meanwhile, Kaito – our Kaito, the one who actually went through the killing game with his friends – well, he’s not needed any more. So, completely unbeknownst to anyone else, Monokuma just leaves him somewhere to die.

Aaaaand my thoughts on this idea escalated rather a lot, to the point that there’s kind of a whole story here.

Kaito’s death

Kaito is taken to some empty room somewhere – I dunno, maybe there’s a bed in it to at least give a vague impression that it could be some kind of hospital room, but maybe not even that – and told to just wait for the nurses to come and see to him. So he waits, his suspicion growing, and it doesn’t take long for him to get the sinking realisation that nobody’s coming, are they. He goes to open the door to try and look for Monokuma and yell at him to stop screwing around and keep his goddamn end of the bargain, only to find it locked.

With a chilling dread, it hits him that this was all a trap – a really obvious one at that, one he literally walked right into like an absolute moron. Monokuma never had any plans to cure him at all.

He’s going to die here, in this room, completely and utterly alone.

Kaito wouldn’t just give up, of course. He’d furiously try to bust down the locked door keeping him trapped there, but… his body would be so weak by now that he wouldn’t stand a chance. He’d only end up hurting himself even more, and after a while he just wouldn’t have the strength to keep trying.

And he might have more or less resigned himself and been mentally prepared for the fact that he’s not surviving this illness – though losing that glimmer of a way out he’d almost thought he had really, really kind of sucks – but, this is worse than he thought it’d be. Up until now, he'd finally begun to feel some relief in that, even if he does still end up dying, at least he'll die something of a hero, surrounded by his friends. Not like this. He never wanted to die like this – pointlessly, uselessly, alone and forgotten like he never even mattered. He doesn’t even have anything to distract himself with or to do to feel like he’s making a difference in his final hours. There’s just nothing but waiting to die, the pain getting harder and harder to bear as he feels his body slowly tear itself apart.

This is probably the absolute cruellest possible way Kaito could die from his illness, so much worse than how it happens in canon. (And, damn it, he hasn't even been to space…!)

Kaito would have no idea what's happening outside of the room he dies in, so he might be able to console himself to some extent by thinking that, once he’s gone, when Shuichi and Maki never see him again and realise they were tricked, they’ll be furious and will fight to avenge him. (Or, perhaps there’s still a chance, if they realise that something’s up soon enough, that they might be able to come for him in time and somehow save him after all…? It’s such a long shot – his death feels so close, dammit – but they’re his heroes, they’re amazing, so maybe—!)

But in reality... they wouldn't even know. They’d just obliviously leave him there to die, because Kaito would be right there with them, cured like Monokuma promised.

Kaito’s survival

That’d be the second horrible part of this – but not because this new Kaito who meets up with Shuichi and Maki all “cured” would be like some hollow imitation who isn’t truly Kaito at all. No; that’s not how it works. Flashback Lights create real people.

While I said at the beginning of this post that the one who died alone was “our” Kaito, that wasn't really quite fair of me. The other Kaito who's here now deserves to be thought of in exactly the same way. He would be our Kaito too, one hundred percent. Much like how Alter Ego Gonta was another Gonta, this is another instance of Kaito, separate from the one who died, but still him.

On the one hand, the new Kaito could have been made from a clone of the original Kaito’s body, so that he looks completely identical and nothing seems amiss at first. But on the other hand, he could be in an entirely different body – which is the version I’d rather lean towards, because that’d make things get awkward and painful a lot more quickly.

(If you want something to picture him as looking like: because it makes sense that Team Danganronpa would have picked a body that looked kind of similar and still fit his character, I’m imagining one of Kaito’s beta designs. I went for the one with poofy hair and eyebrows to rival Taka’s, specifically because he doesn’t look too similar to our Kaito, yet he nonetheless still has a very dorky Kaito energy to him. Meanwhile, his clothes would presumably be exactly the same. That and, despite the poofy hair, Kaito would totally grab some hairspray at the earliest opportunity and attempt to style his new hair into his trademark spiky upwardsness, just to try and look and feel a bit more like his usual self. The result would be, uh… something. It’d be something, all right.)

Some time after taking Kaito away to be cured, then, Monokuma presents Kaito’s miraculous recovery, brazenly handwaving the new body by claiming that extensive plastic surgery was totally necessary to save him. Maki and Shuichi would initially be all “?????? don’t mess with us, how the FUCK do you expect us to believe that this is Kaito”. Except... it is. His face and voice are completely different, but everything about how his eyes light up when he sees them, and the way he talks, and how quietly hurt he seems when they question if it's really him - it's still absolutely Kaito. And he appears to be just as genuinely confused as they are by the different body once they point it out to him and show him to a mirror.

Maybe they'd also confirm it by asking him things that only the real Kaito would know – and he knows all of it. Not just knows it, he obviously feels it, too. After asking him his favourite spaceship and seeing him visibly restrain himself from launching into a huge excited ramble about why that spaceship is so cool (exactly like he didn’t restrain himself from doing last time)… they can't deny it's really him.

The last thing Kaito remembers is being led away by Monokuma, and then he woke up like this; he must have been unconscious for whatever the hell was done to him in between. He and his friends end up concluding that Monokuma must have saved his life by… transferring his consciousness into a new body? Which seems more possible than they might have imagined considering how the Virtual World worked, now that they think about it, so maybe they'd be able to accept that.

(Is transferring a consciousness like that actually possible in this universe, though? Or does the Virtual World computer just create a virtual copy of them from their memories while the original one sleeps, and then Flashback Light their virtual self’s new memories back into their real body when they log out? That’d mean the virtual person would have to be deleted afterwards. It’d be painless and they’d never remember it, but in a sense, it’d be killing them.)

Kaito himself is pretty chill with it once he’s got over the initial shock. Sure, it’ll take some getting used to looking like this – he’s gonna have to grow himself a new goatee, to say nothing of the hair – but still, he’ll take this over dying any day. (He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to not be in pain.)

It'd still be super awkward for Shuichi and Maki, though, trying to adjust to Kaito looking and sounding completely different on the surface, constantly reminding themselves that this face and this voice is still Kaito. The two of them – especially Maki, who has a harder time trusting people instinctively – wouldn't quite be able to shake off the nagging possibility this could be some kind of impostor aligned with Monokuma who's just really really good at acting like Kaito. Of course they'd want to believe in him, because a different body is still infinitely better than losing him, but it wouldn’t quite come naturally.

Kaito, being Kaito, would very much pick up on the signs that his sidekicks are still a little subconsciously suspicious of him. It’d sting, but he wouldn't bring it up. Kaito's always fine! Now that he's healthy again, he’s got absolutely nothing to worry about! …which is to say, he doesn't want to go admitting to his new worries, not when doing so would be giving them even more reasons to feel like he's not quite Kaito and secretly not really want him around.

Kaito’s existence

But just when Shuichi and Maki have started to really get used to Kaito’s new body and things are beginning to feel somewhat normal between them again, everything would come out during the equivalent of trial 6.

As Shuichi figures out what Flashback Lights really do and Tsumugi starts trying to make everyone despair over how “fictional” they all are, Kaito, because he’s Kaito, would be having none of her bullshit. (However, I’ll keep this part brief here since I’m hopefully going to do a regular trial-6-with-Kaito AU at some point that should really be the place I expand on this properly.)

Sure, learning that they’re “characters” created from fake memories when the killing game began is kind of a lot to take in, but it doesn’t change the reality of who they are right now. The only thing that matters is what they want to believe, and they obviously want to believe that they’re real, just like they always have! Hell, their pasts being fiction is great news in Maki Roll’s case – she never really killed anyone, and she’ll never have to!

And Tsumugi’s claims that nothing matters because it was all “fiction” for entertainment are even more bullshit. Their pasts may be made up, but the entire killing game really happened. All those people really died. Every bit of the pain and suffering they and their friends went through in it was absolutely real.

But as he’s saying this part, Tsumugi turns to Kaito with a scathing grin. “How would you know? You weren’t even there.”

