#EVERY TIME I GET TO THE DEEP ZONE SOMETHING INCONVENIENT HAPPENS AND I HAVE TO SKEDADDLE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

song-witch · 5 months

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Wants Manifest As Needs

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 6,432

Warnings: Negative self/body talk, slight smut, angst, flashback.

A/N: im going bonkers :)

Part One Part Two

Wanda stood in front of the mirror in the small dressing room, a mix of some distraught emotion mixed with anxiousness written on her face. She hadn’t been shopping for lingerie really ever, especially not at some fancy and expensive boutique. But Nat had insisted on it, had told her she deserved something nice and not to worry about it. Of course she was worrying about it.

“You can’t laugh, okay?” Wanda spoke seriously, a no nonsense tone to her voice. She slowly turned her body from side to side, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and a hand on her stomach. It was weirdly reminiscent of when she had been pregnant with the twins: shopping for a new bra because her old one didn’t fit. She thinks she’d be happy about not having small tits anymore, though it was more of an inconvenience than a bragging right. Plus, she had Nat. She didn’t need to flaunt them.

“Baby, why would I-” Natasha sighed and Wanda could practically see her rubbing her forehead. The brunette said it was a trait of the redhead getting old, that the 34 year old was aging faster than she realized. That had landed her something akin to a punishment. It hadn’t taken her long to find out she wasn’t a fan of edging. Nat, however, was.

“Just promise me. Please.” The brunette bit on her lip harder, trying to stem her sudden anxiety. Nat had seen her completely naked, so why was she so nervous all of a sudden? The redhead had actively encouraged their mall date, had said she’d get some too if it helped ease her anxiety. She had hoped Nat would go first, that they’d have no choice but to go home after because Wanda just couldn’t hold back. Nat had other plans, though, and had said Wanda should go first to get it done with. Wanda wanted to scream at least five cuss words at her.

“I won’t laugh, now let me see.” She could hear the woman shifting in her seat, clearly impatient. She hesitated though. They hardly had sex with the lights on and the fake fluorescents of this store highlighted every single inch of her body. She hated it. Despised it, really. The curve of her stomach, fullness of her hips and thighs. It’s a stark contrast of before she had been pregnant; nothing but skin and bones.

She didn’t want to go out. Didn’t want to open that stupid curtain and for Nat to actually see her. She was glad that they were in a small room separated by a curtain meaning no one else would be able to see her. At the same time, she was basically forced to show Natasha, not wanting to face the way she would be looked at if she ran out. She was sick of pity.

“Wanda?” Natasha’s voice pulled her out of her reverie, blinking at herself in the mirror. She hadn’t meant to zone out. Well, she hardly ever did. It just… happens. She wants to be more in the moment, more present. She’s not sure that’ll happen. “Are you okay?"

“What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Wanda wiped the water from her eyes, shaking her head. No, she wasn’t okay. She forced herself away from the mirror, looking around the small space. She knew Natasha was standing right outside the curtain, her hand grasped at it as if she were going to tear it open and save her. She’s not so sure she’s worth saving. Or that there’s anything worth saving.

“Are you sure? You’re quiet.” Despite the hand on the curtain, Natasha didn’t open it, though her fingers twitched. Wanda felt awful. She should be able to try on a bra and underwear for her girlfriend. Her t-shirt sitting on top of her pile of clothes caught her eye and she practically lunged to grab it, pulling it over her head.

“I’m okay.” Wanda took a deep breath before opening the curtain, coming face to face with the redhead. She smiled brightly, hoping the woman wouldn't be suspicious. Natasha smiled back at her, her hand letting go of the curtain to instead cup Wanda’s cheek, effectively grounding her. The woman’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of her shirt, her lips pursing.

“Did they not fit? We can get a different size.” Her eyes traveled up and down her body and Wanda had to fight the urge to shut the curtain. Logically she knew Nat wasn’t trying to make her feel insecure, that it was her own brain yelling horrid things at her. It didn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No. No, they fit. I just…” Wanda trailed off as she looked down to hide her blush, grasping at the bottom of the shirt. She just hated the way she looked and knew Nat would too and- She needed to stop thinking. Natasha had never once commented on her body in a negative way, despite her own body being, quite clearly, fully matured.

