#why was i pressured into working with my mother at her place of work to get everyone off my back even tho my anxiety was still bad?

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 31

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“I… I feel like I need to push,” you grunted out.

Your doctor ran to your bedside.  “Okay, dear, okay, follow my lead, alright?”  She assisted in turning you on your side, adjusting your various tubes to better accommodate your position.  “Like we discussed, okay?  This position will help reduce the pressure on your pelvis and make it much easier to push.”

You nodded, your expression contorting in a grimace as a much stronger contraction ran through you in waves, lingering in your muscles like radiation. Your hands were curled up by your head, lacking anything to hold on to, so you resorted to fisting the white cotton sheets covering the mattress below you.  It felt mildly uncomfortable, but as soon as you were settled, you felt like your muscles were able to work much more effectively.  You breathed out a pained sigh, the pressure in your lower abdomen increasing in waves.

“You’re starting to crown already,” another nurse spoke up.  “Your body is already so primed for delivery!  It’s like you’ve been practicing.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this was your third or fourth baby!”

“I’m going to hold your hand, alright?” your doctor asked, confirming with you on what would make you the most comfortable.  “How bad is your pain?  We can get you started on an epidural.”

“It’s…”  As soon as the contraction ceased, another one followed in its place.  You were outrageously close.  “It’s pretty bad,” you confirmed.

“I’m impressed, when I gave birth to my first, I almost passed out.  The pain was so bad!” one of the nurses at the other side of your room called out.  “You have quite the tolerance!”

You flashed a weak smile.  If only these nurses knew.

Your doctor rubbed your head reassuringly.  She really did feel like a mother in her own right.  “We’ll start that epidural.  Once that’s in place and you’re stable, we’ll begin pushing.  Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes wearily glanced up at her calm, reassuring face.  “I know it’s a long shot but… can you call my husband?”

—

The second lung was almost fully detached.  Over halfway through the surgery now, it had been much faster and more successful than anyone thought it would be.  Alongside a few breaks that were taken by the staff to relieve themselves and stretch their backs, sterile orange juice breaks sipped through plastic straws, and brief physical therapy for the unconscious patient to make sure his blood continued to circulate properly and his skin wasn’t damaged, the operation was going very, very smoothly.

And thank goodness.  Law needed some good news right now.

Among the beeping sounds of the patient’s heart monitor, the wrrr of the bypass machine, and the soft chatter amongst the team as they worked, a new sound infiltrated the space.  In the farthest corner of the room, Law’s hospital pager went off.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked.

“My pager,” Law responded.  His voice was laced with anxiety.  He was barely keeping it together, and who knows why his pager might have been going off in the middle of an operation.

The circulating nurse took it upon herself to snatch up the small device, pressing the response button.  The best, or arguably worst, thing about the pagers was how loud they were.  Everyone could hear the voice that came through the other end.

[Dr. Trafalgar Law?  Dr. Trafalgar?]  It was a woman’s voice.

“I’m listening,” he shouted back.  The nurse stepped slightly closer with the pager in her hand.

[This is Nurse Kaya from Labor & Delivery, your wife is crowning.  Just wanted to let you know.]

Spoken far too casually for the news that made Law’s stomach drop like a brick.  He was missing the birth.

“FUCK,” he suddenly shouted, his hands still carefully working at the lung’s connective tissue.  It was as if his body and his mind were on completely different wavelengths.  So much for operating room etiquette.  The air in the room had gone completely cold as nervous glances among the team were shared.

“Doctor, I’m not opposed to relieving you with another on-call surgeon.  I know this is a huge ordeal, but we’re almost done and… this is a special case,” one of the head nurses spoke up.

He was clearly deliberating heavily in his mind.  He wanted to run, carry himself as fast as his feet could handle, and get to your side.  He needed to be there with you.  He was missing the birth of his first child.  A lump developed in his throat.  The protective husband side of him had the stoic, focused surgeon side pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat.

“Get the on-call surgeon here immediately and have him gowned and sterilized,” he finally barked, passing his tools off to his assistant and stepping away from the body.  A few relieved gasps were shared amongst the team as the circulating nurse brought Law out from the theater and into the prep room where she assisted in frantically undressing him from his surgical scrubs and passing his phone and pager back into his possession.  His operating room attire was quickly disposed of in a biohazard waste bin while he quickly washed his hands in the nearby basin.

“Doctor, good luck,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling under her mask.

Law could only pass her a faint grin as he shrugged on his white coat, stuffed his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and sprinted out of the prep room.  On the way, the on-call surgeon passed by and planted a reassuring smack to Law’s shoulder before replacing him.

Law was breaking every hospital rule there was.  Sprinting through the hallway, his feet hammering against the tiled ground as he fought his way through the hospital’s expansive campus, past patient rooms, nurses’ stations, and waiting areas.  Why did L&D have to be so far away?!  His eyes followed the signs on the walls pointing him in the right direction, his muscle memory leading the way.  He scaled two flights of stairs two-at-a-time, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to stop.  He was almost positive he would tear a muscle with how fast he was running.  But that didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, he pushed through the doors into the maternity ward, flashing his badge frantically at the nurse behind the check-in desk.  He was panting, barely able to catch his breath, one of his hands shaking as it supported his weight against the desk.

“My… Trafalgar… where… shit…” he panted, beads of sweat pilling on his forehead below his ragged bangs.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right,” the nurse instructed, her voice pleasantly calm.  She must have seen this a lot.

He barely uttered out a ‘thank you’ before he was off again, pounding down the tiled hallways past delivery and recovery rooms, past the expansive NICU and small groups of families and doctors.  He had tunnel vision.  He needed to get to you.

Take a left.

Then a right.

He almost sprinted past the door to the delivery room you were in, only backtracking when he caught the pained sound of your voice from within.  He flung the door open, nurses surrounding you jumping from shock at the sight.

“Dr. Trafalgar?!” one of them exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Law ignored her.

Your eyes went wide, your hand being held by the doctor who had admitted you.  Tears immediately brimmed in the corners of your vision as a pained smile broke out on your face.  Law took the spot of your doctor instantly, almost throwing himself at you as he littered your face with kisses, grasping your hand and holding in his pain as you squeezed harshly against his bones, the force of another contraction gripping your body.  You were laying on your side, one of your knees tucked upward toward your chest as far as you could manage to allow the baby more room to come out.  You had an epidural tube sticking out of your spine, your upper body barely covered by blankets and the open-back hospital gown to accommodate for the birth.

“You made it…” you wheezed, torn between the attention on your husband and the baby coming out of you.

“I couldn’t miss it… I couldn’t…” he wheezed.  He was still very winded, his lungs shuddering for breaths.  Any longer and he would’ve been the one needing a dual pulmonary transplant.

“Ready for another push?” shouted one of the nurses at your bedside above the noise.

You nodded, biting your lower lip.  Your face was glistening with sweat.  Your body tensed up, gripping Law’s hand like a lifeline as you pushed, a pained groan emanating from deep within your throat as your eyes pinched shut.

“How is she doing?” demanded Law, gazing at the doctor who took her spot at the end of your bed where your legs were parted.

“She’s doing great, both babies are in cephalic position, her blood pressure is good and her heart rate is even better, it’s unlikely she’ll need emergency intervention.  I’m incredibly pleased considering her medical history,” the older doctor explained.  “Come over here.”

Law gazed at you, a fond smile on your lips as you released his hand so he could join his extended colleague at the foot of your bed.

“Delivering on her side helps lessen the pressure on her body as well as the baby’s,” the woman explained.

Law’s breath caught in his throat.  Emerging from you was a head of fuzzy black hair, slicked with amniotic fluid.  One of the nurses called for another push, and your lower body tensed up, your muscles clenching as hard as they could while you pushed the baby out more.  Law quickly returned to your side, grasping your hand once more.

“Baby… how are you doing?” he asked, desperate for your personal opinion, his lungs finally settling as he took in your exhausted appearance.

You grimaced.  “The epidural has been helping, but it hurt like a bitch going in,” you groaned.  “I’ve been having contractions since 2 in the morning.  I just want them to be out already.”

“Once the head is delivered, the rest will be easy!” one of the nurses called, a bright smile on her face.

Law felt himself smile as well.  Being a delivery nurse must have been incredibly rewarding on the best days.  He glanced at the clock on the far wall.  It was almost 10 in the evening.  His heart panged in his chest.

“You’re doing amazing, baby, you’re amazing,” he whispered in your ear, planting another kiss against the soft, sweat-soaked skin of your forehead.

“One more push, dear!” the doctor called.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles contracting with all your might at the count of the nurses assisting you, your hand clamping down on Law’s.  He held in his grimace of pain, supporting you as best he could.  Some slight hand bruises were nothing compared to what you were experiencing.  How chivalrous of him.

A sudden rushing feeling emanated from your body, a wet sensation prickling your skin through the numbness of the epidural.  Your heart rate picked up, your eyes growing wide as you worriedly asked, “What was that?!”

“Your water broke, dear!  Everything’s alright!” a nurse responded.

You moaned in pain.  “It’s about damn time.”  Your grip on Law’s hand released slightly, and you watched as a small smile appeared on his lips.

With one more push, the pressure in your groin finally dissipated somewhat as a nurse pulled your first baby out of you.  With the collapse of the amniotic sacs, it was much easier to deliver the rest of its body, much to your relief.  As soon as the contractions stopped, however, they began again.

“Keep going, darling, just one more to go!” the doctor called.  “It’s right there!”

You barely had the energy to pick your head up to look, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as Law examined the nurses huddled around your baby at the foot of your bed.  It was placed in a small portable incubator, being hooked up to machines to assess its condition.  35 weeks was still pretty early, so it made sense.  Its umbilical cord was clamped about two minutes after emerging from your womb.  Law tried to keep his anxiety repressed as your body shuddered with another contraction.

“The second baby is always easier, darling, you’re already fully dilated from the first,” explained your doctor, giving a reassuring pat to your ankle.

“First baby’s stable!” called one of the nurses.  “It’s a girl!”

Law felt his chest clench at the news.  His eyes lit up as he gazed at you, a smile pulling on his lips.  A weary smile formed on your own face as you were instructed to push once again.  Much to the room’s relief, the second baby did indeed come out much quicker than the first.  The loss of the amniotic fluid from your uterus and the stretching that your pelvis had endured with the first made it worlds easier for your second baby to emerge into the world.  The process repeated- a quick cleaning, a clamp after two minutes, and a quick check of vital signs.

“Another girl!” one of the nurses called, assessing the second in another small incubator.  “Also stable!”

You were helped onto your back in somewhat of a hurry, the two boxes containing your babies pushed toward your bedside where they were quickly gathered in bundles of blankets and placed on your chest.  It was all happening so fast, the world was practically blurring around you.  As soon as your babies touched your skin, it was as if a deep-rooted instinct emerged from you.  Law watched with pride as you nestled your newborns into your chest, your gentle hands holding their backs as they took in their first breaths as living humans.

Holy shit.

The room had quickly gone quiet around the four of you, a few of the nurses cleaning you up and reviewing your condition while additional nurses left the room to prepare suitable beds in the NICU for your newborns.  Even though they were both healthy and stable, they needed some extra time to grow.

“Law…?” you asked weakly, turning your head to look at your husband.

Law’s golden eyes were wide, frozen, large, salty tears streaming silently down his cheeks.  His chin was quivering as he gazed over you.  His three girls.

His girls.  He had two daughters.

Your husband huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a weary sob as he moved closer to you, stroking your head with his hand as he gazed warmly over the two tiny bodies on your chest, making their first contact with their mother.  He wiped his eyes clumsily with the sleeve of his white coat, inhaling a gross-sounding sniffle through his nose.

“I’m sorry I’m crying…” he blubbered.

“Don’t be…” you replied, your own tears welling in your eyes.  “You’re finally a daddy.  I’m happy you’re crying.”  You quietly laughed as Law reached forward with his hand, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, followed by another tender kiss against your jaw.

A nurse quickly stopped by your bedside, slipping small white cotton hats onto the tiny noggins of your daughters before leaving the four of you alone for a few more moments.  The skin-to-skin time was crucial for their attachment to you, and once that was established, they’d be able to go into the NICU for their extra care.

Both of the girls, despite being only around 35 weeks, had near-full heads of hair.  It made you wonder what they would have looked like being born at full-term.  The one over your left breast had tiny black curls that still stuck to her head.  The one over your right breast had thinner, straighter wisps of a lighter brown color.  They’d come into their own in a few more months as they grew, but even just from first looks, they were both clearly their father’s daughters.

—

The minutes following the birth were quite nasty if one were to ask you.  Law thought they were an interesting few moments, but you weren’t listening to him.  He was biased.  And frankly, you hated the way it felt when two placentas ejected themselves from your body.  It was like having another two babies but slimier and worse.

Your epidural was removed and you were cleaned up and helped into a cotton gown to rest in.  Your legs were weak from your long labor, but you were rewarded with some light food that didn’t taste like hospital sludge.  The third best piece of news you received was that, by some miracle, you didn’t tear a bit, and your uterus had completely and successfully done its job.

Finally.

You passed out very soon after your placentas were delivered, exhausted and completely spent after delivering two babies.

Law took the opportunity to retreat to the NICU and oversee his daughters as they were hooked up to breathing tubes and heart monitors to ensure that their good conditions remained that way.  They had their hand prints and foot prints taken by gentle nurses who were cooing over how cute they were, a sight that brought a smile to Law’s eyes.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” the voice of the doctor who oversaw your delivery shook him from his blissful state.  “Congratulations.”

“Dr. Linlin,” he replied as he turned to face her, shaking her hand.  “It’s good to see you.  Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, dear,” she hummed.  “I’m a veteran of the motherhood game.  It’s all in a day’s work for me.  I’m so glad to see you happy and healthy, and with a wife even.  I remember the first day I met you, that skinny, scared looking post-grad doctor forced to speak in front of a huge crowd.”

Law groaned, rolling his eyes as the memory.  “One of the worst days of my life, for sure.”

The woman laughed, a hearty, bouncy chuckle.  She hadn’t changed a bit in the 20-some-odd years, probably even longer, that she had been a doctor.  “But look at you now.  A huge, monumental surgery, and now twins.  All in one day.”

“I’m going to sleep for centuries after all of this settles,” he added with a small smirk.  “After helping my wife, obviously.”

Dr. Linlin gave Law a hearty smack on his back, right in between his shoulders, making him lurch forward slightly.  “Your daughters will stay in the NICU for 24 hours for observation, and then they’ll be transferred to stay with the two of you in postpartum.  Let me know if you need anything, alright?  In a few hours, I’ll be back in your room to help you two sign the birth certificates.”

Law watched as the woman walked down the hall, her own bright pink doctor’s coat trailing behind her.  One of the only things Law knew about Linlin was the amount of kids she had.  It seemed like she popped out one every year, and yet she still had the time to be a labor and delivery doctor.  He shook his head, trying to ignore the logistics of it, before walking back to the postpartum room you had been transferred to.

You were awake and staring at the ceiling above you, your hands clasped around your belly.  You were still quite swollen, having been told that it would take a bit for your stomach to return to its pre-pregnant state, but you were already trying to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely never look exactly the same ever again.  Not after carrying and shoving out two humans.  When Law entered your quiet room, you smiled, all your anxieties melting away at the sight of your husband.

He wasted no time in crossing the space between you, leaning over you to plant a loving kiss against your lips.  All the emotions he had been holding in throughout the day, all the tension that arose during his mad dash through the hospital, and all the worries that the two of you had shared during your pregnancy struggles flooded between your exchange.  One of your hands traveled up to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing across his sideburns and into his slightly greasy black hair, pulling him ever closer to you.

“I’m happy you didn’t tear, or need anything else, really,” he whispered, pulling away from you.  “After everything you went through, you needed an easy birth.”

You grinned.  “I like to think our two other babies, somewhere out there in the universe, wanted it to be easy for us.  For once.”

Law pulled up a chair and sat beside you, leaning against your bed and dropping his head onto your shoulder.  You gently caressed your fingers through his hair in the way you knew he loved, watching with a fond smile as his eyes closed.

“What did they say about the NICU?” you asked, your voice tired and weary.

“24 hours.  Then they’ll be transferred here to stay with us.”  Law kissed your hand cheek.  “They’ll be eligible for discharge after they’re able to eat, stay warm, and breathe efficiently.”

“Speaking of which,” you stated, slowly moving yourself to sit up despite the aches in your bones.  “I pumped for the first time when you were looking at them.”

“How quick were you?” he asked with a joking tone.  “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but I also didn’t need to give that much milk.  One of the nurses helped me, and they’ll be able to feed them in the NICU.  At some point in another hour or so, though, she told me I’ll have to visit them there so we can make sure they can latch on their own.”  One of your hands traveled up to painfully grab at one of your breasts.  “I’m already feeling so achy in my chest.  It’s gonna be a rough few months.”

Law grinned, dipping his head back down.  “But you’ll have help.  Don’t forget that.”

You hummed in response.  “You’re right.”

After a few extra moments of silence, you added.  “Names?”

“Hm?”

You chuckled.  “Names.  We have to name our girls.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Law muttered.  He had completely forgotten one of the most important parts of being a new parent.  “What were you thinking?”

“Cora and Rose,” you said, matter-of-factly.  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.  And now we know they’re both girls.”

Law smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his eyes.  A smile he only ever showed you.  “Cora and Rose… which one is which?”

“Rose is the one with those little black curls.  Cora is the one with the lighter hair,” you confirmed.

Another tender kiss was planted on your forehead.  “I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.”

—

You didn’t expect breastfeeding to be as euphoric as it was.  In less of an immense pleasure way, and more of a ‘holy crap, it feels like my breasts are losing 25 pounds’ kind of way.

Your girls were already so good.  Cora latched instantly, one of her tiny, weak hands curling slightly upward to grasp at your skin.  Both of them were still curled in a fetal position, and it would take them a bit longer to finally stretch out and look more like usual babies, but right now, they were the perfect size to swaddle and nestle into your skin.

The neonatal intensive care unit was a surprisingly colorful place.  You always imagined it would be rife with anxiety, desperation, and sadness, a bunch of little, sick babies fighting for their lives, but the second you and Law finally entered to see your daughters, all those expectations flew out the window.  Their corner was bright and colorful, with rainbows painting the walls and a fairly large window with a view of the surrounding city below.  It was pitch black out, just past midnight, but you imagined the daylight would flood the room with a warm, natural light.

Your daughters were already so warm, kept insulated by their little cotton swaddles they were bundled in, and their tiny beanie hats that covered their fragile heads.  The sight warmed your heart.

A breastfeeding specialist (which was a job you had no idea existed until then), helped situate you in a chair, accommodating your sore and spent body.  She assisted with adequately positioning your daughters, one for each nipple, and gave you tips on how to make sure they latch and stay on while nursing from you.

You had an additional blood test a few hours after the birth, when your girls were done with their first natural feed and were now sleeping calmly in their incubators.  It was looking like you’d be able to go home within the next 24 hours, if everything continued as normal.

While you were taking a light nap in the chair beside your daughters’ beds, Law used your phone to snap some pictures of Cora and Rose in their tiny beds side by side, smiling as he pulled up your text messages and sent them off to Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku.  He didn’t think they’d respond, with it being so late, but their messages rolled in almost instantly, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Ika-chan OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGMOGMGOGMOMG

Ika-chan TWO LITTLE GIRLS

Ika-chan ARE THEY HEALTHY????????

Ika-chan ARE *YOU* HEALTHY?????????????

Shachiiii Still cant believe those things came out of you whatthefuck

Shachiiii Must have hurt like a mf

PenPen Shachi’s next to me sobbing his eyes out

PenPen I’m crying too.  But I’m stronger than him

PenPen Fuck no im not.  Im soaked over here.  

It was then that his pager beeped.  He forgot he still had it on him.  Technically, he was still on the clock.  He gently placed your phone on the small table beside you to not wake you up before reaching into his coat pocket and procuring his pager, stepping out into the hallway to not disturb his three sleeping beauties.

“This is Dr. Trafalgar,” he said into the small device.

Some slight static came through the speaker.  [Hey, this is Operation Triple Organ Replacement calling in from the OR!  How’s our best doctor doing?]

Law couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his lips.  “Before I answer, how was the rest of the procedure?”

Some small chuckles and a few mildly annoyed groans were heard.  [Patient did absolutely amazing.  He’s in recovery, stable, and is slowly being woken from anesthesia.  They’ll be able to take his intubation tube out in a few more hours, but that’s out of our hands.  Soooo…?]

Law felt relief fill his lungs.  A successful operation was everything he was hoping for, and now he felt he could finally rest easy.  “I have two daughters, Cora and Rose.  Everyone is happy, healthy, and resting.”

He needed to pull the pager away from his face as a cacophony of garbled cheering was heard.  A distorted [FUCK YEAH] echoed through the speaker.

“Are you guys still in the pre-op room?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

[Yeah, we’re all cleaned up and everything, but we were waiting for the right time to page you.  We’re abusing hospital equipment, we know, but this is CRUCIAL.]

Law couldn’t blame his team in the slightest.  It was past midnight on May 13th, and they had just completed the biggest surgical procedure of their lives, probably the most daunting surgery their hospital would ever see.  They deserved to rest and relax, and yet here they were, still in the pre-op theater, celebrating their lead doctor.  

The black-haired surgeon smiled, pressing down on the transmission button with his thumb.  “You guys go clean up, alright?  Treat yourselves.  Everyone did absolutely amazing today.”

[Copy that, Doctor.  Tell your wife we said congrats!]

Law slipped the pager back into his pocket before reentering the NICU room.  His stern, golden eyes softened instantly upon seeing you awake, leaning over the side of Rose’s bed and idly trailing your thumb softly over her chubby cheek.  Beside Rose, Cora’s arms were already outstretched far enough that she was almost encroaching on her sister’s space.  Soon enough, the small oxygen tubes taped to their fresh faces would be gently removed, and they’d be able to go home and sleep in their cribs, in your apartment.  Law leaned over you and kissed the crown of your head, rubbing his inked hand between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, baby?” he whispered, gazing down at you.

You leaned into his side, melting at his touch.  “Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #i'm losing you

[jamescarstairs]

new year same rant: i don't think i will ever be able to forgive my parents & the rest of my family for how they treated me when i was unemployed compared to how they now treat my brother

#lex waffles #family saga #why was i constantly punished for being unemployed for barely even a year #while my brother can be unemployed for SIX (6) years and not experience that same punishment? #and he's just never had a job after leaving school #i had one and left it for a specific reason (anxiety) which my mother KNEW about! #& i only found out she knew because i overheard her talking about it & she chose to ignore it & try to force me to stay in that job #when i was already thinking of handing in my notice tf #if you've followed me a long time i've talked about this before multiple times #but i'm just so bitter about it #why was my phone contract changed to a sim only & reduced so much it was barely useable when we had shitter internet than we have now? #& i couldn't get a new phone upgrade & had to stick with that phone as a punishment? #meanwhile my brother can get multiple phone upgrades over the years and be gifted a new fucking xbox? #why was i pressured into working with my mother at her place of work to get everyone off my back even tho my anxiety was still bad? #meanwhile my brother can literally do whatever tf he wants without any consequences? #how was i made to feel bad about literally breathing while being unemployed while he can eat my mum out of house & home with no shame or #guilt? like ????? #even now i'm made to feel bad about asking for stuff i want on the shopping because they're 'expensive' #meanwhile my brother eats 2 meals as fucking 1 #i'm sorry you have to pay £2 for a pasta sauce that literally will feed me the one (1) meal i eat a day #constantly being told i'm the problem when we run out of food that i can eat #this has gone kinda on a tangent but yeah... #i'm so tired lmfao #my mum takes his xbox away but gives it back because she's fucking soft when it comes to him #the fact i've become stingy with money because she would never give me anything so i learned to save up what i earn #& then she just hands my brother money whenever he asks...... #and then has had the audacity to tell me favouritism doesn't exist in this family (when i used to be vocal about it when i was younger) #i have to laugh..... #i needed to get this off my chest (again) lol #& that's only some of the stuff

[r3ynah]

THE FAMILY OF BEAUTIES

The girls the boys they all like Carmen.

(In this scenario Carmen is the fentons).

I just want to headcanon, that the Fenton's have a ethereal type of beauty, not sexy or hot. Ethereal, like if you didn't know that they're a family of Mad scientist, a obsessive therapist and a dead boy. they could've passed as deity's.

And the amity park's citizens can and will totally agree, they might've disagree and fight for a lot of things but the only thing they can agree on was the Fenton's was down to earth beautiful.

Like Jack Fenton for example, He has built that can seemingly bench you without any hesitation, but a himbo at heart, the greys of his hair compliments way it mixes with the black hair of his, if Jack isn't in his ghost hunting suit, he is pretty decent when it comes to his fashion sense, When Jazz first brought along her friends, the first thing they asked was if Jack was single, which caused Jazz to smack their heads individually with a newspaper.

And don't get me started with Madeline Fenton, because I cannot stop when it comes to her, My girl with her short straight Reddish-brown hair, looks like a masculine but also feminine beauty, Can and will bench you, if you have any ill intent towards her family, she came from a long line of riches if I say so myself. Tall as fuck, about 6'7 while Jack is 7'0. very elegant when it comes to fighting, that it looks like she's just dancing, Was titled as a Milf by Danny's classmate which made the boy groan in annoyance, Sam and Tucker calls out to Maddie and says "Mother is Mothering", just to get something out of Danny who looks at them with disgust knowing full well what they were trying to do. While Maddie is just happy for the kids to see her as a mother figure.

Now Jazz, My love, my girl. Her long Red hair that came down to her hips, and her blue eyes, made all the girls and boys in her college swoon, with her 6'4 figure she strutted down the halls with confidence, beauty and brains everyone would oh so called it, and her knowledge in martial arts didn't lessen her attractiveness, The humans and ghosts can agree with that delightfully.

And now her dearest sibling Danny, Danny is a nonbinary fuck that can gender envy anyone he meets, that's why he got bullied in the first place, he was too fucking beautiful and handsome at the same time, all the boys and girls of his school have atleast had a crush on him, He was the only cute boy there, what could they do? He stared at them with his icey colored eyes that made their legs tremble from the pressure, and that black hair that always seemed messy but in a good way. It didn't help when he got that lichtenberg scar, that ran up his neck and the side of his face. you should've seen him in P.E cause my guy got everyone staring at him.

And the Fenton family has fashion sense, if they really put their mind and soul into it, everytime they dressed up for a family reunion or just an outing it was a very sweet treat for everyone's eyes. like how it is right now.

The Amity parkers waved goodbye at the Fenton's as they went on and attended a gala they were invited to, it was supposedly because of the sudden rise and popularity of their works and how's it been helping the environment.

One citizen sighed as he looked at the car that family was driving as it slowly became smaller and smaller.

"You think they can handle Gotham, heard nasty thing bout that place." She questioned

"Girl, Gotham should be the one readying to handle them, that family may be beautiful, but their crazy." Her friend's answered

"well that does give them a more attractive look isn't it?"

"I hate how you're right."

__

The Gala the Fenton's went to certainly had an awkward atmosphere when they went inside, all the guest kept staring at them that it was starting to get creepy, did they overdress or underdressed, come on just walk towards start to talk or criticize them, because it's starting to get embarrassing for the family.

Gotham wasn't fucking prepared to meet the Fentons like as in, They had been awestrucked when the family walked in. A very tall man seemingly in his 40's with his hair gelled back, and a suit that fitted him too perfectly, gosh dang, even the homophobic guests couldn't help but stare, And then there was his Wife her straight her was curled and brushed out leaving a wavy effect that compliments her face shape, and that dress she was wearing was utterly gorgeous, fancy but also simple and mature, the heels certainly helped her height more and made her look more intimidating, The ladies blushed when she looks at them and smiles.

And don't get them started with the couples children, who looked adorable and elegant at the same time, The older sister had a aura that says: 'Im in your presence bow down' (And they would've if it was in a more private area due to the paparazzi's out the window). She wore a spaghetti strapped dress that had a slit on either side and was , making it more comfortable to move in for the girl, partnered by a white shawl made of silk, she had heels that also complimented he already tall stature, her hair was tied in a neat bun, with a few strands free to not make her face feel bare. And lastly the youngest everyone assumed, wearing a suit, double-breasted suit that was elegant and sophisticated it matched the way his hair is messed up for him to still look young, he was also wearing a black shawl that had specks of white making it look like stars. The family had a colour scheme of green, that made all gothamites present swoon, Including a certain family of bats.

(I might make a fanart of this later.)

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpdc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc fanart #dc x dp #dpxdc #danny is nonbinary #the fentons are beautiful #amity park is just built different #Spotify

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Birthday wishes [S. R.]

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: everyone seems to forget Spencer's 30th birthday, but he only cares that you remember it.

second part here!

contents: childhood best friends, idiots who-don't-know-they're-in-love, surprise parties, pure fluff honestly

If you like my work leave a comment or reblog, that would make me very happy!

The first thing Spencer did when he got home was get rid of his converse and even though it had been a relatively calm day he was exhausted, so he went straight to the bedroom to throw himself on the bed. He lay back for a while, just enjoying the calm, and then he fumbled for the cell phone in his briefcase. He hit the call button on the contact he'd wanted to talk to all day and then he waited patiently.

“L/N family residence, who do you want me to contact you with?”

"Hello, is Miss Y/N by any chance?"

"Who's looking for her?" you continued and a smile escaped from his lips. It was usual for you to respond in a silly way when he called you, so he was used to it by now.

"Her best friend, Dr. Spencer Reid"

“Spencer Reid? Spencer Reid, I don't think that sounds familiar…” you teased, hearing him snort from the other end of the line “Ah! Wait, I remember you."

“After knowing each other for like 20 years, I hope so” he laughed, and then you too.

Sure enough, the man and you were friends from a very early age. You were his neighbor when he lived in Las Vegas and your parents had always been quite nice to the family, knowing the delicate situation they faced, so it wasn’t difficult for you to become friends. You were the first friend he ever had, a real one, so there was a special fondness between you, even when he had gone off to college at such a young age and distance had subsequently separated the two of you.

You always called each other and every time he visited his mother it was a law that you also received a visit, even if the time was only enough for you to greet each other with a hug. You also traveled to DC a few times because of your work and you even had your own key to his apartment, so if he was busy with a case, you could stay there instead of paying for a hotel. Your relationship was like that of a brother and sister, although as this familiarity grew, it was slightly intervened by loving feelings that you didn’t want to face yet but were definitely there.

You knew a lot about his life from those long-distance calls that happened at least once a week, and right now he was excited about something in particular. He was exactly one week away from his thirty-year birthday, and he hoped that, like every year, you would fly from Las Vegas to see him. It was a tradition, whether it was thunder or lightning, you two hadn't missed a single birthday from the other since he had to move out of state. So Spencer was hoping that this call was for you guys to plan what you were going to do; regularly your birthdays were in restaurants or nice places and his were at home, with food delivery and classic movies, or when you felt very adventurous you could go to a museum or just walk through the streets.

"How are you, Reid? How is everything?"

"Not so good, but not so bad either" he laughed "And you?"

"Everything has been terrible, it's like a curse is on my head, I swear" you complained. Spencer got up from his comfortable position to sit on the bed and although he knew that most of the time you said things like that you were just exaggerating, this time he had a bad feeling.

"Why?”

You started to tell him about the financial problems you were going through and he, with his mind still focused on your visit, thought about offering to pay for your flight to DC, but his spirits fell completely when you told him that you were being put under too much pressure at work.

“We're going to have a meeting next Friday with HR to discuss responsibilities and so on, but honestly I don't think things will get better. Right now I'm working from home because there are pending issues that have to be resolved as soon as possible and I barely have time to think during the day, you seriously can't imagine how busy I've been.”

When you finished the story, he remained silent, feeling his chest squeezed by the direction that things were now taking. With that scenario, your visit was too complicated and he was debating internally about whether he should tell you something about it or not. As he had thought before, the money to have you with him wasn’t a problem, but dealing with the issue of your shortened times was totally different. He didn't want to make you feel guilty for not being able to go, let alone disrupt activities that he knew were important to you, like that meeting you just mentioned. So what should he do? He wanted you to be there, but he wasn't going to make you.

“Crash? You still there?" you asked. Only you and his mother called him that, since his nickname had arisen when he was just a child due to his clumsiness, a trait that, in your opinion, he still retained. It wasn't offensive coming from you, even he was glad to know that this was something that belonged to the two women he loved the most.

"Yes, I'm here. I just was thinking"

"You always do, I don't think there's a single second when that mind of yours rests," you said amused "Anyway, what's new?"

Spencer hoped that you would at least apologize to him for your future absence or ask him what he intended to do today. But you seemed not even aware of it.

“Nothing, really. Today we're done with a case and if I'm lucky I'll be able to rest this weekend” he murmured. Sometimes he would tell you things about the cases, omitting bloody and dangerous details, so he leaned back and started recounting all the events into the speaker of his phone.

You two continued to talk for almost an hour, but the topic of the birthday didn't come up once and Spencer didn't try to bring it up. After all, there were still a few days to go and in the worst case, you could at least call him that day to congratulate him, right?

But as the days went by, the anxiety ate him more and he even called you a few days after that, but he only received a response from your mailbox and after a few minutes a short text message where you explained that you were a little busy with work, but that you would call him as soon as you could. The fact that during those days he found out that the entire team already had something to do on Friday didn’t help his mood too much.

Hotch and JJ discussed a sleepover for Henry and Jack after work, he overheard Garcia and Morgan agreeing to visit a new bar for the night, Rossi said he was going to visit one of his ex-wives and when he thought he could still invite Emily to hang out, she went over to talk to him about the therapist appointment that she clearly didn't want to go to, but had to. There was no remedy, everyone had plans for his birthday and he didn’t want to interfere with them. Resignation was the only thing the doctor had left during the remaining days, and when he least expected it, the entire week had already passed.

He used to wake up to your off-key version of the birthday song and a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, then you'd make breakfast and you'd eat it together; so not having any of that when he got out of bed, he felt his heart break a little. This year he thought he would get your call first thing in the morning, but when he checked his phone he didn't even find a message announcing that there was a case. He didn't want to go to the office to do paperwork on his birthday, but the thought of at least getting a hug from his coworkers cheered him up slightly.

He put on his favorite shirt, a new pair of pants, and the converse that you had given him and he only wore on special occasions, before leaving the apartment. For some reason Spencer enjoyed taking the subway, perhaps more than anyone he knew, and this time he stopped at a coffee shop that was just before arriving to buy something to drink, since he didn't feel like eating anything.

He undertook the entire trip lost in his thoughts and when he least expected it, he was already at the headquarters. He checked his phone, again, but he still didn't get any notifications or missed calls. Many times you had insisted that he get a more modern model and he had refused, but now he was wondering if the advances in technology would have allowed him to communicate with you through a video call. It would be embarrassing to ask Garcia for a favor, so he concluded that he would just wait, after all if he hadn't communicated it must have been for something important.