Before anyone can question what she means by this, she turns on another video – and this one’s not an audition tape. There were Nanokumas in the room where the original Kaito died. His final hours were recorded, as proof that Kaito is dead.

They wouldn’t watch the entire thing – he was in there for something like twenty-four hours – but she could have put together a “highlights reel”, some of the moments where Kaito couldn’t help but express exactly how lost and scared and desperate he felt. And of course it’d culminate in the moment of his death, just to hammer it home and make sure they know that it’s far too late to save him.

As Shuichi and Maki are reeling in horror from the suffering Kaito went through and the fact that they let that happen to him, Tsumugi goes for the decisive blow. She explains how the new Kaito came to be here, calling him a “fake”, an “imitation” who “tricked” them while they left the real Kaito to die.

And… Kaito kind of starts to believe it.

…See, one of the reasons this scenario really grabbed my interest (other than the prospect of Kaito dying scared and helpless and alone while also not being gone from the story afterwards) was that until now I didn’t think it was possible to give Kaito existential issues. He just has too much conviction in who he is. Under regular trial 6 circumstances, the reveals about Flashback Lights and his backstory being fake memories would barely faze him at all.

His memories are fake and all those things in his past never really happened? Okay, so he’s kind of shaken to realise his grandparents and fellow astronaut trainees don’t exist – but in that case, if none of the people in his memories are real, then the only person those memories matter to is himself. And if he feels like they were real, they might as well have been, at least in terms of the person he is now because of them. Oh, but the person he is now isn’t real, because the “real” Kaito is that murder-happy asshole in the audition video? Well, no, that dumbass was just somebody else, duh. Maybe he had the same body and possibly even the same name, but that doesn’t matter. The real Kaito, the one and only Luminary of the Stars, is right here! That's who he wants to believe he is, so it's who he is, dammit. End of discussion.

But in this situation… the real Kaito was undeniably the one who died alone in that room. Not him. His memories might feel real, but he doesn’t have the right to feel like those events happened to him, not when the memories belong to somebody else – someone who actually experienced all those things, whose friends that he experienced it all with are right here. It’s like he’s just stealing those memories, stealing that identity, stealing Kaito’s entire life. That’s not fair.

He still wants to be Kaito; he’s never gonna want to be anyone else, but… there’s no way he deserves to decide that, does he? Not when the real Kaito died, and Kaito’s sidekicks are still here and grieving for him. Knowing that, and with Maki Roll and Shuichi giving him these hurt, horrified looks that say You're not Kaito… maybe he really isn't.

(But Kaito is the only person he wants to or even knows how to be. So if he's not Kaito, then… who the hell even is he?)

Kaito’s friends

With Kaito stunned into speechlessness, and Shuichi and Maki shaken from the undeniable demonstration of how easy it is to just fake an entire person, leaving them also questioning how real they really are despite Kaito’s earlier efforts, it seems like Tsumugi’s succeeded in making everyone despair.

(at this point Keebo is supposed to barge in with his hope nonsense, but hey, how about we don’t have that clogging this up when I’m trying to tell an interesting story here)

But after a little while of none of the others having it in themselves to protest Tsumugi’s claims, Kaito (or, well, someone who once mistakenly went by that name; it doesn’t matter now) speaks up – hesitantly, because he still isn’t sure he really deserves to. “Hey, c’mon, Shuichi… This isn’t like you. You can’t just give up like this.”

(He resists the instinct to add, “You’re my sidekick,” because no, he’s not.)

It doesn’t matter about him, but Shuichi’s still absolutely real. He’s Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective who’s gonna save everyone, right? Never mind what Tsumugi says – that’s who he wants to be, who he’s always been trying so hard to be, so that’s who he is. And if that’s the case, then he can’t let something like this get him down!

“I guess this doesn’t mean much coming from me, but… I believe in you. For real.”

Shuichi stares at him in dawning realisation. This is… exactly the kind of thing Kaito would say to encourage him at a time like this. Especially the way he’s selflessly helping someone else even though he’s the one who’s got to be suffering the most right now. He… really is Kaito, isn’t he?

Kaito doesn’t meet his eye, muttering that that’s not really for him to decide. But… if Shuichi and Maki Roll want him to be Kaito, then – he glances at Shuichi hopefully – then maybe…?

Shuichi firmly tells him that no, that’s wrong. Kaito was just asserting that Shuichi and Maki and everyone else here get to decide who they want to be, so why should it be any different for him? If he wants to be Kaito, then Shuichi’s with him all the way. And Maki feels the same, right?

Maki puts in, slowly, like she’s still figuring this out as she speaks, that she’s been thinking hard about things since he pointed out that this means she never really killed anyone. It’s true that it’s a relief to know that nobody ever died because of her, but… she still feels like she killed all those people. It still hurts, because all of those memories feel real to her. So in that sense, it’s like she might as well have actually gone through all that hell.

Then… it must be the same for him, right? Even if it wasn’t really him who trained with them and supported them, he feels like it was, doesn’t he? So… he might as well be the same Kaito. If her feelings matter even if they came from fake memories, then so do his.

Hearing both their words to him, Kaito’s face gradually lights up into a huge, somewhat desperate grin. Of course he wants to be Kaito; there’s nobody else he’d rather be! And, Shuichi and Maki Roll, they… they still wanna be his sidekicks, right?

Of course they do. Shuichi and Maki were pretty shaken by the initial shock of seeing Kaito’s death and realising where the Kaito standing in front of them came from, to the point that their kneejerk reactions in that moment might have made him feel like they didn’t see him as Kaito or want him around. But having a little bit of time to process it and reflect on it, and seeing how badly Kaito was hurting from thinking this is how they feel about him… there’s no way that’d be what they settle on. They’re his friends – and they can’t bear to lose him twice.

Maybe they messed up in the sense that they let Kaito die on his end, but they also simultaneously didn't lose Kaito on their end. This person who's here for them right now is still him, and none of what happened to the other Kaito is his fault. How could they just throw away this second chance? They’re still going to need Kaito’s support – and this Kaito needs them, too, more than ever. It’s awful that they failed Kaito once, but they can at least make sure to never fail him again.

(Kaito tells them firmly that no, they didn’t fail him. There’s no way Kaito would have ever thought that, no matter how afraid he was at the end.)

Epilogue

After escaping and settling into the outside world, as the survivors put together a gravesite for the friends from their game who didn't make it, they make sure there's a grave there for Kaito as well. Kaito, Shuichi and Maki visit it from time to time. It only seems right to do so.

The other Kaito, the one who died scared and alone, would have been happy to know that this’d be how it ended, Kaito reflects: to know that he still gets to live on, in a way, and keep being there for his sidekicks. That he didn't just die useless and forgotten. He's certain of it - because he's Kaito, too.

[part 2 to this post - because I had another fun idea that branches off partway through this one - here!]

#danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 spoilers #kaito momota #shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #friends #training trio #v3 aus #writing #my buttons #hello my name is elyvorg and my hobbies include wrenching my own heart out #definitely not what anon signed up for when they innocently suggested their idea #but i hope they're proud for being the reason this story exists now #duplicate kaito au

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maddiethebull · 4 years

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Part Two of Lucifer - “Please, don’t be scared.”

You can find part one here : Lucifer (ObeyMe!) - Prompt 14 - “Please, don’t be scared.”

You woke up from being nudged by the door, excited that it might be Lucifer coming out of his room, you jolted up. That’s when you saw the note you slipped under the door and seeing the box that read “okay” being checked made your heart do backflips. The door slowly opened just a crack, Lucifer had poked his head out. He was still very unsure of how to approach the situation. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, he only wanted to make you happy. He wanted a way to take away everything that had happened so that things could go back to the way they were before, but he knew he couldn't. He only had the option of breaking the silence.

“Hello,” said Lucifer.

“Hey,” you said, trying not to sound weird. Turns out, you didn’t know what to say either, you didn’t imagine it would be this awkward talking to him again. The heart that was doing backflips earlier was now sitting calmly and reading “how to talk to a demon, for dummies” handbook.

You ran a hand through your hair, and looked at the ground.