“I guess I’ve just never tried on lingerie, I don’t-” Wanda shrugged, the hem of her shirt being rubbed between her pointer finger and thumb. She wanted to take the damn lacey shit off, wanted to get out of the stupid boutique entirely.

“Hey, that’s okay. There’s a first time for everything, right?” Natasha smirked at her. Her hand covered Wanda’s, tugging softly at the fabric. Wanda knew Natasha’s pupils were dilated, that she was desperate to see Wanda in lingerie. She had only been suggesting the idea since they met.

“I guess so.” Wanda only shrugged, holding the woman’s hand. Their fingers easily threaded together, a common occurrence. Wanda seemed to always be reaching for her hand, needing the physical reminder that Nat was actually there.

“Let's make a deal. You show me this set or whichever you want to, I’ll show you mine and then we get lunch, okay?” Nat’s voice softened, her free hand tracing down Wanda's face. She leaned into the touch, looking up at the woman through her eyelashes.

“What’s the catch?” The student raised an eyebrow, much like the redhead would, looking at her suspiciously. There was always a catch. Sure, she and Nat had been dating for a month and a half, but there had to be some secret side that she didn’t know about. She just had to wait to figure out what that was.

“There is no catch. What do you say?” Natasha shook her head though, a serious look on her face. As much as she wanted to take the shirt off of her girlfriend, she would wait, knowing that Wanda had to have it on for a reason. It was okay though, there would be many opportunities to see the brunette in lingerie.

“Deal, but only if you go first.” And with that they had shown each other a single set each, albeit Wanda much more grudgingly than the older. Nat’s had left very little to her imagination and she had forgotten she still had to show Nat hers, the horniness she had ignored while she was pregnant coming back full force. Wanda’s was not nearly as showing, the panties high waisted and the bra covering a majority of her ribcage. Nat still drooled over her and she had half the mind to stop them from having steamy dressing room sex.

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Wanda felt her heart beat faster as she scanned the menu, worrying her lip between her teeth. Everything was so expensive. Sure, she saved a lot of money by not buying formula, but that didn’t make her rich by any means. She felt bad for how often Nat paid for them when they went out, always trying to offer her card or cash. The redhead never accepted it, though, told her to put it towards college or her nephews as she helped her brother with the twins. It was quite the opposite; Pietro paid roughly three quarters of their rent while she handled the rest and any utilities. He was selfless like that, always taking care of her issues.

“What’s on your mind?” And Natasha was grabbing her attention again. She was still looking at her own menu, barely glancing at the brunette over the top of it. She knew Nat knew what she was going to get, having mentioned frequenting the restaurant numerous times before, and was trying to ease her anxiety. She appreciated it more than she could ever say.

“I don’t know what to get.” Wanda giggled nervously, meeting the redhead’s gaze. Nat had this look on her face, like she knew what Wanda was thinking. It was unnerving at times, just how well Nat knew her. She supposes that’s what happens when you’re in a relationship with someone who actually cares. “I think I’m just going to get a salad.”

“A salad? Wanda, you have to get more than that.” Natasha looked upset. Why did she care about how much or what she was eating? Sure, the woman tended to be a health nut, but that concerned herself, not Wanda. Plus, isn’t the college experience to eat shitty, non-nutritional food? At least, that’s what everyone said.

“I’m not that hungry.” Wanda shrugged, fiddling with the menu. The only way she could describe the restaurant was as a family owned, more expensive Olive Garden. She remembers how often she and Pietro would beg to go there as kids. They didn’t get to until they had their own jobs. And no parents. That part hurt.

Their server came before either one of them could say anything else, a girl who was definitely in college. Wanda wondered if she had ever been in a class with her or if Nat had taught her before. She was always scared that someone would see them together and would tattle, but Nat had reassured her that there were manys excuses they could use. It didn’t make her any more confident. The girl was asking what she would like and, before her mind could comprehend, Nat was ordering for her. The waitress was leaving before she could say anything, some pasta dish written down instead of what she was supposed to order.