Upon entering, he greeted everyone with a huge smile and he felt somewhat disconcerted when the others greeted him normally, without hugs or cake on the table. He sat down at his desk to start going through the documents he already had and the others continued on their own business. It was common for Emily or Morgan to come up to him for a chat, but on this particular day it was as if they were avoiding him. Even Penelope, who he swore would congratulate him, seemed to have completely forgotten when he came to her place with the excuse of needing a piece of information from the previous case. When Hotch called him to his office, the man's eyes lit up, believing that his boss had remembered the celebration of the date.

"Can you do me a favor?" he had asked, without taking his eyes off whatever he was writing "Donovan needs to sort some files and honestly he has no idea how to do it and I'm too busy to explain, could you do it?"

Donovan was in charge of the physical file inside the building and it was not usual for him to request this kind of support, but Reid still said yes, and the rest of the day passed with him locked in a cellar full of filing cabinets. He had made sure to take his phone with him and every time he turned it on to check it and he realized that there was no sign of you his disappointment increased. He came to wonder if his mind hadn't been playing tricks on him and, for some incredible reason, he had gotten the day wrong and it wasn't really October 12; but when he saw the calendar, he verified that this wasn’t possible.

“Are you out of punishment yet?” Emily taunted, when after many hours she saw him again by the bullpen. At another time Spencer would have laughed, but right now his mood wasn't quite right for it and he just looked at her, more hostile than he intended. “Hotch left you some documents on your desk, he asked if you could review them before you go. It's urgent,” she informed him.

It was obvious that this would take time and he felt like crying at the thought of having to stay longer than the regular time. It was almost an hour after everyone else had gone home that he finished, feeling somewhat annoyed to find out that even Aaron had already left.

He doubted whether to go home or go to dinner somewhere, because he knew that if he returned to the apartment he would sink into sadness. His birthdays didn't mean anything special on their own, what he liked was to feel loved, to enjoy the company, but above all to see you.

While he was leaving the building, and as if you were reading his mind, a call vibrated on his cell phone. Seeing that it was you, Spencer didn't take more than two seconds to answer, thinking that maybe after the whole day he could improve.

"You won't believe what happened to me!" you said, without even greeting him. It wasn't the kind of sentence he was expecting, but he still decided to listen.

"What happened?"

“There is a boy, at my work, his name is Brandon. Well, Brandon and I have talked a few times now and he seems like a nice person, plus he's pretty handsome and he finally asked me out on a date with him, can you believe it?" you murmured excitedly, and a lump formed in Spencer's throat "We're going out today, the meeting was canceled and we decided to take advantage of the time, but I can't decide whether to wear the red dress or the black and gold outfit that my mom gave me and I need the help of an expert. You have seen both, which one do you think suits me better?

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing the situation she was going through, and it wasn't until you said his name that he reacted.

"I like your red dress," he murmured, with a sad smile that you clearly couldn't see. He couldn't believe you were going out with a man you'd never mentioned and it affected him more than he expected you to be asking for advice because a pang of jealousy shot through his chest.

You were telling him that you were going to have a date on his birthday.

“I thought the same! I guess that will be the best option."

"I guess…"

"Where are you now? At home?" you kindly asked. Your tone almost made him angry.

“I just got off work. I'm on my way to take the subway"

"Oh, excellent. Today there were no cases?"

"Not fortunately. I'm glad to know that the criminals at least respected my birthday."

With that said, there was a deathly silence between you, to the point where he wondered if you were still on the other end of the line or if you understood what he was implying.

“Spencer, my God, I…”

"It's okay if you forgot," he said, trying to play the matter down, but the tears that were beginning to accumulate in his eyes indicated otherwise. The guilty tone with which you had spoken was more than enough to know that, probably, if he hadn’t mentioned it, you wouldn’t have done it either "Nobody remembered it"

"I'm so sorry" you practically sobbed "Between all the work and stuff I... I don't even know why I forgot, forgive me”

"It’s okay" he replied. But it wasn't okay. 

“Can I do something to fix it? Whatever, you just… ask me what you want and I'll do it. I swear," you mumbled, sounding desperate.

He tried to convince you that there was no problem with it and you continued to pour out apologies, which Spencer knew were worthless now but he wasn't selfish enough to ignore them. He wanted to scream, cry, or do anything to get that weight off his chest and even though he loved the sound of your voice right now it was the last thing he needed.

“Anyway, I'm about to enter the subway and uh, I have almost no signal there. I'll call you later, okay?" the question didn’t wait for an answer, because he immediately added: "Good luck on your date, bye"

If he had considered going out to celebrate, he knew that now what he urgently needed was to go home or he would break down in tears in the middle of the street. The ride on the subway lasted longer than he would have liked, as he longed to go to sleep and find out if it would allow him to forget a bit about the shitty day he had just had. When he was finally in front of the door with the number 23 in gold letters, he struggled enormously to put the key into the lock, because the tears in his eyes were already clouding his vision, and he believed that the heaviness on his shoulders wouldn’t allow him to advance.

The key turned one turn, then another, and then Spencer was allowed inside the house.

One week before…

The team was meeting in the conference room at the request of Penelope, who had asked everyone to stay after the scheduled time, waiting to receive the news of what they thought would surely be a new case.

"And Reid?" Morgan asked, noticing the empty chair next to him, because they had seen him leave and that was reason enough to have questions about his absence.

"I'm glad you asked because this meeting is related to him," Garcia replied. With the push of a button, a face appeared on the main screen and almost everyone present was surprised to see who it was "She is Y/N Y/L/N, do you remember her?"

"You were at Prentiss's funeral, right?"

"That's right" you replied with a smile, looking directly at the aforementioned "I still have a little trouble understanding, uh... that whole thing, to be honest" you joked.

"Y/N asked us for this space to discuss something related to Spencer's birthday, which will be next Friday" explained Hotch, who was the other member who was already aware of the matter "The microphone is all yours"

"Okay, so where do I start? It's great to see all of you and I hope you're doing well. Every year I visit Spencer on his birthday and we spend the day together, but since this year is his 30th birthday I wanted to do something special and I want to know if you would be willing to help me”

"Tell us your plan, precious"

“I don't intend to take up a lot of your time, it's simple. I will call him today to insinuate that this year I can’t go and all I want you to do is pretend that day that you don’t remember that it’s his birthday”

"Wait, why do you want us to ignore it?" JJ muttered with a frown.

"I want to throw him a surprise party in his apartment" you explained with a smile and then the request you were making to them didn't sound so farfetched "You can tell him you have plans that day and if he mentions something you just say you can't go. I bought my flight for that day and I will be in the city starting in the morning, so I can prepare everything”

"And how will we do if he invites us somewhere?"

Morgan suggested using a decoy for him and pretending they were taking him somewhere else, but you balked at the idea.

“I have all my hopes that he doesn’t mention anything. If so, we'll manage somehow. And I know that asking for that is difficult because we are all his friends, but if necessary, avoid him completely that day. We need him to know under no circumstances that we have a surprise for him."

“He is very smart and he will figure it out. If we make him believe that we forgot he will concentrate on that” you argued. Although the others didn't want to admit it, they knew that you had a point there "I just hope you don't have some unforeseen case or something like that, because I would hate for that lie to be for nothing"

You discussed some more until you concluded that your plan was the most viable. The girls would help you with ideas for decorations and David even offered to buy all the drinks. Although the others weren’t surprised by his generosity, you were slightly upset, but this didn’t prevent you from accepting the offer and thanking him in advance.

“It really means a lot to me that you guys help me, thanks” you murmured happily, once everything was settled, and then your phone started ringing in the background “It's Spencer! I have to answer him. If something happens, you guys will tell me, right?"

"Take it for granted" smiled Garcia, who was the one who had lived with you the most, but everyone supported her from the bottom.

"Fine, thanks everyone, thanks Agent Hotch, I'll see you later!" you said goodbye, hanging up the video call and simultaneously answering the phone.

Everyone got up from the conference room and Rossi was the first to speak, a smile on his face.

"Call me crazy..." he started to say "but something tells me that girl and Spencer are going to end up together"

"The pretty boy loves her, but he still doesn't notice it," Morgan laughed, as they all walked out. "Whenever we go to Vegas, his eyes shine when he sees her."

“And she's setting this up for him! It's so sweet" Penelope sighed, who had already taken Derek's arm "But the part about being mean to Spencer doesn't convince me much… he's going to be so sad"

"Look at it this way, babygirl: if he's sad he'll be happier than usual with the surprise."

"Nobody's going to screw it up," Emily threatened them, pointing her index finger at them, and the rest of the team promised they wouldn't.

Meanwhile, your first part of the plan was in the works, with the late-night call he had made to you. You had to admit that lying to your best friend was something you hated, but with any luck it would all be worth it when you could hug him and give him that gift that you had carefully kept on one of the shelves, that you hoped could be enough for such an important event like the first thirty years of life.

What happened during the week is history, which was consolidated at the moment he turned the handle without even imagining what awaited him.

When Spencer walked through the door the first thing he did was turn on the light and he felt like he was going to have a heart attack when he heard the screams coming from inside. There were purple balloons scattered all over the floor, a congratulations banner, a table full of presents, and everyone was there.

The shock was such that he couldn't even manage to say a word and some of the tears that he had been holding back were finally able to come out, but this time for different reasons.

They hadn’t forgotten.

"How…? What are you doing here?"

“We came to celebrate your birthday, genius,” Morgan laughed, as he reached over to hug his friend and ruffled his hair brotherly.

A wave of hugs preceded that and even he received a couple of kisses on each cheek from Rossi, which finally made him laugh. He seemed like a child, completely fascinated with everything around him and still processing the situation.

In the midst of it all, he couldn't help wondering how his friends had been able to enter the apartment, since none of them had a copy of the key and the landlady was too suspicious to have let them in just like that, but he felt happy for the direction the day had taken.

“First of all, we have another surprise for you,” said JJ, obviously excited. The rest shared complicit glances and García began to record with his cell phone, which made him a little nervous "But you have to close your eyes."

Spencer looked at everyone else as if waiting for a confirmation of that, and seeing a couple of nods he did what his friend was asking. Just to make sure Jennifer covered his eyelids with her hands and in this way she turned him around, while he wondered what this surprise could be about.

"Are you ready?" she asked and the man answered yes with a hum. There was silence for a second, as if they were checking something, and then she withdrew her hand. "Open them."

Many possibilities went through the man's mind for whatever he would see at that moment, but when he did, he felt his heart stop for a moment. There you were, looking at him with a sweet smile and wearing that red dress. 

The rest of those present were waiting for who would make the first move, because the two of you had froze looking at each other, and García was only pointing the camera carefully as you had requested.

"Surprise?" you said shyly, noticing that Spencer hadn't said anything.

You were afraid that after the call you had he was upset with you in some way, but a second after he recovered from the shock he was already on top of you, holding you by the waist to spin you through the air while you laughed heartily.

"You came," he said, his voice cracking, but completely brimming with happiness.

"Of course I would, Spencer, do you think I'd miss your birthday?"

"But you... your work"

"All a vile lie"

"And that boy?"

“There was never such a thing,” you laughed, freeing yourself from the weight of guilt “You're my only boy,” you added affectionately, palms planted squarely on your friend's cheeks. He still had you in his arms and was grinning from ear to ear at your answers "I'm so sorry I told you all that, I just didn't want you to suspect anything, can you forgive me?"

"No!" he practically squealed and you widened your eyes in amazement “Today was the most terrible day because I thought you didn't care about me anymore, you made me suffer! All of you!" your friend complained, looking away from you briefly to look at those present.

"In our defense, she asked us to," Emily laughed, holding up both hands in surrender.

"You're so mean," he murmured, turning his attention back to you. "But I love you so much.”

A group sigh filled the room as he engulfed you in a hug and from your position you could see the teasing or tender smiles they all had. It wasn't very common to see the youngest of the team in that position, much less saying those things, plus we had to add the collective opinion that you were madly in love.

"Seriously, forgive me"

"It’s okay…" he whispered close to your ear "You're here, that's what matters"

His body felt so soft and safe that you didn't want to stop hugging him, but you knew that if you took too long it would create an uncomfortable environment for the rest, so you had no choice but to gently pull him away from you. The woman asked your friend, just to annoy him, if he liked his surprise and although he didn't say anything, the giant smile and flushed cheeks were enough of an answer.

"Come, you won't escape my melodious voice" you murmured after a few seconds, when the commotion calmed down a bit.

Taking him by the hand, you led him to the table where you had the chocolate cake with a couple of candles that formed the number 30. Everyone sang the song while the wick burned down and the boy looked anywhere, with that certain shyness characteristic of him. When he blew out the candle to make his wish, you all applauded and that started the celebration.

There were some appetizers on the table and Rossi had stocked all the drinks quite well, as he had promised. As the minutes passed you hovered here and there to check that things were in order, arranging everything as if it were your own apartment, and Spencer could only smile at how well you seemed to get along with everyone. The last time you'd seen the team was, sure enough, during Emily's funeral, but that didn't mean there wasn't some history between you.

He still remembered the feeling of shame when in the early years he had asked Gideon for permission to summon someone to the hotel during a case in Las Vegas. It wasn't that he was ashamed of you, but that he was ashamed of having to reveal something so important in his life to his FBI colleagues. The agent didn't object at all, but that didn't spare the man from being grilled by Derek and Elle about which mysterious lady their younger coworker was talking to. Over the years, people left the unit, and others joined, but the constant was always you. Even now, if a replacement happened, Spencer knew that the rest of the team would take it upon themselves to introduce you to said person. 

At some point he felt a tremendous nostalgia for that time and in a chain of thoughts he came to ask himself if working where he did was the right thing to do. Turning thirty was cause for celebration, but for him it was also tantamount to thinking how well he had lived up to the expectations of what he expected to have achieved at this age: How much progress should he have made in the world by now? Was it any use having that brilliant mind that everyone raved about if he was working in a government office? And what about his personal life? He wanted to get married at some point and wondered if he should be looking for love instead of criminals. Even while he was through all this, he wished he could focus on how happy his friends had made him instead of worrying about other things. 

"Up to here I can see the gears of your brain" laughed someone next to him. It was Emily "What's wrong?"

"Nothing" he murmured, shaking his head softly "I was thinking about some things, it's just that"

"You should drink some more, that wine that Dave brought tastes delicious" she smiled, inviting him to come closer to the others to chat.

It was a bit ironic, but completely understandable, that even at his own birthday party he would remain a bit oblivious to the situation. Following Emily's advice, he poured himself another drink and joined the other attendees to enjoy the moment. For hours you laughed and chatted, until the drinks were running out and your drunkenness rising.

The parents of the group were the first to leave and the last was a drunk Penelope who threatened to stay there to sleep, but Derek took it upon himself to guide her to his car to take her home. It was late at night when only you and Spencer were left, amidst all the decorations in the room.

"Peace and tranquility"

"It was too much?" you laughed, knowing that your friend could become overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle.

"No, no. Just kidding"

“And was it okay for you? You had fun?" you asked, referring to the party, as the two of you sat down on the leather couch. The dress you were wearing rose to the top of your thighs and his attention strayed there for a second, so he looked up guiltily; He didn't help the blush on his cheeks that there was your cleavage. 

"Everything was wonderful"

"Are you seriously not mad at me?" you insisted

"No, honey, I'm not," he laughed. You tried to ignore the fact that he had said that to you, since it wasn't something he was used to, and just smiled sheepishly, "I mean, at first I was a little, but now that I understand why you did it, I'm not anymore."

“You are already thirty… you are so old!”

"You are older than me!" he squealed, completely offended, and you responded with a laugh. Although that was true, you looked more jovial than the man, something that a variety of people had taken it upon themselves to verify.

"Now that I remember, do you want to see your gift?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my gift?" The confusion was evident in his voice and you refrained from answering, as you bolted into the room. You came back from there with a box in your hands, which you later placed on your lap with evident emotion.

“I wrapped it myself” you confessed, rather proud of yourself. You had found a piece of paper to cover with drawings of equations and small microscopes that you thought captured the essence of your friend and, of course, now that he had seen it, he had liked it a lot.

The man's fingers drummed the surface under your expectant gaze, and then he winced slightly.

"What's up?"

"I don't know, I think maybe I should open it later…"

"Spencer Reid!" you yelled. It was obvious that he was only joking with you and you knew that by the laugh that escaped his lips. 

Your friend opened the box almost ceremonially and then removed the tissue paper that covered the contents: above all there were two hardcover books, one about the world of fungi and the other about poetry, next to it an hourglass, then three boxes with jigsaw puzzles, a pocket chess game, packets of Reid's favorite sweets, and last but not least, a picture of the two of you in a pretty chocolate-colored frame and a little paper envelope to go with it. One by one he was taking out the gifts and his smile only grew with each object, while he felt his heart grow with love.

"I remember this day" he murmured, referring to the photograph you had chosen. The sky was blue behind you and you were kissing Spencer's cheek, who was smiling at how spontaneous it had been “We were in a park after going to an art exhibition."

“And we bought the most delicious ice cream in the world”

"I differ, I've had better," he murmured, shrugging. The truth is that you thought that the ice cream had been delicious because of the whole panorama of that day, not so much because of the taste itself.

Spencer knew that photo would have to go on his desk in the bullpen, although the taunts he was sure the others would throw at him. Perhaps having you there would serve as a reminder that there was good in the world, despite everything he could see on the job every day. 

“Oh, and I read somewhere that hourglasses help people with anxiety because it's relaxing to watch the sand fall so they can focus on it. I thought you might like it, I bought it at an antique store."

"It's very nice" he agreed, turning the object over and checking that it actually worked "I'll open the note, okay?"

Spencer always preferred that you read his letters in private because if he saw your face and knew you were reading those words he would just cringe, but you didn't seem to share that trait so you agreed to his request. As with the box, he carefully opened the envelope and then pulled out a handwritten note.

I hope you like these little gifts that try to express a huge love.

Never doubt that you are making a change in the world and that you are surrounded by people who love you, including your old neighbor who now ironically lives too far from you. 

Happy 30th birthday to my favorite person in the entire world. I am confident that many more years will come for both of us.

Always yours, Y/N.

"Don't cry, Reid" you asked gently, feeling your own tears at the edge of your eyes. Spencer smiled and leaned in your direction to wrap you in a hug so hopefully you wouldn't notice if he got emotional.

"Thank you" was the only thing he managed to say. 

He wanted to thank you not only for that day but for years of friendship, years of feeling like he wasn't so alone in the world if he had you by his side and even thank you for treating him like a normal kid when no one else did. And as always, you perfectly understood what he was referring to.

You stayed like that for a few minutes; Spencer tucked into the crook of your neck and cooing at the throbbing on your pulse line, and you basking in the warmth of the contact.

“Did you like the puzzles?” 

"Yeah! They are great” he replied, as he moved away from you so that he could observe you “Do you want us to put one together?”

“Sure” you smiled “Just let me put on my pajamas and I'll be right back, okay?”

"Good. You look very beautiful in that dress, by the way. I don't know if I forgot to tell you” he flattered you, making you smile sincerely. 

"You chose it, remember?"

Before getting up you kindly squeezed his cheek and after changing your clothes you returned to where you were. He had chosen the puzzle with the design of a Monet painting and spread it out on the floor, where the two of you settled comfortably.

Your friend took a bunch of pieces and you took another and you guys worked in silence until little by little things started to come together. He was very good at the task and very soon he already had a considerable part assembled; although you were going a little slower you followed a constant rhythm. 

"Hey, Spencer"

"Yeah?" he asked, too intent on finding a place for the piece in his fingers to watch you.

“What was your birthday wish? When blowing out the candles”

"Oh, I didn't wish for anything"

"Why?" you asked confused.

Spencer looked up from the puzzle and smiled at you.

"Because my birthday wish was already right here"

It seemed obvious to him, but it took you a second to understand exactly what he meant and when you finally did, your eyes gave him the sweetest look of all.

You and your friend stayed up all night until the play was over and after that you both stumbled to bed, where you fell fast asleep in each other's arms.

At some point Spencer half-opened his eyes, prisoner of a bad dream, and when he was aware of the situation he felt the peace he needed. After that it didn't take him long to get back to sleep, with a smile on his face and his whole world held in his arms.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you

[dreamywriter143]

Breathtaking

Status: Oneshot?

Parings: Neteyam x Human Reader

Genre/Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Romance, Mentions of Violence, Some blood, Jealousy.

Summary: Y/n grew up with Spider. She played with him, fought with him, ate with him and slept with him. There is nothing they couldn’t do together….well, one thing. And that is leaving the base at any costs. Now, what will happen when Y/n does leave the base? Why had she been trapped in the base for so long? And why did a certain Na’vi take her breath away?

Word Count: 6k (Uh.....sorry😭)

A/N: Ok, I said I’d have my followers special out by now but everything is all over the place. I’m sorry😭😭 This is my first xHumanReader so please enjoy! I’m so sorry for the delay!

———————————————————————

“Then this huge viperwolf jumped on me! I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes until Lo’ak saved my ass” Spider chuckles nervously at the memory.

Currently he is seated in the medical wing as his arm is getting patched up. The gash wasn't too big, but deep enough to sting in pain.

 Y/n frowns at his words, being mindful not to apply too much pressure as she wrapped the gauze around the wound carefully across his bicep. Y/n bites her lips at the stinging pain of worry strikes through her.

“You should be more careful Spider. You cannot be reckless all the time, you cannot expect Lo’ak to always have your back either” Y/n says softly, her eyes wandering over the tiny scratches over his body in worry. Spider scoffs out loud, rolling his eyes at her words. 

“You worry too much Y/n, You don't even know Lo’ak, we have each other's backs” Spider assures, making Y/n sigh out loud. She holds the urge to nudge against his wound out of spite.

“Because I don't know him”

For as long as Y/n had known she had always been in the cold confines of base camp, what she knew to be her home. The only thing she had known truthfully. 

Y/n was born shortly after the war, her father was unknown, but her mother who was a well known medical officer of the team, sadly passed upon her birth. She grew up following Norm and Max around the lab, as they were the only people she felt any sort of connection to. They knew her mother well and raised her alongside Spider, who also couldn't be transported back to Earth due to being so young. 

Though Spider was younger then her by a bit, Y/n always trailed behind him within the lab. She had no other females around her age, it was natural to grow incredibly close to Spider over the years. 

“Well, you should. Next time I'll introduce you! He'd love you, come with me next time I go out” Spider says nonchalantly, not taking notice how Y/n’s shoulders slumped at his words.

 

“Ha Ha , very funny Spider” Y/n spits bitterly, tying up the bandage before turning around and leaving him for the tiny sink where she washed her hands begrudgingly. 

“O-oh,shit, I'm sorry Y/n…I didn't mean to sound…it came out wrong..” Spider apologizes, hopping down from the medical table to walk up to her. Y/n focuses on scrubbing her hands so she couldn't focus on the sadness bubbling within her. 

Y/n grew up alongside Spider, they ate together, played together and slept together while growing up. But Y/n…was different. 

For as long as she could remember, she had never set one foot outside the compound. Y/n even had her quarters on the farside of the base, as if they didn't want her near the entrance at any costs. That's why when Spider would sneak into her room to accompany her, she felt less lonely.

Over the years Y/n grew but not as tall as Spider. Spider was a hunk compared to her much tinier and delicate figure. Y/n always worked out within the base to increase her strength and endurance but she gave that up years ago when she came to the conclusion she would never be able to see the world outside the cold gates. 

Y/n always wondered why she was deprived of something Spider was allowed to do so freely, she would always boil with envy when she walked Spider as close to the gate as Norm would allow her. 

Watching him run off to his freedom only made her mental resolve crumble that much more. It didn't help when Spider would go on and on about his adventures. Y/n would always aggressively chew her food to drown out his words during communal dinners. 

Y/n had learned to tune out his words from time to time, but how can she when he was living what she dreamt about day in and day out?

When she questioned Norm and Max why she couldn't leave, they would claim it's because she is too delicate, that there are toxins and dangerous creatures out there her body could not handle and Spider could because he left the compound at such an early age.

Y/n chalked it up to something deeper they are not telling her, based on the constant blood tests and X-rays they conducted on her for ‘check ups’ when she never even stepped outside the facility. 

She never did question them too much on the tests, why would she? They wanted what was best for her, and she had no place to argue. Maybe she was, as they claimed, ‘delicate’. 

When they compared Y/n’s stature and physical maturity against Spider, they claimed it was for her safety that she didn't leave. That she wouldn’t be able to defend herself and that her body is more delicate than others. She was the only girl her age, the only young human girl in Pandora and they didn’t want to take a chance. 

Y/n always kicked herself for being room ridden in her early years that led her to not get used to the outside world. Always drinking in logs of her mother and Grace Augustine. She also convinced Max if she could see Jake Sully’s logs, which she was grateful for. The current Olo’eyktan, was a human like her. And now he is living his truth amongst his people out there. 

“It's fine, I'm not bothered by it anymore” Y/n says harshly, spinning around as Spider grabs her shoulders. He looks down at her apologetically.

“No, it's on me. I shouldn't even be telling you about my day when you….” he trails off frowning.

“No! No, it's fine Spider. I love listening to your adventures. Honestly. It's my form of entertainment and I love watching you happy” Y/n says smiling up at the taller boy.

Despite this Y/n always tried to stay positive, always helping around with research, helping maneuver samples and making sure the tanks are full for the exo packs they would take outside for excursions and for Spider’s constant usage. Y/n tried to be as helpful as possible, all to divert her attention from the void she felt deep within.

Her free time always consisted of watching logs, watching how her mother spoke about the Na’vi with excitement. Her mother had helped the clan recuperate after the war, helping alongside Mo’at with the injured. Y/n’s mother had even gotten close with Neytiri, the wife of Jake Sully. Her mother was also involved in Neytiri’s firstborn’s delivery. 

Y/n watched in amazement everytime memorizing how her mother spoke fondly about the world, the beauty that basked her in awe all the time. Y/n couldn't help but desire that as well. Fantasize about going out, running across the forest floor with no limits or the chance of running into a cold wall. She craved freedom. Craved adventure. Something more. Something beyond her personal prison. 

“Y/n! There you are!” Norm peeks into the medical wing, his hand gripping a tablet as he eyes Spiders wrapped arm in worry. Spider shows a thumbs up to clear his concern as he turns his attention back to Y/n.

“Can you double check on the exo-pack’s when you have time? The filters need to be cleaned and the power supply pack needs to be changed. Think you can do that for me?” He asks, offering a tiny pleading smile. Y/n forces down her pent up sadness and manages a tiny nod.

“Max told me to check them earlier. I just have a few left” She explains to which Norm sighs out in relief. “Good, did you fix pack #8? That one was almost busted the last time I saw it” Y/n waves him off, she wasn't in the mood to go back to recharding and cleaning the exo-packs, the very thing they needed to survive the outside world. The very thing she wishes she had the opportunity to use. 

“Yes, no worries. I’ll get them done!” Y/n reassures as Norm nods once more before ducking down to head for the laboratory. Y/n sighs out once he is out of earshot. She turns to Spider who had been quite the entire time. 

“Ok...wanna have dinner together?’ Spider asks, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen over her face behind her ear. Y/n smiles at Spider, her dear friend she grew up to love and cherish as a brother. 

“I’d love that, my room or yours?” Y/n asks, taking his larger hand into hers as she tugs him towards the kitchen.

“Yours, you have a more comfortable bed”

~~~~~~

“I’m off!” Spider calls out quickly grabbing an exo pack and securing it tightly against his face. Hearing his declaration and watching him walk towards the exit, Y/n scurries to his side, glancing at the watch on her wrist as she frowns deeply. 

“Are you insane! It's already nightfall!!” She hisses. She rolls her eyes noting how Norm and Max didn't seem bothered by the fact that Spider wanted to go out again, and this late into the day, the sun had already set a while ago which meant the dangers of the night would be out on the prowl. 

“So what? Kiri wanted to show me some cool bioluminescent plants. We can only see them when the sun has set anyways” Spider shrugs, tightening the pack against his back. Y/n bites her lips furiously, her nostrils flaring in a mix of anger and worry for the boy. 

“Spider, seriously? It's only been 3 days, and your wound hasn't fully healed yet. What if you run into trouble?” She rants, trying to stand in Spider’s way crossing her arms in frustration. Spider sighs out loud, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. 

“We won't be going too far out and I have this-” He gestures to the bow slung across his chest. Y/n raises an eyebrow, glancing at his injured arm as if to answer his statement . He playfully rolls his eyes, sidestepping her and quickly walking past her. 

“I’ll be fine Y/n, quit worrying!” He calls back, walking towards the entrance with determination. Y/n sighs out realizing she wouldn't hear the end of it if she took another step closer to the entrance especially since Norm and Max were in her line of vision. She throws her hands up in annoyance, turning to Max who simply offers a tiny smile. 

“Seriously? You're allowing this?” Y/n asks her cheeks flushed in worry. 

At this point Y/n didn't know what egged her to react in such a way. Was it a worry for Spider’s safety? Was it anger towards the ‘adults’ in the lab that allowed him to venture out so late? Or the more likely option, was it jealousy? Jealous over the fact that Spider could go out, and she can't. 

“Relax Y/n, it's not the end of the world. Let the boy live a little” Max says teasingly which caused the tiny girl to fume. 

‘Then, why can I live a little?’

Hearing the entrance lock from a few feet behind her Y/n whips around to leave the lab, intending on going to her room to watch her mother logs. Watching her mothers calming logs always helped calm her down. 

“Wait! Y/n?!” Norm calls from his seat, causing the girl to stop right outside the door. She glances back, her eyes cold and unwavering.

“Yes?” she asks in a monotone, not feeling in the mood to listen to what he had to say. “Did you check the exo-packs like I asked the other day?” He asks, not noting how Y/n looked ready to kill at this point. 

“Of course, now if you’ll excuse me. I have to go to my room” Y/n easily lies before marching out of the lab. Max glances at Norm who had a questioning look on his face. 

“The rebellious stage?” Norm asks, tapping his pen against his lips 

“I'd say more like just fluctuating hormones?” Max offers, glancing back at where she had stormed off to.

“Thank god I don't have children of my own”

 

“Norm….Y/n and Spider are practically our children…”

~~~~~

“No”

Y/n’s hands scurry over the hanger, rechecking the packs in her arms, her heart beating a mile per minute.

“No, no no no, where are you?” Y/n whispers to herself, her eyes jumping around as if it would magically appear in front of her.

 

After gloating in her room for half an hour Y/n decided to finally finish up her duty to clean and recharge the exo packs. She had been rather lazy the past few days, lazy to the point she kept putting off the chore entirely. 

The moment she arrived back to the lab it was empty, everyone must have left for their quarters or for dinner, a perfect time to quickly finish her work and be on her way to her room again. But unfortunately for her, life wasn't going to be that easy. 

She remembered leaving a few packs to do later, but one was missing. The very same pack Norm had emphasized on, the defective and nearly beaten up exo pack. #8. 

She looked around aimlessly, double checking the logbook to see if anyone had mistakenly taken the pack out. But she knew no one would be out this late. And if things couldn't get any worse, there were no loose packs lying around. No one would have mistakenly placed it anywhere. And the recycling system didn't have it either so no one decided on throwing out the defective pack. 

Which only left one, bone chilling conclusion.

 

“Shit…Spider” 

Y/n looks at the entrance a few feet away. Before the entrance seemed to shine, it seemed to always glow in her eyes. But right now, it looked menacing, scary even. It was the very same door Spider had run out of not too long ago, wearing the defective mask. 

Y/n feels sweat drip down her forehead, her eyes widening in fear. Due to her laziness, her foolishness. Spider was going to die. And all because of her. 

The exo packs would be good for a few hours even if they are near to running out of power, or even if the filter needed to be changed. But Y/n knew about that mask, #8 was defective. That mask should have been discarded weeks ago. And she knew Spider didn't have hours, he had minutes left. 

“What have I done? '' Y/n shakily covers her mouth, covering up her sobs as she feels the weight of her mistake weigh down on her. She couldn't seem to form a coherent thought  as she sobs out of sheer pain and guilt that shook her body. 

Just as her sobs die down she glances at the entrance one more time, before mindlessly grabbing two exo packs. She slings one across her arms carefully while placing the other one over her face, securing the mask snugly and slinging her arms through the power pack. She held the extra pack close to her, taking tentative steps towards the entrance. The closer she got, the faster her heart rang against her chest.

She knew Norm and Max would be devastated if they found out Spider was in danger , or worse dead because of Y/n. And she couldn't, wouldn’t live with his blood on her hands. She nears the entrance, her hands shakily reaching out to firmly grasp the cold handle. 

She didn't know how, she didn't know if she had the ability. But she would rather die trying than sit in the lab waiting for the inevitable.

She was determined to find Spider. Wherever he may be.

 

Glancing back at the empty lab once more she turns her exo pack on, taking in a deep breath. The hum of the power supply working flawlessly vibrates against her back comfortably. 

Locking the airlock she opens the door, shutting it behind her with force as she runs into the unknown forest ahead. 