“So, uh breakfast is being set out,” you said.

He replied, “oh, that’s nice, I’m rather hungry.” He wasn’t making an effort to make eye contact either.

“Yeah, haha. well, let’s go then.”

You slapped an awkward smile on and Lucifer emerged from his room. He looked very disheveled; for The Avatar of Pride, you doubted that anyone would have pride in that appearance. Still, he had the same dark red eyes that looked into yours a million times and the same black hair that you remembered brushing away from his face when he fell asleep at his desk. The awkward smile you wore turned into a genuine one, looking upon him. All in all, he was still the same Lucifer that you fell in love with.

At breakfast, everyone was a little tense, Beel even stopped chewing and looked over at Lucifer entering. For a moment, you would’ve thought that Lucifer was a stranger waltzing into their dining room. Eventually Mammon spoke up,

“So are ya finally done mopin’?”

“You look like shit Luci,” said Asmo with a laugh. The rest of the brothers joined in the laughter and the tension had gone away as quickly as it came.

‘What a good way for the author to give comedic relief’ you thought. You made your way to the seat you usually say in, the one next to Satan. Lucifer mulled that over, he was wondering just how much closer to Satan you had gotten in the time that he was locked in his room. Under the table, Satan held his hand out, offering you to hold it if you still felt uncomfortable. You looked at him and said quietly as not to let Lucifer hear,

“I’m okay.”

You said it with a smile to show Satan that you really were. He frowned and put his hand back at his side, continuing to eat without saying anything more. He felt sort of unneeded when you declined his offer. It was conflicting, on one hand he was happy that you felt better, but on another, he wished you would still go to him.

After breakfast, you all got up, getting ready to go to R.A.D. As Lucifer made his way back to his room so he could get dressed, you stopped him by putting your hand on his shoulder. Lucifer was shocked at the contact, shocked, but happy that you felt comfortable to get close to him again. He turned to you with a smile and you asked if you guys could talk for a little bit. Satan saw this, he grimaced and went to go get ready, not wanting to see more of you being affectionate towards someone who wasn’t him. Meanwhile you and Lucifer went to his study to discuss everything. You both sat down, fidgeting in your chairs and not knowing what to say. The air in the room was pure strange. It felt like so long since you two had had a conversation, it was like you were re-meeting each other. You both spoke at the same time saying,

“Listen-“

“I’m-“

You stopped and said,

“Sorry, what did you wanna say?”

He cleared his throat, he opened his mouth slightly, trying to get out the words he was thinking but then ultimately failed and shut his mouth. He looked down at his hands, remembering what he’d done and with an anxious look at you,

“You can speak first,” was all he said.

“I just wanted to ask how you were doing?”

He smiled, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Maybe, but I still wanna know how you are?”

He looked at you and then down again,

“How I feel doesn’t matter as much as how you’ve been. I- I’m sorry, MC, for everything.”

You could see that tears began forming in his eyes. You got up and walked over to him, you put your hand on his shoulder and said,

“I’m okay, Lucifer. I wasn’t at first, but now, I’m better and now what I need is to know how you are.”

He looked up to you with those red eyes so solemn. He put his hand on yours.

“I’m okay if you’re okay.”

At first, it was hard to accept. it was hard to even digest what you had seen, it made your stomach churn to think of. After a while with the help of the brothers, it sunk in. you stopped seeing Lucifer as the demon who terminated another demon and you saw him as Lucifer again. When you came to the Devildom, you were told how powerful demons can be, but you didn’t really grasp it, all you saw was how Mammon fooled around, how Levi was a weeb, how Lucifer just seemed like a strict father. It never really registered until that fateful day that you saw Lucifer punishing a demon for treason. It fully hit you how fragile you were around the seven brothers, but when they each stepped in to help take care of you? That showed you the true extent of their love. They may have been strong enough to obliterate you and Beel has maybe once or twice thought about eating you, but they loved you. Each one of them loved you and you loved them back, including Lucifer.

Satan passed by and saw you two. It crushed him. It crushed him every time he’d seen something like this before. The memory you had of Lucifer playing piano for you? He’d seen that too. He was in the background, his eternal character in the background of your romance. He thought about how he was the one who helped you through this and how he deserved you. But did he? He thought about it constantly. He thought about you all the time, but he knew deep down, that whatever he did, you wouldn’t feel the same way. He decided to take some time for himself. He skipped school just to read, he would whisk himself away into a novel just so he didn’t have to think about you. He could instead imagine himself as a brave samurai or a great adventurer or even as an angel again. After finishing one book, it was straight onto another, he mulled over which to read and closed his eyes, picking a random one from his shelf. It was titled “Love of All Kinds.” ‘of course it would be that one,’ he thought. He might as well read it, maybe he could imagine someone else in your place, a fictional character to help him cope.

As he opened the book to read it, Belphie knocked on his door saying,

“Hey it's dinner time! Hurry up Beel’s already staring at your food!”

At dinner, you sat next to Lucifer, furthering the growth of a seed called jealousy inside of Satan. It was near blooming. Satan's face was burning with jealousy, why wasn't it him, the one who helped you through this, that you would be so close to? He was angry at Lucifer, he was angry at the universe that you had fallen for Lucifer, and he was angry at himself for having these feelings that he just couldn’t express to you. He jolted up out of his seat and began making his way to his room, he couldn’t stand watching you two together anymore. Lucifer got up as well. He rushed after Satan, grabbing him by the sleeve. It reminded Satan of the day this all began, but this time, there wasn’t anyone at fault.

“What’s the issue?” he asked.

Satan scoffed, “Fuck off Lucifer.”

Taken aback by this, Lucifer said, “What’s wrong with you? can’t you just calm down and-”

“Calm down? You want me to calm down? Fine then, I’ll be calm. let me just calmly remind you that you’re the reason MC was so scared, you’re the reason she was sent in to a fucking breakdown, you, not. me. But you wanna know who she still clings to?”

Satan, burning with anger and jealousy, was digging his nails into the palm of his hand as he strained his muscles with how hard he clenched his fists. He looked almost amused with how horrible he felt. Lucifer has a shocked expression, where was this coming from? All of this talk about you and who you love? He didn’t know that you felt that way, you’d never said it before.

“Satan,-“

“No! I’m talking and you’re gonna fucking listen!”

He growled,

“Why did it have to be you? I love MC, I care for her and I make her comfortable, but why did she have to pick you out of all the people?”

“Listen, if you’re just going to mope about MC not being into you, why would you take it out on me?”

“God you’re SO FUCKING CLUELESS!!” he was glowing with rage, he was seeing in red, he was so angry.

Gripping his one hand with the other, Lucifer admitted defeat by saying,

“I’m sorry, Satan…”

He stopped. Lucifer looked like he was in pain, he may not say it, but he cared for Satan as much as he did the other brothers. Satan saw that expression of hurt, he looked to the door of your room. The anger was nowhere to be seen as he turned to Lucifer with tears, heavy as boulders resting on the brim of his eyes, begging to fall,

“Just… just take care of her,” he said through a grimace of agony. With that, Satan left to go to his room. He wanted to again escape inside of a book.

They went their separate ways and in his room, Lucifer was deep in thought. He thought about you, how he loved you so much, and he thought about how Satan loved you so much. He loved you so much that he set aside his anger. The two of them were truly the closest in nature. Lucifer had laid his pride aside to apologize because he loved you and Satan laid his anger down to make sure that you could stay happy.

He looked at the book on his table, a love story between an angel and a human. He glowered and flopped onto his bed, facing his table. He clenched his fists and turned around. With tears streaming down his face he whispered,

“I love you.”

He knew you couldn’t hear him, but he hoped, in some mystical or magical way, that you knew. That someday, it could be him that you loved back. He fell asleep with tears dried on his cheeks.

The day had ended, but the love was still there, harbored in three hearts.