“Nat.” Wanda whispered harshly under her breath, leaning forward in the booth. She glanced around to make sure no one was listening to them, anger flaring in her chest. She had wanted salad for a reason. Why Nat wouldn’t order it was beyond her.

“I don’t… I can’t afford that, Nat, you know that.” Venom coated her words, a tone she hardly used. She was beyond upset right now. Natasha knew how little she made. Knew she spread herself so thin that oftentimes when she’d go over, she would end up falling asleep.

"Wanda. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, alright?” Natasha shook her head, taking the brunette’s hand. Nat had money. Nat knew she had money and actively tried to spend it on Wanda no matter the situation. Wanda had jokingly called her her sugar mommy and Nat had only smirked and tried to buy her clothes. It had flattered her early on; Nat paying for dinner, for her coffee, for lunch. As their relationship grew, Wanda had very quickly realized that Nat downright refused to let her pay, even for something as simple as a drink at the gas station.

It had started to irritate her. She wanted to buy things for Nat. Wanted to spend what little money she had on her boys and Nat. She has started making little gifts, small thank yous whenever she came over. It was often some sort of candy or flower or something for them to try or do together as her own form of payment.

“Why?” Wanda pursed her lips. She was genuinely asking. She wasn’t worth spending money on. Sure, she can excuse dinner here or there, and even then she was trying to pay the next time or for her own meal. Natasha fought to spend money on her.

“Why what?” Natasha was confused. Wanda almost laughed. The question was simple. She sighed before rubbing her face, fixing the woman with a look.

“Why do you keep doing this? You…” She gestured to the space around them. Wanda dropped her head into her hands, groaning as she couldn’t formulate a sentence. There were so many things buzzing through her head, she wishes that Nat could just read it for once. “You buy me stuff and don’t expect anything. I don’t… I can’t repay you, Nat.”

"Because I want to, Wanda. Money doesn’t matter to me, okay? Besides, you need to eat an actual meal.” Natasha gently pulled her hands away from her head, smoothing her thumb over the tops of them. It was a practiced move, something so little yet meaningful. She shrugged as she spoke, knowing Wanda couldn’t argue with the fact.

She had a bad habit of not eating breakfast, something Nat picked up on early in their relationship. When questioned about it, Wanda only shrugged and explained that her stomach hurt when she ate before a certain time. It wasn’t a lie, though she failed to mention the part about growing up poor, that they didn’t have food for breakfast for a reason.

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"So, do you want to tell me about what happened on Wednesday?” It wasn’t until their food had come and they had filled the space with small talk that Nat dropped the question, cutting into her chicken. Wanda choked on her food, harshly coughing into her elbow. She had been waiting for it, had been waiting for Nat to ask all week, yet hadn't expected mid-bite.

“What do you mean what happened?” Wanda briefly glanced at the woman. She didn’t look mad or even upset, just curious. Maybe a little confused. Hell, even she herself was confused by what had happened. Before she had had the twins, she hadn’t had an anxiety attack in years. She figures it was because she wasn’t allowed to. Pushing that thought away, she had barely made it to the bathroom before she had broken down, hardly pulling herself together before going to class.

“Wanda. Neither of us are dumb.” Natasha set her fork and knife down and Wanda knew that meant business. She had the look on her face that she kept on in the classroom; a look that Wanda had seen when students were acting up. She never thought that look would be directed at her. It made her squirm.

“Nothing happened, Nat. I don’t know what you’re expecting.” Wanda sighed, twirling her fork around her pasta. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She didn’t want to be there either. She wanted to go home with her babies and pretend that the last week hadn’t happened. Pretend her and Nat were happily married and that the twins were hers and holy shit. She wanted Nat to be their mom. Wanted to stop pretending they were Pietro’s, wanted Nat to know they were hers.