Not sparing a glance back at her so-called; prison. 

~~~~~~~~

Y/n had been wandering around aimlessly as her feet carried her deeper and deeper into the forest. She didn't have the time to bask in the beauty of the forest she had desired for long as her worry and fear for Spider clouded her vision. 

Her eyes darted around, the bioluminescent plants aiding her in her quest through the dense forest filled with twigs and foliage that crushed under her hurried steps. 

“S-shit” 

Y/n comes to a stop in a clearing, resting her hand against the tree beside her to catch her breath. She had never run so far, and for such a long duration in her entire life. She felt her legs tremble under form as if it couldn't hold her upper body weight any longer. Her breaths came out in gasps occasionally fogging up her face plate. 

At the rate she was going she didn't know if she had a chance to even find Spider. Feeling all the adrenaline drain from her body, she slumps against the large tree, sliding down to sit on the cold forest floor beneath. Her eyes trail over the beauty as she tries to regulate her breathing, her eyes glimmering with  mild excitement. 

For a moment, she forgot that Spider was in danger. 

For a moment, she felt like she was dreaming. 

Her fingers clutch the leaves underneath her, they felt so soft yet rough at the same time, her eyes catching the various plants that glow and glimmer in the dead of the night. It was an indescribable beauty. Y/n found herself realizing  her mother had not done justice when describing the beauty of Pandora in her logs. 

Pandora was not simply beautiful; It was breathtaking.

 

Y/n smiles softly to herself, her eyes taking in the beauty of the night. She couldn't imagine how it would look during the day. What she would do to stay out and wait it out till day break. 

Her thoughts are cut short when she notices a small glittering thing float down to her from high above the treeline. She watches curiously, her legs regaining some strength as she shakily stands up, her grip on the extra exo pack for Spider secure. She stands to her full fight as if to meet the floating object halfway. 

A surprised gasp leaves her lips as realizes the beautiful being was floating down to her, her face flashing with recognition. The seed came mere inches away from her face.

Y/n shakily lifts her free arm towards it, facing her palm up. Staying perfectly still. The pure spirit hoes on to land on her palm swiftly, as if it intended on landing on her hand in the first place. Y/n giggles softly feeling the tiny tendrils tickle against her bare skin. 

“You're a Atokirina” (Woodsprite) Y/n whispers out quietly,  as if weary of scaring the delicate being. She watches how the seed stays on her hand, fluttering occasionally but staying put. What a beautiful sight, she felt her heart soar.

Y/n had learned a lot through her many ‘lessons’, from Norm and the logs. About the importance of a woodsprite and its meaning. She had also learned they were pure spirits and considered scared. Y/n bites her lips softly as a thought crosses her mind. Taking a moment to contemplate her question she takes a deep breath.

 

“I've lost a dear friend of mine…Spider, will you help me find him?” Y/n whispers, feeling silly for asking a favor out loud. She watches how the seed flutters at her request, floating up at her words. Taking this as a sign, Y/n pushes her wobbly legs to follow the floating woodsprite across the clearing and near a patch of bushes. 

She comes to a halt noticing how the woodsprite started to float upwards, floating further and further away. She tilts her head in question. Did it want her to continue on straight? Straight through and deeper into the forest? 

Y/n glances back at the bush in front of her, her eyes catch the slight movement between the leaves. Her heart jumps at the movement. Was it Spider? Was he in the bushes? 

Feeling like she had no other option she slowly comes closer towards the bush, watching the rustling increase the closer it got. She couldn’t help but feel fear ping inside of her as she came closer, her feet practically tip toeing against the forest floor. 

‘If it was Spider, why hasn't he come out yet?’ 

Gulping loudly she reaches out her free hand to move the leaves for a better view but within a blink of eye she is harshly pushed down to the ground. 

The extra pack flies away at the impact of her landing harshly against the forest floor, her back pressed down by a heavy weight. The deep growl makes Y/n’s  blood run cold. 

Her eyes widen in unbridled fear as she stares into the eyes of an angry viperwolf. Out of fear she trashes against the beast, screaming in fear which only agitated the creature who snaps its fangs at her. 

Tears pool along her irises as her body gives in, to warn out to fully fight back. She feels the creature get closer to her face, the warning growls disappearing as its eyes square down into her smaller form. 

She scrunched her eyes shut, waiting for it all to end in a second. 

Spider was right, your life does flash before your eyes. And all Y/n saw was her sad self, staring at her own reflection with no purpose. An empty shell of herself. No goals, no ambitions. Nothing. All because she was denied such freedom. 

Y/n feels her body relax. Maybe this was what she needed? Maybe this was meant to be? 

She silently prays when all of the sudden the weight is lifted off of her. 

Her eyes snapped open as she scurried to sit up. Y/n eyes widen in shock, her jaw going slacked as she watches the viperwolf snap defensively against her saviour. 

She drinks in the sight of a Na’vi male, and not just any male. A really tall Navi, his broad back facing her as he wrestled against the viperwolf. She catches a glint of a knife that was lodged into the creature as it whines in pain. 

Y/n had never seen a Na’vi up close before, sure she had scanned over files and pictures. She even got to interact with some of the avatars. But this. This was new. This was a true Na’vi. And he had saved her.

Y/n crawls over to the abandoned exo pack that had gone flying when she was thrown to the ground, making sure it wasn't damaged as she looks it over. Sighing in relief, she glances over at  the Na’vi as he looms over the now dead viperwolf, whispering something in their native language as he pulls out the knife. Cleaning it if it’s blood.

“T-thank you” 

Y/n whispers, taking tiny straps to get a bit closer to the now crouched male. At the sound of her voice he visually stiffens, his grip on the knife tightening as he sheaths back into its casing across his belt 

Not receiving a response Y/n clears her throat, she wanted to wipe her face of the tears that had slipped past her eyes at her near death experience. But the mask proved to be a barrier at the moment. 

“Thank you for saving me” Y/n tries again. This time she takes a cautious step back when the male whips around, standing up immediately to his full height towering over her. Y/n craned her neck to get a glimpse of his face, her breath hitched upon taking in his features. 

He must have been the most beautiful, handsome Na’vi Y/n had ever seen. The markings and stripes along his face displayed beautifully, his yellow eyes shining bright as they pierced into her soul, his locks braided neatly and laying past his shoulders. Decorated with beads and pearls. 

And his lips, so nicely shaped and perfect, Y/n found herself getting lost in them. But from the looks of it, he wasn’t smiling at her. No. He was frowning, his eyes burning with what looked to be anger. 

“Thank??” He growls slowly, pointing his index finger towards Y/n in accusation. His English accent thick. 

“You thank?? For this?!” He hisses, his ears flattened against his head. Y/n flinches at his tone, looking over at the viperwolf that attacked her earlier. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she realized he had killed a creature, a native creature for her. 

“I’m sorry…I-”

Y/n looks back at the handsome stranger, noting how his shoulders relax a bit at her apology. 

(A/N: The rest of the dialogue is in Navi)

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. Create a…conflict” Y/n says in Na’vi. Though it was broken and missing some words, the male seems to relax fully once she speaks to him his mother tongue. 

Once she had grown interested in the Na’vi culture Y/n had made Norm’s life a living hell until he taught her how to speak. She could understand almost everything after many years of practice, it was her speaking that needed improvement, 

“Why did you save me?” She asks, her voice shaky from the event that had unfolded. The male grunts at her question, choosing to look anywhere else but her. His tail twitches under her stare. 

“Because Ewya seems to have chosen you…for what. I don’t know”  he explained. Y/n eyes widen at his words. Had he been watching her the entire time? From the moment she walked into the clearing? And she hasn't known of his presence? He must be a warrior, judging by his stature, his precision and skills. 

“I’m truly sorry, it was foolish of me to provoke him…” She wipers apologetically. The male's eyes twitch upwards, taking in her world. 

The male shuffles a little, the storm behind his eyes seems to calm down at her words. He seems to contemplate something before looking over to her, his expression much more relaxed than before but still hard. 

“Where are you from?” he demands, but much softer than before. He looked stiff, ready to defend himself if need be, but the original hostility had dispersed once he saw the sincerity behind her apology, 

“I-I’m from the base camp, a good way away from here. I work with…Norm and Max?” Y/n explains, peering up at the giant. Y/n thought it best she use the names of her guardians who she knew were known amongst the Omatikaya. She used their names hoping for the male to calm down, and luckily it worked perfectly, 

The male's tail twitches at the names mentioned, a flash of recognition crossing his face. He lets out a grunt as he glances around the clearing.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone tawtute. I will escort you back so you may not cause anymore trouble. Is that clear?” (Human) The male says sternly, his eyes completely calm but filled with authority. Not waiting for her response he turns his back on her, taking two strides waiting for her to follow him. 

Y/n thought he was around her age, but his tone and choice of words, how he held himself made him seem older. That, or he was that of nobility. 

“I can’t!” She quickly objects.

 

The male halts his steps, peering over his shoulder with an unamused look on his face. He sighs out, 

“Why not tawtute. Do you want to die? It’s dangerous and you have nothing to defend yourself,” he warns. 

“My friend….My friend is in danger, I’m looking for him” Y/n holds the extra pack up as his eyes trace over the human invention. His nose slightly scrunches at the sight but he waits for her to further explain. 

“He left with a defective exo pack, if I do not deliver this to him in time he will die.” She says stepping closer to him. The male stiffens at her close proximity, his heart rate quickens as his nostrils fill up with her scent,  which he chooses to ignore. 

“Another tawtute? In the forest? It’s really late in the night, he’s probably already dead” he states, his tone holding traces of sympathy. 

Y/n eyes widen at his words. Had she truly been late, it’s true it’s been a while since he had left, the exo pack couldn’t have malfunctioned at any time. Was it all for nothing?

“N-no! I can’t let that happen. He’s alive, I feel it-” Y/n places her hand over her heart for emphasis. “Spider, he can-“ 

“Spider?!” The male jolts at the familiar name. His eyes light up on high alert causing Y/n to be taken aback.

 

“Y-yes, Spider! Do you know him!” She confirms, taking a step closer to the Na’vi. The male glances back at the exo pack one more time before offering his large hand out for her. 

“Come” 

~~~~~~~

The male Navi pulls Y/n along with him as she walks quickly through the forest. Y/n desperately tried to keep up, her lungs burning at the sensation of her rapid pace. 

Y/n tried to get the male to give her some space, to let her run freely by his side as him pulling her seemed to pose a problem. But the only response she got were grunts of acknowledgement and nothing more, 

“C-can we slow down?”  Y/n asks, her chest heaving with every breath she tries to take. The male stops, turning towards her. His eyes burning with determination, his tail swishing behind me. 

“You tawtute are slow, weak. If you don’t hurry we won’t find him” the male hisses. Y/n realizes this male must be one of Spider’s friends. He recognized him the moment she mentioned him, and the urgency in his actions proved he cared for him. 

“I’ll try to keep up. Can I please walk on my own?” Y/n pleads, the arm that had been tugged at for the past few minutes throbbing with pain. 

The male scoffs, the tiniest smile playing along his lips. “Fine, do what you want tawtute, but move with haste” the male turns around taking a few steps but much slower this time to accommodate her speed. 

“I have a name!” Y/n huffs out.

 

“Oh? What might that be?” There is a small trace of amusement in his tone as he keeps walking forward. Y/n glances down at her footing. Being mindful where she placed her feet on the huge branch as she didn’t want to fall. It wasn't a big drop, but it was big enough to break a bone or two. 

“Y/n. My name is Y/n” she wheezes out. The male hums at her response, satisfied that she answered to him so quickly, 

“Y/n…Mhm…” the male says her name causing Y/n’s steps to falter. The way her name rolled off his tongue, so elegantly it seemed to cause her heart to skip a beat. The deep baritone voice only made him sound that much more….attractive.

“What's your-”

Y/n was so lost in her thoughts she misplaced her next step. Y/n screams in fear feeling her leg slip from under her, she is able to see how the male Na’vi whips around to the sound of her scream, rushing to catch her in time but to no avail. Y/n’s fingers slip past his by a few mere centimeters as she tumbled towards the forest floor. She landed with a huge thump, landing on her face. 

“Y/n!”

Y/n groans in pain, struggling to sit back up. Luckily nothing felt broken, but her entire body screamed in protest as aches and pain took over her body. She held her breath to calm her racing heart. Just as Y/n tries to stand up, the male jumps down to her side. He crouches down to her level assessing her for any injuries with a worried look. 

“Woah, that was a scare! Talk abou-hmpfhghaa?”

 

Y/n’s words get caught off as the males' large hands cover her mouth. Y/n eyes widen at the action, her face heating up at the feeling of his warm hand over her mouth. His hand was big enough to cover her entire face if he wanted to. But all she could focus on was the way his body heat radiated off of  his soft hand.

‘He feels so warm…..wait…warm?’ 

Y/n feels her heart drop to her stomach realizing why she felt his hand press firmly against her mouth. 

Her mask had broken clean off. Her face was fully bare.

 

If it weren't  for his hand she would have inhaled the toxic air. Dying in an instant.

“Mhdgjpfff!” 

The male's expression is filled with worry, his eyes dancing around for the extra pack she had with her for Spider. Unable to find it near them he growls in frustration. It might have slipped from Y/n’s fingers when she had fallen. Such luck. 

“Can you hold your breath? Do you think you can hold your breath till the base Y/n? Forget Spider, let me carry you back to your base!” The male says urgently, his face showing emotions he didn’t show earlier. Y/n ignored how her heart rate accelerated at him saying her name so freely. 

Her eyes mist over realizing this was the end. She shakes her head, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it, and with the extra pack not in sight it was as if she was meant to perish. Like everything that has happened today, happened for a reason. 

The Na’vi shakes his head in denial, refusing to take no for an answer.

 

“No, there must be something. Another way” He glances at the sky, he would call his Ikran but the question still stands. Would she be able to hold her breath for that long? 

Y/n smiles at the male, her tiny fingers reaching up to grab his hand, trying to tug his hand free from his hold. . 

The male shakes his head, refusing to remove his hand. Y/n feels herself get light headed  from the lack of oxygen. If this is what fate had in store for her, she was willing to allow it.

 

Noticing how her eyes got droopy, the male pulled Y/n into him, having her head rest against his free arm while she sat against his lap. 

He looks down at her with sadness, his eyes staring into her e/c eyes realizing there was nothing he could do. He felt utterly useless. 

Y/n nods assuringly as she is finally able to pull away his hand. The male closed his eyes, he didn’t want to watch her in physical pain in her last few moments. A shaky sigh escaped his lips. Y/n looks up at the star's above, her eyes closing to a shut. 

Y/n thanks the gods above for letting her see the forest for the first time, and for meeting a Na’vi at the first try. In a way she got to experience everything she desired in the span of one day, and that made her happy. 

She takes a deep breath and……

Nothing happens. 

Her lungs fill in with the air around her as her eyes snap open. The male peeks his eyes open as well hearing her gasp in surprise, his  widened as he watches her able to breathe the air around her. His air. The air that was supposed to be…toxic. 

Y/n smiles wide, sitting up straighter. She can breathe fine, in fact the air seems lighter as it travels through her, better than oxygen! She could breathe Pandora air! Had the great mother spared her life?

“W-hat?!” Y/n sits up fully now, still within his grasp. The Na’vi’s eyes bore into her in shock and surprise as she wiggled what was left of her mask off her face. She adjusted her hair and moved it from face as she inhaled deeply. 

“I…I’m not dead!” She declares, turning to fully to face the male. She squeaks in surprise when she realizes how close their faces were from one another as she is practically resting over his lap. She shyly looks into his eyes, him staring back at her in awe. 

The male's eyes widen at her , fully taking in her beauty. He hadn't noticed her when he was blinded by anger, or when he began to worry over his friend Spider.  

Now that he had her in his arms, he realized he didn’t want to let her go. He was able to see everything, and up close. The mask that seemed to hide her beauty finally gone, showing him what he had missed. What he had been blind to see before.

“W-what’s your name?” Y/n asks, beginning to shy away from his intense stare up close. Maybe she looked silly with her messy hair and puffy eyes? 

The male breathes in, a genuine smile twitching along his lips.

“Neteyam,…my name is Neteyam”

 

And for the first time in forever, Neteyam felt completely breathless. 

___________________________________

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! let me know what you think and if you'd like a Pt2?

#avatar #avatar x reader #avatar x y/n #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #avatar the way of water x reader #avatar the way of water x y/n #atwow imagines #atwow #atwow fluff #atwow x reader #atwow x you #atwow x y/n #atwow human #avatar x human reader #avatar x human y/n #atwow x human #atwow x human y/n #neteyam #neteyam x reader #avatar fanfiction #avatar fic #avatar imagine #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fluff #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x human y/n #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #avatar 2009

[slut4thebroken]

good weird

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Dark!Jason Todd x innocent Batgirl!reader

Summary | You’re determined to make Jason feel better after finding out that you’ve made him hurt almost every day for the past few months (his dick was hard lmao)

Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, emotional manipulation, coercion, unprotected sex, breeding, first time, corruption kink, bleeding during first time, painful first time, no female orgasms, lowkey misogynistic!Jason lol, adopted siblings, but like… he doesn’t think of her that way and neither does she.

Words | 2.4k

Notes | This is the first part of a collection of dark!jason x innocent!reader fics (Impossible challenge: find a good gif or picture that works with the fic😭)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Other innocent!reader fics

“Jay?” You squeaked through the barely parted door. He sat up in bed a little, the covers falling down his bare chest. 

“Another bad dream?” He asked softly. You nodded and he told you to come inside, then held the covers up for you to slide under. You laid your head on his chest and snuggled into him as he wrapped his arms around your body.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly after a moment of silence. 

“Nah. Couldn’t sleep.” He started dragging soothing fingers up and down your back. 

“Oh. Why not?” 

“Just a lot on my mind. Wanna talk about your dream?” 

“Same one. This time mostly about you though.” Most nights you either dreamt of your parent’s deaths, or your new family’s deaths. Watching your mother and father die was probably the cause of these dreams, but your new family’s night activities only exacerbated it. Most of the time your brain would make up ways your father and oldest brother could die, but with Jason it was always the same. Always the crowbar, always alone and scared. 

“I’m sorry, princess.” He mumbled as he kissed the top of your head. The dream about Jason always hurts the most. You just have a different kind of bond with him than with Dick, and especially with your father. You don’t know what kind of bond it is, but your stomach always flutters and your head feels light whenever you’re around him. Whenever he touches you, it always feels good. Not a normal good though. It makes your core start to ache and you feel like you have to pee. The more you continued thinking about it, the more you started to feel it. 

“Jay?” You asked timidly. He hummed in response, telling you to continue, and you tried to let the vibrations of his chest calm you. “How come whenever you touch me it- it makes me feel weird?” His hand froze on your back and you stiffened, worried you said something wrong. 

“Weird how?” You could feel your cheeks grow warm as you tried to think of an answer. 

“Good weird.” Was all you could make yourself say. 

“Where does it feel good?” His hand resumed the motions on your back. 

“My tummy and- and my,” This time he stiffened below you. 

“Where, princess?” He urged you to continue, but you just whined and buried your face in his chest. His free hand brushed your inner thigh and he lightly dragged it up. When he just barely brushed his fingers over your covered heat, your breath hitched as you jumped. “Here?” He rasped. You nodded and let out a quiet “mhm” in response. 

“Do you know what this is?” That made you frown- you’re not stupid. 

“Of course I do.” Your tone made him chuckle under his breath. 

“Have you ever touched here before?” He gruffed, making you almost whimper. 

“No… ‘m not supposed to.” You muttered, feeling your hips start to chase the pressure of his fingers. 

“Who told you that?” You knew if you looked at him, he’d be frowning. 

“School…” You said quietly. You never like to talk about the fact that you went to a religious school- people always make fun of you for it. He hummed in acknowledgment, then removed his hand, making you let out a needy whine and buck your hips forward. Instead of responding, he just took your hand, and gently moved it down, under the covers. When he placed it on his bulge, you gasped and tried to remove it, but he held you there, making you feel him. 

“You know what this is?” He asked and you bit your lip as you nodded. “Good. Do you know why I’m hard?” This time, you shook your head. “Because of you, princess.” 

“Me?” You lifted your head to look at him. 

“Mhm. Always you. Everytime you sit on my lap, cuddle with me, whimper when we spar and I go a little too rough- you always make me so hard, baby.” You stared at him with wide eyes, watching the color of his almost completely disappear from the size of his pupils. “And everytime, I have to come in here or go to the bathroom and jerk myself off to make it better. And it’s all your fault, sweetheart.” That made you frown as your brows furrowed. You didn’t mean to make him feel like that. 

“‘m sorry. Didn’t mean to, Jay.” He brushed some of your hair behind your ear then cupped your cheek, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. 

“It’s okay, baby. But if you want to make me feel better, you have to do something.” You wanted to help him, you wanted to make up for all the times you made him feel like this. 

“What? Anything.” Instead of answering, he just helped you on top of him, so your front was completely pressed to his. You placed your hands on his chest and he grabbed your hips, then started dragging your core over his bulge. 

“Anything?” He asked. You nodded, holding down a whimper. 

“Just wanna make you feel better.” 

“Good girl. You’re so good, princess.” He cooed, giving you a soft smile that made your heart flutter. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” 

“No,” You said quietly, glancing away from him, embarrassed at your lack of experience. 

“Good.” He all but growled. Jason removed a hand from your hips and placed it on the back of your neck, then pulled you down, only stopping once your lips brushed his. Your eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, you weren’t sure what to expect from this. 

Finally, he pressed his lips to yours, slowly kissing you to get you used to it. After a moment, he deepened the kiss. The warm, wet sensation on your lips made you gasp and he slid his tongue in your now open mouth. It was weird. But good weird. 

By now, your hips were rutting against his as you grew more desperate. He was barely guiding your movements anymore while you chased the pleasure. When he pulled back, your eyes fluttered open, lips still parted and chest heaving. You never knew kissing could feel like that. Part of you regrets wanting to wait until marriage. That thought made you stiffen. 

“W-wait, Jay, we shouldn’t be doing this. You’re my brother and- I was supposed to wait until marriage.” You said quietly. 

“I thought you said you wanted to make me feel better?” He frowned, making your stomach drop. 

“I- I do, but,” 

“There’s no “but.” Either you want to help me or you don’t.” His brows furrowed, intensifying his frown. “You’re the reason I feel like this. You seriously just want to leave me in pain?” 

Pain? You didn’t know it was hurting. You figured it was the same feeling you had. 

“It hurts?” You squeaked, brows furrowing in concern. 

“You’ve never heard of blue balls?” You shook your head, so he continued. “It’s incredibly painful, sweetheart. Only feels better once I can bury it in a tight, warm cunt. And you’ve made me feel like this for months.” 

“I- I’m sorry, Jay, I didn’t know…” You whimpered, chest aching at the thought of you being the cause of his pain. 

“I don’t forgive you. Not yet anyway.” Tears welled in your eyes from his words. 

“I want to help. Please,” He shushed you and cupped your cheek again. 

“You sure?” 

“Please. Wanna make you feel better.” You whimpered and the corners of his lips turned up at your words. 

“Okay, princess. I’ll let you help me.” 

“Thank you.” Before you could even finish, he was rolling you both over so he was on top. He settled between your legs and leaned up on his knees. 

“First, this has to come off.” He said, grabbing the bottom of your shirt and pulling it off. “You’ll only really be able to make me feel better if you’re naked.” He explained, when he saw your confused expression. “These too.” He pulled your sleep shorts and panties down your legs, making you blush. Letting out a low groan, he swiped his thumb through your folds, then circled your clit lightly, making your hips buck into the friction.  

“You’re helping already.” He smirked and you glanced at the tent in his underwear. It didn’t look like you were helping. You whined when he removed his hand, but he quickly moved down to your hole and inserted a finger, letting out a low groan at your tight heat. 

As he fingered you, he debated what to do. While part of him wanted to prep you, make it as easy on you as possible, a larger part wanted to fuck your virgin cunt right now, before it could get any looser. He didn’t have to think about it for a second longer before he was removing his finger and shoving his pants down his thighs. When you saw his cock, your eyes widened as your lips parted in shock at his size. He took it in his hand and stroked it slowly. 

“Just the tip, okay? I promise, baby. Just need to put the tip inside, then I’ll feel better.” He said, to ease your anxiety. You whined, but agreed anyway. He leaned over you and you wrapped your arms over his shoulders as he lined his length up with your hole. “Relax, princess. It’s okay.” He whispered against your ear. You couldn’t help but obey. It took a lot of pressure before his cock was able to breach your hole. Once he pushed in though, you tensed up again. 

“Hurts.” You whimpered, eyes burning with unshed tears. Your pussy was trying to force him out, not used to the intrusion yet. 

“I know, baby. Just relax.” His voice was strained with arousal and he reached a hand down to rub circles on your clit, making walls flutter around his cock. “Fuck, that’s good.” He groaned, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck. 

“God- I know I said just the tip, but it feels so good. Can you take just a little bit more?” 

“Jay, it hurts.” You whined. 

“I know, princess. You gotta relax, it’ll feel good soon.” He slowly pushed in farther and you cried out, digging your nails into his back. “So fucking good. Your little cunt feels so good.” He said through a moan. He pulled back, then pushed in again, continuing the slow rhythm. 

“This is just what I needed, baby. You’re doing such a good job for me.” You tried to focus on his words and the stimulation on your clit, rather than the constant pain from the stretch. “Good girl. Good fucking girl- take it.” He growled on a particularly sharp thrust that made you let out a choked sob. 

“You fucking owe me for all the times you gave me blue balls. I’m gonna fuck you every night now to make up for it.” He hissed, voice getting progressively breathier as the speed of his thrusts increased. “Gonna bury my cock balls deep and fill you up with my come- fuckin breed you, every single night.” He growled. His pace turned bruising and you could barely release any sounds because of the way your breath was being punched out of you with every thrust. 

“You deserve to be my little breeding bitch after all the months you made me fucking come on my hand instead of in this tight, little cunt.” He spat, placing a hand on your neck and squeezing. “What’ll your daddy say, huh? When you go to him asking for birth control. Or are you just gonna let me knock you up?” You let out a whimper, feeling your cheeks heat up at just the thought of the embarrassing conversation. 

“Maybe you will just have to let me knock you up. After all, it’s not like you can tell him you let your big brother fuck you.” 

“Jay,” You sobbed, too overwhelmed emotionally and physically. 

“From now on, you’re going to come in here every night. And I’m going to use your little cunt until I fuck my load into you. Do you understand?” He growled, making you whimper. “This is your own fucking fault so stop bitching about it. You’re the one who decided to be a fucking tease around me.” You let out a choked sob, knowing that he’s right. You didn’t tease him on purpose, but you still made him hurt everyday for months. 

His thrusts turned frenzied as he buried his face in the crook of your neck again. Only a few thrusts later and he was pushing all the way inside, the pressure on your cervix almost painful as he forced his cock in. He let out a low groan and you could feel him twitching against your walls as started to fill you. He stilled for a moment, breathing heavy, then leaned up to sit on his heels. 

He slowly pulled out, eyes never leaving your cunt, and cursed under his breath when his come started dripping out. Ignoring the blood on his dick, he swiped his fingers through the mess and pushed it back in your hole. As he watched some of it leak down to your ass, he made a mental note to buy some lube so he can fuck that soon too. 

“Did- did I help?” You whimpered, making his gaze move to you. He eyed your fucked out face, the way your cheeks were still wet with tears and your hair was tousaled, and gave you a small smile. 

“You did, princess. Thank you. But this isn’t a permanent fix, okay? I meant what I said about you coming here every night.” Despite the softness of his voice, it was still stern, letting you know that this wasn’t a request, it was an order. You let out a quiet whimper at the thought of having to do this again, but as long as you were making him feel better, any pain you felt would be worth it. 

He grabbed your underwear to clean his cock, then pulled them back up your legs. You already made enough of a mess on his sheets, he didn’t need his come adding to it any more than it already did. When he laid back down and pulled you into him, you hissed in pain as you moved but eventually got comfortable enough to sleep. 

“Love you so much, princess. Did such a good job for me.” He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head, making you smile. 

“Love you too, Jay.” You mumbled sleepily. 

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #smut #innocent!reader #dark!jason todd #Jason Todd x reader smut #jason todd smut

[slutforaemondtargaryen]

Nobody hurts what's mine | Aemond Targaryen

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: fluff, mention of rape (not by Aemond), murder/death, blood, slightly dark Aemond, no use of y/n, traumatic event

Summary: While Aemond was out on duty a Lord from the court took advantage of you. Aemond will definitely not let that slide.

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: hi! i really don't know how i thought of this. i've never written anything like that so it's probably not the best quality, but i hope you like it and enjoy it! any support is very much appreciated.

reblogs, likes and comments are very appreciated <3

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE MY WORK!

She was sitting in their chambers, Aemond not present. She couldn't stop thinking about what happened.

It was supposed to be a quick dinner with the rest of the court. She would drink a few goblets of wine, eat some food, and quickly disappear to her chambers, where she would fall asleep.

She wasn't planning that Lord Lannister would follow her. He clearly had a few more drinks than he should've. His walking was not very straight.

Before she could even react, he pulled her aside to an empty hallway. She tried to fight him, but he forced himself upon her, putting a hand over her mouth to prevent her from screaming. She bit him multiple times however he didn't seem to feel it at all.

It was probably quick for him. For her, it were the longest minutes of her life. When he was done he just whispered ''Don't tell anyone or something bad will happen.'' and disappeared back to the dining hall.

She quickly went to her chambers. She told a maid to prepare her a bath as quickly as possible and requested moon tea. The maid sent for the moon tea without asking questions nevertheless made sure to let her Lord husband know. The bath was prepared in no time.

Her skin was raw from how strongly she washed her body, the places Lord Lannister touched. Scratches from her nails as she tried so hard to get the awful feeling off her. She felt so dirty all the segments of her skin that his disgusting hands touched. It felt like they were on fire. Tears streamed down her cheeks as everything slowly sunk in. The realization of what actually happened.

So many thoughts were running through her head. Does this mean I was unfaithful to Aemond? Was it my fault? Did I deserve it? Did I provoke him? What if Aemond finds out? What will happen? Will he blame me?

She stepped out of the bath. Water was dripping on the floor, but she did not care. The robe she put on was comfortable, like silky sheets that were caressing her aching skin.

The moon tea was already served on the table, waiting just for her. She drank it quickly, making sure there was no drop left. Praying to the Seven that she would not be with a baby of the filthy Lannister.

When Aemond got the message, he immediately canceled everything he was doing and returned to the King's Landing. He needed to know what made his wife ask for moon tea, and he had a feeling that he won't like it.

When he arrived at the King's Landing, he got off Vhagar's back and without talking to anyone, headed to his shared chambers. He walked quickly, ignoring his mother, Queen Alicent, on the way.

The guards opened the chambers to him. When he looked into the chamber he saw his Lady wife sitting in the armchair in front of the fireplace. She didn't even notice he was there. The doors closed behind him as he walked up to his wife.

He kneeled next to the armchair and sighed. ''One of the maids sent me some information,'' he said while placing his hand on hers. She flinched slightly, which caused him to put his hand away. Wounded a little. ''Is it true that you ordered the moon tea?'' he asked with a soft voice, not wanting to make her feel pressured.

She nodded. She didn't feel like talking at all, she was scared of Aemond's reaction. ''Why?'' he asked. He wanted to touch her, caress her hand, hair, anything, but he wanted to respect her comfort zone.

She kept silent. The bad habit of scratching her fingers until they are bleeding coming back. Aemond noticed it and took her hands in his which made her look at him.

He kneeled in front of her, his face desperate and worried. He loved her too much and he was scared of what happened. His hair was loose over his shoulders. He was wearing his clothes for riding, which he usually took off right after. Not now, his wife was his priority.

He kissed her hands gently, causing her eyes to swell up with tears. Aemond did not understand what was happening so he hugged her. He wanted her to know that he was there for her. She cried over his shoulder and they both sat there like that for a few minutes.

Aemond finally started getting what happened. Why his lady wife has requested the moon tea and why she was crying now. He only needed a name. A name of the bastard that laid his hands upon her, who forced himself upon her.

''Who?'' only came out of his lips. His voice was demanding although gentle at the same time. ''Lord Lannister,'' she said in between sobs, clutching on him even more, scared that he would leave her. That he was disgusted by her.

Aemond's lilac eye darkened. How did the filthy Lannister dare to touch his wife while he was away? He would pay for it, and Aemond would make sure that Lord Lannister would regret every second of the terror he did to his wife.

He got pulled out of his thoughts when she said something he never thought he would hear. The sentence 'Are you disgusted with me?' ringing in his ears.

He pulled a little away to look into her eyes. ''What? No of course not, my dear wife.'' He caressed her head slowly while she looked at him with glossy eyes. He could see how much pain she had endured. ''Why would you think that, little dragon?'' he was a little sad that her head would even come up with it.

''Because of...'' she looked away. ''Of what he did. What if it was my fault? What if I-'' Aemond cut her off with a gentle 'shh' ''Do not say those words again. It was not your fault, never think that. That pig of a Lannister cannot keep his hands to himself, and he will pay.''

He kissed her forehead. ''There is nothing that could make you disgusting to me.'' she smiled at that, clearly relieved. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. ''I love you, little dragon.'' he pulled her into his chest and kept caressing her hair. ''I love you too,'' she replied.

Those words made Aemond's body fill with warmth. He loved her so much, too much. He would kill for her, burn the world for her only to make sure that she was happy and safe. He loved her to such depths that he would betray his family if she asked him to. He hated it, but he knew that his life without her would not make sense.

When she fell asleep at night after many comfort hours with Aemond he went to finally take his revenge for his wife. He wanted to do it earlier, the second he found out but he couldn't leave his little dragon alone, not in that state.

He was furious when he found out that Lord Lannister left the King's Landing, and returned to Casterly Rock due to 'important issues'. He tried to run away. Coward. Aemond thought.

This wasn't going to stop him. He would get his revenge even if it meant he had to go to Casterly Rock.

He rode Vhagar. Oh, how he wished to see Lannister's face when he saw Aemond's dragon. Aemond didn't waste any time finding a place to land. He landed on the castle grounds, not caring about some towers falling because of Vhagar's wings. Why would he anyway?

He heard people screaming, some panicking. Aemond didn't care. He headed inside the castle. A young maid helped him find Lord Lannister's chambers. Such a sweet servant girl, she didn't know that she was helping the murderer to kill her Lord.

When Aemond barged into the chambers he saw Lord Lannister packing things in fear. ''You won't need them,'' Aemond told him. His tone was so horrifying that many courageous guards would run away in fear.

''What do you want?'' Lord Lannister said, his eyes filled with fear. ''What do I want?'' Aemond repeated slowly. He twirled with his dagger between his fingers. ''Don't you know that you shouldn't touch things that are not yours?'' he asked. His whole demeanor was calm which was surprising to Lord Lannister.

He didn't reply, instead, he tried to grab a sword nearby. Before he could even reach him he screamed in pain. Aemond's dagger was in his hand. ''Was that hand first?'' Aemond asked with a coy smirk. ''Doesn't matter you're going to lose both.''

Aemond ripped the dagger out of his hand and cut it off in a swift motion. Blood flowed out on the marble floor. Lord Lannister screamed in pain, he tried to clutch the hand to stop the bleeding but Aemond wouldn't let him. He loved his pained screams so much. ''You're a little cunt, aren't you? Taking advantage of my lady wife when I'm not there. You really thought I wouldn't find out?'' Aemond snickered.

''I told that bitch to not tell anyone,'' Lannister said. Aemond got furious when he heard Lannister call his little dragon a 'bitch'. Without waiting for anything he cut off his other hand.

''This is going to start a war between us, boy!'' Lannister gritted out. He was angry, and Aemond smirked. ''So be it,'' with that word, Aemond slit Lord Lannister's throat.

#aemond targaryen #aemond angst #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #fanfiction #fluff #aemond fluff #house of the dragon #house lannister #house targaryen #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [1] (myg)

title: will i ever see you again?

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst!, fluff, smut summary: yoongi usually has an explanation for everything. why can't he talk you through this? warnings: [it is important that you read the prologue before this]

It takes you a good five minutes to gather yourself. Yoongi doesn't dare to disturb you.

Still leaned against the wall, you take a few steady breaths.

You don't know why but you don't cry.

The news of him dating another person is enough for you to have an intense breakdown, let alone marrying someone.

This will forever serve as a reminder that you weren't enough for Yoongi.

You kind of just want to go straight to bed. Pretend this never happened. Just deal with it later.

After your break-up, a big part of you always thought you'd end up getting back together. And that no matter how long it takes, Yoongi would be your endgame. He was it for you.