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Hope you enjoyed! My prompt requests are closed for the time being, as I have a ton of requests to get through. I have plenty of fics to read though, so don’t fret! Thank’s for reading <3

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inessencedevided · 4 years

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The Untamed, episode 48 - watching notes

I've got more tissues prepared because Yunmeng bro feelings always hit me HARD and that's where I left off last time

I find it kinda sweet that lwj is defending Wen Ning

It makes so much sense for Jiang Cheng to immediately bring up his old resentment cor the way his father treated then up. It really all goes back to that. The feeling of being always second best, both to his father in comparison to wwx and to wwx in comparison to lwj. And while wwx sacrificed his core because he thought of himself as inferior to Jiang cheng (not in skill but in worth), to Jiang Cheng it comes off as him once more playing the hero :/

All in all THESE IDIOTS NEVER LEARNED TO PROPERLY COMMUNICATE

Also the way Jiang cheng says "then what am I?" Reminds me a lot of the way he grieved for his core

You know what fucked me up most during this whole conversation?

Because that's it. He can't! 😭

He still loves wei Wuxian and he can't understand why wwx never chose him. Why he chose to protect lwj and the wens when he knew it would endanger their clan. And from that perspective, I get it. I feel like to Jiang Cheng, his clan is everything. It's only natural. He is the (future) clan leader and he was raised that way. It was always going to be his responsibility and at the same time, he always had this very clear cut role in their society.

But wei Wuxian? He loved their family and he did feel at home at their clan, but he was still very much an outsider. Madam Yu hated him, people kept calling him a servant when it suited them and told him to mind his place as such when he spoke up. He could emphasize with the outcasts of society because he himself never truly left that outsider status behind either!

Which left him and Jiang Cheng in opposing positions with no way of understanding the other's point of view

... while still loving each other

😭

Because all they were in the beginning, was two boys being brothers 😥

Which leads me to the conclusion that, once more, the true enemy of this story isn't any single person, it's society.

Okay, sorry that this essentially turned into meta. That's probably not what you're here for, but as thus show comes to an end, I have FEELINGS and THOUGHTS and I need to get them out 😅

I have another rant in my head on whether or not I think wwx was right in transferring Jiang Cheng his ckre without telling him, but I'm holding that in for now 🙈

That I'm sorry. From BOTH of them. 😭

THAT'S GROWTH!!! 😭😭😭

Wei Wuxian saying that it's all in the past now made me cry. So. Much. Because it's an ending. It sounded to me like he wanted to wipe the slate clean. No promises. No betrayals. Start anew. And ... I'm not okay 💔😥

Hey Nie Huaisang. Welcome to the party :D

Um ... what's happening?

Are they ... burning?

Jin Guangyao played with fire and got burned or what kind of metaphor is this?

I'd be about as good as nie Huaisang at hiding my reaction in that situation, tbh ^^

This is the weirdest hostage situation I have ever seen, with everybody just running around sind no one even guarding the hostages

The hell is in that tomb? 😳

Wait ... nie Mingjue was the headless corpse? And okay, the head is obviously seen back on here but ... how did it get there so quickly and WHY is Jin Guangyao surprised?? Wasn't he in possession of the head??

I.am.confused

Poor Huaisang :'(

And poor Jin Ling. He's learning quickly just how fucked up his family is 😬

*dramatic thunder in the distance*

👆 favourite trope of mine :D

It's an oldie but a goodie

Wwx understands something I don't ^^

Also nice to know that even when they're both without powers lwj will still protect his husband 🥰

Okay, so ... someone put the body there. The same somebody who orchestrated everything else

WHO??

Omg, I love how wwx plays at Jin Guangyao's paranoia by essentially manipulating him as he did others and then turns to lwj, with a little shrug and a half smile like

CAN I PLEASE GET 50 EPISODES OF THESE TWO SOLVING MONSTER OF THE WEEK MYSTERIES TOGETHER? 😭

So they FINALLY thought it was a good idea to actually restrain their hostages. Genius!

Wait ... Su She has that hole curse, too?

OHHHH

He was the one who cursed Jin Zixun???

I hadn't even thought about the fact that that was still an unanswered question! 😱😱😱

Jgy telling wwx that they were always going to end up on opposite sides is SO interesting and betrays a level of self-awareness I would not have afforded this guy

The thing is, su she raging at lwj for this is really the wrong address. Not because what he says isn't at least partially right (lwj was born into privilege and there is a stark disparity in how clan disciples and peripheral disciples are treated), even in the lan clan, but not BY lan Wangji. He's the guy who knelt before his uncle and let himself, the sect leader's son, be punished alongside the servant's son.

It's fascinating to see Jin Guangyao's mask fall

And his view of wwx is even more fascinating

He deliberately used wwx status as an outsider to society in combination with his impulsive and righteous character to further his own agenda of setting his own status as an outsider

It's like the ULTIMATE Slytherin vs. Gryffindor story line 😁

Also SOCIETY IS THE VILLAIN!!!

I'm not gonna lie, Jin Guangyao nakes some good points. Not saying he's not a terrible person or that he's not responsible for his own actions, but still he's successfully identified a lot of systematic problems in the cultivation world 🤷‍♀️

... and then proceeded to horribly exploit them for his own benefit *sighs*

Very sneaky, Wei Ying. I don't know what you're doing it, but good job getting him to keep talking

Xichen really be regretting all his life choices right now

It breaks my heartba bot, knowing that they really did bond that first time they met. And Xichen believed in him ever since 🥺

As sorry as I feel for him, I'm pretty sure it's going to get worse 🙈

OH MY GOD WWX CAN CONTROL GHOSTS BY WHISTLING ALONE NOW?

That is simultaneously SO cool and SO creepy! 😱

And kinda hot

On a related note, I realized that wwx is basically a Necromancer Bard and now I really wanna play one

Ohhh, the sword ghost!

😳

Isn't Xichen without powers right now?

No!!!

Puh, su she didn't kill him

But now I'm confused how lwj can use his powers

Ohhh

He's got the stygian tiger amulet?

I'm missing some crucial bit of plot here because I fo not know how he could have gotten it

I mean ... Xue Yang had half of it right? So ... is it this piece?

HE PLANNED THE WHOLE THING ALREADY BACK THEN??? 😱

Or ... not the whole thing? I feel I'll have to watch the show again just to discover what Jin Guangyao even knew and when 🙈

The way jgy looks at Xichen, there us real affection and regret in his gaze :(

Still I did not see THIS coming

He does care for Xichen, doesn't he? Who always saw the best in him. Never once treated him as below him for who his mother was.

But I dont think lan Xichen will give him a second chance right now, tbh. Just from the way he acted, he looked like his trust was irreparably shattered 😥

Meanwhile...

Wwx is tired of your monologueing :D

I apologise for the weird mix of stream-of-cosciousness musings and half-formed meta musings 😅

Also all the typos ...

(And who sent the letter and hit the body??? 😭)

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony @kyrrahbird @i-love-him-on-purpose

Tomorrow I'll watch the jast two episodes and ... I can't quite believe it 😔

I'm just happy that I'm reading the book now and still got so much to look forward to there, otherwise I think l might draw out this show even longer

#the untamed #sophie watches the untamed #wei wuxian #wwx #lan wangji #wangxian #lan xichen #jin guangyao #jin ling #jiang cheng #nie huaisang

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

Note

Re the BTD recap: "the prose is still incredibly messy in places" "To be frank, it’s not that I think this is all particularly good… just not particularly bad either." If it's not too much trouble, can I get some concrete examples for why? I feel like I often don't notice this sort of thing, so I want to know what I'm missing. Might help me to be a better writer.

Challenging request, anon! :D I feel like I need a few disclaimers here:

The book is serviceable. It’s just not going to be winning any awards. Talking about how the prose and dialogue can be better isn’t meant to translate to, “This is the worst thing ever written.” Because it’s not.

This is very much a pot calling the kettle black situation. Anyone here has the capability of hopping onto AO3, finding a horribly written passage of my own, and shaking it in my virtual face. So this is likewise not intended to be me standing atop a pedestal going, “Anyone - myself included - could do better.” I often can’t do better because writing is hard.