“I just want to know what Agatha was talking about. You dropped out?” Natasha was eating her food again, which was a good sign in Wanda’s eyes. She was no longer looking at her like she had done something wrong, her face returning to her normal stoic expression. Sometimes, she didn’t know which was worse.

“No, I-” Wanda cut herself off, exasperatedly sighing. She hadn’t dropped out. She withdrew from Agatha’s class, had the twins and was going to school again. It’s not like she wanted to withdraw from her class, far from it if she were being honest. She rolled her eyes. “Dr. Harkness was being dramatic.”

"Oh-kay? So what happened?” She really hated how often Nat asked questions sometimes. What did she expect dating a professor with a doctorate? It wasn’t her first rodeo. Except, they hadn't dated. Were only friends with benefits. Not friends. Fuck buddies? No, that was too vulgar. People who occasionally had sex together that meant something but neither were committed? Whatever they had been didn’t matter anymore.

“I-” Had twins. Wanda set her fork down, pushing her hair out of her face before rubbing her eyes. The only person at her college who knew about the twins was her advisor, and even that was because she knew that, realistically, she’d be giving birth within a month of finals and would more than likely fail. Not to mention issues she had with a certain… someone in one of her classes.

“Things happened with Pietro and-” My ex, her mind screamed, and she wished she could turn it off permanently. Wished she could stop thinking about him. She shook her head, biting her lip. She was lying again. She hated how much she lied. But she knew Nat wouldn’t want her if she told her the twins were hers. She was 19. Who wanted a college sophomore with a life full of baggage and twin newborns. “-And I had to withdraw. It wasn’t a choice.”

“But she said you were looking better, did something happen to yo-” Natasha shook her head, her eyebrows furrowing. Wanda’s story didn’t make sense. Why would Agatha say Wanda was looking better if something had happened to Pietro? Unless Agatha didn’t know Wanda had withdrawn. That would make sense.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Please.” Wanda looked down. She didn’t want Nat to look at her. Didn’t want the woman to look at her with pity. She loved Nat, craved her at the most inconvenient times, but couldn’t tell her the simplest thing.

“Okay. Okay, we don’t have to. Whatever it was, is better now, right?” Natasha was reaching for her hands before she could say anything, rubbing her knuckles. Wanda wanted to pull away, wanted to break down and tell Natasha every shitty detail of her life and for Natasha to just hold her, tell her everything was going to be okay. That they’d be okay. She could only want, though.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s… complicated.” It wasn’t complicated though. Her ex was a shitty person, she had the twins, had somewhat of an affair (if you could even call it that) and was now dating Nat. She didn’t know or really care about what happened with her ex, had disappeared after the whole hospital fiasco, hadn’t texted her in three months.

“I’m here if you need anything, Wanda. You’re not alone anymore.” Natasha smiled softly, squeezing her hands once and pressing a kiss to them before pulling away, resuming their lunch. The rest of their date went on without any further bumps, well, not counting the every date struggle of Natasha paying while Wanda argued that she should. They had parted their ways at the exit, a single kiss of a promise that they’d see each other soon.

Wanda had gone home to feed and play with the twins, spending time with them after her morning out. She had given Pietro her leftovers, more than half of the dish in a takeout container tossed his way. She stayed until nearly 7pm, her duffel bag packed and ready to spend the night at Nat’s. She kissed both of her boys goodbye, pumping before leaving so the boys had enough to last them through the next day.

She was hardly in the door before Nat was kissing her, using her to shut the door. She doesn’t think she’d ever get sick of this. Doesn’t think she’ll ever get sick of Nat. Ever get sick of her lips. And legs. And hands. And fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Baby.”

“You looked so good in that set.” Natasha stopped for all of two seconds to look at her, before trailing her lips down the brunette’s neck, her thigh raising between the girl’s. Wanda moaned, letting her head fall back onto the door. The redhead was sucking spots into her skin, her tongue cold against her heated skin.