Over the past year, your contact with Yoongi had reduced. He was always busy when you called. Always working.

But now that you think about it, it was you who assumed that he was working. He never claimed he was.

For all you know, he could've been dating.

Pfft. 'Could have.'

He most definitely was.

And he didn't tell you. Not even your friends told you about it.

You don't know what's worse.

You're pushing yourself away from going into a dark place. Where you begin to wonder.

The only question that refuses to budge is: What does she have that you don't?

In all honesty, you wish he never told you. You don't want to know what type of a person his future wife is. You do not want to know if they'd have children together. You do not care if they buy a house together, or if they already have one. You don't want to know.

And you don't want to think about what it'd do to Nao.

When you begin to truly register the possible consequences of Yoongi's marriage, you feel anger. It spreads through your veins in a millisecond.

Had Nao already met this woman? You doubt that because she never told you about it.

Would it be confusing for her to understand what's going on?

Is that woman going to be parenting your child too? You violently shook your head. You won't allow that.

You are her only mother.

The pressure in your chest only deepens the more you think about this.

Yoongi has stolen your peace.

How are you to move on from this? And you hadn't even confronted half of the thoughts you're having. The anger never subsides.

He's going to send you right back to therapy.

"_____?" Yoongi comes looking for you.

You cannot afford to lose your composure in front of him. You don't want to give him more reasons to be grateful for your break-up.

You had to step away for just a bit longer, "I'll be right back."

You were about to turn and hide in your room when you feel Yoongi yanking your arm back.

With a surprised yelp, you pull it back just as forceful.

"Talk to me." Yoongi pleaded with his eyes.

No.

"I...-" You trail off. The words were caught in your throat. I don't want to see you again, ever.

This was such a disaster.

How does one move on from this?

"_____. I'm sorry." He tried again.

Yoongi had it all planned. He was going to sit you down and ease it in on you.

Instead, he chickened out and ended up dropping a bomb on you out of nowhere.

He's usually the more composed one out of the two of you, and he screwed it up.

You sigh, "I don't know why you're apologizing."

After a moment, you swiftly walk away from Yoongi and peek into the living room.

Nao's attention is still on the movie.

"Has she met Nao?"

Yoongi shook his head profusely, "I wanted your permission first."

At this you're confused.

Unable to separate your emotions, you sarcastically laugh. "My permission to let your daughter meet her father's future wife?"

It's like a bell ringing in your mind. Your laugh transitions into a bit of a manic one, "What if I told you no? What happens then?"

Yoongi kept his calm, "Then she won't meet her now." You scoff.

Immediately, you give in, having no interest in continuing this conversation. "Then do whatever you want. She's your daughter too. I can't make decisions for you."

You start to walk away from him when he stops you, "_____. Let's just... talk."

“I don’t want to.” You sternly announce.

This would be a lot easier to handle this if he just got mad at you. It’d be easy to hate him if he were being unreasonable. In all honesty, even then you’d probably never be able to truly hate him.

“_____, I’m sorry,” Yoongi softly brings your attention to him. His eyes were directed towards your feet.

It doesn’t phase you. His blanket apology for whatever happened doesn’t make up for anything.

You want to ask him what he was apologising for. But you don’t really want to go there. Not in front of Nao.

You cannot subject her to this instability anymore than you already have.

“Ask your daughter if she wants to meet your wife,” you spat, “Not me.”

Yoongi knew you were angry. He also knew exactly why. Still, he can’t bring himself to talk you through it. It’s too soon. He needs to let it simmer.

As much as you don’t want him to think (know) that you’re just bitter for very obvious reasons, that ship has already sailed.

You don’t think you can do a whole lot to salvage it. Might as well ride it out for now.

With the risk of sounding pathetic, you turn your body towards him. “How come you’re marrying someone else?”

Yoongi’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he sighs deeply.

“_____...” He coos, “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

There's a pause, a moment where the air seems heavy.

The noises from the TV sound muffled. Time slows down for you to hold yourself together.

“I don’t want you to ever doubt yourself, _____.”

That’s not under his control. Hell, you yourself can’t help it.

“I don’t,” you lie.

“I want you to know that it wasn’t an easy decision. I just… She broke me. I don’t know how but I changed.”

…

That’s what you get for respecting his boundaries.

This is a slap in your face. He better not be saying what you think he is.

“She convinced you?” You question him pointedly.

So, you could’ve ‘broken’ him too? So much for not being an overzealous girlfriend slash baby mother.

“No! I just changed my mind about-“

You wouldn’t let him finish, “No.”

“No?” Yoongi was starting to get a little agitated.

“I… don’t want to know.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Let’s talk tomorrow,” Yoongi agreed.

The two of you take a little break from the almost heated conversation you just had.

“I’ll finish up in the kitchen. Are Mimi’s bags packed?”

“Yeah, just need to get her toothbrush after she’s done.”

Your ex-boyfriend’s nickname for your daughter was Mimi, and you preferred Nao. Nao prefers Nao too but she’d never break her daddy’s heart like that.

He gives your arm a subtle squeeze as he moves past you to get back to the kitchen.

You head to Nao’s room to get her bag as she excitedly follows you in.

Turning to her, you tilt your head towards her, “Did you turn the TV off?”  

“Yes! And I unplugged the wire.”

“Good girl.” You give her a genuine smile.

You don’t know what your future is going to look like with Yoongi’s wife in the picture. What if Nao doesn’t like her? What if she doesn’t like Nao?

Your heart drops at the thought of them having a kid. What if she pushes Yoongi to leave you and Nao?

No, he’d never. You’ve got to give him more credit than that.

Wait.

Is she pregnant? Is that why he wants to marry her?

You were pregnant too.

You already know you’re going to kick Taehyung’s ass for not warning you about this new woman in Yoongi’s life.

“MOMMY.” Nao’s scream brings you back.

“I’m sorry! Mama’s here. W-” - “Daddy’s calling.”

Okay. Deep breaths.

“Go on ahead, I’ll bring you your bag.” You then instruct her to brush her teeth at her dad’s.

Nao hugs your waist, burying her head into your side. It tickles a little.

Then, she runs off to find her father.

Soon, you follow her and drop her bag by the door.

Yoongi reappears from the kitchen, drying his hands with a paper towel. He stops in front of you and waits as Nao jams her feet into her pink Crocs.

Seemingly in deep thought, you stand by them. You don’t want to end tonight on a weird note. Even though you’re hurting, you can’t let him see it. For so long, you just assumed you’d find your way back to each other even though you never actively put effort into it.

Now, it seems downright outlandish.

Your next moves are not to save face but an attempt to actually move forward.

“Yoongi!” You call out to him as if he were miles away.

A little startled, he raises a brow at you in question.

“You should introduce them.” You nod, mostly to yourself.

At this, his expression changes. It’s softer and… almost aching.

“And congrats.” You added shyly. “You deserve to be happy.”

Your vision began to blur.

NOOOOOOOOOO. Not now. Please. PLEASE.

You gulp and smile. Yoongi knows the smile. He begins to extend his arms, inching towards you, as if he were about to embrace you.

“Mommy.” Nao winks, blows you a kiss, and runs out of the apartment, breaking whatever moment the two of you just had. You scrunch your brows at the now-empty doorway.

Yoongi scoffs in amazement.

“You should go,” you urge him out of the door, not allowing him to respond to you. “Now. Bye.”

Yoongi simply allows you to push him out, still a little stunned by the two of you.

“Make sure she does her math homework!” You get the last word in as you slam the door in his face.

Had your daughter not distracted you, you don’t know what you’d have done.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ underwater by red velvet ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: these song recommendations go great w the story!! u should give it a listen :*

thank u for all the love and attention you've given to this little project 😍

#fic: slipping through my fingers #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #min yoongi x you #yoongi x oc #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #yoongi fic #bts yoongi x reader #bts yoongi smut #yoongi series #yoongi drabbles #bts drabbles #dilf yoongi #bts exes au #yoongi exes au #yoongi fluff #yoongi x you #min yoongi angst #bts angst

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hello! Recently I've been reading your works (usually twst, disney and sometimes oc) and im really interested.

I would like to request yandere cinderella x reader please if thats okay!

Im not sure if there is any request rules i should follow since i cant really find any or if its open so sorry if i broke any of them! Btw no need to answer this if you aren't interested or dont have the energy, im just curious in how you would write them since they are very unique and nicely written. Remember please take care of yourself and take rest when you need to!! (since you literally post almost everyday)

I try I do post everday, though I'm surprised anyone noticed 🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Genderbend Cinderella x Reader

To say you didn’t like you’re step-brother would be an understatement. 

You hated him. 

Him and all that he stood for.

It was disgusting, how wicked Ellwick was to you and your family. Not wicked in the way that he looked down on you; more so in the way that his existence was an obstacle to yours. Currently he made it his mission to insert himself where he never belonged, constantly upending your rightful place. You remembered the time before the single father and son duo shoved their way into your family’s lives. It was peaceful, well as peaceful as life with your family could be. Guns, knifes, drugs, cement shoes–the life that meant serving your family and running the city from behind the scenes. Your mother, your brother, and the many associates that joined your family. 

What can you say? Blood is binding especially when spilt.

Cinder Ellwick and his father came into your home under the silly notion of ‘healthy’ love. As if fighting alongside one another wasn’t love, these men marched into your lives expecting to ‘fix’ your already perfect family. 

Your brother and the many others could spot the foolishness in their morale, unfortunately your mother could not. Which devastated her the moment her new husband got his rightful comeuppance. 

“He shouldn’t have joined the game, if he didn’t know how to play.” 

Your brother scoffed under his breath during your mother’s mournful eulogy. You couldn’t help but agree. Only irritating you more when your mother dressed in black brought the blonde-headed boy to you two saying something along the lines of him being a permanent burden on your family.

“It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

So what? It was his fault for getting involved! His fault for getting kidnapped! His fault for refusing to arm himself, when you warned him! So why did you, your family, have to live with the nuisance?

“I’m going to try my best, to be apart of this family. Properly this time.”

“That’s good to hear, Ellwick.”

Not long after that he took up the role as you’re family’s cleanup crew, eliminating those your family marked. Unpaid debts and traitors were his targets, the scum of your faction–perfect level for Ellwick to begin truly becoming apart of this family. You’d think that’d be enough for him to feel included. But that’s just like him to be so greedy.

“May I come with you on that mission?”

Ellwick asked, still panting from running down the halls from Mother’s office trying to catch up to you and your brother. You both were prepared, dressed to the nines in comparison to him who was in a dirtied leather suit. It'd be a burden and embarrassment for him to come.

Your brother laughed, ” No chance! Look at you covered in cinders again! What’d you do, wrestle your target in a fire pit?”

Ellwick awkwardly smiled as your brother held his stomach. Laughter rising and eyes widening as if he had an epiphany. He points at the blonde, who barely winces at the pressure.

“Kind of like–Cinderwick! Haha!” 

You rolled your eyes as he repeated the name inbetween his belly laughs. Ellwick’s smile was twitching on the otherhand turning his attention to you. Glaring at him you ushered your brother away, barely turning your head to the crushed boy.

“You can’t. We won’t be letting an outsider handle things as private as this.”

Many of your interactions would go like this. Cinderwick inserting himself in your personal business and you putting him in his place, your latest mission was no different. Only that you were older and more responsibility will have fallen to you. You had to step up more than ever.

“Alright my children as we discussed you will be infiltrating the gathering. Your target is the first son of the Mayor. Blackmail, romance him, kiss up, we need a foothold on the city. I can only trust my children.”

“Than why is he here?” 

You shifted your eyes to the blond hitman who was standing barely a foot you and your brother. Your mother sighed.

“We need all hands on deck. Our competitors are in attendance as well. I wouldn’t be surprised if they try anything and I just can’t have my babies be put in danger.”

She held both you and your brother’s cheeks pinching it a little. Leaning into her touch you happily smiled at her over-endearment. Whereas your brother recoiled and wriggled away nursing his cheek.

“Aw geez Ma will you stop.”

“Now my children.” She looked to Ellwick.”All my children. I wish you the best.” 

______________________________________________________________

It was almost commendable, how fast Cinderwick managed to do it. Wooing the son of the mayor and leading him on a wild goose chase that ultimately led to a grand proposal. To which he accepted. 

There was a nervousness about him being the victor; a sudden power handed to someone who wasn’t apart of the family. He was in a position of power, a position that allowed him to string your family along. 

“Congratulations my son! We’re happy you’ve found love in such a place!” 

Sugarcoated words and fake pearly smiles were the next step in the mission. Officially tying the mayor to your family…all with a man who wasn’t apart of the family. 

“Oh thank you step-mother! I can’t wait to have you and the family at our wedding.”

Your mother’s eye twitched at the ‘step’ but she maintained her smile letting Cinderwick cuddle into his fiance’s arm as they continued to chatter. It was revolting that it was he who returned to the estate with a cocky smile and a ring on his finger.

“Well you told all your children to do your best and they tried. So I will take the mantle up…as long as you agree to my terms.”

The following sentence had your mother sending you and your brother out of the room–treatment originally reserved for an outsider like him. Your brother stomped away dropping his emotionless persona, you followed.

“ARGH! How the heck did that slimy cinderblock idiot get ahead of us!? This is ridiculous!”

“...We tried…Arthur don’t do what I think you’re going to do.”

He turned to you the fire in his eyes directed to you.

“Tried?! We should’ve easily bested that bag of soot!” 

Turning back around he made his way to his office slamming his mini fridge open to reveal a plethora of beers and cheap wine bottles. You thought you threw those out. You debated staying as he quickly began to chug the drinks haphazardly dropping the finished cans to the ground. 

“Arthur. Don’t drink anything else.”

“Why!? Why wasn’t it me or you even!?”

“Well for one, typical romance isn’t exactly our field of expertise. I don’t know what you exp–”

You were cutoff by the ceramic smashing near the wall behind your head. Barely missing you it was lucky all you got was a cut from the ricochet glass shatter. It didn’t bother you, it seemed shallow, so you pressed further entering the room more. Closing and locking the door behind you as you closed in on your brother aiming to simply hug him. 

It didn’t stop his drinking bout but it did bring him to a wobbly pause. Letting you slowly walk him away from the desk the alcohol sat. As if he was being taunted once he got barely three steps away he wrenched himself from your grip darting towards the alcohol. In his raw distracted strength he barely pushed you back into the decorative cabinet. 

You would have repeated your attempt if it weren’t for the sudden grip of Ellwick’s leather glove on your wrist. Naturally you pulled yourself away or tried to. Struggling against his bone breaking hold, you ultimately relented as Arthur began to shove off the contents on his desk. Ellwick easily shoved you out of the room, successfully doing so. With that same force he pushes you against the wall, trapping you against it with his narrowed irises and presence alone.

“What are you doing?!”

“Its none of your business.”

“It is every bit my business! Why would you go anywhere near him when he’s in a drunken rage?”

“Because he’s family!” Your voice cracked with emotion, daring to look up at his softened blue eyes. With faux cough, you fixed yourself staring head on to the blonde before slipping past him.

“I don’t expect you to understand that though.”

Speed-walking out of the hall, your only goal was to return to your room hoping to finally relieve the burning sensation in your eyes. Ellwick on the other hand watched you walk away more specifically the cut that had let blood of yours trickle down. 

In a fury like none other Ellwick made his way to the closed door. It was time to end this. 

For good.

_____________________________________________________________

“My son. I want you to know I will always love your mother and I’ll never stop loving her.”

“Right.”

“But I’ve found someone who makes me happy! Someone who will cherish me and you!”

“Okay.”

“The thing is…she has a very different line of work.”

Ellwick wasn’t sold. Even as young as he was there wasn’t an inherent attraction to the mafia-life. When he had the chance to he’d read a torrent of love-stories and twisted family relations all with mafia environments. It usually ended in death, somehow bringing a foreboding cloud over this new developement. 

*Click*

“Whoa whoa little one I get that I’m not a replacement for any–”

“My gun. Take it.”

“E-excuse me?”

Ellwick didn’t really register you before this. Eyes widening as someone as tiny as you easily cocked and flipped the butt of a gun in the direction of his father. Wielding the weapon he’d only seen on those forbidden adult movies with such ease. A silent urgency on your part, you were offering your gun with a custom handle of your favorite color. 

It was an uncharacteristic show of kindness. 

The first he’d seen in a while. 

Since the announcement of your parent’s engagement there was a tension birthed among your closest members and your family. It was a clear sentiment that they dared not express with Ellwick in the room or their boss for that matter.

‘You’re going to be a target. You’re going to die.’

Everyone wanted to say it. Hint at it. But the air was too thick and they were too scared to break the silence. 

But not you.

You were the only one to tell it to him straight. Other than Ellwick himself. Of course the old geezer didn’t listen, avidly refusing to take your weapon and then attempting to get the weapon back from you.  

It made you his favorite.

To think underneath such a cold exterior there was something soft–small but soft. Its what Ellwick told himself when you’d glare and insult him. He’s never found himself doing the same for your mother and brother. Only finding it in him to imagine their tortuous ends at his hands, he could never do that with you. Even when he began to do his work, he’d be all the more motivated when imagining two-thirds of his step-family.

Step-family. He didn’t like that title.

He hated associating you with that.

He liked you a lot more than that of a step-family.

He could handle the exclusion, the insults, the glares, all of it but he couldn’t have you being in the arms of someone else. So he pulled something he’d thought he buried long ago, charming the mayor’s son. 

Having an influential leader’s heir willing to bend to his every whim and need made him powerful. 

A threat. 

So when your mother came to him practically begging for his forgiveness, Ellwick knew this was his chance to set everything in motion. So when you and your brother angrily departed he was prepared.

“The bit of your faction, handselected at my beck and call.”

“Done. You inform us of the policies and actions of the mayor?”

“Policies and upcoming legislation only. I’m not stalking my in-law.’

“Fine.“

“We meet once a month, I’ll come to you.”

“We can do that. Be willing to let your siblings visit you in-home during ermengenies?”

“Yes…I want (Y/n).”

“Excuse me?”

“I want (Y/n).

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am. I want full ownership of (Y/n) their activities, everything. Otherwise I’ll be inclined to fully inform the mayor and police department of what your true business entails.”

“I can’t possibly give you my child! Who do you think I am?!”

Ellwick made a face. Naturally and quickly pulling a gun out of his suit, earning a horrified reaction from his stepmother who was staring at the barrel. It’s not that Ellwick was unaware of the metal detectors and constant pat downs but when you’re a trained assassin this is light work.

“The same idiot, who thought’d I’d always be cleaning your messes. The same idiot who’s been ostracizing me and still put a gun in my hand.” 

He moved closer but not close enough for his step-mother’s garrote-technique to be effective. He was almost inclined to reveal his companions ‘guarding her door or the poisoned dart in his cuff link. But he decided it wouldn’t be needed…not today at least.

“The same idiot who’s blind to the abusive alcholic she raised. That is more than likely hurting (Y/n) right now.”

“What’re you–”

“That’s what your first-husband was like, right? An alchoholic who ran the mafia with an iron fist.”

“Enough!...Fine. You can take them with you after your honeymoon.”

“Before.”

“Why would you–” 

“Be-fore.”

“....It will be…done.”

When she finished, Ellwick had full intentions to find you. No doubt cooking up a barrage of insults to cutely angrily whisper behind you’re door. But before he could make it to your room, he heard the sound of glass shattering and muffled yelling.

He could only see red. Red as the cut that was bleeding on your skin. 

Seems like his role as the family’s ‘cleanup crew’ would come in handy.

#yandere genderbend cinderella #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yanderes #yandere genderbend #yandere genderbent #yandere genderbend disney #yandere genderbent disney #yandere genderbent cinderella #yandere mafia au

[psychwxrdd]

cat and mouse

🎀 note: not me thinking about rafe dressed as michael myers for a future blurb...

you end things with rafe due to his obsessive and controlling behaviour.

dark! rafe, obsessive! rafe, stalker! rafe, dark rafe x reader, jj x reader, possessive/toxic relationship.

It all started when you showed up at Sarah's house, your very first week in Outer Banks. You moved to figure 8 with your family and she was the first person you talked to, asking you to hang out with her and her friends any of these days and get to know the place. When Rafe first saw you, he immediately approached you, told you he was Sarah's brother and that he would be more than happy to show you around.

You thought he was just being genuinely nice, and you liked him. But as the weeks go by, you realized he had other intentions, as you started seeing him everywhere... Gifts and flowers showing up at your house, whenever you were walking by yourself he would always be there to give you a ride. Or when you were at a store staring at a skirt you really liked and next day, your mother said "a friend brought you something". The same skirt you wanted so bad, with a small note besides it.

"I saw how you stared at this skirt. And i can't stop thinking about how gorgeous it you would look on you... Go on a date with me and use it :)"

You didn't even had to think, you knew it was Rafe. It was pretty obvious. But even as you felt something a bit off about him, he was a handsome, charming guy. It could be just a crush, nothing else, so why not? Life was boring lately.

And how bad you wish things stayed boring, now looking back.

You two started dating after about a month, mostly because he pressured you into it. You thought things were surely going too fast, but he insisted that he wanted to have you as his official girlfriend and that he didn't wanted anyone thinking they would have a chance with you. So you said yes.

Things only got worse since. Rafe clearly liked you more than you liked him, and everyone could notice that... But he did not mind at all. As long as you were his, however it was, he wouldn't care about anything else. He slowly took all the control over your life without you noticing.

Whenever you wanted to leave in the morning to work, he would ask you to stay with him for a bit more.

"You know i can't be late, babe" you said with a soft smile as he pouted.

"You don't need that lame job, sweetheart. Why you even work? You're a kook. And i take care of you" As he kisses your neck and you chuckle. "Please, i hate being without you, just a few more minutes..."

And you couldn't say no, not at all. He was sweet, but something about him was so intimidating and scary, you couldn't exactly put your finger on what was it. But you knew that saying no to Rafe wasn't a good idea.

Then a few weeks later, you were eventually fired.

Rafe didn't wanted you to go out with your friends anymore, not his sisters, even worse if it was one of the pogues.

"You think i don't know that Maybank guy has some desperated puppy crush on you?" He asked, tapping his hands on his head.

"Rafe, he is a friend! They are all my friends!" You were exhausted of this conversation, almost screaming at him.

"You see...I don't want you being friends with them anymore. So..." He smiled, but nothing about that smile was happy or calmed you in the slightest. It was a weird smile. "You won't hang out with them anymore, you're better than that. And you're my girl. Right? My girl won't disobey me, huh?"

Or when you guys were watching a movie, a drama maybe, and you would make a silly comment like "If we broke up one day i'm moving to Italy", completely innocent, and his mood would be ruined.

"That won't fucking happen. Ever."

"I was just kidding." You spoke softly. "Don't take it seriously babe"

"Yeah...You know better than that. I'm sorry. Can't even stand the mere thought of losing you."

Why did you knew better than that?

Or when he started complaining about how much the condoms were uncomfortable, and how he wanted to feel you entirely. You wasn't ready for that, as much as you were horny, you weren't ok with the idea of end up pregnant. That was your answer, no.

But Rafe was a master at gaslighting. He wouldn't stop trying to convince you untill you made your mind, and when you didn't, he simply started taking off while you were too fucked out to notice.

Everyone was worried, even Ward realized how sick was this love his son had towards you. It was like he needed you to breath, in the worst way possible.

You broke up with him after almost a year together, and he obviously didn't took it well. He cried, punched walls, screamed, broke things, acted like a total psycho and you left scared for your life, trully. For your luck, Sarah and Rose were around and they helped you, cause Rafe wouldn't let you even get out of his room for sure.

2 weeks passed since that day and needless to say, Rafe made your life a hell. Blowing your phone with infinite texts and calls, showing up at your house, calling you through your parents phone, absolutely acting like a fucking freak. You started hanging out with your friends again, and that helped you a lot to go through it, it was nice to have people to trust, especially with all that was happening.

You were at The Cut with JJ, it was night and you two stared at the sea while laughing about some stupid thing he said. You decided to check your phone to see the time, and realized there was a text from an unknown number.

the fuck you're doing at the cut?

who is with you rn?

i'm serious y/n

don't fuck with me

answer me or i'll look for you myself

You frozed while reading that. Why he couldn't just leave you alone? Why the fuck he still had your location on his phone?

You cursed yourself for ever giving it to him at first. If you only knew who you were dealing with.

please babe i need to see you

i'm going crazy

i'm doing coke again

i need you right fucking now or i'll blow my brains out

i'm serious

you think i'm not serious?

i'll fucking film then

rafe PLEASE stop

lets talk ok

but please stop

i'll pick you up

"JJ... You need to leave now, Rafe wants to talk to me and i don't even wanna think about what he would do if he saw you with me"

The blonde stared at you in disbelief.

"Are you fucking him again?"

"NO! But he wants to talk, and if thats what it takes for him to leave me alone, then i'll do it!" You said, almost yelling. "And i don't want you to be involved"

"You're my friend Y/n for fuck's sake, you think i'll let you be alone with that psychopath?"

"JJ-"

"No Y/n, you don't deserve this shit!"

Your eyes were full of tears at this point, and you felt your body weak. It was like you were sick with so much sadness and anxiety. JJ was quick to hug you tightly, and thats when you allowed yourself to cry.

"You got this, we got this, right?" He caressed you hair "I'm here sweet thing."

You heard the sound of a familiar truck, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your ex boyfriend stepped out from his side, clearly out of his mind.

"Rafe, let's talk!"

"YOU BITCH! I KNEW IT, I FUCKING KNEW IT!" He shouted, his face looking red and if stares could kill you would surely be dead by now.

"Chill out dude" JJ said way too calm, and that gave you more panic. He should never play with Rafe, he should never speak to him in that tone.

The last thing you remember from that night was Rafe punching JJ's face so bad he passed out on the floor. And you couldn't do nothing, as the much taller and stronger guy carried you on his shoulders and threw you on his truck. It was all too overwhelming, too fast, painfull, you were dissociating.

"Had to take back whats mine, love" He said in a stern tone, while focused on the road "I thought you knew better, huh? Now the fucker might be dead and it's your fault. But i don't care, i love you too much princess. I hated that dirty pogue...Always thinking he could have a piece of you" Rafe inhaled sharply, his jaw giving you a glimpse of how much rage he felt. "Hear this, i'll tell you just once: The only way you ever will get rid of me is when you die, honey. And if you ever consider trying to leave me again, i'll kill you and i'll kill myself right after. You got that?"

#dark rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks #obsessive love #yandere #possessive #stalker

[homunculus-argument]

Why are you Finns so miserable? From an outside perspective, as someone who lives in a country where our government has continuously failed us, your country seems to be nearly perfect. It seems like paradise.

I truly feel that most people living in my country would kill to live in one like yours. I would saw off my leg if it meant that I could have the guaranteed quality of life that you guys have.

So why are you guys so sad? Is it the cold? The lack of sunlight? I’m seriously at a loss here, because I feel like you guys really take your homeland for granted.

I have no idea. Being alive is simply an unpleasant obligation and a thankless duty that you owe to nobody in particular and gain nothing out of doing. I was literally born as an unpleasant obligation - my parents didn't like each other and they didn't like children, but they married each other and had two kids because that's what people are supposed to do. When we whined as kids about how we don't want to go to school, they'd just say "well I don't want to go to work, either, but unfortunately that's just what life is." Life consists of going places you don't want to go to do things you don't want to do.

My mother once told me that if I ever kill myself, she will go completely insane, just the way that my grandmother went insane when my aunt killed herself. I was like 15 at the time when she told me this, I had been three years old when the aforementioned aunt died. I had never known her, but I was raised with the understanding that the only reason to continue being alive is peer pressure. You don't get to die, you have to keep living because the people around you would be sad if you quit. It's a mutual hostage situation.

Back when the church had more power and death penatly was a thing, there were people who committed crimes that had a death penalty (or claimed to have committed them, depending on the crime) in order to get executed rather than simply commit suicide, because suicide was an unforgivable sin but if you were executed, you could still confess your sins before the final blow and die with hopes of going to heaven.

Finns aren't oblivious of how bad things are everywhere else, or how good we have it. That, too, is a source of misery. It's a whole country of "you have no reason to be sad, there are people out there with real problems" and being reminded that everything everywhere else is even more miserable than how we have it. That anyone else would be ready to kill or saw off their own leg to get to be here, and here we are squandering all this potential by sitting here like a miserable little piece of shit.

Frankly, I am baffled by the concept that there really are people who just genuinely, honestly, wholeheartedly want to live. Like as a preferrable option to having never been born at all. To me, finding happiness in life has always been a "when life gives you lemons, make lemonade" sort of thing, finding silver linings out of the unfortunate matter that I happened to be born.

[hotchfiles]

↪ day twelve. dinner party stories — #marchhotchness

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [family line] ❞

pairing: hotchner x fem!reader. summary: he snickers when he secretly whispers you that and you’re sure this is the family you were born to be after all, it just took you a little while to find it. or: aaron shows what the unconditional love of a family should be like. content warnings: not proofread, a lot of family issues brought up, weight gain mention (negatively once, then positively), reader's parents being annoying and kind of mean. word count: 2.4K

aaron sees it in your eyes, in your breathing, in the way you move. he sees it in the way you’ve been playing more with your necklace and by how you can’t seem to stop spinning your engagement ring around your finger. he hasn’t seen you this anxious in months, and back then you were working on finishing your dissertation and it collided with the company you worked at losing clients, it was chaos. he knew right now there was no chaos in sight, so it could only mean one thing. 

“honey, did you speak to your parents recently?” his voice is always as soft as a feather when talking to you, even in the rare instances you argue. 

you turn from the scrabble pieces and set your wine glass down, not minding the interruption to the cozy game when his voice sounded like that and his eyes looked at you like you were something so precious you could break. 

“no, babe, why d’you ask?” 

“you’re fidgeting like an hyperactive kid who hasn’t been put on ritalin yet lately.” his explanation catches you off guard in a way that you almost reprehend him saying his name in a high pitched voice and slapping his arm in between laughter. his smirk shows you just how accomplished he feels that he made you laugh like that. 

aaron takes both of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and urging you to talk with him just by the way he looked into your eyes, eagerly waiting for you to vent about what was making you so restless. 

“i haven’t told them about the engagement yet. i want to have them over for dinner, to share the news but they are so…” you sigh profoundly, looking up to the ceiling trying to finish that though in a way that made sense. “difficult.” 

aaron knows what difficult really means. it means patronizing. it means unsupportive. unwilling. unhelpful. it doesn’t mean unloving, but it means old fashioned in a way that it feels unloving. “we could have dinner in a nice restaurant instead, to ease up some of that pressure.” he suggests, always the problem solver. 

“it would be perfect, handsome, but we did that last time…” your voice trails off, laying your head on his lap, urging him to gently pass his fingers through your hair by that act alone, cozying up to him in an attempt to ignore the problem at hand. 

hotch follows your lead, not forgetting to place a kiss on your forehead, but also, not letting the problem go. “and my dear future mother in law will start dropping hints again that we don’t want them here.” you nod quietly. “alright. don’t call. text her inviting them over with the details. less talking.” 

you groan, “she will complain about that too…”

“once they’re here.” he kisses your forehead, “so it’s only one,” and your nose, “night,” your right cheek, “of,” your left cheek, and you’re already grinning like an idiot, holding in your laughter at his boyishness, “complaining.” aaron finishes, brushing his lips against yours. you nod and pull your head up slightly, finally connecting you two in a sweet slow kiss.

you get your big girl pants on after a delicious making out session with your fiance, the scrabble pieces long forgotten as you gulp down your whole glass of wine and pick up your phone. his hair is messy, his cheeks are flushed and he grins at you with reassurance pouring from his sweet eyes as you send your mother the text, throwing your phone back to the table before seeing a response and going back straight to his arms.

he made it easier, always. helped you sort your feelings out, helped you find out the less stressing way to solve your problems. it was a joy to have him, to watch how he talked to jack and see how it should be.

more often than you would like to admit, you caught yourself thinking wow my parents would not let that slide, and then you would be faced with the reality that they were in the wrong, not aaron.

you talked to him about it once, asked how could he be so sweet and so effortlessly so to jack, his answer came quickly, no hesitation: jack had lost enough, losing his trust on his dad was not something aaron would let happen, he didn’t want jack to go through what he had as a child.

then it clicked to you once more, how you would never want to treat your hypothetical children like you had been treated too. 

you try not to think too much about these things too often nowadays, but even as you laid on aaron’s chest and felt his fingers lightly, softly, trace designs on your skin, now all you could think about was the damned dinner.

your mom wasn’t too judgy when it came to what you cooked, your dad was and annoyingly so, always had some remark about what would have made the food better, just like he did to your mother back home. 

so first thing you did the next morning was think through all dinners and remarks and find something you could do following his tips to lessen the complaining, aaron’s idea, of course. 

“he always says my lasagna is delicious but too dry,” you mumble to yourself, but not really, you have your earphones on and aaron on call, in the office doing reports he was able to entertain you as you picked up ingredients for extra sauce.

you can hear him smiling, the sound of his aggressive pen on paper stopping for a second, “even rossi loves your lasagna, it is delicious. just give your father a bowl full of sauce, he will be happier.” you snort and he goes back to his papers, satisfied to have made you laugh through the stress.

gathering the rest of the ingredients is easy enough, you’re already used to the grocery store’s layout and setup, you keep him on the line either way, a tradition you both kept whenever you were doing monotonous tasks, even when he didn’t speak, listening to his breathing, the shuffling of papers and his pen quickly making work through all his reports made you smile, calmed you down.

hotch thought it was silly at first, but quickly warmed up to it when he heard you softly,  secretive so, humming songs to yourself as you worked on your own reports, or went shopping, not to mention how adorable he found you to be when you forgot he was on the line and jumped scared as he spoke something.

most of all, he loved being immersed in a paper trail and being surprised by a hey i love you right in his ear as if you were there.

it pained him to know how much of yourself you tried to mute down to please your parents when he loved every single tiny piece of what made you… you.  

hotch excused himself from the call to talk to rossi just as you were about to go back home, satisfied you convinced him to get rossi’s sauce recipe. 

“hers is great, why does she need mine?” rossi sound almost exasperated, as if hotch himself had said something about your cooking. he is quick to reassure that’s not the case and explain how you’re trying to please your father, dave doesn’t seem that much happier about it, always pleased with the dishes you made for dinner parties at his mansion, but he still takes his phone and sends you a voice note explaining each step of his homemade tomato sauce. “anything else?”