I’m not a creative writing instructor, thus it’s often difficult for me to articulate why I think a piece of literature doesn’t read well. If you’ve ever, say, come out of a movie with a strong sense of it not being “good” but can’t easily explain why it failed? It’s similar to that. By consuming lots of media we get a sense of “quality” over “badly written” that then informs our reactions to new texts, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to boil that response down to, “See here on page 3? They shouldn’t have done this. Fix that and it’s ‘good’ now.”

Nevertheless, let’s try. I’ll take a passage from the prologue where Sun is facing off against these “goons”

Two glowing clones of Sun flared into existence, one facing Pink and the second squaring off against Green. That left Brown—whom he figured was both the leader of the group and the most dangerous. Why? Because he was hiding the most.

Brown slashed a hand toward Sun. “Take him.”

“Which one?” Green asked.

“The real one,” Pink said. “These are just flashy illusions.”

Sun directed one of his clones to punch Pink in the face.

She blinked and looked more annoyed than hurt.

“That’s no illusion!” Green reached for clone Two.

Sun’s clones were physical manifestations of his Aura, every bit as capable of inflicting damage as he was. But it could be difficult to control them, especially while he was fighting. They were better suited to giving him the element of surprise, extra pairs of hands, or emergency backup when he needed it.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t sustain them long, and they couldn’t take much damage, as they drew Aura from Sun himself. If he kept them going too long, or tried to create too many clones, it usually weakened the Aura shield protecting him. But he’d improved a lot with training, and his Semblance was a lot stronger than it used to be.

Sun whipped out his gunchucks, Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang, spinning them as he and Brown circled each other slowly. At the same time, Sun was fighting Pink and Green through his clones. Pink was some kind of boxer, dancing around and jabbing with her fists, which One was managing to block. Meanwhile, Green was trying to grab Two and wrestle him to the ground.

Brown had some kind of martial arts training similar to Sun’s—but he wasn’t nearly as good. Sun leaned back as Brown did a high roundhouse kick; he felt a breeze as his opponent’s booted foot swept past his nose with a lot of power behind it. Sun flicked his right gunchuck to loop it around Brown’s ankle and pulled him out of his stance, hitting him with the closed gunchuck in his left hand. The man took the full blow, but it didn’t even faze him.

Now let’s break down some of the reasons why this passage doesn’t work for me. I’ll work chronologically.

As mentioned in the recap, it’s rather awkward for a PoV character to ask and answer their own questions. Especially when they’re not presented as literal thoughts. The “Why? Because...” takes me right out of the story. It suddenly sounds like I’m attending a lecture or reading an article. Sun believes X. Why does he believe this? Because of Y evidence.

The dialogue is clunky. This problem is admittedly more obvious at other points, but there are a lot of moments where it doesn’t feel like this is a natural thing someone would think or say. Which again, is really hard to write. How people speak is quite different from how we think they speak and finding a balance between that (eliminating most pauses like “um” or “like” that would be too frustrating to read, giving characters more flowery language to serve the story’s goals even if it’s not realistic, etc.) is hard to nail. Here, Sun is often thinking things that don’t sound l like an actual thought in a panicked teen’s head.

Oh crap, Sun thought. I’m losing. How am I actually losing?

It just sounds like exposition. The reader needs to know that Sun is losing! So Sun will tell them that.

The villains, so far, are a bit too cartoony for me.

“You got lucky, monkeyboy,” Green said as he walked off, his companions following him through the cloud of foul vapor. “This time.”

Which is admittedly a matter of taste and does have some justification given RWBY’s early writing (think Roman). Still, it’s hard to take lines like this seriously, especially when we just had the group making fun of Velvet for cheesy quips. But the villain’s quips are supposed to read as daunting?

Connected to Sun’s thought above, there is a lot of telling rather than showing throughout. For example: “She blinked and looked more annoyed than hurt.” There are ways of showing the reader that Pink is annoyed (indeed, just leaving it at “She blinked” would have gotten the point across) rather than resorting to, “She looked ___”. Another good example would be “ Sun leaned back as Brown did a high roundhouse kick; he felt a breeze as his opponent’s booted foot swept past his nose with a lot of power behind it.” You don’t need to reassure the reader that there was “a lot of power behind it.” The action itself - feeling a breeze, his boot passing close to his nose - conveys that on its own.

To be clear, telling isn’t something you can’t ever do (break those writing rules!!) especially when sometimes you just want to be clear/convey something succinctly, but it is something to keep in mind. It’s another balancing act. Too much telling and the reader feels like they’re just being told a list of things to believe. Too much showing and it feels like the writer is trying too hard to make everything detailed, exciting, etc. Still, a good writer is going to be able to convey everything (Sun losing a fight, annoyance, a powerful kick) without feeling the need to remind the reader of things every few lines, “This is what’s happening. Don’t get confused!”

After the fight starts we immediately get a two paragraph info-dump about Sun’s semblance. How it works, what his limitations are, and what that means for this fight. Again, show that! We’ve just started an action sequence. The fight is underway. The reader doesn’t want to get pulled out of the action for another lecture. Rather than hitting pause on the fun stuff to explain things, create scenarios where these details become relevant and can be shown to the reader. Right now we don’t care what Sun’s limitations are unless those limitations become important.

We get another announcement in the form of “[Brown] wasn’t nearly as good [as Sun]” instead of (again) showing us that. Indeed, as I mention in the recap all the action that comes next contradicts this. So where did this assertion come from? If Sun knows that Brown uses a martial arts style similar to his then theoretically they’ve been fighting for at least a few seconds... but the reader doesn’t get to see that. Meyers was too busy telling us about Sun’s semblance.

Finally, there are pockets of Meyer’s writing that are all roughly the same. Meaning, sentences have little variety to them. This isn’t a consistent problem (and it’s certainly not the worst example I’ve seen of this) but on the whole he could use a more engaging flow to his work, both in terms of sentence length and balance among actions, dialogue, descriptions, and thoughts. Otherwise you get prose that reads, “This happened. Then this happened. This happened next. See the length? It’s all the same. Very little changes. And the reader gets bored.” Again, not a consistent problem, but one he should keep working on.

There are a number of other, smaller issues that are beginning to pop up. Such as the in parentheses pronunciation of the teams’ names, or the overuse of “he sent” whenever Fox communicates telepathically. In contrast, there are things about the writing that I’ve enjoyed. There are moments of dialogue - such as Fox’s joke in Chapter One, or how Sun’s instructions to “find Shade” literally refer to the school but also remind the reader that shade, in such a hot environment, is crucial - that I think are worth pointing to and going, “Yeah. That was a nice touch.” Overall though? It’s that, “I just came out of a bad movie” feeling. There’s too much clunkiness throughout. The writing often lacks variety or feels absurd. I’m taken out of the story more often than I fall into it. Is it the worst thing I’ve ever read? Far from it, but fans aren’t wrong when they say things like, “I’ve read better fic than this professional story.”

#rwby #rwde #mymetas #Anonymous

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squirrelacorngliterfarts · 4 years

Text

Blood. 2. 6.

Everything Taglist: @gold-dragon-slayer @your-internet-granny

@darkwhisperswolf @youbloodymadgenius @blonddnamedhandz @thelastemzy @inforapound @supermassiveblackhope @captstefanbrandt @roonil-wxzlib @syreni-dea @cynthianokamaria @rosiebrosie @loliismutt@pinkisokay @heavenly1927 @annekleyn

wanna start from the beginning? haven’t read the first part? start here! Blood 1 Masterlist

Warnings: death, violence, gore, disturbed reader.

three days had passed far too quickly. it felt more like hours than days.

she stood beside ubbe, looking to the gates of york, gripping the leather vest around her body.

ubbe looks over at her, he frowns deeply when he sees her, her face blank.

“you don’t have to do this, you know. we can handle it”.

“i can handle it, ubbe. i’m going to help. i can not stand back and just watch my family fight and risk their lives without me being involved”.

ubbe nods, wrapping his arm around her waist. he knows there is nothing more he can say.

“ready?”.