“i need a favor as well. i’m gonna need the next weekend off for this.” hotch begins, he knows rossi would never mind that, no one would, in fact most people from the bureau agreed he needed time off. “i know myself enough, i need to be completely off, no calls, no briefings.” he’s learnt his lesson from too many past mistakes, if he knows the case, if he knows the team needs him, he will be putting his job above anything else, aaron can’t afford to do that anymore, so he prevents it. 

his left thumb rubs the side of his index finger, his way to calm his racing thoughts, just the possibility of ruining this dinner has him anxious, this little habit of his was something he hadn’t even noticed he did before he met you. it was one of his tells and he never realized before you took his hand in yours and looked sweetly into his eyes saying you’re stimming, what’s wrong? in the softest tone he had ever heard anyone speak to him. 

you were always quick to notice if anyone around you didn’t feel well, always a caretaker, it was a sight to take in and a pain to prove you so, being seen as selfish your whole life at home. 

that day he got home late, jack was doing his homework with your help while you worked on a few things on your laptop—a presentation you needed to finish soon as possible to get the next friday off. 

his office had become a shared office with your help, a u shaped desk where both of you could work being one of the first changes you made to it as soon as you moved in, it was perfect and it gave jack space to sit close to either of you when he needed help.

the sides faced the walls while and front faced the window where you and jack sat, focused, it gave hotch time to lean in the door frame and watch you both.

“i’m not sure about that one, jack-jack…” you stop typing to read the question in his book again, impressed with how little you remember of school math. “if i google this up, promise not to tell your teacher?” aaron clears his throat at the question, catching your attention and making you laugh: caught in the act. 

“no google, buddy, sorry.” jack scrunches his nose at his father’s ruling out, a loud groan coming from his pre teen little voice. 

“told ya we should have started this earlierrrr—“ you tease the boy, insinuating you two would have been able to find the answer online without his dad knowing then, you ruffle his short hair softly, loving the endearing smile he always gives you when you do that.

his smile quickly turns into a yawn, the weight of the time stamped on aaron’s watch getting to jack’s eyes, “i’m sleepy.” 

“‘you can finish tomorrow, let’s get you two to bed, buddy.” 

hotch picks jack up and the young hotchner is nothing but a ball of giggles, always saying he’s too big for that now, but obviously still loving the attention. 

“enjoy while you can, jack-jack, your old man is not getting any younger.” 

“yeah? i’m carrying your ass to bed soon too, my back can handle you both for years still.” you and jack both laugh at him. it’s always almost as if a harsh mask melted when he got home, in its place would remain his soft features and the bickering you loved so dearly. 

it was warm. and kind. even when he came back home stressed, you never had to worry about accidentally setting him off or saying the wrong thing. it was a completely different dynamic than what you were used to. 

it takes a few minutes for hotch to come back, but he comes ready to make true of his promise, hands straight to your waist to carry you, tickling his way into your defenses, he laughs at your laughter and at how easy you melt to his touch. “i’m just finishing this up, babyy—“ your voice is purposefully whiny, pouting at him and getting a kiss in return, “go eat your dinner while i do it, i heated it up when i got your text!”

he stops trying to pull you up his shoulder or around his waist then, the look he gives you then reminds you of why you fell for him: sweet like caramel, always betraying his known frown. 

aaron looks at you like every act of kindness you do makes him fall in love again, and it does. he traces your features with his thumb in silence, the mix of his calloused fingers and the softness of his actions makes you sigh, leaning into it.

“i love you. i love our little family.” he kisses your forehead and leaves you to your presentation before you can even reply, before you can’t even tell him the two hotchner boys are the first healthy family you’ve ever been in.

you don’t even mind your dad complaining about your lasagna having way too much sauce the week after. aaron eats for the both of them, compliments every single decision you made while cooking.

the second your mother tells you you’ve been gaining weight, aaron replies with a simple “if anything, we’re both getting bigger and happier.” a squeeze tight to your knee, stopping you from tearing up at how that was the only thing your mother did notice.

they seemed happy about the engagement, but not too sure you’ll be able to care for him and his child as they needed to be cared for. you’re forgetful. you’re not maternal. you worry about work too much.

you’re not even sure how good news could lead to such rambling about your flaws but again, before you can either cry or lose control and yell—aaron comes in, his soft smile being completely betrayed by his furrowed brows and stern tone. he’s trying to be polite. “we take care of each other well, and together we care for jack. it works. we work.”

it’s simple but effective, what he wants is to shield you, to tell them how lucky they are you grew up as kind and hardworking when all they did was bring you down and doubt your feelings and your dreams.

he wants to show them drawings jack made of you and essays he wrote about his family. 

but for now he settles on being polite. there’s still the whole wedding preparation and the actual wedding to go through. he has time to do all that. right now he just makes sure to show you and them how much he supports you and how nothing they can ever say will change how he sees you. 

at least he’s glad his mother is dead, one less problematic in law to deal with.

he snickers when he secretly whispers you that and you’re sure this is the family you were born to be after all, it just took you a little while to find it.

#lari writes sometimes #lari march hotchness #marchhotchness #just about a month late #i was going to write the whole dinner then i was like you know what #no need #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

[portraitofariel]

Controversial Post

Carmy used Claire.

An opinion I have yet to come across in the discourse regarding the dreaded Carmy/Claire pairing is the following--Carmy was fully content never calling/making Claire his girlfriend. Because he never had to do anything to get her to like him. She provided pussy, car rides, an ear to bounce ideas off of, no resistance or intellect, and no effort he had to put in.

Allow me to elaborate.

From their first interaction at the market to the moment in the walk-in, Claire has been a nuisance in his life. She consistently disregarded his boundaries in the following ways:

Ignoring the fact that he struggled to remember her name; there's also no mention of her last name to this day.

Misreading their initial conversation at said market and not reading his body language for what it was: a lack of interest in her. If a woman has to ask a man for his number and he doesn't ask for hers, he isn't interested in pursuing things further. Argue amongst yourselves about that.

Numbergate. In the real world, this would be extremely concerning. Skirting around someone's clear sign they don't like you by giving you a fake number is a huge red flag. It screams desperation and a lack of self-respect. Who chases a man that purposely obstructs their advances then goes to his good friend to extract information? Shame on Fak as well for giving out Carm's private information to a woman he hasn't mentioned in five years. wtf Fak.

When she does call him, she badgers him to get a clear answer as to why he gave her a fake number, instead of taking the hint when she realized it was fake. Once again not taking his hesitance while dictating the numbers to her as a sign he doesn't want her.

"Speaking of dead brothers, do you wanna go to a party?" wtf even was this. By Claire's own admission, she and Carmy never talked in their youth. She essentially hung around his family but never interacted with him so why is she so obsessed with him? I will never understand this. Her tasteless attempt at breaking the ice regarding Mikey's death is so heavy-handed and odd.

Freezergate. Even before she found out he was stuck in the walk-in, what was Claire's urgency to get to back-of-house? Why would she think it would ever be appropriate to just walk back there? Sugar's husband, Pete, has never done that in the show so what makes Claire think she's special enough to do so? I always wonder what might have happened had Sydney been back there when Claire crossed that boundary.

Now the juicy part. Unpacking Carmy's disinterest.

Ever notice that Carmy only ever asked her surface-level questions about her life? He never asked about her interests outside of work, her family, her passions, her last name, or anything else. The entire relationship is on Carmy's terms/timeline. Nothing we've seen on-screen indicates he's been to her apartment or hung out with her friends (aside from that one juvenile ass party in 2x05). Every time they have sex, it's at his place. The overwhelming majority of their conversations center around his needs/grievances about the restaurant. He never buys her flowers or gifts (cooking dinner one single time doesn't count), never has deep conversations with her about her, nor did he call her his girlfriend until Sydney, of all people, pressured him to do so. The subsequent conversation with Fak, "is Claire my girlfriend? What's a girlfriend?" is bullshit. Carmen has been around couples his whole life. He knows what a girlfriend is. He knows what a wife is. He's a 30+ year old man who surely had romantic interests before and after Claire. He just didn't want her to be his girlfriend until he felt immense pressure from his circle to make her that.

How do I know this? In 24 hours, Carmy went from "I love her a lot" (and this is only after Fak straight up asks him if he loves her) to "I like her". In the course of one day, he went from love to like. That says it all. Not to mention this is after the mother of all panic attacks where his hidden feelings for Syd bubble to the surface. A lot of people forget that Carmy is a man and because of this, he does what men tend to do. Whether he was conscious of it or not, he took advantage of a desperate girl like Claire because she threw herself at him with abandon. She willingly put herself in a position to be used by a man she barely knew, then cried to Richie when things didn't go her way. Their 'relationship' went the way it was always going to go because I'd argue she was never truly his girlfriend. Claire was a stopgap between the restaurant and Carmy running away from his problems.

#charged and sexy #platonic and messy #carmy x sydney #chefs kiss #sydcarmy #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #syd adamu #syd x carmy #the bear #wet hot and sweet #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu #the bear fx #the bear hulu #you with the watercolor eyes #you with the dark curls #anti claire bear #i said what i said #i said what needed to be said

[seresinhangmanjake]

It's What You Make It

Dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: Jake hasn't been on the best of terms with his parents since they found out about you and his baby, and now his mother decides she wants to meet her granddaughter.

Warnings: cursing maybe? Protective Jake

Notes: Suggested by an anon / Part of the Oh, Baby Universe.

Words: 4200

-----

“Jake, dear, your mother would like to meet her granddaughter.”

It was cruel, really, to have such devastating words leave the lips of one of those he loved the most, but maybe that was why she of all people was tasked with it. He wasn't likely to listen to another on the matter. Hell, had anyone else but she called, he wouldn't have answered, and he struggled not to see it as a bit of a betrayal. A trick.

"Gram," he sighed into the phone, running a hand through his hair, "I'm not doing this with them. After everything we just faced with her mother, why should we put ourselves through dealing with mine?"

"You know she had nothing to do with that email."

"Yea and nothing to do with discouraging it, either."

The other end of the line went silent. Jake looked to his left where his daughter was being bounced on her mother's lap just out of earshot. You smiled at the girl, but the stone now sitting on Jake's heart kept it from swelling as it normally would at the sight of your brightened face. 

His perfect little family. Safe and sound in California. Far from Texas. Far from the people you'd yet to learn criticized you for your past choices. 

When you first asked about them, Jake couldn't hide the fact that his parents were displeased with the coming of his daughter. He'd blamed it on their lack of open-mindedness to the girl being brought into his life under ‘unique’ circumstances, and while that was in fact a part of it, the bulk of their problems they placed solely in you and not trusting why you bothered to return when you left him to begin with. They buried you under a mountain of their judgment and you were completely unaware. But that was how he wanted to keep it. He wanted you in the dark. Oddly enough, the darkness was where you were safest. And that plan had been working so well, too. You had a healthy understanding of the difficulty of parents, and after the way your mother treated him the month prior you hadn't pressured him for more information on his. 

I only care about the three of us, Jake. As long as we're together, nothing else matters—that's what you'd said. You sealed that promise with a kiss that led to hours in bed full of sex and naps and cuddles and what felt like hundreds of exchanges of 'I love yous'. 

The issue with his parents wasn't brought up again.

And now his grandmother was ruining it. 

"What do you expect of me, Gram?" he asked; the first of his rapid-fire questions. "To bring them there? To subject them to that? You really want me to hurt my girlfriend? My daughter? What even makes you think Mom cares to see Eve? There's no way she admitted—"

"Breathe, dear," she soothed. And Jake did as told, but it didn't make him feel the slightest bit better. "I saw it in her eyes."

He sighed, chest noticeably deflating. "Oh, come on. I love you, Gram, but seriously?"

"Jacob Seresin, you hush," she scolded, her voice raised and tinny through the speaker. "You asked me a question, so listen up."

Jake grumbled, defeated. The senior Eve had that power over him. She was the mother his mother should have been. She taught him plenty and raised him well. He knew how to respect his woman because of his Gram. He treated you the way you deserved because she made sure to instill in him the value of women where his own parents had failed to do. 

So he listened. 

"When I returned from my visit a couple of weeks ago, your mother snuck in the casual question or two whenever your father wasn't around," she explained. "And I told her. Anything she cared to know. That Eve is beautiful and her mother is a stunner." Jake's lips curved upward despite the anxiety building in his chest. "That your girls are perfect. That you are happier than I've ever seen you."

"...And?"

"And she nodded and got a little grin on her face."

Jake waited for more, but it didn't come. His hand rose and fell, smacking against the side of his thigh. "That's your only argument to encourage surrendering the happiness of my family to a couple of snakes?"

"Snakes?" He could practically see the roll of her eyes. "Really, dear?"

"I read you the email."

The email he'd received a few weeks after he got you back and learned of his daughter's existence. The one that spat aggressive levels of disappointment in him, and called you an abundance of names that nearly had him crushing his phone in his palm. The one that expressed very clearly his parents' refusal to acknowledge the woman he loved and his baby as their family.

"No," Jake said as he shook his head. "No, I'm not doing it."

"I'm not saying you have to, dear. I'm just telling you that there is someone else who might want to be a part of your daughter's life. That's more family for Eve to be surrounded by. Another person to love her."

—-

He’d promised her he’d think about it. And while he really wished he could forget her words, they were persistent, nagging, and unwilling to get out of his way; like a damn fly buzzing around his face during all hours of his days and nights. 

His grandmother was wise and she was clever to tap into one of his life’s motivations: to provide his daughter with as much love as possible. Though Eve did have love—from him, from you, his team, his grandmother—the potential for so much more was taken away from her. 

She didn’t see your family. They lived across the country and after the way your mother behaved, you’d pretty much cut her off for the time being. His sister’s husband was in the Air Force, stationed at Aviano in Italy with no set date of return. And his parents had made their opinions clear, so he felt it best to never let you or Eve around them. But doing what he believed was best didn’t stop the guilt of denying Eve her family, of not giving her enough. He thought about Christmas coming up and how she wouldn’t have her grandparents. He thought about the major events in her life to come; the birthdays and school plays, the graduations, and the, hopefully only, wedding. 

Wait, he stopped himself, scratch the wedding. No wedding. How could his daughter possibly have a wedding if she would never be dating to begin with? 

But there was still enough remaining to worry him. 

Jake didn’t want a day to come when Eve looked around the room and wondered why she didn’t have the people in her life that her friends at school did. She deserved everything he could possibly give her, and his grandmother calling to inform him he wasn’t providing that was a stab to the heart. 

“You’re lost.” 

The voice—your voice—was one of two powerful enough to crack the thick shell surrounding his thoughts. 

Your fingers wove through his hair as he focused his vision on your face, letting the fog clear to make out the perfection he saw in each feature. You wiggled on the mattress, inching your body closer to his and he lifted his arm to drape over your waist. 

“What’s going on?” you asked. “You’ve been zoning out for three days.”

He wouldn’t lie to you—never could. And even if he tried, it would be a waste of breath with the way you managed to sniff out untruths like a damn bloodhound. The information he didn’t tell you he always preferred to label as ‘omissions.’ Those could just barely slip by your clever brain. And he’d only ever done it twice; when he’d neglected to spill his hidden love, and when he hadn’t provided you with all the details of his father’s email. Both seemed like good ideas at the time. Necessary. But now…

“According to Gram,” Jake sighed, “my mother wants to meet Eve.”

You tried to control your face, but the ceasing of your nails grazing across his scalp was enough to tell him you were plenty shocked. Likely plenty terrified, too, with the trauma of the last parental interaction.

“Oh.” You blinked once, twice, three times, as your lips parted and sealed and parted again. “So, that means…what? They're fine with everything now?"

"I doubt it, but…" Jake bit the inside of his cheek. Shook his head. “Honey, I’m really not sure.”

“You trust them?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want to do?”

He didn’t know, not even after three days of thought. He cared about protecting his family, but whether or not introducing his mother to you and his daughter would be a choice he'd come to regret was hard to say. “What do you think we should do?”

“Baby, your family, your decision.”

With a groan, Jake pulled you closer and turned onto his back, settling your body on top of his. 

“But you’re so much smarter than me,” he said, wrapping his arms snuggly around your waist and tilting his chin up for a kiss.

You let him kiss you, despite the weight of the conversation surely causing you as much unease as it was him. You let him kiss you for as long as he wanted. Like you knew just how badly he needed it in that moment. How badly he needed you. 

“You’re no idiot, Jake Seresin," you said when he decided it was fair to let you breathe. "I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

He hummed, pushing some of your hair back behind your shoulder. “Why do you have to be so damn supportive and reasonable?”

You smiled so sweetly. Leaned in closer. 

“Because I trust you," you whispered, letting your lips slowly travel around his face, pressing gentle kisses where you could. "And I believe in you."

You pulled back, locking your eyes with his, and as you stroked his cheek, you said, “Because you’re my teammate, Jake.” 

He let your words soak in—filling him, sating him—before taking a deep inhale through his nose. On the heavy exhale he released a breathy “Fuck.”

You chuckled. “What?”

“It’s just extremely hot when you say shit like that and I am trying to make a decision that really isn’t helped by my dick getting hard.”

He swelled larger in his underwear as he spoke and he could see the very second that mischievous glint took root in your eye.

“Aw," you pouted, slightly grinding your hips into his, making his breath hitch, "Does my man get turned on by commitment?"

His fingers dug into your waist to hold you still, and with a scowl, he said, "You already knew that so quit teasing me."

“Who's teasing?" You asked as you gave him a peck. "You've been distracted for three days, and I miss you. So let me take your mind off it. Then we can get some sleep and talk it over in the morning."

He loved you for that. That you knew him enough to refrain from pushing him in any direction. You knew enough to know when he needed a distraction from the things that most bothered him. 

"Deal," he whispered. Then his fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your face closer to his. 

—-

It wasn't talked about in the morning. Not that one nor the weeks worth that followed. The distraction Jake had been so thankful for continued to find itself in the forms of wake-up sex, and invigorating work days, and evenings filled with dedicated family time—things he actually cared about. Thinking about what to do with his mother had been bothersome enough that at the first chance to brush it aside, it slipped from his mind without effort. And he didn’t care, just as he didn’t care how his life had completely split after his father sent that email. 

It was a clean severing, like a hot blade through butter, and the two new parts were far from equal. You and his daughter occupied one chunk of his divided world—the larger of the two—and the other chunk was where his parents remained, dwarfed under the shadow of its massive counterpart. It was too easy to let go of that extra bit that was hanging off the end of what was an otherwise perfect life, so he did. 

He didn’t follow up with his grandmother—

A mistake he discovered when his mother walked through the front door of the Hard Deck and disrupted the peace surrounding his little family.

His trio had decided to have lunch with Rooster at the bar well before opening hours, and it was the lack of overlapping voices, clinking glasses, and occasional drunken shouting which allowed for the clicking of heels across hardwood flooring to echo clearly throughout the room. 

Three voices went eerily silent, the only continuous sound being that of Eve shaking her rattle toy, lost in the sweet ignorance of childhood and completely oblivious to the thickness that had just swelled throughout the bar. 

Jake glared at his grandmother who was just off to the side of her daughter-in-law. She stared back, a look of complete innocence on her face until she grew bored with silent standoff and, with a roll of her eyes, made a beeline for you and Eve. She smiled wide, immediately popping the bubble that was holding everyone hostage, to give you a little hug around the shoulders before kissing the top of Eve’s head. 

“Oh, I missed you,” she said as huddled beside the small girl.

Jake stood from the rounded table and crossed his arms over his chest, the movement broadening his shoulders and thickening his muscles, like an animal determined to protect his mate and cub from any predator bold enough to test him. And as far as he was concerned, that was exactly what he was looking at. The woman standing still as a statue twenty feet from him was not someone he recognized anymore. He couldn’t guarantee that her next move would not be in the form of a threat, so he didn’t risk it. 

His mother raised her hand in a wave weakened by uncertainty. “Hi, sweetheart.”

Her voice was meeker than he expected, and she stood less confidently than he’d ever known in his thirty-four years. Her styled hair and perfectly painted nails and carefully applied makeup suddenly seemed unnatural on the woman before him, like an ill-fitting costume hanging off her body with an uneasy facial expression to match. 

“Gram,” Jake began, a deep grit to his tone. He didn’t tear his eyes away from his mother. “What did you do?”

Without glancing her way, Jake knew his grandmother had taken his seat at the table, holding his daughter and likely making silly faces at her as she inserted herself in what was his pleasant weekend.

“You two need to talk,” she said. There was a smile in her voice. A giggle from Eve. “You weren’t going to make the first move, and she was coming either way, so I figured it would be best if I tagged along.”

The crease in Jake’s brow deepened. That was not enough for him. “No warning?”

“Nope. You wouldn’t have agreed.”

He shook his head. His mother still hadn’t moved. 

"Is he here?" Jake finally asked her.

His mother startled at his directness, but she recovered after a moment’s passing and took a step closer that Jake immediately made up by taking a step back. She paused. "Jake—"

"Is he here?" he snapped.

The new silence in the aftermath of his sharp tone was loud, terribly loud, and long-lasting. Painfully so.

"Uh, family?" Rooster suddenly said from behind him. "Why don't we take a little walk on the beach."

Chairs scraped across the floor and Jake couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so thankful for his friend. Rooster was the only other person to know the full truth of what was said about Jake’s girlfriend and daughter, and he undoubtedly felt the storm brewing. A storm he knew Jake wouldn’t want his family to witness. 

No one argued, and as the others made their way outside, you appeared in front of him, breaking the tension of his steady stare. He looked at you, making sure to soften the hard edge in his eyes to soothe the worry in yours, but it didn’t work. His smile was tight-lipped and brief.

"Go with them, Honey," he whispered with a nod toward the door. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles before running his thumb over the top of them. "It's ok."

He tried that smile again, but the expression on your face made it known he was no more convincing than before.

With your free hand you cupped his cheek, then you stood up on your toes to press your lips to his—a little token of strength. When you stepped away from him, you snuck a quick look at his mother before you were on your way, following everyone else out the back door onto the beach. 

Only once you were out of his sight did Jake allow his eyes to land back on his mother.

She swallowed hard, her shaky hands clasped in front of her. "She's lovely," she said.

"She is," he replied, crossing his arms once again, stony glare back in place. "Where's Dad?"

Her nerves radiated through the room. He could practically see them—thin wiggly lines emanating from her form. 

"He's on a business trip. He doesn't even know I came. I just wanted to meet them. I'm only here for a couple of days and—"

"What happens when he finds out?” Jake interjected. “He'll lose his mind. He’ll show up here, and he won't walk away without making his point clear when it comes to my girlfriend and baby."

He could feel his voice raising as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t restrain himself. The pure rage he’d been trying to tamp down for months was yanked to the surface now that he was looking directly into the eyes of someone who had no issue insulting you, and therefore, hurting him. 

She said his name again, but the overwhelming combination of her gentle tone and the pain swirling in her irises had tears beginning to coat his own, a stinging at his nose. 

It pissed him off.

"He isn't coming anywhere near them,” Jake practically growled, that internal animal determined to protect his family slipping through the calm demeanor he’d been so close to regaining. “Do you understand me? After the things he said, the things he called her? It's not happening."

His mother nodded. "I understand."

"That little girl is mine. I'm not being tricked into raising someone else's kid!"

"I know, sweetheart,” she said as she attempted a step closer. He flinched but didn’t move away. She took another step. “Gram showed me a picture of her. She looks just like you." 

He frowned at her hint of a smile, at her hand extending his way like to earn the trust of an aggressive puppy. 

"Jake, I'm so sorry,” She near whispered. She was closer than he realized—he blamed it on his blurring vision—and her palm tentatively landed on his forearm. “This is not how I wanted things to be. You’re my son. The woman you love is outside that door and she birthed my granddaughter.” Her fingers lightly squeezed. “The last thing I want is to be alienated from the family you’ve made.”

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last week, Jake didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think right. He felt lost, and the only things capable of bringing him to safety were not within grabbing distance, separated from him by a door that might as well have been a mile away. 

Another palm met his other forearm and his arms were carefully untwined. One of his hands was sandwiched between two smaller ones. He couldn’t decide if it was comforting. 

He’d never been terribly close to her, less close to his father, but it didn’t change that she was, in fact, his mother. He’d always feel a bond, in some form. And knowing that her actions, her words, or lack thereof, were too often influenced by being under his father’s thumb stuck in the back of his mind. Rarely did she drift, knowing she’d have to face his frustration, but she had this time, for him, for his child, and it made things all the more difficult. Confusing. 

"I know what was said was…horrible. And—" Her eyelids briefly closed as she shook her head. She blew out a subtle breath before looking up at him. “I know I didn't do anything about it. I didn't call you and tell you I wasn't on his side in this. But that's what I'm doing now."

His lips parted but she continued.

“If it doesn’t work, if you don’t want me around them, then I’ll go. I’ll respect that, sweetheart, but I just wanted to try.”

The longer she stood there, the longer she had her hands around his, looking as desperate as she did, the harder it was for Jake to maintain the same depth of anger that he’d been so attached to. It seeped away with the nagging obligation to let her try to be a grandmother to his daughter. Not just for his mother, but for Eve. His baby girl, for whom he would willingly spend his entire life trying to provide everything she deserved and more. 

Jake sighed. 

“You can meet them,” he said, “But—”

She smiled. “That’s enough for now. I wouldn’t ask for more.”

Good. He wouldn’t give her more. Not now. Not until he saw for himself how she behaved around you and his baby. 

Nodding, he said, “Come on, then.”

He could feel her nerves again as they stepped out the back door of the bar, but the moment he saw your face, all of his attention went to you and what you were going to think about what he’d just agreed to. 

You only gave a brief look to his mother, a small smile with it, before your eyes were back on his. The question in them he responded to with a nod, then his mother stepped out from behind him. She hadn’t a chance to get a good look at Eve when she arrived, but now that the girl was right in front of her, snuggled in your arms, his mother couldn’t peel her eyes away. 

Her hand raised to cover her mouth and muffle the light sob that escaped as she stared in awe at the girl. She eased over to you.

"Could I—" She started but hesitated.

Jake understood her pause. His mother was asking another mother—a woman she didn’t truly know—if she could hold her baby. And what mother would hand her child over to a stranger? He respected her for recognizing that. For not assuming she had a claim on his child. 

A relationship with Eve would be a gift to her, but not one she could demand. It was a gift that must be granted. A decision; His and yours. And while he had decided he was ok with his mother being around Eve, you, too, would have to agree. 

“Would it be alright with you if I held her?” his mother finally asked. 

You looked at Jake again and he nodded again—extra reassurance that he trusted the intentions of the woman asking you to hand over your entire world. 

Smile spreading across your face, you said, “Of course,” and lifted Eve in his mother’s direction. 

"Oh…gosh,” she breathed, settling the girl on her hip. "You're so wonderful, aren't you." 

Her words were breaking as they left her lips, but she continued to murmur sweet praises as she hugged the baby girl close, and kissed the top of her blonde head, and ran her fingers over the much smaller ones. His mother looked at and held her son’s daughter as if she were unreal, delicate, breakable. And that’s exactly what she was. Eve was a miracle—one that brought her parents together again when it seemed so horribly unlikely, and she needed to be treated as such.

Jake’s heart squeezed so beautifully at the sight, and the tears he thought had come and gone threatened to reemerge. He felt full. Oddly complete in a way he didn’t anticipate. 

It was uncomfortable to realize how much he wanted that acceptance, for himself, for you, for his child, but he couldn’t deny the relief of seeing his mother care. Not judging but loving the way he chose to live his life despite it being so different than what was expected of him. 

A brush against his hand pulled him away from the scene. You tugged on his fingers and grinned when his eyes met yours. You pulled more, but Jake was already moving to sit beside you on the bench. 

“You ok?” you asked as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. You leaned into him. 

“I’m giving it a chance,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We’ll see.”

----

A/N: this will have a 2nd part.

Turn on notifications for this blog or @seresinhangmanjake-library if you would like to keep up with my writing.

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[stayteezdreams]

Favor

Plot: In a moment of desperation you ask Seonghwa for a favor. He is happy to oblige....suspiciously happy actually.

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Gn!Reader

A/n: For those who don't like vague plot-lines, this is a fake dating story.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of!

Words: 2.6k

Hanging up your phone with a sigh, you leaned on the balcony railing as you dropped your head.

'I knew I shouldn't have answered that phone call.'

Your mother, as much as she did love you, had a tendency to make things very hard for you. Most of the time when she thought she was "helping." This time, her latest scheme was to find you a boyfriend, or as she called it, your future husband.

There had been times in the past when she attempted to set you up with some people here and there, none of them worked out of course. Now she was planning on introducing you to not one, but numerous men, all at the same time. Specifically at your father's companies Christmas party. An event you dreaded attending in the first place, now your mother decided to add another horror to the list of reasons you didn't want to go.

Hearing the door slide open, you looked over to see Seonghwa. You felt your heart race in the now familiar way at the sight of him.

He eyed you for a moment as he walked up to you. "Everything okay? You've been out here for a while, we were getting worried."

You sighed, "It was my mom."

He let out a soft chuckle as he leaned against the railing beside you, "I'm all ears."

After explaining everything to him he stared of into space for a moment. You could tell he was trying to think of a way to make you feel better, or even an idea of how to get out of your predicament. But what you did not see, was the burning ache of annoyance.

The idea of you being set up with guys, or even going on dates with someone pained Seonghwa. Now to hear you were going to be forced on multiple men in an attempt to find your "future husband"?? His chest tightened at the thought.

"Can you just, not go?"

You scoffed softly, "I have to, if I don't my dad will hold it against me forever and will make me regret it in some way or another."

"Why is your mother so insistent on setting you up anyways?"

"She's afraid I'll die alone I guess." You chuckled softly before letting out a sigh. "God, I really don't think I can deal with it, I know she as no idea what kind of guy I actually like, who knows what these guys are like."

He smiled in pity as he watched you, "I'm sorry, I wish I could help."

'If only I could go with you...'

You looked over at him as a sudden thought popped into your head. If Seonghwa came with you as a date, would your mother give up? The idea made your heart flutter.

Seonghwa saw something light up your eyes for a second and he smiled, "What?"

Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed by the thought you shook your head, "Nothing, I just had a stupid thought."

"What kind of stupid thought?" He asked, leaning a bit closer to pressure to to tell him, as he hoped you had thought of the same thing he did.

You twiddled your thumbs for a moment as you considered asking, or at least suggesting it. Glancing over at him he smiled softly, waiting for you to give in.

You turned slightly towards him, "What if... you did me a giant favor?"

He felt his heart skip a beat as anticipation built. "It depends on the favor."

"Well...if I went to the party with a date, my mom might not bother introducing me to anyone."

Seonghwa clenched his jaw as he repressed a grin. He looked out at the view and hummed, "That might work."

You watching him in anticipation before he caught your pleading eyes and let out a soft laugh. "Okay."

"Okay?!"

"But-! You'll owe me."

You nodded in agreement and he chuckled, still repressing the excitement of his own as he thought of going with you as your date.

Looking in at the party ahead of you, you let out a deep breath. Seonghwa watched you with a soft smile as he leaned closer "Relax, it's gonna be fine, you look great."

You let out a soft laugh as you met his eyes, "How I look has nothing to do with why I'm nervous, but thank you."

He grinned at you as he pulled you gently, encouraging you to walk further into the room with him. The large room was lit up by a bright Christmas tree in the middle of the room. Every table was decorated with garland with red and gold ornaments. Covers of classic Christmas songs played from an adjacent room as you spotted people dancing together.

Everyone was dressed in formal attire, most in various Christmas themed colors. You didn't get far into the party before your parents spotted you and made their way over.

They eyed Seonghwa as you introduced him. They knew of him since you and Seonghwa had been close friends for a while, so it wasn't entirely shocking that you showed up with him.

Your father was pleased by it, while your mom was obviously suspicious, as you feared she might be when you suddenly told her you would be coming with a date.

After your mothers attempt at prying, and Seonghwa skillfully dodging any suspicion. Your father managed to shoo her way as they went to greet other acquaintances.

You and Seonghwa made your way to a corner and mingled with each other as you watched the party around you. You didn't know anyone except by mild acquaintance, and there were very few people your age in general.

"I wonder how long we can stay before my dad feels guilty enough to let me leave."

Seonghwa chuckled as he sipped at his drink and looked around. He paused as he spotted your mother watching the two of you closely.

He smiled to himself as he glanced over at you before he slyly stepped closer before wrapping his arm around your waist and setting his hand on your hip.

You froze as a shiver crawled up your body as you looked over at Seonghwa. "What are you doing?"

He leaned a bit closer to speak quietly, "Your mother is watching us."

You casually glanced around and saw your mother eyeing Seonghwa. "Oh...". Your heart was beating faster as you felt nervous from his touch.

Remaining in this position for a short time, you saw your mother suddenly approach a younger man. Seeing her gesture over to you, you felt your heart sink.

"Oh no."

Seonghwa followed your gaze and clenched his jaw. It was going to take a bit more on his part for your mother to back off.

Your dread only grew as your mother approached you, stranger in tow. After some brief introductions, in which your mother barely acknowledged Seonghwa, the man seemed to grow nervous.

Glancing at Senghwa you saw him staring at the man with an almost unnerving gaze. You smiled to yourself as you realized he was trying to silently scare the man off.

Luckily for you, it worked, as the man excused himself a few minutes later, leaving your mother disappointed as she left to go find your father.

You nudged Seonghwa and he looked over at you, "I'm surprised you didn't burn holes into him."

He chuckled, "I tried my best."

Unfortunately for the two of you, your mother still remained unconvinced Seonghwa was anything to you but a friend as she started to plot with another one of the suitors.

Seonghwa, having been keeping an eye on her, saw this and quickly made his own move.

Taking your glass and setting it aside he smiled at you, "Let's dance."

You swallowed nervously, "Dance?"

He nodded, "Before she brings the next one over."

You looked round in panic to see your mother walking through the room with another man you did not know. Seonghwa slid his hand into yours as he swiftly lead you to the dance floor.

As Seonghwa pulled you close to him as you began dancing in rhythm to the music playing, you watched as your mother shoo the man off as she watched you and Seonghwa.

You smiled as you looked at Seonghwa, whose gaze almost parallelized you. You swallowed nervously again as you avoided eye contact, becoming more aware of how close you were.

"Did it work?" He spoke softly, making goosebumps rise up our neck as his breath brushed your ear.

You nodded and he smiled in pride.

"She always sees right through me." You mumble a moment later.

"Well, she can look as hard as she wants at me, she wont see what she is expecting too."

Your eyes shot over to him as he smiled at you. "What does that mean?"

He shrugged his head softly, and you slyly pinched his arm, making him hiss.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. You and your cryptic words." You giggled and he smiled fondly at you.

He hoped you did actually understand what he meant, and the way you seemed to avoid eye contact, made him think you did.

Suddenly kissing your cheek you looked back at him in surprise and he laughed softly.

You scoffed, "I think you might be enjoying my misery too much you know."

He grinned, "Just a little."

Your dance with Seonghwa helped you avoid one suitor, but your mother managed to surprise you with two more as you and Seonghwa were talking to your father.

One seemed just as intimidated by Seonghwa as the first man had been, and avoided conversation. But the other seemed unfazed, even amused by the situation.

Seonghwa's annoyance rose as this man lingered too close to you, attempted to lean closer as he joked with you, and even brushed your hand on purpose as he handed you a drink.

The only thing saving Seonghwa from his anger, was your obvious disinterest in the man. Even your mother seemed a bit perturbed by his actions, which only helped Seonghwa's confidence.

Finally finding a moment to excuse yourself to use the bathroom, you and Seonghwa shared a nod as you made your escape. Once you left the bathroom, Seonghwa swooped past, leading you through the crowd, away from your mother and the cocky suitor, before the two of you stepped outside.

As soon as the cold night air hit you, you let out a sigh of relief. "God that man was driving me crazy."

Seonghwa chuckled as he slid off his jacket following you to the terrace wall. As you leaned on the wall, looking out at the view, you felt Seonghwa drape his jacket over you and you smiled at him.

"Thank you."

He nodded with a smile as he placed his hands on the wall and took in a deep breath.

"I'm sorry."

Seonghwa's eyes snapped over to you at your sudden apology. "For what?"

"Asking you to come here when it made no difference, you can leave if you want." You smiled almost sadly as you looked up at the sky.

"I think it is making a difference. Besides that ken-doll I've managed to scare the others off. I'll stay."

You smiled as your heart pounded. Seonghwa was always there for you in any situation.

Looking over at him, you smiled "Thank you."

He nodded, "Of course. Besides, I like the idea of you owing me."

You chuckled at this, "It sounds like you have something specific in mind that you want from me."

He looked at you for a moment as he seemed to study your face, making you feel shy. "I do."

You felt your chest clench, "What is it?"

He smirked as he turned to face you, still leaning on the wall. He cleared his throat before he leaned in a little, holding your attention completely.

"A date."

Adrenaline seemed to spike through you as your heart raced, "...A date?"

He nodded softly "A real date, not another fake one."

Your mind seemed to go blank as you stared at him in shock. "...oh"

He tilted his head as he watched you stare at him in silence. As much as he was not showing it, he was beginning to panic at your lack of response.

"Not interested?"

You seemed to regain control of yourself as he spoke and you shook your head, "Noo, no- I mean, that's not it, I'm just surprised."

"By what?"

"Well, why would you want to go on a date with me?"

The tone of your voice sounded so genuine Seonghwa felt his chest clench painfully. Did you really have no idea of his feelings for you? Had he hid them too well?

A frown was evident on his face as he leaned a little closer to you. "Are you crazy? I've been wanting to go out with you for ages, Y/n."

You let out a soft bewildered laugh, "What?"

"Yeah! I've tried to ask you out a few times but it never worked out. The others always found out and invited themselves along, not realizing I wanted it to just be us. So it always ended up turning into hang outs rather than dates."

As those moments passed through your mind as you recalled the disappointment you felt each time. You let out another laugh "So that was never on purpose?"

He shook his head as he smiled, watching you chuckle at the realization. As your eyes met you looked away shyly as you played nervously with your hands, a habit Seonghwa picked up on a long time ago.

Catching sight of someone at a nearby window, Seonghwa noticed your mother watching the two of you as your father tried to pull her away. He let out a soft silent laugh as he shook his head gently.

Looking back at you, he leaned closer as he gently reached over to caress your face, gaining your attention.

You looked back at him a little startled by his actions as butterflies swirled in your stomach.

"So what do you say? I don't want you to go on a date with me because you owe me a favor, I want you to go because you want to."

You swallowed nervously as your chest grew warm. You nodded softly, "I want too."

A grin spread across his face, "Good. Now, don't be too startled."

You furrowed your brow as you silently questioned him. You heart spiking as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, right on the edge of your lips.

He smiled cheekily at you as you caught on to his reason for the kiss. "Is my mother watching us again?"

He nodded softly and you laughed, looking away bashfully for a moment before looking back at him. He leaned closer again, a teasing smile on his face making you giggle just as he kissed your cheek again.

"Stop! If you do too much she might start planning a wedding."

He laughed, before he suddenly placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him, "That doesn't sound so bad."

You bit your lip to keep from grinning as he chuckled softly, adjusting his jacket around your shoulders as he looked back at the window. Your mother was nowhere in sight, and he had no idea if she saw the kiss in the first place. But even if she didn't, there was nothing for her to suspect now.

Now he had no intention of being your fake anything, and he had absolutely no intention of letting you go.

xx End xx

Sort of an abrupt ending?? But it's getting late and I'm running out of brain power lol

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[jqnehr]

les améthystes du ciel | neuvillette — part 19

two individuals under pressure to marry. one has the hydro archon on his back, and the other has her matchmaking friend pushing her along. when the two meet at a ball, and both in dire need of peace from two meddlesome females, what better arrangement is there than their own betrothal?

pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader warnings : wow ok so this one is, once again, 16+ only. ANGST. copious amounts of angst im telling you. mentions of suicide (literally the first line ☠️), graphic depictions of attempted murder by hanging, andré is massive asshole and you will see why, graphic violence, this is a very heavy chapter so you have been warned, fluff and suggestive stuff (wink wonk) at the end to make up for it all <3 word count : 21k (i have no words.) note : twenty one thousand damn words later and here we are. y'all asked for it!! but i also promised it so. ANYWAYS, if the end seems a bit rush that's because i have a massive headache right now and i need to sleep RIGHT NOW. enjoy y'all <3.

! not proof read

! do not copy, redistribute, translate, or use my work with or without credit in any way. thank you.

part eighteen⋮ masterlist ⋮ part twenty

ao3 ⋮ playlist

...

Your mother committed suicide. Perhaps that was the first fracture in the foundations of your life. A fissure that was leaking, but you conveniently brushed it off. A problem unsolved will only grow in size, but you never let that occur to you.

What they don’t know can’t hurt them. A rather generic, overused saying—but, nonetheless, it held quite surmountable insight towards your mother’s day-to-day life, for it was a common one of hers, perhaps her favourite. When one is an outcast in society, with nowhere else to go but the Fleuve Cendre, one would be quick to find out the true, ugly nature of the impoverished realm sitting below the comforts of Fontaine, and how each day is swift to morph into one of a battle for endurance, survival. The Fleuve Cendre is a dismal place, and despite some of the genuinely good individuals dwelling there, it’s rather a haven for the more shady, the more illicit.

Bootleg organisations and fraudulent gatherings is something commonly seen, commonly encountered, commonly conducted—and commonly turned a blind eye to. Those with no ill-intent, and yet no authority, have no other choice but to overlook such crooked arrangements, for fear of their own safety, and their families’—if they have any. The overworld’s influence down within the sewers is weak; bribery is rampant, the hush money always so generous. Ex-criminals with no place in society above aren’t necessarily welcome below, but nor can they be turned away—on the surface, to any old law-abiding citizen of Fontaine, the Fleuve Cendre doesn’t seem all that bad; it appears to be well-maintained, the law is enforced and kept by the inhabitants—and people don’t like to think about it any more than what it seems to be at face value. Such applies for every other aspect of life also. Ignorance is bliss. 

That’s what the overworld citizens enjoy. Bliss. And that’s why, during your youth, you made it your life’s goal to relocate to the overworld. To try and fit in, become one of the uppity, ‘righteous’ law-abiding residents. Live in a nice apartment, stroll about the grassy slopes of your region’s landscape, admire the vast views. Maybe get a Vision, and go explore the underwater world many renown for its otherworldly beauty. 

You would’ve—and at the time of your first especially tragic, life-altering incident of walking in your own mother swallowing a cyanide pill, you knew that things were never as simple as your mind presented it to be. 

Your mother had grabbed your upper arm with a vice-like grip, digging her nails into your flesh, hissing, “Burn it. Burn the papers. The documents. Get rid of it all. Or Fulbert will—” she hacked out a cough, “—get to you.”

How she managed her final words out with such vivacity and resolve even as she died is something you didn’t know whether to admire, or to resent. She left you shaking violently all over once her hand slumped from your arm.

Once you told Daniel, you and him immediately rummaged through your mother’s office, turning it upside down, gathering all the papers and ledgers and records you both could find involving her illegal dealings and set them alight, honouring her dying wish. Of course, you both read through them before you threw a match at them—throughout your childhoods, your mother had been dealing with gangs, Treasure Hoarders, even the Fatui, as a way to make a living and feed you both. Smuggling of illegal substances, unauthorised trading of alcohol and firewater for Fatui roaming about Fontaine, and even exchanging of highly-confidential governmental information to the Fatui, for a hefty price. All dealings that put your mother and her two children in grave, grave danger if she were ever to bail on them, sell her clientele out, or be caught by the court of law, which, to you—and as your brother also agrees—explains why your mother was very distant.

Your father disappeared when you were three. You and your brother were born out of wedlock, anyway, and considering what your brother has told you about the man before he took off, he wasn’t the most pleasant of fellows to your mother. Your mother once drunkenly shrieked that he left because you were born a girl, and it all boiled down to you, essentially, tearing her relationship with your father apart due to your birth. When she sobered, she expressed no memory of ever shouting such an awful thing at you, leaving you to pull away, to accept it, wounded.

The woman never treated either of her children with motherly love. She hardly ever inquired either of you of your whereabouts in the Fleuve Cendre, apparently uncaring of your safety. The sewers is an unkind place to most, but there is a sense of familiarity within—everyone looks out for each other, which explains how the only type of parental love you ever received was through Elias. But he was more of an uncle. A genuine old man, you’re thankful to him for teaching you many life lessons when the one person who should’ve, never did. It was a morbid stroke of luck that he died just when you were old enough to fend for yourself. Perhaps that was the final push towards you actually shifting to the overworld.

Your brother soon followed, and then he met Elvira. It was nice to see him appear so much freer compared to what he was like when barely scraping by down in the Fleuve Cendre. It took a few years until your brother and Elvira, his girlfriend at that time, finally agreed to marry. You remember him jokingly asking when you were going to get engaged, to which you waved off and dismissed, telling him not to pressure you about it. 

Despite destroying all known records of any of your mother’s illegal dealings, a premonition stayed with you throughout the years after—what if there was something you’d missed? Something incriminating, damnatory—where it could end you both up in prison, just for being the primary culprit’s only living offspring? Yes, it would most certainly be inculpating. Hiding such criminal transactions and such would absolutely earn you a spot down in the Fortress of Meropide. Why, your mother had even committed treason by tipping off members of the Fatui about highly confidential matters involving the country’s government and judicial system. How she obtained that information, you’ll never know—and you don’t want to know. All you do know is that her shady relations had, essentially, left you and your brother in a tight spot for, as it would seem, the rest of your lives.

Perhaps moving to the overworld was an attempt at an escape from such. 

Where—when—did things go wrong?

Long before you got your job at Chioriya Boutique, you were juggling multiple jobs just to make ends meet. Such is the life of an individual without the certifications and required amount of education to pursue any real career—such is the life of an individual who has never had control or a choice over that. Such is the life of a woman who has grown up in the dejected world of the Fleuve Cendre, one without much opportunity. 

Entering the Akademiya? What a painfully pathetic pipe dream that is for a peasant who lived her childhood in the slums. The Akademiya is for the elevated, for the brilliant of mind—and, most importantly, for the deep of pocket. 

Those three things you did not have. And you still don’t really have them. The fuzzy memory of your aunt bequeathing her books to you is so vague now, you barely think of it anymore. But, that is still the seed that was planted towards pursuing your fantasy of entering the greatest university in Teyvat. It is a shame you had to give it up.

Either way, you’ve never really gone about your life resenting the circumstances you grew up in—in fact, you don’t even have an opinion of your mother anymore. You and your brother don’t bring it up. Your lives had improved so much, and it seemed to only get better.

That’s when you met André—confident, witty André.

Your first meeting was at a wedding anniversary party thrown by a mutual friend. It was a rather humble occasion, with only about thirty guests in total, where the atmosphere was hospitable and warm. Although you were never really a people person, this event was one of the few places where you felt genuinely welcomed. Amiable chatter came easily, and thus came the introductions.

“Mademoiselle [Name], allow me to introduce you to my dear friend here, André Banville.”

He was tall, swarthy, and had kind eyes. They were a deep brown, black against the orange glow of the chandelier overhead, but they were not cold, and they sparkled. He wasn’t the most handsome man you’d ever met, but there was something about him that just pulled you in. It pulled everyone in, like he was a welcoming gravitational field, drawing all those around into his orbit. This was clear—for many had greeted him and struck up conversations with him, and he was like the beating heart of the party, despite being a guest, and the hosts had no problem with it. In fact, the couple cheerily chatted away with him, and André never failed to make those around roar with laughter.

You had held out a hand for him to shake, but he surprised you by taking it and placing a gentlemanly kiss to the top of it. “Good evening, Mademoiselle. It is lovely to meet you.”

A wash of heat had enveloped you, and you stood stunned for a moment. “I—erm—why, thank you, good sir. How do you fare on this fine evening?”

André had released your hand and straightened, shoving his hands into his pockets, pose languid, and it was such a smooth, fluid motion, you blinked at the strange attractiveness of it. His curly dark hair flopped down over his forehand, brushing against his eyes, and you noticed he had long, pretty lashes. Slightly envious, you had regarded him with curiosity and fascination. He must be of Natlanian or Sumeruian heritage. 

When he smiled, it brought his dimples to light. “Well, when there’s champagne involved, I’m always happy.”

His companion beside him, the one who introduced you, let out a hearty laugh, giving him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Hoho, good one, André! Now, where’s Stephie?”

André shrugged, and turned back to you. His friend clapped him on the shoulder once more as he turned and left you both alone, chortling, making his way back through the crowd to locate the woman he mentioned, presumably his wife. André inclined his head towards you. “So, what do you do for a living, Mademoiselle?”

You blinked, oddly surprised at the question. You hadn’t expected him to carry on a conversation. Attractive, likeable people didn’t usually do that with you. “Uh. I just work a few jobs in the city. I’d like to become a seamstress, maybe work at a renowned boutique one day.”

That had made his brows raise. Someone passing by offered him a flute of champagne, of which he immediately accepted with thanks. You were offered no flute. And then he surprised you further by extending it out towards you. “You are good with a needle and thread? Do you like to design clothes?” You, flustered, accepted the glass of champagne, blushing at his kindness. It had left you quite tongue-tied. “I—oh, n-no, not really—it’s, well…I like making the designs, you see? If I were to be corny, I’d say, ‘I like bringing them to life’.”

André had grinned. “Quite poetic of you, Mademoiselle. Say, would you be inclined to mending a tailcoat of mine for me? Of course, I will pay you. It’s really quite urgent, you understand, as I have an event I must attend soon and it needs to be fixed for the evening—”

“Of course I can,” you had agreed before thinking better of it, despite being surprised at the abruptness of his request. Besides, you could have used the extra money. “If you want, I can come pick it up.”

“I will deliver it to you.” He had reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a mini notepad and pen. “Here, just write your address or place of work down for me, and I’ll get back to you.” Any normal woman would have second guessed it and pulled away from immediately providing a man she’d just met her address, but none of that occurred to you. This man was charming, polite, and had eyes anyone would like. To you, he seemed perfectly genuine.

But, you realised soon after his attempt on your life, that was the very thing about André Banville. Perfectly genuine. Perfectly charming. Perfectly polite. Had mastered the art of acting with the eyes. Only ever reached out to you if you had something he wanted, something he could use.

You two got along like a house on fire. André had such a knack for putting everyone around him at ease. Conversation was quick to flow naturally, and soon you had divulged him of your origins, of your past, and of where you wished to be. No judgement shone in his eyes once your story came to an end, and all previous qualms you had about befriending this man had swiftly faded.

The eyes are the window to the soul. That is what you thought back then. And, back then, you looked into André’s and saw sincerity you hadn’t witnessed before.

That was the push off the brink. You were merely a guileless, worriless youth back then, still just a fledgeling spreading her wings in the outside world—in this scenario, that being the overworld—and you were much less practical than you are today. Back then, you daydreamed and fantasised readily, believing there to be nothing but happiness in the wake of your future. And that proved true, for a time.

It became easy to forget all the important things when around the things you loved and people you liked. André grew to be one of your closest companions, one of your most trusted friends, and a man you envisioned the rest of your life with. You introduced him to your brother, and Daniel heartily shook his hands and they, too, became good friends.

André was such a joyous addition to your life. The gods had finally decided to smile on you, you supposed, contentedly watching André and Daniel share common interests and laugh together over a good glass of wine. Elvira enjoyed his company also—and you all quickly became like one big family.

You were all so easily deceived.

He must have thought it hilarious. All of you, so effortlessly duped into his little bubble—one you, in particular, walked so readily into. But it turned into a cage, and it became impossible to leave.

Because you didn’t want to leave, until it was too late.

You still remember your second meeting like it was yesterday—the two, short knocks at your door, your excited leap from your seat on the couch, the quick once-over in your hall wall-mirror just to check that you’re presentable, and the slightly-rushed opening of your door. 

There André stood, with one of his hands in his pockets in that same, the other holding a paper bag—presumably with his damaged tailcoat inside it—that signature pose of his that screamed nonchalance, a languid posture almost indolent, like he had all the time in the world to get whatever he needed to get done, done. 

And that alluring, tanned skin of his, those deep brown locks spilling over assured dark eyes, rimmed with long lashes you covet. André exuded confidence, seemed so secure in himself, but never with that self-absorbed vibe you frequently detected from others with the looks and money and reason to flaunt. André was no flaunter, no bragger. People did the bragging for him. If you were his friend, you had something to boast about.

His popularity in Fontanian high society was growing steadily. Women and girls flocked to him. Everywhere he went, he was the life of the party. A true social butterfly, with the skills and talents that everyone admired, that everyone wanted.

“André,” you greeted, smiling, stepping aside and opening the door wider to allow him to enter. “It’s lovely to see you.”

“Quite so, quite so! That’s a pretty blouse you have on there, [Name]. The colour makes your eyes pop.”

“Why, thank you.” How you had managed to get that out without stuttering, is still beyond you to this day. “Care for anything? Tea? Coffee? It’s not even noon yet.”

“No, no, I’ve actually got to run.” André glanced around for a moment before pointing at your dining table, a paper bag in his hands. “Shall I put this over there?” “Oh, here, I’ll take it from you.” You quickly approached him and reached for the paper bag. He swiftly handed it over, before giving you a wide smile. “Sorry I can’t stay. Let me get you coffee to make up for it.”

You blinked. He’s…asking me out? On a date? No. You both had just met barely a week ago. Sure, you had spent the rest of the evening chatting away, getting along like old friends, and he had said he was looking forward to seeing you again—but, surely it wasn’t that much to read into. 

“Uh—sure, if you’d like. You really don’t have to.” I can’t be a bother and make him grow tired of me! You’d never had the most interesting of personalities, and you weren’t beautiful or rich, so you didn’t have much going for you.

André had never seemed to care.

“What do you mean? Getting you coffee is the least I could possibly do for you.”

“Oh…but you’re already paying me Mora—”

“Right!” He snapped his fingers at your reminding words. “Here. I hope it’s enough.” André pulled out a little brown pouch from his jacket pocket, the coins inside clinking in his palm, and he placed it on top of the paper bag that sat in your hold. “There you are. Coffee next week on Tuesday, if you’re free?”

You blinked several times to rearrange your thoughts, still reeling from the Mora so casually handed to you—practically thrown at you—and it made you wonder if he was wealthier than he let on. He never dressed in very expensive wear. It was neat and formal enough, sure, but it never looked exorbitant. “Erm…alright. I really do hope I’m not being a bother.” “If you were bothering me, [Name], I wouldn’t have offered, and I’d have long let you know, don’t you worry about that.” The man grinned and stepped past you—and even ruffled your hair lightheartedly on his way to your door. You had hurriedly put down the bag and pouch of money on your coffee table, scurrying over to see him out. André turned and gave you a friendly wave goodbye. “Again, thank you for agreeing to do this small favour for me. Really, you’re a lifesaver. Well, then, I’ll see you on Tuesday, Mademoiselle.”

With one final grin, off André went, hurrying to attend to whatever errand demanded his attention, leaving you dazed, flushed, and thrilled.

You had mended his tailcoat with the best thread you owned, making sure the seam you sewed the hole back together with was completely invisible on the finished product—just as if it was bought right from the factory. The hole was really quite big—it looked torn, as if someone had either grabbed it to wrench its wearer back, or some kind of item had snagged it and ripped it through in hurried attempts to get away.

It had made you hum to yourself in contemplation, holding the material up to the light and studying the serrated rip of the material. Thankfully, it’s salvageable. All you had to do was slightly snip at the jagged ends and sew it back together. Good as new.

It didn’t take you long to complete. Only an hour and a half, at best. That meant you had to wait about a week to return it to André…and a week you had to wait until seeing him again.

Stupid girl! You had immediately berated yourself at your train of thought, blinking back to reality. You just met him. Slow down!

Despite your attempts to brush it off, the week had dragged on by endlessly, almost driving you insane. You had tried to occupy yourself with other things—visiting your brother, having nice chats with Elvira over a few cups of tea, busying yourself with your jobs, going on a spontaneous cleaning spree in your apartment, finally getting around to washing those curtains of yours. All nice, useful distractions, but they didn’t fully distract your thoughts for a week. It had left you slumped on your couch, staring up at the ceiling, still with your rubber cleaning gloves on. 

This is bad. You’d never been in love before, so you were sure this was just a fleeting little crush that would fade. Never mind him being the first man to actually treat you like another human being enjoyable to be around—you were sure (at least, according to the silly romance novels you had liked to sit down and read occasionally) that this would pass eventually. Yes. That’s all it is. You’re not a teenager anymore! Grow up! He probably doesn’t give a damn about you at all!

If only you had known how right you were.

André had knocked on your door that following Tuesday, beaming that same smile of his. One that was quickly becoming your favourite to see. Ugh, I can be so cringe at times.

“Well! I hope you’re ready for our little outing.” Were the first words he greeted you with upon you opening your door. You, in fact, were all dressed and ready to go, bubbling with excitement on the inside. “I suppose so. Ah—here, your tailcoat, it’s all finished.” You handed over the neatly ironed and folded tailcoat in the same paper bag he had given it to you in, strangely nervous about what his reaction would be. 

You had no reason to worry, however, for he instantly lit up and accepted the item with an even bigger smile. “Wonderful! You really are a lifesaver, [Name]. Let’s take a look at it.”

André had pulled out the tailcoat, carefully unfolded it, and inspected the cloth with an intent eye. He held the material where the hole was, before flicking his gaze to you, eyes twinkling. “Goodness! You’d never have even known it was there!”

You had looked down bashfully, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear at the compliment. It made your blood sing. “Oh, thank you, André—but, truly, it’s the least I could do. Nothing to it, really.”

“Nonsense! I am highly impressed, you can’t even see the seam. Now, come along—you’re owed a latte and an éclair.”

“An éclair! My goodness, you spoil me, André.” You had smiled, shaking your head, locking your apartment door behind you, placing your keys back into your purse and adjusting its strap on your shoulder. He offered his arm, surprising you even further. “Well, my word! Aren’t you just the perfect gentleman?” “Something I pride myself in.” André had grinned, patting your hand fondly. “Now, what is your favourite café?”

That day, after wandering around town and just getting to know each other, André invited you to accompany him to the ball he was attending in two days’ time. 

“I—” you broke off, blinking, completely caught off guard by the suggestion. “Well, I would love to, André, but…I don’t have any proper evening wear for such an occasion. And, I don’t have an invitation.”

“No need to worry your pretty little head about that factor, [Name],” he had teasingly responded, tapping your forehead. “For I have a plus-one invitation. And, I have chosen you to be the one I escort.”

“Well, that’s great—but, as I said, I don’t have a ballgown. I don’t even have that much makeup, and only two pairs of earrings.” Such are the perks of being rather impoverished.

“And as I said, you don’t need to worry.” He paused before a building, and swept an arm up towards it. “Tonight is quite an important night for me, so having you as my partner is rather detrimental towards appearances.”

“I—I see.” You gaped up at the store’s marquee—Gaëlle’s Couture. At that time, well before Chioriya Boutique opened, ‘Gaëlle’s Couture’ was the number one boutique in Fontaine. Not only was Gaëlle’s Couture a true fashion emporium, but it also had a salon within it. So, it was convenient to purchase and have your selected gown or clothing fitted, and then get your makeup done. 

“Are—are you sure about this, André?” You managed out, blinking up at him. “This…place is very expensive. You’ve already spent more than enough on me for a lifetime.” “Rubbish! Consider this one more favour you’re doing for me.” He turned and led you into the boutique. You were too dazed to protest any further. André winked down at you. “And, at the end of the day, I really don’t think you could possibly deny an excuse to get all dolled up, no? No woman would, as far as I know.”

“Uh, well…” you mumbled, warily looking around at all the colourful clothes and dresses and shoes on display, uncertain. Everything looked and smelled so expensive—that even if it wasn’t you spending any money, it still felt like getting a tooth extracted. You had never liked other people spending money on you, anyway. It always made you feel like they had one on you, as if you thus owed them something from then on. “I really don’t know, André…”

“Tut tut, hush for a moment, [Name],” André shushed you and turned to the staff member who had approached you both to assist you with anything.

“Welcome! How may I help you today, Monsieur?”

“It would be wonderful if you could find a proper ball gown for this lovely young woman here.” He gestured to you, smiling. You kept your eyes carefully trained on the carpeted ground of the store. “You see, we have an event coming up in a few days, and she doesn’t have anything appropriate to wear.” “Of course! That shall be no problem.” The woman smiled at you warmly, turning to lead you both to the women’s formal wear section just over in another aisle. “Please, follow me.”

André patted your shoulder and pointed to some couches over the side. “I’ll be over there, waiting for you. Pick out whatever you’d like. Don’t worry about the price.”

“Are you sure—”

“Go, [Name].” He nudged you in the direction of the awaiting staff member. “Dress up to your heart’s content.”

Defeated, you nodded and turned to the woman standing by, plastering a polite smile on your face. “Well, then, please lead the way.”

The dresses you tried on that day were all beautifully crafted, intricately designed, and costly. Of course, they were certainly worth every penny priced, but you felt very out of place trying on such expensive and luxurious wear. You, a commoner, hailing from the murky depths of the Fleuve Cendre, donning dresses fit for a queen? You, a rather destitute young woman, who once wore tattered old garments in need of a good wash and mend, now all dolled up like a noblewoman? It was unfathomable to you. It was a dream come true, yes—you had practically become the epitome of a ‘rags to riches’ girl like in those fairy stories—but you felt out of place, undeserving. You had read somewhere that what you were feeling was called ‘imposter syndrome’, and it really aptly described your sentiments toward that occasion.

You eventually decided on a deep sea-blue gown that had the most gorgeous gradient—the bodice was that azure hue with jewelled, hand-embroidered flora needlework, and the hems of the bodice were laced, with pearls woven into the filament. The blue faded down into a silver, with an almost moon-like shimmer when the light hit it right, and the skirt fell about your legs so fluidly, so naturally—and, above all, it was comfortable. 

You selected a pair of blue heeled satin slippers, and the height of the shoes’ heels were not so elevated as to hurt your feet. It was perfect.

The staff member, Cecily, had clapped her hands together and put them over her mouth in wonder once you stepped out from behind the dressing room’s curtain. “Mademoiselle, you look breathtaking!”

You thought the dress was wonderful, not yourself. “Aha, thank you. It really is an exquisite gown.”

“Oh, but it’s like it was made for you!” Ah, yes, the flattery—all a subtle sale’s pitch to get me to buy this product. It’s probably the most expensive dress in here. You didn’t say anything in reply to the woman’s compliments. “Every eye will be on you at the ball, miss.”

“Haha. If only,” you answered dryly, fluffing the dress’s skirt, letting it swish about your legs. I really do like this dress though. The gown’s palette also struck a strange sense of familiarity in you, as if you’d seen this very colour scheme somewhere—or on someone—before.

“My word!” A masculine voice exclaimed, and you sharply turned to see André gaping at you. “Now, ain’t that a dress!”

You suddenly felt quite bashful, and rather naked, even though the garment was perfectly modest. “Does it…look alright?” “It’s as they say, [Name]—the dress really does make the woman.” He strode forward and grasped your shoulders gently, spinning you around in a slow circle, taking you in. “This is perfect. Have you chosen a pair of shoes? Let me see them.”

“Uh, yes, I thought these suited the dress.” You lifted the skirt up a bit and extended a foot, letting him see your chosen pair of heels. “Not ostentatious, you know? Comfortable, practical, makes the dress shine…”

“You really do have taste in fashion! This combination would never have even entered my head. I’m useless at this kind of thing.” Then, he turned to Cecily standing aside. “What do you have in terms of jewellery?”

“Plenty, Monsieur. Would you like to have a look?” She gestured to another section of the store, where pendants and earrings and even tiaras sat sparkling in sturdy glass cases. “I have a pair of earrings in mind that would go impeccably with the dress.” “Well, then, lead the way!” He’s awfully excited about this. It made you feel excited, glad—just as much as it made you feel restless. I suppose…it wouldn’t hurt to indulge a little.

Cecily rounded the counter before the encased jewellery and unlocked one, gingerly extracting a pair of dazzling cerulean earrings from the display case. “These are of carefully-hewn sapphire, with pure silver surrounding it. I believe it would go wonderfully with the dress, and would suit Mademoiselle here flawlessly.”

“What do you think, [Name]? Aren’t these perfect? Come, try them on.” André tilted your chin up and accepted the trinkets from the woman, lightly pressing one of the earrings’ hook into the piercing of your earlobe, locking it in with the little rubber screw-back. He swiftly added the other one, before stepping away from you to get a good look.

Cecily nodded enthusiastically. “I knew they were perfect!” “Stunning!” André exclaimed, looking like a proud father, even though he had to be at least twenty-four. “It’s minimal, but that’s all you need!”

You accept the mirror presented to you by Cecily and observe your reflection. Wow…these earrings are so pretty!

“Now—makeup!” André clapped his hands and swivelled around to face Cecily. “Anything in mind?” “Absolutely—allow me to get the pamphlet.” She left you both standing together in front of the jewellery display cases, heading over to the salon area. There were already about three other women getting their hair and makeup done.

“You will look truly breathtaking on the night, [Name],” André energetically said, patting your shoulder. He’s more excited about this than me. But, you weren’t exactly complaining. You found his enthusiasm cute.

“Oh, you flatter me,” you responded, bashful, fidgeting with your fingers. André looked down at the motion, and lit up. Oh no. “Ah—of course! You must get a manicure!”

“What the—André! You’re getting a bit excessive! Just imagine the bill!”

“Who cares! I’m not worried about that! Just think—don’t you think getting your nails done will fully complete the look?”

“Oh, but how will I repay you? The entire cost for all of this is sure to be worth more than a full year’s pay!”

“Why are you so worried about the price? If I was you and spending someone else’s money, I’d be going all out.”

“Well, I don’t like spending other people’s money! Buying all of this will probably send you bankrupt, and for what?” André shook his head in mock-exasperation. “All of this will pay off, don’t you worry. Loosen up a bit! Aren’t you having fun? Don’t let your stinginess get in the way of letting loose every once in a while.”

That had silenced you. It left you thinking: I really am having fun, if I think about it. And he’s kind of right…why shouldn’t I forget about my financial troubles for a little while?

It would be your first time going to a ball. Why aren’t you excited? Why can’t you be excited? So, you decided to stop fretting and enjoy your time here, essentially getting a makeover.

You finally nodded in affirmation to him. “Alright. I’ll get a manicure.” André beamed at that, those dark eyes now a delighted chocolate brown. “Wonderful! Ah, here she is.” He turned to the approaching Cecily, who held a brochure in her hands. “Miss, would [Name] here be able to get a manicure?” “Ah, I’m sorry, but we don’t do nail tech here.” Cecily looked rather disappointed. “I’ve raised the suggestion to Madam Gaëlle many times, but she has yet to get around to actually following through with it.”

“Oh, well, that’s a shame.” André looked rather deflated. “We’ll just have to settle for some makeup for now, then.” He faced you once more. “Have a look through that booklet there. Do you mind if I leave you here for a little while? I’ve got a small errand to run. It won’t take too long at all.” “Ah, alright.” You nodded, accepting the flyer extended to you from Cecily. “See you soon.” And in a flash, André was out the door with a wave, and you were left in Cecily’s care.

“Well, I really do like these earrings, Miss Cecily.” Now with the extrovert gone, you had to force yourself into conversational mode, as if your social interaction battery wasn’t running on very low.

“I think they look marvellous on you, Mademoiselle,” Cecily replied, and she gestured towards the salon area. “Shall we? You can have a seat and peruse the pamphlet for a little while, if you’d like. Would you care for any refreshments?” “…In this dress?” You looked down at yourself. “Are you sure that would be alright? I don’t want to spill anything on this gown. It looks like it took years to make.”

“Haha, you’re not too far off on that one,” Cecily laughed, pulling out one of the recliners in front of the vanity’s mirror for you to take a seat in. “It is one of the Madam’s best works. I’d tell you the price, but I don’t want you to faint.” You appreciated Cecily’s easy-going nature and talkative temperament. Unlike most people, she didn’t tire you out with gossip. “I like your honesty. I felt quite like fainting when I tried this dress on. The quality of the material is enough to make even the wealthiest of nobles have a heart attack.”

The woman chuckled, rearranging some of the cosmetics on the vanity’s top. “Quite so, honestly. Alright, you have a look through that and I’ll get you a…?”

“A hot chocolate would be fine, thank you, Cecily,” you smiled up at her, in the mood for something sweet. She quipped an ‘okay’ and went off to wherever, leaving you to it.

You opened the pamphlet to the blue-themed makeup looks and flipped through them, looking for something less extravagant than what the flyer had to offer. You didn’t want anything with bright, overdone eyeshadow and blood-red lips. You wanted something minimal, as the gown was already eye-catching enough.

You flipped the page, and stopped at a look that had the perfect shade of blue, and the way the eyeshadow was styled was flawless. With some blue pigment lightly dusted into the inner corner of the eye, the middle of the eyelid was left unshaded—instead, clear, glittery eyeshadow coated the centre of the lid, for the outer corner of the eyes, the same blue daub was dusted into a wing out from the eye, the black kohl of the eyeliner sweeping up with it. False lashes were part of the look, curled up nicely with generous layers of mascara, and it gave the perfect hooded-eyed, siren sort of look that was all the rage nowadays. This is perfect! But will it suit me?

Blue suits everyone, no matter their skin colour, you surmise, and you decide on this look. The lipstick was a glossy nude tone, with accents of pink to give the mouth a flushed look. Whoever the makeup artist is here, they’re a genius!

Not exactly minimal, but not gaudy either. Just your thing.

You liked extravagant, loud makeup looks—but if you went for one here, you’d look like a clown. The dress had already completed most of the look—lavish and almost showy, and therefore excessive amounts of makeup weren’t necessary. 

Once Cecily returns with your beverage and gets started on your makeup, she is quick to compliment your choice.