“as i’ll ever be”.

ivar waves his hand, signalling the time is now.

ubbe waits for the ladder men prepare themselves, and when the first ladder is raised, they move. fast.

they charge forward, and ubbe looks to (y/n) in question, but all she does is nod.

ubbe picks (y/n) up high, just above shoulder length and when she taps at his arm, he throws her up.

she catches the highest step, swinging herself upwards, landing on the top of the wall with little to no grace, kicking the first guard that comes her way in the stomach, sending him backwards.

she watches as he collides with the ground, killing him instantly.

she hisses in disgust, her mind wandering before she has to bring it back to the current moment.

this wasn’t the time to think of her morals.

ubbe climbs up, and (y/n) aids him, using what strength she had to pull him up the rest of the way.

ubbe kills the man who comes up behind (y/n), and (Y/n) shutters, smelling the freshly spilled blood.

it reminds her of the battle against alle, all the horrible killing she had done.

she was sick of it.

she ducks, falling on to her back and swiping her legs underneath the next guard, making him fall back, and ubbe is quick to sink his axe into the man’s skull.

“up!, follow me!” (y/n) calls out to the rest of the army.

meanwhile, ubbe jumps from the wall, holding his arms out for (y/n). she jumps into them, patting ubbe on the chest.

“thank you, brother” she says, receiving a curt nod from him.

she runs over to the gate and axes the handles, ripping the doors wide open.

she moves out of the way as ivar rushes in, hvitserk on his chariot with him.

she sees a soldier coming her way and she is ready for his attack.

he swings his sword at her, only to have it stopped by her axe, she flicks her wrist and his sword is in the dirt.

he is swift, graceful with his movements, missing her every move, blocking her every punch and kick.

she falls to her knees as he hits her in the face, she knows there is no way out of this cleanly.

she grabs her discarded axe and swings it, trying to ignore the blood splatter upon her face, the scream that tears through the mans throat.

she stabs him. and she stabs him again, over and over and over.

she then finds herself, atop of this man, repeatedly sinking her axe into the mans lifeless body, a dark rage overcoming her.

she blinks, running the back of her palm across her eye, trying to rid it of blood.

she stands up, ripping her axe from the mans stomach and heads on, following ivar’s chariot.

she’s breathing deeply, trying to come out of that hypnotic state she lost herself in.

no. no. no. no. no. not again. you will not become that again.

, but she almost loses it once more when one of the men come up behind her, wrapping his arms around her neck, trying to twist her around unnaturally to break her neck.

there’s only one thing she can do, with her arms being no help against his strength, she adjusts her chin, biting down on the forearms that’s constricting her air way.

the man screams as her teeth breaks through his skin, and tries to rip himselffree, which only made her take his flesh in her mouth.

she spits it out, remembering the one saxon whom she bit his throat out.

she grimaces as she swallows his blood, the hunk of flesh spat from her mouth, he goes to make his way back to her, his arm pouring blood.

she grabs her abandoned sword and quickly peirces his gut, sipping it from him, and fnishing him off by slicing his head from his body.

she exhales shakily, her body numb as she watches his lifeless body fall to the ground.

thankfully her brothers hadn’t witnessed this, their fear for her sanity would have overcame them.

she nods to herself, taking one last look at the man.

“i’m sorry”.

with a few more dodges and just one more kill, they arrive at their destination.

the church.

something deep inside of her itches, burns and pulls, and she doesn’t know why she feels so strongly about this place.

“(y/n)”.

she turns and sees ivar staring at her from his chariot.

“ready?”.

the excitement in his voice makes her feel uneasy, but nevertheless, she smiles and nods.

he must of thought she was enjoying this from the look of all the blood on her body.

(y/n) looks up high and notices a large cross made of stone above the building.

just as they get closer, she can hear a man chanting something, over and over and over and over.

there’s no denying, it’s beautiful.

she can’t help but want to stop hvitserk opening the doors.

but he’s too quick for her.

none of the people inside notice them, continuing their prayer for this holy day of theirs.

it makes (y/n)’s throat suddenly tighten with emotion, her lip almost quivering as she knew what was to come.

it wasn’t until one woman screams, and the vikings are moving fast.

they slice and cut their way through the christian people, blood spilling against the stone floor.

she can barely understand their language, but she can catch sentences here and there.

and it hurts her heart to hear them pleading for their lives, trying to bargain with gold and silver.

just as she goes to axe the first man she sees, she finds herself paused, looking into the eyes of the panicked man.

she can’t.

hvitserk cuts passed her, doing her job for her.

(y/n) can’t bare the sight. she turns, panting heavily as she races outside, leaning against the wall of the church.

a few men try to beckon her in, but she can’t, waving them off and shaking her head, declining their offer.

she sees that ivar had crawled in, and he was nowhere to be found.

moments pass and the screams die down, only whimpers and cries of pain.

she decides that she can go in now. she sees that they left few people alive, a baby crying in the center of it all.

but that’s not what made her freeze in her tracks, her eyes widening, her life slowing before her.

there sits ivar, happily laughing as he and his men hold the christian priest down, pouring hot, liquid gold into his mouth, suffocating him, torturing him slowly before he dies.

(y/n) is horrified, her whole body cold and unmoving, she feels shock overcome her in a way she’d never felt before.

she knew ivar was ruthless in battle, articulate, cunning, smart and vicious. but this?, he was laughing, smiling like his first born child has entered the world.

he liked it.

(y/n) wants to cry out to stop him, to do something. anything. but she can’t.

she blinks several times, moving amongst the large amount of dead bodies to reach the still crying infant.

she looks to her left as she bends low to pick the child up, seeing three women looking from each other to (y/n), fear in their eyes, yet the fear was not for themselves.

it was for the infant.

(y/n) wonders if one of them was it’s mother.

she goes to take a step towards him, but remembers what she must look like, doused in blood, it caking in her hair and around her neck.

she bends low to grab a piece of forgotten fabric, running it along her hands and skin, trying to rid herself of the blood before going to him.

she picks the small boy up, shushing him, laying him against her half cleaned chest, softly rocking him back and forth.

and she’s smiling just slightly when the child calms down, his hands gripping her armour with dainty fingers.

the women are confused, still fearful, but wondering why this cruel northwoman was caring so kindly for a child that wasn’t hers.

she takes the child out of the hall, ignoring the others strange looks.

she sets the baby down outside, safely on a cart, kissing it’s head gently before going back inside.

she walks over to the women, ignoring their flinches and unruly gaze as she stands over them.

“come on. please get up” she says in their language, and the women, thinking they were going to be punished by not doing so, get up and do as their told.

“what are you doing?” hvitserk asks, meanwhile ivar was to busy dealing with the priest, and ubbe was just watching the scene between his younger siblings.

“i am taking them away from here” she says, going to turn away, but hvitserks hand on her should prevents her from doing so.

“they need to be dealt with. killed”.

“they are women. christian women who don’t know how to fight or defend themselves. let them go” (Y/n) says, staring hard into the eyes of her brother.

“they will go and get men, raise an army, bring them back here and-”.

she looks at the women, speaking quickly.

“please, once you leave here, do not come back. do not tell anyone of what has happened here, that will only lead to more death and destruction of your people. you have each other, do your best to keep it that way. yes?”.

they nod, still holding on to one another, their eyes trained on the woman who saved them.

“let’s go” (y/n) says, leading them away.

she gets them outside and grabs the child, handing it to the oldest looking woman.

“there is a boat just off to the corner of the town, it is one of our ships, take it and go as far from the north as you can, try to find a familiar settlement. don’t look back, and don’t come back”. her words were harsh, but she couldn't have hvitserk proving her right.

the women understand, hurriedly running in the direction she told them to go.

they look over their shoulders.

“thank you, kind northwoman” the one says, and (y/n) smiles.