“You really should work in a boutique someday, miss. Maybe you could work here. Madam would snap you up.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe someday.” You couldn’t say you were ready yet. You had to get yourself fully sorted out yet.

“Well, if you’re ever in need of a job somewhere, come here and I’ll vouch for you.” “Thank you, Cecily. You’re very kind.”

By the time she had finished your makeup, André was back. 

“Wow!” He exclaimed upon seeing you, eyes wide. “By the gods! You scrub up so well!”

“Haha, thank you.” You were unsure if that was a compliment or not. Or maybe you were just sensitive. “Now to take it all off after hours of hard work. I’m sorry, Cecily.”

“That’s quite alright, miss. It’s my job. I’m not offended!”

“You don’t have to take it off, [Name].” André shook his head. “It’s getting onto evening now. Shall we go get dinner? Somewhere fancy, so you won’t look out of place with that makeup on.’

“You’ve already spent far too much on me—” “Ah, ah, ah! What did I say about stinginess?” He waggled a finger in front of your face. “Stop fretting. Now, if you could wrap all of this up for us, Cecily, it would be much appreciated.” “Of course.” She turned towards the changing area, looking to you. “Shall we, miss?” “Yes, absolutely.” You had begun to grow tired of the dress, as it was rather tight around the bosom. You also wanted to go home, but you also wanted to spend more time with André. So, you could bear it a little longer, you supposed.

Not used to having such heavy makeup on, after André paid the bill (you looked away from the sight as if witnessing something grisly occur right before your eyes) and you both headed out, it felt like you were walking around with a pie stuck to your face. 

But it was a sensation you could grow accustomed to, you supposed. For the first time, you felt pretty.

・・・・

The months following were what you considered, at the time, to be the best months of your life. André fit into your small family like a glove, like it was so natural; meant to be. He always made time for all of you—you especially. That gave you hope. It wasn’t long until you were ready to admit to yourself that you were in love with the man.

However, every woman was. At the ball you attended with him, the ladies flocked to him like flies swarming to a carcass. A morbid, unpleasant comparison, yes—but it’s one you’ve always used, even to this day. Especially today. Now, it’s more or less used in spite.

The spotlight on him left you in the shadows. It wasn’t the best of a first-time experience for attending a ball. Sure, you had the odd sleazy miscreant approach you and ask you for a dance, some of which you accepted, but it wasn’t enjoyable. It made your spirits drop, seeing André practically forget about you.

But you didn’t mind all that much. You supposed it was natural. He had to entertain his little fanclub, if to get them to leave him alone. And he took you home, so it really wasn’t all that bad in the end.

After blissful occasions of him taking you to see all the sights on Fontaine you’d always wanted to see, delightful times of ice cream down by Fountain Lucine and late night chats under the soft glow of a streetlight, you were sure you were both meant to be. Why else would he spend so much time with me? He must like me too, right?

Your confirmation came soon enough. It was over some Fonta at a table in Cafe Lutece one pleasant Friday afternoon. André had said he needed to tell you something, but you didn’t get your hopes up. He probably got a promotion at his job he talks about. A long-awaited and well-deserved promotion, by the sounds of it.

André had never really specified where he worked and what he did, but he did say that it was office work. You were surprised at his words, not having expected him to have that kind of profession.

“I thought you’d be the more physical-labour sort of type.”

André had raised his brows. “Yeah? Why’s that?” “Well…you’re just not the kind of guy who sits around all day, you know? You’re always on the move; doing something and going somewhere.”

He had chuckled, ruffling your hair. André always seemed fond of doing that. You never hated it. “That may be so, but I’m not fond of lifting boxes or crates all day, [Name]. No, it’s much more comfortable at a desk.”

You couldn’t help but agree with that. But you could never picture him toiling away at his desk, swamped with paperwork. It’s just something you could never see, and for the first time, you had found that you didn’t believe him.

You never pried any more on the matter, though. If he didn’t want to tell you or talk about it, then you respected that.

That brought you back to that day—that wonderful day. Where you were peacefully sipping at your Fonta when André dropped a true bomb on you.

“I like you.” He had said—so casually, as if he was remarking on the weather. As if it was a normal thing to say out of the blue. “I think we should date.”

You had choked and coughed on your drink, wheezing, eyes wide. People had begun to stare. Cheeks flaming, you whirled on him, hissing, “A warning next time!”

André threw up his hands in an I-surrender! fashion, brows lifted. “Sorry! I just…didn’t know how else to bring it up.”

Once you had calmed down and collected yourself, you stared at him and said, “…Are you being serious? You want to date me?”

He furrowed his brows, tilting his head in puzzlement at your wording. “Why? Is that strange? That I like your character and think you’re pretty?” “You—you think I’m pretty?” You sputtered, blinking rapidly. You had felt like you were about to combust. “I—I—!”

André leaned forward and brushed his fingers upon your cheek softly, fondly, his smile not that signature bright, sunny one of his—no, this time, it was gentle. “I don’t lie about these kinds of things. Well? What do you say? Will you let me be your boyfriend?”

His wording took you even further off guard, making your heart shift and skip a few beats in your chest, and you felt real joy for the first time. This man made you feel seen, appreciated, and cherished. How could you say no? “I thought you’d never ask.”

That had made André roar with laughter, and he grabbed your hand to place a tender kiss to the top of it, those dark eyes so warm and full of joy. “You don’t know how honoured and happy I feel right now, beloved.”

And so you dated. You both had immediately left the café to go and announce the good news to Daniel and Elvira. Hand in hand. Before, it was arm-in-arm, mere gentlemanly courtesy on his part, and basic etiquette on yours—and that impersonal physical contact. Now, you held hands out of your own volitions, out of desire for that close connection, and it made your heart soar, as cheesy as that would sound.

With three excited knocks on Daniel and Elvira’s door, you felt André squeeze your hand in equal thrill, just as delighted as you. Well, maybe you were a bit more happy. You were walking on cloud nine back then. For the first time in your life, you tasted real bliss.

Elvira had opened the door, blinking in surprise to see you both standing at the door, before she beamed in greeting. “Hi, you two! What brings you—my word!”

She had swiftly spotted your two interlocked hands at your sides, and gasped in shock. You grinned rather bashfully. “Hey, Elvira.”

She immediately ushered you both inside, calling for Daniel. “Daniel! Come look! It’s finally happened!” “Huh?” Your brother answered, soon rounding the corner of the hallway to see you both. “Oh, hey, sis!” He greeted you, before moving to clap André on the back. “Hey, man. How are you…wait!”

Daniel had also seen your hands, and you exchanged glances with André at their reactions. They’re acting as if I just announced I’m pregnant. It wasn’t that big of a deal, declaring the ‘officiation’ of your relationship, but your brother and sister-in-law seemed particularly overjoyed. 

“Uh, yeah, we’re dating now,” you answered the unasked question, breaking the ice. “About time, am I right?” André chuckled beside you, opening his mouth to speak, but your brother beat him to it. “What an understatement! A year and a half of waiting for you both to get going already! Pay up, Elvira.”

“What?” You snapped your head to look at your sister-in-law. “You guys…made a bet?”

Elvira sighed wearily, her shoulders slumped. She moved down the hallway. “Yeah. I bet that it would take at least ten years for you both to hurry up and date—not exaggerating. Daniel never doubted either of you, so we agreed to bet two hundred Mora.”

“Two hundred?!” You exclaimed, mouth agape. “What the—gods, honestly! You two have always been idiots!”

André was laughing heartily. “Hahaha! As if our day couldn’t get any better!” He let go of your hand and grabbed your waist instead, pulling you in and placing a kiss to the crown of your head. It immediately silenced you, too flustered to speak. “Would you look at that, huh, mon bijou?”

“I…well…” As usual, André left you quite tongue-tied. His spontaneity always had that effect on you. “I suppose…this calls for a celebration?”

“You can say that again!” Daniel whooped and rushed off for the wine cabinet. “Let’s pop the champagne!” “Daniel!” Elvira bellowed from their bedroom. “Don’t you make a mess!” 

“It’ll be alright, my dear, I’ll do it over the sink—”

“No!” Elvira emerged from their chambers, Mora in hand, and hurriedly approached him, just as he was pulling the cork. She snatched the bottle from his hold and replaced it with the pouch of money. “Take your money and give it to me!”

Daniel immediately conceded, letting go of the bottle of (expensive) champagne, handing it to his wife. He tossed the small bag of money into the air, the coins inside jingling about merrily, and caught it, grinning triumphantly at you and André. “Now, that’s what I call making a buck—”

Elvira sharply smacked his shoulder with a wooden spoon. Clearly, she wasn’t very happy about giving up that two hundred Mora. “Quit your gloating and start peeling those carrots.”

“Yes ma’am.”

This was the sort of familial chaos you adored, where banter and insults held no real knives—where everything was lighthearted. It was nice to see how far you and your brother had come since relocating from the sewers. You were finally a family, a normal one.

All too soon, things started going downhill.

Two years of bliss flew by. Two years of dating André were the best of your life, and even though the memories are more painful than happy to reflect on now, sometimes you find yourself reminiscing. Pointless, yes, but you have never been able to help thinking about what could’ve been.

Either way, you appreciated the attitude André had towards you very much—he never asked for anything more than the odd kiss, and he never tried to make too much of a move on you. You were glad that he, too, seemed to share your sentiments of waiting until you both married before taking it all the way, something that would be bound to take a lot of personal preparation on your part.

He asked you to marry him out of the blue one day, much like how he announced his feelings for you and said that you both should date two years prior, and it took you so off guard that you didn’t know what else to say apart from ‘yes’. Not even giving yourself time to consider it—and that was likely because you didn’t need to think about it. To you, at the time, André Banville was your future, and you were more than ready to become Mrs. Banville.

It just so happened that that was one of his tactics, taking you off guard so randomly, dropping bombs on you and leaving you metaphorically stranded, with no other route to take but the affirming one. ‘Love bombing’, you think it’s called, but his version and methods were a bit different. But no less effective.

You were so weak-minded back then, such a pushover. So blinded by adoration for this ‘angel’ of a man that you continuously failed to see the signs of the true demon hiding behind a mask of light and benevolence. 

How easy it must’ve been for him, how risible. Do spiders feel amused when their prey becomes caught in their web? Is it entertaining for them to watch their victim struggle so pointlessly? A good show to behold before it becomes a meal to scuttle back into their lair with, something to toy with, to feast upon? For that was likely what you were to him. Such simple, easy prey, with much to gain by deceiving.

If only you had guessed his true intentions—the real reasons—as to why he kept you alive in his trap for so long. A trap you didn’t struggle to be free from, for what reason was there? When your captive treats you well, treats you with appreciation, what is there to not grow fond of?

You had stared at that extravagant ring on your finger, the stone so large and sparkling, the jewel likely worth an entire manor. The lavish gifts he showered you with made you feel loved, but it also made scepticism gradually creep in. Where does he get the funds for such expensive alms? And, for some strange, inexplicable reason, you somehow knew not to ask him that question. 

Scepticism is dangerous—dangerous toward the reality one invents for themselves. It begins as a small, imperceptible chink in the armour, a tiny ripple in the pool, a mere scratch on the glass. But it can grow—grow into a problem you must eventually face, must eventually admit to, must eventually resolve. A tribulation unsought; a life lesson detrimental to the maturing of oneself. And how it grew within you, until you couldn’t look at your fiancé anymore without suspicion.

I don’t really know him. You only knew the projection André had presented—and you were, initially, perfectly content to live with nothing but that façade, as it meant not relenting to the rational, logical questions that the annoyingly reasonable side of you ceaselessly posed. Three and a half years of paradise, but the shadows were finally closing in. 

A premonition. A foreboding sensation that had settled and festered at the back of your mind for years, carefully pushed far back by your own self. An augury you never mentioned to the one person who was personally involved—your brother. Although you knew he trusted you, you knew he would never believe you. And why should he? Your mother, and her legacy, was dead.

It was supposed to be. The truth of the matter didn’t come to light until the very last, dreadful minute.

André’s visits were gradually becoming less frequent, sparking concern within you. At those moments, doubt and misgiving sprung to life within you like bile, compelling you to force it down, or else risking the endurance of your comfortable reality. If only you had any other option.

Fear had long injected itself into your veins, becoming an inherent constituent of your blood and being. You had continually refused to admit to that.

“André,” you had finally asked one day, unable to bear your rooted uncertainties any longer. At this time, you both had been engaged for almost a year, wedding plans and preparations well into motion, and this was the one question you abhorred having to spit out. You were standing in the hallway, watching him hastily put on his shoes, his countenance agitated. “Where are you going? It’s so late. You’re always rushing off at some ungodly hour, and you never tell me where or what you’re going to do.”

He had paused in his motions, and the atmosphere became distinctly heavier. Just as you feared. André turned to you—and for the first time in all the years you’d known him, you couldn’t read his expression at all. “It’s not for you to know.”

I’ve hit a nerve. That much was clear. He hardly ever addressed you without some kind of pet name, ‘mon bijou’ being his favourite. You sucked in a deep breath, and pressed it further. “I think it is. You’re worrying me. What secret are you keeping that is so…odious, you can’t even trust me to confide in?” André had sighed, brows furrowed in a frown utterly unlike his playful ones, or confused ones, or concerned ones. No, this one was of genuine irritation and chagrin towards you. “Let me rephrase. It’s nothing for you to worry about. Now, I’ve got to go.”

“No.” You strode towards him and grasped his wrist. Up this close, you were fully privy to the stone cold glint of his eyes. They weren’t their usual, familiar soft humour. “Tell me. Please.”

He had silently regarded you, his eyes narrowed, before harshly wrenching himself from your hold and yanking open the door. “I thought this message had been concisely, subtly put across years ago, but, clearly, you were too dull to catch it.” André looked at you from over his shoulder in the threshold of the open door. “Don’t ask questions.”

The door was slammed shut with such force, the ornaments on the walls had rattled. It probably woke up the entire apartment complex. And it left you shaken through, your thoughts and suspicions and doubts warring in your mind.

Maybe it was because of how tense he was that night that he snapped at you, but it was a serious mistake on his part. It practically confirmed your inklings, and you finally allowed those abscesses of mistrust within you to consume you fully.

Long overdue, don’t you think? The rational, reliable half of your mind sneered, and you stared at the ground in dread. Your ‘reality’ was finally shattering.

It was your fault to just sit back and let the cracks and splinters multiply across its shell for so long. You should have dealt with it sooner, or just let it be.

So you decided to. You deigned to ‘let it go’. At least, that’s how it appeared to André.

It didn’t take long for him to realise his mistake. That morning, when he entered your apartment again, he quickly made his way over to you and embraced you.

“Is everything alright?” You pretended to have forgiven him and feigned concern, accepting his hug. André held you to him tightly, kissing your head, and that traitorous heart of yours leapt in joy at the ministrations. 

“I’m fine. I’m so sorry for snapping at you last night.” He held you from him, cupping your face, eyes beseeching and truly apologetic. “You see, the reason why I’ve never told you the true nature of my occupation is to protect you.” You had raised a brow jokingly—however, on the inside, distrust reared its unsightly head. “What, are you involved in some underground, super-secret criminal agency or something?” André had chuckled at that, seemingly relieved at how unbothered you appeared to be about it. “Not quite. It’s something much more complex than that. And dangerous. That’s why you can’t know, okay? It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s that I just want to protect you. Please understand that.”

You had nodded easily, burying your face into his chest. “Of course. I believe you.”

You did not believe or trust him at all anymore. His temperament, the way he regarded you that previous night…it gave you a horrible feeling that you had finally gotten a glimpse of his true nature.

A nature he had kept carefully hidden from you, from your brother—from everyone around you. What was left to find out, you had surmised, was what he was really up to.

And so, you began your own, covert investigation of the man you were sure wasn’t all he appeared to be anymore. 

If only. 

It began with you frequenting his home more. André’s house was humble and unassuming; cosy and where you had both agreed to dwell once you married. At first, André was confused as to why you insisted on visiting him at his place now, to which you smilingly replied, “It’s to adjust to our future home! Have to work out where the nursery will be, right?” He had blinked and grunted at that, running a hand through his brown locks. “…Alright, you win.” And then he ruffled your hair.

You even began to sleep at his place more often, and you were relieved to see that he trusted you enough to be left alone in his own house. Whatever he’s doing so late at night, you thought to yourself as you saw him out the door at 11:30PM one night. It would have to be hidden somewhere in this place.

But, then again, if he was so comfortable with you staying there, then he wouldn’t have left any kind of incriminating evidence lying around. Maybe it’s hidden very well. You tried the door to his office, and your heart leapt in dread as the knob refused to be twisted. It’s locked!

Where’s the key? You used this opportunity in his absence to explore his house, to memorise it and search for any hidden compartments the key could be stashed. Or else he took it with him. That thought had made you pause as you pulled open the top drawer of his bedside table. Yes. He probably did. Why else would he be happy to leave me here alone?

No other door or cabinet was locked in that house except for his small study. You had offered to do the chores around the place for him while he was out doing his ‘work’, and he had agreed. But he had never said anything about ‘not going into the office’. Cunning man.

Your distrust of him was swiftly taking the shape of resentment, and it fueled your determination to find out what truly was going on even further. Isn’t it funny how one wrong move was enough for me to doubt him fully? It only spiralled down from there.

After searching through his home thoroughly and practically turning it inside out, you plopped down on his sofa and stared up at the ceiling. He’s definitely got the key with him. But how would you obtain it, without rousing any questions from him? Without sparking any suspicion? 

The idea came soon enough—you were up all night, scouring through his cupboards and cabinets and drawers and closets that you got no sleep. It was about dawn when keys outside the door jingled, and in came André, shrugging off his coat.

That’s it. You strode forward and greeted him, carefully watching the man go through his pockets and hang up the coat. André seemed surprised to see you still up. I need to subtly steal that key from his coat pocket as he’s leaving, and replace it with another. And the only way you could do that was by appearing to do your ‘wifely’ duties every time he would leave by helping him into his coat and seeing him off. But where will I get a replacement key?

It would need to be one of similar shape, size and colour to whichever one it is. And you didn’t know what it looked like. I’ll have to sit back and observe for now.

“What are you still doing up?” André had inquired, blinking at you. You reached forward and helped him out of his coat, hanging it up for him. He seemed to appreciate the notion. Could the key be on that set of them he has there? The keyring in his palm had about eight keys on it, all of different shapes and sizes, making it utterly impossible to guess which was the office’s one. I wonder when he goes into his office. You hadn’t seen him go inside once during your stay there. He probably does it while I’m sleeping.

You beamed, acting as if you hadn’t been whiling the hours away nosing through his cupboards. I’ll have to act as if I still don’t know my way around now. “Oh, I couldn’t sleep, so I just did a few chores to pass the time.”

At least you knew where the vacuum cleaner and broom was now. Useful props towards selling your act completely.

“Ah, I see.” André stooped and kissed the crown of your head, entering further into his home, you on his heels. You were watching his every move. “I’m going to have a shower now,” he said, heading for the bathroom. “You can sleep now. Thanks for cleaning up, you didn’t have to.” “Of course I had to,” you quipped, squeezing his arm, smiling widely. This is going to be tiring. “In a few months, I’ll be living here. I have to adjust, you know?” He grinned back and ruffled your hair. “You’re a real gem, you know that?” And you just beamed at him some more in reply, letting him go into the bathroom. You made your way to the bed and settled in, smile traceless. Let’s pretend to be asleep and see if he goes into his office. 

You pulled the blanket well up over your mouth, so only your eyes and nose were showing, and acted to be fully asleep. You even slowed your breathing and increased its volume a little to really make it seem authentic. Let’s hope he falls for it!

The shower soon shut off and the bathroom door clicked open. A pair of feet padded down the hall, and you sensed André enter, heading for his wardrobe. He hadn’t appeared to notice you ‘sleeping’.

That night, you were left in disappointment. André didn’t go to his office—he settled in next to you, sighing wearily, and his soft snores soon sounded. Dammit! I won’t be able to sleep at all at this rate! You were too excited and jittery to notice. I’m going to have to tell Daniel. You really needed extra help, and you could only pray your brother would believe you.

・・・・

“I’m heading off to visit Daniel!” You called out from the front door. André answered back with an ‘okay!’ before you shut the door, opened your umbrella and headed out into the downpour for town. Ugh. Why does it have to rain today of all days?

Was that a bad omen? You had hoped not. You were relentlessly praying things would go smoothly for you.

André was watching you. Closely. You knew that. Now, you were sure that whatever he was involved in was most certainly dangerous—and he was the danger.

I have to tell Daniel everything. You tilted your umbrella up to look at the building in front of you. Just down the block was Daniel and Elvira’s home. Whatever this whole thing is…it means I’m in danger, and so are they.

You had a hunch as to what exactly this debacle involved. You hoped, with everything you had, this wasn’t connected to your mother. Her last words still rang clear as day in your mind.

Daniel and Elvira had recently gotten a doorbell installed, and so you pressed it, hoping they were home. Please be. Please be! I feel like we don’t have much time!

Such was the sense you had been getting of late, ever since the prickly feeling of being watched had started. You subtly looked around the relatively empty street, and apart from a few locals milling about, nothing stood out to you. But you couldn’t shake the feeling. He’s sent someone to tail me, hasn’t he?

You had begun to believe that André suspected you suspected him. Have you been too smiley, too friendly, too loving? Were you overdoing the act? 

The door opened, and Daniel’s kind, familiar face greeted you. “Sis! How are you? Come on in. What brings you here?” And as you stepped into his home and the door closed behind you, he squinted at you and asked, “What’s wrong?” You pursed your lips. “I have something very important and very serious to tell you, Daniel.”

He sobered. “I can tell. Come along. Can Elvira hear it too?” “Yes.” It would be best to have support from both of them. “It’s about…André.”

Daniel shot you a look from over his shoulder as he led you further into the house. “About André? Has he done something? What’s going on?”

Elvira then appeared, brows furrowed. “Is something wrong, you two?”

“She’s got something to tell us,” Daniel answered, gesturing to a seat. “Let’s hear it. Have you two broken up? Called off the wedding?”

You sucked in a deep, readying breath. “No. It’s much more grave than that. You see…” You began to fiddle with a stray, loose thread on the sleeve’s hem of your jersey. “I think…André’s up to something.”

Elvira immediately frowned. “Is he cheating on you?” “No! Nothing like that.” It’s worse. “It’s just…I think he’s involved in some shady things. Has been for a long time. Before and during when I first met him, I believe.”

“Shady…” Daniel was staring at you from beneath his brow. His silent question was clear: like mother?

You lowered your head. “Yes.”

He leaned back into his chair, letting out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “That’s…I don’t know, [Name].”

“You have to believe me.” You reached forward and grasped his hand, eyes wide and desperate. Elvira’s expression shifted from one of mild worry to deep concern. “Daniel, are you absolutely sure we burned all that stuff of mother’s back then?”

He blinked at you, evidently perturbed by your tone and the look on your face. “…Yes, I’m sure. We practically ransacked her office. Don’t you remember?” “How could I forget?” Your hand grasping his had begun to shake. He glanced down at it, face blanching with disquiet. I don’t want to voice these suspicions. What if they’re true? “Did I ever tell you what mother said to me as she died?”

You noticed Elvira’s pale, troubled face in the corner of your eye, but you were solely focused on your brother. The uneasiness in Daniel’s expression and eyes was steadily increasing by the second. “I—yes, you did, but I can’t recall what you exactly said.”

“Well.” You sucked in a sharp, unsteady breath. “She said to me, ‘burn it. Burn the papers. The documents. Get rid of it all. Or Fulbert will get to you’.” A droplet of cold sweat trickled down the back of your neck. “Who could this ‘Fulbert’ be? What if—what if André is—”

“Now, [Name].” Daniel’s voice took on a stern tone. “We don’t need to be jumping to conclusions here—”

“He’s watching me, Daniel.” Exasperation at not being believed by someone you trust deeply bled into your tone. “He’s watching me. He sent someone to tail me today, as I came to visit you. And every night, he goes out—once, I asked what he’s doing out so late, and he told me to ‘not ask questions’.” You shakily leaned back into your seat, hands trembling on your lap. “And now, he’s sneaking out. A-About a week ago, he promised me that he wouldn’t leave me alone at night anymore, but…but whenever he’s sure that I’m asleep, he heads out. And the door to his office is locked. Every other room is open, except that one, and I can’t find the key. André goes into that office right after he gets home at some ungodly hour and doesn’t come out till morning. I searched everywhere for the key—I’ve even tried to steal it from him, but I just don’t know which one it is, and frankly, I’m scared! He’s not—he’s not…the man I once knew.” The man I once thought I knew. If I’m right, this would explain all of his abrupt disappearances while we’re in the middle of doing something in town. Going on ‘errands’ that takes him hours to complete, leaving me stranded in some restaurant, left to foot the bill myself!

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Elvira spoke up that time, and she moved seats to sit next to you, wrapping a comforting arm around you. “I can see that you’re telling the truth. Daniel.” She sharply turned to your brother, and he pensively looked up at her. “Should we ask Callas for help?” “C-Callas?” You stuttered, looking at her. “Who’s that?”

“He’s the head of the Spina di Rosula,” Daniel responded, straightening in his seat. “They’re an organisation that helps out citizens the Gardes cannot.”

“Okay? What has that got to do with it?” He sighed. “I’m saying that we could hire them—ask Callas, the president, for help. He has a daughter about your age. She could pose as your friend or something, and help you investigate.”

Elvira squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “He is a good man. He was a friend of my father’s, and his daughter, Navia, is kind. She could be of great help to you.”

You considered it. It’s not like I have any other option—but what about the fee? “How much are their commissions costs?”

“We’ll cover it,” Elvira immediately answered. She looked at Daniel, who was staring at her in shock. “What’s that look for? Do you not want to help your sister out?” “No! That’s not it.” He ran a hand over his face. “I just…I’m just trying to process this.”

“The reason why I’m here is because ever since we burned mother’s illegal dealings’ records,” you said tightly, “is because I’ve been unable to shake this feeling that we missed something out.” “Well, your worries are baseless, [Name]. I assure you we burned them—”

“No.” You were not about to deny your intuition. “It’s what my gut says, and it’s been saying this for years. We missed something out. I’m sure of it. And I also have a gut feeling André has his hands on it.”

Daniel shook his head, shifting in his seat. “I just…I can’t picture André doing all this. Are you absolutely sure?” You glowered at your brother. “I am the one who lives with the man. I am the one who knows his routine back to front. Why would I lie about this?”

“Lay off on her, Daniel.” Elvira’s tone was dangerous. “I can’t believe you’re questioning her. I can feel her shaking. She’s not lying.”

Your brother looked at both of the women sitting before him one by one, studying either of your expressions intently. And then, he finally relented, sighing. “Alright. I believe you. If you were lying, you wouldn’t look so scared.”

You sighed in relief, relaxing into Elvira. She gave you another comforting squeeze, and you turned your head to her. “What’s the time? Would we be able to go visit this Spina-thing?”

“They’d still be open.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Yeah. Their base is actually in Poisson, but they have a headquarters here in town. Let’s go. Do you want to come, Daniel?”

“Yes, of course.” He stood from his seat, and you both followed. Daniel reached for you and gave you a hug. “If André is doing anything shady, we’ll get him behind bars.”

“I just pray I’m wrong,” you answered into his shoulder, your voice muffled by his shirt. “I don’t think…I don’t know how I’m going to handle this.”

Elvira joined in on the hug. “You’ll be fine. We’re here.” She kissed your cheek in an older-sisterly manner. “We’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

You just smiled weakly back, fighting tears. Something dark swirled in your gut. Something like fear—and, oh, how right you were.

The three of you headed off into town, and you knew you were being followed. Whoever André had hired, had been waiting for you. 

“We’re still being followed,” you hissed to the two of them. “Don’t look back. I don’t want them to report to André saying that we knew.” Elvira was holding your hand, and she squeezed it. “It’s alright. We’re almost there.”

Soon enough, you all stopped before a humble, inconspicuous building. In you went, and Daniel first approached the desk. “We’re here to enquire if President Callas is available for consultation.”

The secretary at the desk flipped through a ledger, humming. Then she looked up at you all, smiling. “You’re in luck. He’s free right now, just in his office there.” “Much appreciated.” Daniel nodded at the woman and turned to you and Elvira. “[Name], we’ll wait out here for you. Go on in.”

Nervous, you followed the secretary as she tapped on a door, calling out, “Sir, you have a client here to see you.”

“Let them in,” came the reply, and the woman opened the door for you. You were inexplicably anxious.

Sitting at a large desk was a broad-shouldered, middle-aged man with an eyepatch and his blond hair tied back into a low ponytail. His only visible blue eye flicked up from the paperwork he was perusing and faced you. “Ah, welcome, miss.” At his side, in a smaller chair, sat a beautiful young woman about your age, maybe younger, who stared up at you with a clear-eyed, sparkling gaze that held much less intensity than the man’s next to her—presumably her father, given their great resemblance. Her hair was sun-gold like her father’s—his a bit paler, conveying his age—and her welcoming smile was instantly comforting.

These people are kind, you thought, accepting the man’s invitation for you to take a seat before him. The girl must be Navia, his daughter, the one Elvira talked about.

“What is your name, miss?” asked the man, who held a pen poised to write. You squirmed in your chair and answered accordingly, giving your first and last name.

He swiftly jotted it down, placing the pen aside and steepling his fingers before his face as he leaned his elbows against the desktop before him. “I am Callas, the president of this organisation, the Spina di Rosula.” Then he gestured to the girl beside him. “And this is my daughter, Navia, who works closely with me in this establishment. Now, what brings you here today?”

“Well, sir, I have some concerns about my fiancé, you see.” As the words came forth, you soon realised just how foolish and trivial you sounded. “The thing is, he’s been acting awfully…suspicious as of late. Always sneaking out at night, won’t tell me things, and his office is always locked.” This sounds like I’m just complaining about a cheating intended! “I know it just seems like he’s fooling around with another woman, but it is much more intricate and shady than that.”

“Please elaborate.”

“In all the years I’ve known him, there have been things he’s always hidden from me.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “For context, I grew up in the Fleuve Cendre with my brother. My mother, to make a living and feed us, was involved with unscrupulous individuals and illegal transactions. Most were very endangering to herself and thus my brother and I. She basically ran an entire bootleg organisation of her own, and it was getting quite successful. I don’t know the exact details of what went wrong, but something definitely went terribly awry when I walked in on her swallowing a cyanide pill.” His daughter’s face fell into one of sympathy, but you ignored it and continued on. “As she was dying, she told me to, ‘burn it. Burn the papers. The documents. Get rid of it all. Or Fulburt will get to you’. Those were her exact words. So, I told my brother and we did.” You lowered your eyes. “I know this sounds very incriminating, and we should probably be in prison for not handing in such documents to the Palais to deal with, but our mother’s unlawful business stretched far and wide, and her clients knew of us, her children. We were in danger, so we did as she told us and burned every last record, document and ledger we could find.”

The president’s single visible eye had narrowed. “I’m assuming you missed something out?” 

“Yes. You see, we were only teens at the time, maybe a bit older, and foolish. We double checked to make sure we had gotten everything, and it seemed like so, but ever since, I have had this terrible feeling that we did miss something.”

The man shifted in his seat, nodding to you. “Do go on.”

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but my fiancé has always acted strangely. Disappearing out of nowhere while on a date or something, claiming he’s got an ‘errand’ to run—and about two months ago now, as he was putting on his shoes to leave at his usual ungodly, strange hour, I decided I was sick of being in the dark and I asked him where he was going. And he acted in a way I’d never seen him act before. At least, not towards me. He coldly told me that I ‘shouldn’t ask questions’ and he thought he’d made that clear already, even though he has never actually voiced such a thing.”

“I see. And you believe your fiancé is a contraband of sorts, and possibly has whatever item you and your brother missed out in his possession?” “Yes. This suspicion is groundless, and I don’t know where it came from, but it came to me quite a while ago anyway, back when I started to wonder where he gets all this money from, and how he had never really told me what he does for a living. Years ago, back before we got engaged, he told me that he does ‘office work’ when I asked what his job was. He avoided answering the question. It’s not like I saw him doing anything strange, it’s just that his behaviour is, and I could just be paranoid, as I’ve had this premonition that my brother and I missed something for a long time.”

“Hm,” the man hummed thoughtfully, shuffling through a few documents on his desk. “This is an interesting dilemma indeed. However, this organisation is strictly legal, and involving ourselves with a situation that is rooted in crime—committed by you yourself—could potentially be a stain on the Spina di Rosula’s pristine reputation, if it were to come to light. I hope you understand that.”

“Oh, I do, sir, I really do.” Desperation gripped you. “But, you see, I know full well how unconventional my brother and I’s actions were, and although no excuse would be sufficient, we really didn’t know what else to do at the time. And now, I feel trapped into an engagement I no longer want anymore, that no longer feels real anymore—and if I don’t get any help to escape it, I fully believe that once my fiancé’s use for me is spent, my life could be in fatal danger. Please, please help me. I am not wealthy, but just name your price, and I will do everything in my legal power to pay it.”

President Callas studied you with an intent blue eye, and his daughter placed a hand on his arm. “Oh, father, come on, we should help her—”

“One moment, Navia,” he silenced her, holding up a hand. “Now, Mademoiselle [Name], I can see how desperate and genuine you are. And I’d really like to help you, but it isn’t within our principles to conceal such information that you have indulged about your past—”

“Father!” His daughter’s voice sharply interrupted him. He turned to her with a disapproving look, but she continued before he could respond. “Father, think about it. We don’t have any sufficient evidence, apart from her own confession, to present to the court about her past—her mother’s past. How long ago did you say it was, miss?” Miss Navia abruptly addressed you.

“Uh—about…seven or so years ago now, miss. I think I was…fifteen or sixteen when my mother died. I can’t recall exactly.”

She turned back to reason with her father. “There you go. Approximately seven years gone, with no evidence left. What are the chances of this coming to light? Very small. Can’t you see how scared she is? Why can’t we help her out?” The president must’ve had a serious soft spot for his daughter as he actually fell silent and considered her words, unable to hold those big imploring eyes of hers. You liked the girl immediately after that, getting the feeling that if she worked with you, you both would get along very well.

“…Alright,” he finally conceded, nodding reluctantly. “You have a point. I will help you, Miss [Name].” The man presented a contract for you to sign. “Please take your time reading over it. The fees for our commissions stated below.”

“Oh, thank you, good sir.” It felt like a massive weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You could finally breathe again—for a time. “I really can’t thank you enough. You too, miss.” In fact, the man agreeing to this was all thanks to his daughter. You smiled gratefully at her. “You both are, literally, life savers.”

The girl waved it off. “It’s nothing, really! It’s only what we do here.” She stood and you followed, and you both shook hands. “I look forward to working with you.”