“go”.

they leave, and (y/n) feels a sickening feeling overcome her.

what would ivar say when hvitserk told him what had happened?, that she had let the christians go instead of letting him deal with them?.

she inhales deeply, exhales shakily, running her hands over her face in frustration.

even though she knew she’d be told otherwise, she knew she did the right thing

#ivar's heathen army #ivar the boneless #bjorn #hvitserk #ubbe #(y/n)#vikings #vikings x lothbrok!reader #vikings x reader #vikings fanfiction #vikings imagine #fanfiction #imagine #angst #violence #writing

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ourloveisforthelovely · 4 years

Text

Fresh Start 3

Harry Potter AU

Characters: Sirius Black x Reader

Link to Chapter

Rating: M

_____

The next morning, you stood in line waiting to purchase a pre-made cake to take to the Weasley’s. The last thing that you really wanted to do at the moment was cook! When your eyes opened that morning, you were ready to throw your guts up.

“I’m going to kill Sirius when he gets home. That’s it! He’s a dead man.”

You muttered under your breath as another wave of nausea washed over you. Harry, meanwhile, decided to start pulling on the buttons of the tweed coat you were wearing. You mentally thanked the toddler for any kind of distraction that he had to offer you. The less that you had to think about being pregnant in addition to Sirius out there without the knowledge that he was about to be a father the better off you were!

“Easy, love.”

You whispered to your nephew as the clerk finished up. The clerk gave you a small smile before handing you the bag.

Walking out of the store, you let your mind go back to the previous thoughts. How in the hell were you going to tell Sirius about the baby? Were you just going to blurt it out or should you butter him up then drop the news? Molly’s idea seemed to be the best and healthiest.

“Sit him down, just the two of you, and tell him. Sirius loves you. I know the time isn’t ideal with everything going on but the two of you can do it. The two of you have been together since you were kids...now you’re having kids.”

You smiled at the thought. Molly always knew what to say at the worst times!

“Y/n?”

A voice and someone touching your arm quickly pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to see none other than Regulus Black standing behind you.

“Regulus, what do you want?”

You snapped before tightening your hold on Harry. If the man thought that he was going to get Harry, he had another thing coming. You didn’t mind hexing Sirius’ younger brother!

The younger man shook his head and held his hands up.

“I haven’t come to harm you. I need to talk to you... it's important.”

“I’m busy.”

You replied coldly. Regulus gave you that displeased expression that you had seen on Sirius’ face many times.

“Too busy to talk to an old friend? Like it or not, Y/n, we were friends. You were kind to me when the rest of my brother’s merry gang of men were cruel to me. Can’t you spare me a moment, for old times sake?”

You scowled at the man before adjusting Harry in your arms.

“Fine. What can I do for you?”

Regulus motioned to a small table at a cafe.

“Come sit down.”

You slowly followed and did as you were told. Looking at Regulus broke your heart. He was right. The two of you were friends. You were the only one out of your friends that was nice to the boy. The boy...that’s what he was to you. He would always be Sirius’ younger brother. He was the perfect son in his parent’s eyes. Their pure blood mania was almost too insane to deal with.

“I see you got your nephew.”

You nodded.

“Indeed. Some of you stupid death eater friends killed my brother and sister-in-lae. Just an FYI, when I get my hands on Pettigrew...it won’t be pretty.”

Regulus frowned. He knew that you would be furious over James and Lily being killed. Regulus could have cared less. He had always blamed James for turning Sirius away from the family...more particularly him. James seemed to be the brother that Sirius always wanted. When he made friends with James, Regulus was no longer wanted or needed.

“It won’t make any difference.”

You tilted your head, totally confused by his insolent attitude.

“What do you mean?”

Regulus leaned back as the waitress put two cups of coffee in front of you. He waited until she was gone before speaking again. The last thing that he wanted was for little ears who didn’t belong overhearing the conversation.

“This whole stupid war. Nothing is going to be fixed with all of the fighting. Too many people are dying for the wrong reasons.”

You kept your eyes on Regulus curiously. This was coming from the boy who was so proud to sign up to be a death eater! He was making mommy and daddy Black proud. Now he was saying that none of this mattered!

Before you could make a comment, your stomach rolled at the smell of the beverage in front of you. Holding your breath, you tried to keep your mind on Regulus’ words.

“Then what are the right reasons?”

“Not what we are seeing.”

He replied simply. You sat blinking. Regulus knew that you were getting confused and annoyed

“Regulus, whose side are you on?”

His grey eyes rolled to yours. The smirk that he gave you reminded you too much of his brother!

“I can’t say. So how are you?”

You took another deep breath, trying to keep a grip on your stomach. It was taking all you had not to get violently ill on Regulus’ obviously expensive shoes.

“Fine.”

“You’re awfully pale.”

“I’m not feeling well.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow as you scooted the coffee away from you. He decided to go out on a limb. Hopefully, he was wrong but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be the case.

“How far are you?”

Your head snapped up and what color was in your face drained out.

“Excuse me?”

Regulus smirked. He had spent enough time with Malfoy’s while Narcissa was pregnant to recognize a pregnant woman from a mile away!

“You’re pregnant aren’t you? Does my brother know?”

When you didn’t respond Regulus sighed. He ran a hand through his short hair (another habit he obviously got from his older brother).

“You are going to have to tell him. Sirius will figure it out and angry for being left in the dark. I didn’t know the two of you were back together.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We aren’t. Not yet at least...and I know exactly how Sirius is. I have been with him since we were 15.”

Regulus was clearly conflicted.

“Do you need anything? If my brother isn’t taking care of you at least let me.”

You shook your head. This was getting out of control and fast!

“Regulus, he doesn’t know! When he finds out, Sirius will do what he’s supposed to. I appreciate your concern. Sirius will be a wondering father! He’s great with Harry.”

Regulus’ grim expression didn’t soften. He knew Sirius would be a good father. Sirius would be 100% better than their own father.

“I won’t know. Y/n, you know that Sirius won’t let me see the baby. We are both not welcomed in each other’s lives. You can get a hold of me if you need anything.”

Regulus slowly got up and disappeared. He had forgotten the entire reason that had wanted to talk to you. Now his mind was as twisted as a pretzel.

The conversation with Regulus troubled you most of the afternoon. Arriving at Molly’s you tried to push the conversation from your mind. Molly opened the door with her usual giddy smile.

“Y/n, darling! It's so good to see you! Here let me have Harry. I’ll put him in the other room with Ron.”

Harry didn’t fight Molly, taking him before looking back to you. Molly kissed his forehead eagerly.

“Don’t worry, little one. She isn’t going anywhere.”

You gave your nephew a little wave before looking around the room. There was no sign of Sirius. You felt a little disappointed Sirius was typically one of the first ones back but tonight not so much.

“He’s not here yet.”

You looked over your shoulder and was relieved to hear Remus’ voice. Turning, you quickly wrapped your arms around your best friend.

“How are you feeling?”

Remus asked. You sighed.

“I feel horrible. I have been throwing up all morning and I really think that I am starting to show.”

You ran your hand down your still flat stomach. Remus grinned.

“I think you are just imagining that. You look nice.”

You couldn't help smiling. Remus Lupin always knew what to say at the right time! That was one thing that you were thankful for!

Your attention went to the fresh cuts on his face and neck. The full moon. You had forgotten all about the full moon! Here Remus was worrying over you when he was going through his own hell that hit every month.

“How about you?”

You asked gently. Remus frowned.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know what I mean, Remus.”

“I look worse than I feel.”

You pressed your lips together and wrapped your hand around his.

“Come by the house later. I have some stuff that I can put on you.”

“You’re too good to me, Y/n”

Remus knew it was too light of a comment for everything that you actually did for him. You took care of him when you didn’t have to.

“That’s called being a best friend. Just like you sat with me while I did 12 pregnancy tests.”

You said with a smile. Remus shrugged with a grin.

The door opening and closing pulled your attention from Remus. Sirius stood taking off his coat. You glanced at Remus.

“Well, time to face the music.”

You took a deep breath before going to where Sirius stood cuddling Harry. His grey eyes rolled to you before smiling. You stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. Sirius was completely shocked by the act. He had half expected you to not even pay attention to him.

“Hello, stranger.”

Sirius said with a smirk. When you blushed, Sirius was slightly surprised. He half expected you to tell him to stop his flirting.

“I should say the same to you. Can we talk?”

Sirius nodded. He was more than happy to talk! For six weeks he had been stewing over the fact that the two of you had slept together then you were too good to face him!

Walking into Molly and Arthur’s room, you waited until Sirius closed the door. He automatically went from normal Sirius Black to “I am fucking pissed and you’re going to hear about it.”

“So you sleep with me then will not talk to me for six weeks. Is that how we are?”

“Sirius, I’m sorry. You know that I had to pick up Harry. This isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Sirius rolled his eyes before lighting a cigarette.

“Let me guess. You’re pregnant.”

The comment was totally sarcastic. When you burst into tears, Sirius quickly put the cigarette out.

“Y/n!”

He said your name a little higher pitched than he meant to.

“I am.”

You said in a barely audible whisper. Sirius was dead silent. His eyes were wide in shock. This had to be the worst time ever to be having a baby! He stood motionless. His eyes were locked on you going from your face to your stomach.

“Sirius, say something.”

“Are you sure?”

He managed to choke out. You gave him the world’s biggest bitch face. What kind of question was that?

“It isn’t hard to pee on a stick! I took 12. Ask Remus if you don’t believe me.”

Sirius immediately looked annoyed.

“So you couldn’t call the father of the child but you could call another man?”

He knew that it was a cruel comment but the jealous side of his brain had roared back with a vengeance.

“Sirius, you were on a job! I couldn’t just get a hold of you and be like hey I may or may not be pregnant. Want to come home while I find out?”

Sirius stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes, you could! Why don’t you just go have a baby with Remus? I’m sure he would be a better boyfriend than me too.”

Your mouth dropped. This WAS not the reaction that you had expected!

“Funny, I don’t want him as my boyfriend. I was hoping that would be your job! Stop acting like your family! You’re better than that.”

Sirius’ mouth dropped. He stared at you for a moment before appeatating out of the room.

An hour later, Sirius sat with a half-empty bottle of fire whiskey in front of him as he lay on the bed. He had been pouting from the moment that he arrived home. Was his comment about Remus out of line? Yes, it was. Sirius knew that there was nothing between Remus and yourself. He had been a jealous shit over the fact that you would go to Remus over him. Maybe it wasn’t jealousy but hurt.

“If you hadn’t treated her like crap, in the beginning, Y/n would have come to you...like she did with anything else.”

The voice in Sirius’ head was right! When the two of you were in school, if something was wrong Sirius fixed it. If you had a problem, he was the first person that you went to (which of course unless it was sexual in nature, James was taking care of the problem too.)

“Do you think that you handled that appropriately?”

Sirius jumped up to see Remus standing in the doorway. His friend looked pretty annoyed...and he had a good reason.

“Probably not.”

Sirius muttered as he stood up. He slightly staggered from all of the booze that he had just downed.

“Y/n is very upset and all you have to say is probably not? Sirius, I love Y/n dearly. She is one of my best friends. I, however, have no romantic interest in her! Y/n has made it very obvious since we were teenagers that you were the one that she wanted. She wanted the rebel bad boy, not the shy bookworm.”

Sirius’ grey eyes rolled to his friend before siling.

“Sorry, Moony.”

When Remus smiled, Sirius knew that all was forgiven.

“You should go talk to her.”

Remus said. Sirius looked up as his smile faded.

“What am I going to do, Remus? We are having a baby at the worst time ever. I’m no good as a boyfriend. Tonight’s behavior showed that. I’m supposed to get her pregnant when we are trying for a baby not during some drunken one night stand.”

Remus sat down. He knew that this was going to be one hell of a conversation.

“Maybe it's what the two of you need? Have you thought about that? Both of you were looking for a sign that your love was meant to be. I know that you don’t think it is a good time...that is probably what makes it the right time.You are doing splendidly with Harry. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Sirius smiled at the mention of Harry’s name. He had to admit that watching you care for the baby made the man in him go crazy.

“What if I can’t take care of them? What if I fuck up again?”

Remus shook his head.

“You will fuck up again but that is where Y/n and yourself will show how strong you are as a couple. Sirius, she was the girl that essentially tamed you. You love her madly. You can care for Y/n and the kids properly. You have the ability.”

Sirius sighed.

“My family’s name and money will take care of them...the things that I hate.”

Remus put a hand on his friend’s back. His poor friend was definitely on the self-hatred train for the evening.

“It will be you. Sure, those things are helpful. Sirius, you are not your family. You can raise Harry and the baby differently. Besides, it isn’t like your mom and dad will be jumping to come into the picture.”

Sirius smirked. Remus was definitely right there! He hadn’t heard a peep from his parents in years.

“Remus, can you go get Y/n?”

Remus nodded and opened the door. You stood on the other side, obviously hearing the whole conversation. Remus grinned before stepping out of the room.

“I’ll just get Harry down for the night.”

Once Remus was out of the picture, Sirius held out his hand to you. You could tell by looking at him that he was half-drunk but you didn’t care. At least, he would be willing to listen. You smiled at the thought of Sirius being a needy drunk.

Wrapping your hand around his, you didn’t fight Sirius when he pulled you into his arms. The hug was exactly what the two of you needed!

“Y/n, I am really sorry. I was a big jerk. I guess I was...am scared.”

There it was! The emotion that you needed to see! You didn’t want Sirius to keep all of this locked up inside himself!

“And you think that I’m not? Sirius, I am really scared! I was worried that you would never want to be with me once that you found out.”

Sirius was clearly stunned by that comment. How could he not want to be with you? He had been desperate to get you back since the day you walked out on him! Maybe he wasn’t vocalizing his desperation enough?

“Y/n, I’m not some idiot! Look, I know that I treated you badly for a while and I am eternally sorry for that. I want to fix what happened between us. I want to make you happy.”

For the first time in months, that cold angry side of yourself had vanished! You stood up enough to pull him into a kiss. Sirius was motionless at first but quickly wrapped his arms around you to deepen the kiss.

“I want to make you happy too.”

You said against his mouth.

“Would you still marry me? I don’t want people talking and the way things are…”

You slowly pulled away as Sirius’ voice cracked. The way things are...that sentence alone was very telling. A lot of other people were eloping at crazy rates. You figured the thought of possibly being killed the next day was enough to scare anyone into wanting to do wild things.

Your mind immediately went to James and Lily. James wouldn't be there to give you away. Lily wouldn't be able to help you fuss over dresses.

“I would. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

Sirius reached into his pocket and slowly slid your engagement ring back on your finger.

“You kept my ring?”

Sirius nodded as he pressed a kiss to your ring finger.

“It's been in my pocket since you left.”

His eyes looked pained when he said the word left. You quickly reached up and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I’m not leaving again!”

Sirius was relieved to hear that! The promise that he wouldn't be alone again was everything that he wanted to hear!

(Meanwhile)

Regulus walked into 12 Grimmauld Place in a huff. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone at the moment!

“My son is that you?”

Regulus groaned at hearing his mother’s voice. He knew that he might as well face her and get it over with.

“Yes, mum. It's me.”

Regulus walked into the living room where his mother sat sipping a glass of wine. Her cold eyes were focused on a book that she was reading. The woman couldn't even be bothered to look at her “favorite” son.

“Is all well?”

She asked. Regulus shrugged.

“Do you remember Y/n Potter?”

Walburga slammed the book and glared up angrily! She didn’t want to hear your name!

“The whore is a blood traitor. What about her?”

Regulus fought back a groan. He didn't want to get in a fight with Walburga that night.

“That would be her. Y/n is pregnant. She’s having Sirius’ baby.”

Walburga instantly looked like someone shoved a handful of lemon drops in her mouth.

“Don’t say his name in this house! You’re telling me that Sirius is having a child with her?”

Regulus nodded as he poured a glass of whiskey.

“That is exactly what is happening. Like it or not mum, the child will be part of this family. At least you won’t have ugly grandchildren. Y/n is lovely and Sirius...well you’ve met him.”

Walburga stood up and walked to the window. She was dead silent for a few moments before turning quickly.

“Maybe I should pay the happy couple a visit.”

_______

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