“As do I,” you smiled, almost tearing up with how thankful you felt. You offered a hand to the president also, and he, still clearly uncertain about the whole thing, slowly reciprocated the hand shake. “And thank you again, Monsieur Callas. I may have a chance now.”

You quickly signed the contract and agreed on the date you would pay them. Navia said that your next meeting would be three business days from then, meaning on the following Monday you would meet and plan out the investigation. You didn’t know if you would be able to bear the weekend, having been so impatient to get that whole plight over and done with.

Navia saw you out, wishing you safe travels back to your abode, and your brother and sister-in-law all stood from their seats as you emerged from the president’s office. 

“Well? How did it go?” Daniel immediately demanded. “Will they help you?” “They will.” You showed him and his wife the contract. “I will meet with them next Monday to discuss how this investigation will go through. You are welcome to tag along. I’ll need a proper excuse to leave the house.”

“See? Things are looking up already.” Elvira, ever the optimist, gave you an encouraging hug. “Soon, it’ll be all over. Nothing to worry about.”

You let out a breath. “I hope so.” If only that coiling snake of foreboding would have stopped twisting around in your stomach. I don’t think things are over yet. How you had hoped they were.

・・・・

The plan was simple. Tail André, follow him to wherever he headed every night, and wait for Navia and her henchmen to arrive as backup if things got physical. 

Easier said than done. 

You watched as André strode casually down the dark, late-night street, as if he was just going for a walk, not off to do something illicit. And then, hastily, you shut off all the lights except for the two lamps in the lounge and shoved your feet into your shoes, clicking the front door shut behind you and rushing off in his direction.

You made sure there was a good distance between you both—and you hoped he wouldn’t recognise you with this wig on your head. You also had a long trench coat on. And if you stuck to the shadows, in the case that he happened to glance back, he wouldn’t spot you.

You watched as he power-walked down the street, his hands in his pockets in that same languid way of his—a mannerism that no longer made you feel tingly all over. Now, it just aggravated you. Your distrust of him eventually resulted in the slow-but-sure fading of once very-potent feelings for him.

At this point, you were sure he was just keeping you around because you had a use for him. A use you didn’t know, but one you suspected. Were you being paranoid? Probably—and you hoped so, too. Having to deal with things that should have been long handled in the past is no mess anyone wishes to clean up again.

André took a left, turning out of sight. and you broke into a jog to catch up with him. You ran on the grass lining the sidewalk as to muffle your footsteps, before slowing down and peeking around the bend to make sure he wasn’t lying in wait for you or something. Again, paranoia—or was it foreboding?

He was far up ahead again, beginning to head into the town centre, before he crossed the street. André had looked left and right, staying out of sight of the patrolling Mekas—making you hastily hide behind a rubbish bin to avoid being spotted. A cat hissed at you, scuttling away, and you carefully watched as he melted into the shadows of a dark alleyway.

You rushed across the street also and sidled up to one of the buildings’ front wall, staying away from the illuminated spots in the street by the lampposts, peeking once more around the corner and into the alleyway. Just in time to have caught sight of two double doors swinging shut.

Hold on… You deemed it safe and followed after him, approaching the doors. Isn’t this one of the back entrances to…the Fleuve Cendre?

Easing one of the doors open, you squinted into the dark foyer before you, a single light overhead flickering irregularly, its bulb on well on its way out—but it was enough to illuminate the stairs descending down into further darkness. A chill skittered down your spine.

Your heart wouldn’t let up its incessant pounding in your ears, leaving you virtually deaf to any and all warning sounds around you. Deciding to just brave it, you let the door ease shut behind you and felt around for some stair railing, almost sighing audibly with relief once you found one on the left wall, trying to ignore its grimy, rusty texture to the touch. Okay. Let’s do this. 

As silently as you could manage, you descended the stairs, trying to hurry while also trying to not, which proved terribly frustrating, and you cursed yourself for forgetting to bring a flashlight. There isn’t a single light installed down here! Who runs this place? Are they an idiot or what?

Being very careful to not miss a step and thus take a tumble, you slowly but surely made your way to the bottom, letting yourself relax a bit when you spotted the sliver of light peeking through the bottom set of doors.

You could already hear the bustling sounds of the Fleuve Cendre, the noises almost nostalgic for you, and then you were hit with its same signature stench. Ugh. Just shows you how much the overworld cares about these poor people.

You opened the doors and stepped through, looking around for André. You began to panic when you didn’t spot him for a good three minutes—before that familiar mop of dark hair caught your eye, and you finally noticed André chatting away discreetly with another man well over on the other side of the quay you stood on.

This unfamiliar individual was hooded, his face indecipherable, especially from this distance, and you quickly began advancing on them prudently, sticking to tall crates and boxes stacked up as places of refuge if they happened to have a little look around. 

You took the path across the canal where the sewer water passed through underneath, thus over on their side of the Fleuve Cendre. You crept along the wall, before coming to a stop behind some crates a few metres away from André and his mystery companion. Smiling rather wearily to yourself, you inwardly lauded the stealth you didn’t know you had. I kinda feel like a secret agent right now. 

This was no laughing matter, however. You sobered, and ordered yourself to focus on the task at hand. 

You were close enough to catch snippets of their conversation.

“…You’re telling me…didn’t mention anything strange…how long?”

Even for such a late hour, the sewers were still busy, and thus the white noise all around blotted out some of the vital pieces of dialogue from the hooded man and André. From what you could catch, you deduced André was probably talking about you, if the ‘didn’t mention anything strange’ part was related to the man he had assigned to tail you wherever you went. You wished you could get closer, but that would require stepping out into the open, meaning you’d be instantly busted.

It was the hooded man who was asking the questions, and nodding respectfully at André whenever he answered them. You could only guess that this bear of a man was André’s lackey or something. He was much burlier than André, with an imposing, hazardous vibe to him—one that told you crossing swords or being caught by this man would not end well. Especially if your hunch was right—that you were, in fact, their target.

How long have you been the target? You don’t like to think about the high chances of finding out that all these years with André was just a sham. You thought you had been adequately preparing yourself mentally for such a skirmish, but you didn’t know if you truly were.

You watched as the hooded man said something to André and André nodded, delivering a friendly pat to the man’s massive shoulder, before turning around and striding off in the opposite direction.

You were well-hidden, but you still ducked down and pressed yourself right up against the wooden crates as André sauntered past. You also listened intently for the unknown male’s fading footsteps and, once sure they were both well out of eyesight, you peeped up and out, looking in the direction André traipsed off to, before hastily following after him.

Our men will be dressed in casual clothing commonly seen in the Fleuve Cendre, you recalled Navia’s words as she slipped on a pair of sunglasses. But they will be recognisable by the sunglasses they will be wearing. Inconspicuously conspicuous, I call it.

You spotted an unfamiliar man clad in faded-brown trousers and a musty button-up tee, hair hidden by a raggy old beret and with a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. He caught your eye, and gave you a nod.

You spotted more around, all watching after you, all waiting for the set time to get into action to come around. Fifteen minutes is all I’ll need to rummage around wherever André is off to. You kept your eyes on his back, blending in with what crowd there was. Most people were shutting up their stalls for the night, heading back to their run-down homes. It’s almost midnight right now. Navia said they’ll act at quarter-to-one. I have just less than an hour. Plenty of time.

If André was really up to what you suspected he was, then hopefully, with the Spina’s help, you’d be able to put him behind bars. And as much as you forced the hurt you felt at the thought, you knew you had to do this.

He took another turn, and ascended some rather rickety stairs, and entered a dim-lit, decrepit building. It was more like a cabin than anything—a structure commonly seen around the Fleuve Cendre—and you were suddenly left in quite the predicament. How am I supposed to get in there? It looked very small, the interior likely tiny, and with this shady business of André’s, he and any other individuals inside would immediately ask questions upon your abrupt, unbidden arrival. Your disguise was not so good as to fool your fiancé up close. And if you were recognised, that was it.

I still need to give Navia time to finish preparing. She would’ve likely still been consulting the uncorrupted Gardes up above in the overworld for help with this one, and sometimes, they could be notoriously difficult to negotiate with. Shall I wait and see if André comes out of that building? Don’t I look strange just standing here, watching the door? Am I drawing attention to myself?

You had a look around, and felt your heart physically plummet for the ground when you spotted that same mountainous man standing right across from you—on the other far side of the Fleuve Cendre, with only canals separating you both—his bulked arms folded across his wide chest, and you could feel him watching you. He likely hadn’t recognised you, but he knew what you were doing, and who you were watching. 

You swallowed, trying not to panic. Dammit, if he causes a fuss, everything will be for naught!

You had a bit of a staring competition with him, until he finally uncrossed his arms and turned away, heading off somewhere—likely to notify some informants. Thanks to him having spotted me, we probably have much less time to get in and out without a hitch now! You deeply feared what André was capable of. If he had such lackeys like that running around, this would probably be over before it had even begun. 

I need to act fast. Otherwise you’d have a heart attack from the panic and dread that’s pulsating in your veins, inhibiting you from thinking clearly and quickly. I’m going to have to brave it. There are probably other men around here like that big one who are watching me right this moment. It was a matter of now or never.

Ascending the stairs with all the agility your rather unfit self could muster, you tried to peep into the single window of the door, but it was covered with thick layers of old newspapers. It didn’t just look run-down from this close up—it looked abandoned. As it was meant to, you had surmised.

You tried the rusty doorknob, not knowing whether to feel relieved or alarmed at how it twisted easily in your grip and gave way, the door opening. Easing it open further, you peeked inside, squinting, only met with inky darkness. Okay. So, this little house is not what it seems at all. 

Obviously, there was something much larger connected to it, likely an extended interior of a building, so you braved it and slipped inside, clicking it shut behind you. You blinked several times, standing still to let your eyesight adjust to the darkness of the room, and finally started to creep forward further into the room.

It smelt musty and sour in there, like old, moth-eaten curtains in need of a good wash, and spilt beer from long ago staining the wood of the floorboards. There must be a door ahead.

Extending your hands, you tried to feel about the place to get a proper bearing on your surroundings. Your fingers brushed against something, and grasped it. It was warm, furry, and—

It squeaked in fright at your sudden grip, and you let out a muted shriek of your own, wrenching yourself back. There was the sound of hurried scrabbling, and you fought back the wave of nausea that had immediately drenched you at the realisation of what you had grabbed. Oh my god! That was a rat!

“Ew, ew, ew,” you softly whimpered to yourself, fighting back rising bile. Spooked, you wanted nothing more than to just turn around and head home at that moment. However, the sudden flicker of a light glinted in the corner of your eye, and you whipped around to see the faint sliver of an orange glow from the bottom of a door just over to your left. And then, abruptly, you heard the sound of three sets of stomping feet climb the stairs outside.

Thinking fast, you practically flew to the door, hastily feeling around for a lock, and almost cried in relief when you felt a deadbolt in the centre of the doorknob. Swiftly twisting it locked, you backed well away from the door and looked around, barely able to make anything out in that pitch darkness, before diving behind a shelf just out from the wall enough to squeeze in between.

The cobwebs were thick back there, and they instantly got stuck in your wig and tickled at your nose; the dust was so strong, you could barely restrain yourself from sneezing. Oh, please, please, please let there be no spiders back here! Your imagination was running wild and worsening your fear, bringing phantom sensations of little spider legs scuttling across your back and neck to life. 

Tears pricked at your eyes from the dust and from fear as the doorknob rattled violently, before a masculine voice cursed and kicked the door in viciously. It was too forceful of a kick for the rickety old door to handle however, and in flew the door, crashing against the ground, its wood splintered and absolutely wrecked. 

There wasn’t even any point in locking it! At least it gave you three seconds extra time to hide, though—and suddenly, all your fears about spiders back there behind the bookcase vanished as the sound of that thickset man stormed in—and, from what you could hear—there were two much smaller men flanking him. You didn’t dare to peep out from around the corner of the bookshelf; the books stacked on the shelves were so compact, not even a sliver of light shone through them.

A deep, harsh voice ordered, “I saw that bitch follow the Monsieur and creep in here after him. Turn this place upside down.”

‘The Monsieur’? Your blood turned to ice. André? Oh my god. Just how…big of a crime boss is he?

Who would have thought that you—an average, normal and utterly harmless young woman—would ultimately get involved with even more unscrupulous dealings almost ten years on from the death of the main perpetrator—your mother? If you were trying to laugh this off, you would’ve mentioned how it sounded so ridiculous, it was like it was right out of some shoddy crime/mystery novel. However, these men were on the hunt for you, and it was only a matter of very little time until they checked behind this shelf and dragged you out. 

This can’t be real. You pinched yourself, shaking. I have to be dreaming. There’s no way this is reality!

You crept back further in behind the bookshelf, praying the darkness back there would be enough for them to miss you. You listened as the men trudged around, making a huge ruckus, the determination to find you evident in the mere volume and forcefulness of their movements. 

And then the sound of a door clicking open sounded, and the three men immediately stopped.

Silence. You didn’t even dare to breathe. Hand over your mouth, you stared at the shadows cast by the light from outside, only stopping at the edge of the bookshelf, before a voice finally began speaking after ten long seconds of agonisingly tense stillness.

“What’s all this, boys?” It’s André. You could just imagine him standing in the doorway of wherever he’d emerged from with his hands in his pockets, posing languidly, like always. “You’re making an awful racket. I could hear you all the way from the end of the hall. I’m trying to focus, you know.”

Not a single word he uttered had lost that classic warm, friendly tone of his, but somehow—even though you’d never seen it yourself—you could easily picture the iciness in his smile. So easy-going, so unpredictable.

“Oh, boss, I’d spotted someone tailing you, sneakin’ around up here,” one of the men said, presumably the huge one. “A woman. Wearin’ a wig. She’s in here somewhere.”

“Yeah?” There was the sound of two slow footsteps entering the room. “Wonder who it could be.” Two more sounded, and they’d edged closer to the bookshelf. Stifling a fearful gasp, you flattened yourself best you could completely against the wall, its paper yellowed and peeling, scratching against the material of your trench coat. It elicited a soft scritch-ing sound, and the room had been so silent, you were almost sure they’d have heard it. 

“Any guesses, mes amis?” André stopped right in front of the bookcase, and you heard him tap on the hard, dusty spine of some long-forgotten, neglected book stored in the shelf right above your head. “I’d like to hear them, if you don’t mind.”

“I reckon it’s your missus-to-be,” said an unfamiliar voice, its tone nasally and sneering. “You said she’d been actin’ pretty fishy as of late, boss.”

His two other companions concurred in unison, snickering to themselves. You didn’t see what was so funny about this—but then, you supposed, and you were the one who was going to be on the receiving end of whatever sinister outcome André had planned for you.

 “Sound suppositions, boys,” André’s lilting voice singsonged, grating on your anxious nerves. He slowly slid out whatever book he had ‘selected’, and a sliver of light instantly shone in from the gap in the books. You swiftly ducked down even further, practically lying flat on the ground, and revulsion almost made you gag from the rat and mice droppings you could feel littering the floor below you. Hurry up, Navia! “I’ve been wondering what to do with her. Maybe this time, I’ll finally have a reason to be rid of her, yeah?” “Haw-haw! She’s doin’ all the work for us—” “Boss!” A new, urgent voice called from outside, and the sound of frantic running ensued. It swiftly stopped right outside the (now doorless) entrance to the cabin. “We have a problem!” André’s voice didn’t even waver from its signature cool, humorous cadence. “Ah. What’s got you in such a right panic, Alain?”

“It’s the blasted Spina, Monsieur. They’re causing trouble again. Much of it.”

André must’ve cracked open the book he picked out, for the sound of it suddenly snapping shut made you flinch roughly. “Is that so?” His tone wasn’t so warm anymore. “Is it the president’s darling daughter skylarking about in my business again?” “I-I’m afraid so, sir. She’s—”

“No matter. Let’s go. Seems as if I must have a bit of a chat with the girl myself, this time.” One pair of booted shoes marched for the entrance, followed by three more. “Calvin, you stand guard here. If my fiancé tries to leave, feel free to knock her out.”

“Yessir.” You didn’t know whether to be glad it was not the big huge guy assigned to stand guard, or whether to start fretting over the fact that he was just toying with you this entire time. He knew I was hiding behind here! Oh, thank the Archons he was interrupted!

It appeared that the fuss Navia must’ve been kicking up was of much more demanding urgency than you being hidden in this room. You waited until André and his companions’ footsteps faded, before straightening from your position on the ground. A plan was hatching in your head. Let’s just see who will really be the one getting knocked out around here, André Banville.

The bookshelf was tall enough for you to stand to your feet and quietly brush yourself off while keeping you hidden. A few of your bones popped and clicked from the stretch. Ugh. I’ll be needing a good long shower after this!

You looked around on the bookshelf, searching for a book big and heavy enough to smack this ‘Calvin’ over the head with and knock him out cold. Soon, you spotted a huge tome quite high above your head, and you lifted yourself up onto your toes to grasp it.

How will I have the strength to swing it around? This one is huge! It didn’t occur to you just how much adrenaline was racing through your veins, and how much of a boost in vigour that is. You finally got a grip on it, and began slowly, gradually, and quietly easing it out from its spot in the shelf. 

It took up much of your energy, having to be so quiet. The man standing guard in the doorway didn’t know exactly where you were in that room, and you didn’t want him to find out until it was too late—for him.

“Alright, lady, you can step out now,” came his voice—and you groaned under your breath at recognising just which one of the men Calvin was: the nasally-voiced one, the sort that reminded you of a rat. “You ain’t got nowhere to run, y’know. The boss will prob’ly be havin’ a tonne of fun with you tonight.”

And so you did. You stepped out from your hiding space, quiet as a cat, keeping to the shadows, with an enormous tome in your hands. You slowly circled him, watching his every move like a hawk, slowly approaching him. He seemed utterly unaware, merely continuing on with that sneer of his on his grimy face. “He’s been waitin’ for this, y’know—waitin’ for you to come to yer senses and realise what ’e’s been up to. Was dreadin’ the wedding day ’n everything.”

Is that true? Even with all these questions flying back and forth in your head, you continued to approach the pathetically oblivious man, tome held over your head, ready to bring it down on his. “Better cherish yer last moments, I’d say—”

“Boo.” For dramatic effect, you sidled up to him and hissed into his ear, making the man leap out of his skin with a very unmanly screech. You didn't give him any more time to react, however, as you quickly swung the book down and onto his skull, whacking him over the head with every ounce of strength you had left.

A resounding crack sounded once the book made contact with his cranium, and he flopped to the ground, without a sound, face-first, his musket clattering from his hold and to the ground.

Did I kill him? You almost froze with fear before you knelt down beside him and hastily checked his pulse. The blow you dealt to his skull was stronger than you intended, and you heard it fracture—a sickening sound you never wanted to hear again. Feeling at his wrist, you almost slumped over with relief once you felt the faint pump-pump in his arm, meaning he was still alive, but you likely gave him brain damage with that bash you dealt. And you found that you didn’t really care if you did.

Straightening, you brushed off your hands and looked to the wide-open doorway André had emerged from, squinting into the darkness of the hall leading on. A pale yellow glow shone faintly at the end of the hallway and, without wasting another second, you stepped over the unconscious body of Calvin’s and rushed into the hallway.

Soon enough, you came to the end of it, standing before an ajar door. You could hear jazz music, of all things, softly trickling out from the office, and you pushed the door open, closing it back to its same ajar state as it was before, and thus striding into the room and taking it all in,

Towering bookshelves lined the walls, and the desk in the middle of the room was cluttered and stacked with papers, books, folders and binders absolutely packed full to the brim of more papers. A single fountain pen sat idly in a jar full of ink, and that’s when you realised it.

This is his base. You walked in further and picked up a random piece of paper. It was some kind of document, going on about proceedings for the (illegal) shipment of firewater to Mondstadt.

Firewater. You flung the paper away from you like it had burned your hand. Oh my god. Don’t tell me. 

Unwilling to dally any longer, you swiftly settled in at his desk and began rummaging through his drawers, cabinets—everything that you could find that had something of importance in it. 

And from what documents you could find, each one was one horror after the other. He runs an entire syndicate! Document after document displayed crucial information regarding dealings André had been doing—for the past seven years.

“Oh my god…” you gasped to yourself, reading the date of one record. It was an entry penned by André’s very own hand—written the day after you met André for the first time. It read, Located the woman’s daughter. Won’t be long until she introduces me to her brother. Finally, the ledger can be put to use.

Ledger? You felt lightheaded, as if the blood had been drained from you. And…is he talking about my mother? Is that who ‘the woman’ is?

Hurriedly, you yanked open another drawer and heaved out what items were stored in there—and a leather-bound notebook slipped out from the bundle of papers and plopped to the desk.

With shaking hands, you picked it up, unclipping its clasp, and easing it open.

There was a name written inside of the cover—and it was your mother’s name.

Bloody hell! You leapt from André’s chair you had sat in and clutched at your hair, ripping off the wig. Gods! I knew we’d missed something! If you didn’t get rid of this account book—this final remaining piece of evidence of your mother’s existence and her organisation, of her legacy—you and your brother would be in dire, dire danger from not only André and his associates, but also the court.

You flipped through the ledger, reading your mother’s handwriting, inspecting all of the recorded transactions of firewater and illegal substances and weapons—as well as the trading of classified parliamentary information for sky-high prices, paid for by the Fatui. 

As you rapidly flipped through the pages, almost tearing the papers in your haste, the written annals and logs penned by your mother came to an abrupt stop. There was just nothing after that, leaving about a quarter of what paper was left in the ledger, blank.

Something caught your eye—a folded slip of yellowed paper peeking out from the very back cover of the ledger, left tucked into the book for a long while. Hands trembling so violently, you could barely get a grip on it, you pulled it out and placed the ledger down, unfolded the piece of paper.

Inside was a letter. And it was from your mother.

To my dearest son and daughter,

I was never a good mother to either of you. I neglected you, all for the sake of nothing, in the end. Without any other choice, I founded a hub for criminals, something that would make me money without having to resort to the final pis aller and sell my body for a coin. No brothel would take in a middle-aged woman, anyway. Instead, I opted to get my hands dirty instead. With a lot of blood, if all amounted up. It shames me, it does, and I know it sounds as if I was making excuses, but I really had no choice.

If you are reading this, it could be that you were snooping around, or that I am dead. I suspect the latter more. As I write this, I can only hope that you do find and have the chance to read this someday. Please don’t let this ledger fall into the wrong hands. You must get rid of my legacy completely, and lead better lives than I.

I am undeserving to ask for this, but,

Love,

Mother.

Tears blurred your vision completely, and you gasped back a sob. With violently quivering fingers, you set the letter face-down, collapsing into the chair behind you.

Curse you! You inwardly swore, forcing back the wails fighting to burst out. Curse you! Look at this mess you made! That you left for me to clean up!  It had become like a hereditary curse—an ancestral sin—she had left on you, just like in those fantasy books, one that is inescapable, and always reveals itself in the lives of at least one of the forebearer’s offspring. That being your mother, in this case. And, oh, had it revealed itself—the entire blissful reality with André was nothing but a fraud—he was nothing but a fraud—and it was falling apart right before your very eyes.

In the midst of your misery and fight to regain your rationality, you spotted some kind of logo in the corner of your eye, printed in harrowing dark green ink on the top left corner of a document tossed on André’s desk, one you hadn’t picked up before, and you weakly shoved the manila folder dumped on top of it away, exposing it to the light fully.

Your eyes narrowed, your stomach rolling in foreboding. Hold on…does that say…? You dearly hoped it didn’t. That would mean…

It was a brand’s emblem—in this case, the official coat-of-arms, of sorts, for André’s organisation.

The Fulbert Union.

A door slamming open wrenched you from your thoughts before you could fully process what you had just found. Startled, you flinched back at the sound, your head snapping up, and you were met with the glacial stare of your fiancé. 

“You probably won’t believe me, but…” André strolled casually into the room, prowling towards you, flicking open a lighter and bringing a cigarette to his lips, igniting it, before inhaling a long, drawn-out, insouciant drag of it. He tapped it, breaking the ashes from its end, letting the dead embers flutter to the floor as he puffed out a substantial haze of smoke. The smell made you want to gag. “I really did enjoy the time we spent together. You know, going around town, going on those dates, me spending money on you—you see, it was all for a good benefit, in the end.”

“That benefit being me—your source of profit—‘in the end’?” “You catch on quickly,” he smiled, but his eyes did not. “That’s another thing I’d always liked about you. However, I liked you better when you didn’t ask questions, and you stayed out of my business.”

For every step he took towards you, you took three back. You wanted nothing more than to poke that alight cigarette into his eyes and burn them out—and you glared such sentiments at him, making sure he knew it. “I don’t have the words to express how much I want to strangle you right now.”

“The feeling is quite mutual.” André’s tone was warm, but it was the kind of warmth that scalded, that killed. “You poking around in here has, essentially, signed your death warrant. And would you look at that—” he held up a piece of paper, and it was a death certificate, with your name and personal details all written out in neat penmanship—ready to be presented to the mortician at any time. “—I actually have it all written up right here. Thank you, mon bijou, for making things so convenient for me.”

“Do you know how pathetic you sound right now?” Desperation to get the hell out of there wasn’t letting you think, and you were only left to just blurt out any old hateful word you could to try and land some kind of blow on him before you met your end. “I see it now. You’re one massive egomaniac—and if I think about it, you always were.”

André coolly arched a brow, unfazed by your insults. “Slandering me to my face won’t achieve anything, honey. In fact, to me, it just sounds like you’re eager for death. Well, then, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?” You didn’t even have time to blink when he shot forward, throwing something purple at you—and you realised, in the blur of the moment, that this man had a Vision, and was using the power of Electro on you to render you paralysed for a time.

“Nope, not a Vision.” As if reading your thoughts, André held up a little circular object, and its dark, warped, swirling interior beneath its glass encasing conveyed its true nature. “It’s a Delusion, dearest. Kind of what you’ve been living in for the past three—no, seven—years.”

He had a hand wrapped around your throat tightly, and you didn’t have the strength to fight his grip. The Delusion’s electrifying power had successfully weighed down your bones and dulled your nerves so you were like lead. Completely at his mercy—something that this man did not have for you.

“It’s really a shame for you, you know? You could’ve played along, and I would’ve given you a quiet death later on, maybe a few months after our wedding. Died of perfectly natural causes—maybe taking a little ‘tumble’ off a cliff as we stroll about the landscape together on our honeymoon, falling deathly sick from ‘food poisoning’, or, maybe—” Something else replaced his hand—and this new grip on your throat was dry, coarse, and it burned as it was wound around your neck. You let out a desperate, choked and muffled shriek as you realised what it was. He’s going to strangle me! Hang me from the ceiling! “—a bit more of a tragic demise, such a devastating end for the family—death by suicide.”

The noose was fully wound around your throat, and André seemed satisfied with its taut grip on your neck. He stepped away from you, the rest of the rope in his hold, as he smiled malevolently down at you, slinging the rope over a little hook in the ceiling, and then he paused to continue chatting. “Had that hook up there installed the other day. Wasn’t actually meant for this—but, well, I’d say I’m a bit of a master at making better of a rather dull situation.” 

You couldn’t even lift your arms to clutch at the rope, the shock he had dealt to you was too potent, too much for your body to overcome. Help me! Someone, please, help me! But, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get anything else other than a pathetically soft whimper out. It amused André immensely, seeing you struggle so hard. “I find myself feeling very grateful that you never asked for sex or whatever. It pained me to even propose to you. You get me? My tastes in women are much more…” he looked you up and down with a scrutinising, rather repulsed gaze, and you felt his words and loathsome stare pierce you in your stomach. “…Refined. Anyway! That’s as irrelevant as you are, really. You helped me out a lot today, mon bijou. I owe it to you. Here’s your payment.”

And then he began pulling; heaving you up bit by bit, higher and higher, tightening the rope’s grip on your throat to the point where it broke the burned skin of your nape and bled—squeezing your throat so tautly to the point where air flow through your larynx was completely cut off. 

Panic had embedded itself into every fibre, every cell, every atom of your body, and the despairing fight to survive never relented—but it was pointless. You were finished. All your brain could manage now was to flash every good and bad memory you possessed right before your eyes—and, as if to taunt you in your final moments, it showed you all the happy times of laughter and camaraderie with André, with your brother, with Elvira, with your workmates. But it was especially with André, as he had become the sole source of the best memories you had, and you detested it. Why must it be his face I look upon fondly as I die, when he is my killer? The gods must have truly, truly abhorred you—for a reason you will never know.

You were dangling in midair, not quite high enough up yet, and André was still talking. “Your suicide note is all written up—and in your handwriting, by the way—but, damn, if only you’d left it until we were back at the house. Then it would’ve looked a bit more convincing. How weird would it be if you randomly offed yourself in my office, huh?” He heaved a long-suffering sigh, as if fatigued at the mere thought of having to pose your murder as a suicide. “I’ll work it out. Actually, no, this is better…” André knotted the rope around the hook twice to make sure it held, before stepping back, hands on his hips as if to admire some artwork he’d created—that being your suspended frame hanging helpless above him. “I’ve got plenty of backup. We’ll just dump you somewhere—”

Black ants were crawling into the edges of your vision, gradually blotting out everything, obscuring that horrid face of his from your sights, and the memories were flickering out into nothingness, finally. You closed your eyes, accepting it. If this is how it ends, then this is how it ends. With what ability you had left to think, you could only pray that in your next life, you would be granted a better chance.

Faint, echoing sounds of commotion and yelling indistinctly resonated in your ears, but you were too far gone to decipher it. You barely even felt the rope being sliced just above your head and you dropping into someone’s hold, the person’s arms thin but strong, their perfume sweet, but mixed with sweat from exertion, and the sensation of curls brushing against your nose. You hardly felt any of that. All that was left was to fade away completely.

・・・・

“When I woke up, Navia, my brother and my sister-in-law were all passed out by my bed. They must have been at my side the entire time, waiting for me to wake up, for only the gods know how long.”

A gentle finger traces random patterns on your bare hip, his hand’s hold so warm, so soothing. Unwavering amethyst eyes gaze into your own, taking in your tear-stained face with no hint of judgement or criticism at all. “How long were you out for?” You frown, thinking. “Hm…Navia said something like…three or four days? I don’t know. Apparently, I was extremely close to death—if she and her men had been even half a minute late, I would not be lying here with you today.”

Neuvillette falls silent, merely continuing to gently massage your hip, his thumb rubbing circles into your flesh, as if to anchor you and help you feel consoled, seen. “…I find that to be a scary thought.”

 You sniffle, choking out a feeble laugh. “Haha. That’s nice of you.”

“Nice of me? Is that all? Is that all you believe?” His arm encircles your waist and presses you flat against his torso, the ridges of his abdomen digging deliciously into yours, and he holds you so you’ve no choice but to stare up at him. That gaze of his holds such raw intensity again, it whips the breath from your lungs. “I wish you’d stop thinking like that. Why base your self worth on words a man who almost murdered you, and who is now dead, threw at you? His words mean nothing. They only have meaning if you allow them to. Why don’t the words of those around you who love you take precedence?” “Because it’s hard, Neuvillette.” You drop your eyes. They’re filling with tears again. Ugh, shouldn’t I be out of these already? “I—look, three years of what seemed like genuine love and affection and support, all razed to the ground in a matter of minutes. Insecurities that I had were ones he once told me were beautiful. How do you expect me to not believe that? But then he switches up as he’s killing me and says that his tastes are more ‘refined’,” you scoff, before drawing in a shuddering breath. “A-And then, he goes along and says that he was basically forcing himself to shower me with such warmth, and then he says that—”

“That’s enough,” Neuvillette softly commands, tenderly brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I see where you’re coming from. But, would you like me to tell you something?” You blink up at him, uncaring of the tears blurring your vision. “What?” you sniffle.

“In all my long years of living…” His lips meet your forehead. “I’ve never coveted something…” And then his mouth presses to your temple. “…So much. I never knew what it was like to want a person so dearly, so intensely, that I would gladly abandon all reason and precept if she so wished for it.” And he buries his face into your nape, lips ghosting over the scar on your neck, making you shudder in pleasure. “Precept that is my very being, what I live for—but what worth does it possess when she has such supremacy over it?”

“Neuvillette, I…don’t lie to yourself, you can’t—”

“Am I not one who has never been predisposed to lying?” Neuvillette peers up at you earnestly from his spot in your nape. “What makes it so hard for you to believe?” He licks his lips, eyes lidded. “Well, then, if I must show you once more—”

“N-No! Th-That’s quite alright, I believe you…” His displaying of excessive amounts of affection has made your brain short circuit, and you bury your face into his hair instead. “I don’t want you to forfeit centuries of such eminent principles you’ve upheld all this time, for a single mortal woman.” You feel him still beneath you, and you take this chance to continue. “I am merely a fleeting affair, Neuvillette—something that will barely last twenty years. You cannot simply renounce a role of extreme gravity not just to this nation, but to surrounding ones as well, because I would say so—which I will never. You are the Chief Justice. You are impartial. I am not an exception.”

He is silent, and as you fall quiet too, your own words settling in, and you realise just how hurtful your little speech had been. But the truth has always hurt, and it’s something you’ve long learned to face.

“…Happiness has always been a luxury for me,” Neuvillette finally says after a long, long moment of tormenting silence. “I just…want to indulge a little, for once.” “I know.” Your voice is gentle, comforting. “I know. But…unless there was some kind of way that I could become immortal and thus stick with you for the rest of your long life…this will only become a painful memory for you in the future.”

Neuvillette shifts beneath you, revealing his face. His eyes are thoughtful, but hesitant. They stare into yours for a few seconds before they lower. “…Yes. If only there was a way.”

Something in his gaze just now struck you with a peculiar feeling—what if he…knows a way? You’ve always surmised that this man is hiding some great secret from you—something directly involved with his true identity.

You’ve had your suspicions, but they’re not something you like keeping. And, it’s not really any of your business. If he is who you think he is, then there truly wouldn’t be a chance for you, anyway.

“You’ll move on.” You massage his scalp, and his eyes close in bliss, but a knot forms between his brows at your words. “You’ll eventually forget me. You’ll be fine.”

Neuvillette abruptly clutches you close, smothering your mouth with his, silencing you. “Stop being depressing for a moment,” he chuckles between kisses, relishing your surprised, soft squeaks and pants. “And let me make you happy.”

But his laughter is pained, forced, and you sense that—but you humour him anyway. The selfish part of you is saying, anyway, what’s there for me to lose? but you are not cruel.

Love is selfless. Love is kind. Love means considering your other half’s concerns over yours. If only that was something you had the privilege to do for him forever.

i have sat. at my mum's desk. for four days and eighteen hours straight, working on this MONSTROSITY of a chapter. TWENTY ONE THOUSAND WORDS. WHAT HAVE I DONE.

anyways i hope u guys enjoyed. i worked really hard on this one. i kinda enjoyed writing this chapter but then it fell off more towards the end. that much is clear.

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