“Bed.” Wanda gasped, grinding into the woman’s thigh. She had initially thought their night would have consisted of a movie and Wanda cooking dinner, a nice, relaxing evening after a stressful week. Clearly, Natasha had other plans. Not that she wouldn’t be relaxed after their night.

Natasha’s hands wrapped around her thighs, urging them around her waist before she was lifting up. Wanda practically squealed, dropping her bag in favor of wrapping her arms around the woman’s neck. As much as she would have loved to have sex then and there, she preferred Nat’s bed. Neither of them wanted to deal with the back pain in the morning.

“You’re lucky we didn’t fuck in that store.” Natasha smirked against her neck. She was right. Wanda had nearly bust on the spot when she saw Nat, keeping her hands in her lap as the woman modeled for her. Wanda could only hope she looked as good as the woman in fifteen years.

“You would’ve gotten us kicked out.” Wanda grasped the woman’s hair, pulling her head back. She knew her pupils were as blown as the redhead’s, possibly even more.

“Would’ve been fun.” Natasha smirked and it only made Wanda want her more. Her body was pushed onto the mattress, Natasha on top of her, pulling her shirt off with no hesitation. Her chest heaved as Natasha cupped her through her bra, arching her back. “So pretty for me.”

The words had her absolutely soaked. She was tugging at Nat’s shirt, desperately trying to get it off. Natasha had that cocky smirk set on her face, brushing a thumb over her nipple before she could complain. It had her moaning, tugging even harder at the redhead's shirt.

“Please.” Wanda begged. She had never been against begging and even if she was, Nat made it so easy. She wanted Nat so bad. Needed her. She can’t think about anything but the woman, her brain short circuiting.

“Please what?” Natasha squinted at her, her eyebrows raised. It sent more flutters through her stomach. She continued to play with her tits, pinching and squeezing and tugging lightly on them. Wanda was cursing through a breath. She was so fucking sensitive. Nat knew that and used it to her advantage, teasing her more often than not.

“Let me see you.” Wanda whined, tugging yet again. Natasha obliged with her request, easily pulling her shirt over her head and tossing it to meet Wanda’s on the floor. The brunette couldn’t help but ogle. She was so desperately in love with every part of the redhead’s body. Maybe even the redhead herself. The thought had her lunging forward, reattaching their lips.

“Someone’s eager.” Natasha mumbled, swiping her tongue against the seam of the brunette’s lips. Wanda moaned into her mouth, allowing the older woman access. Nat’s hand unhooked her bra, one still grasping at the soft mound, the other pulling the material away from her.

She ground her hips into the brunette’s, smirking as another moan was pulled from her lips. The professor bit her lip before scaling down her body, sucking harshly at the soft skin of her breasts. Wanda arched into the touch. Before she knew it, Natasha's lips were trailing down her stomach, fingers tugging her leggings and panties down in one go, her mouth following. She was panting as she laid there, her body practically shaking at the thought of what was coming next. Quite literally coming next.

Nat was kissing her way up her legs, stopping at her knee to nip at the skin there, reveling in the way Wanda pulled back just slightly. The back of her knees were ticklish and she couldn’t resist. It only lasted a moment, though, before she was kissing and nipping her way up again, biting at the apex of her thighs. It sent a tingle down Wanda’s spine. She thought Nat would continue her way up like normal, that they’d make out before one of them put the strap on. She didn’t continue up like normal, however, and was licking a long line up her vulva.

“S-stop.” Wanda gasped, gently but urgently pulling at Nat’s soft curls. She felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest and that her lungs were going to explode, panic coursing through her body. Her muscles spasmed, her legs closing and arms pulling up, desperate to get Nat away. Something between whines and gasps left her mouth, her body shutting down.

“Wanda, hey, hey calm down.” Natasha pushed herself off of the brunette, wincing slightly at the sheer force Wanda was using to pull her hair. She had never seen her so panicked, except for maybe in her office with Agatha, but even then, she hadn’t had a look of pure terror on her face.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.” Wanda shook her head, still grasping at the woman’s hair. She couldn’t see Nat anymore, instead being replaced by a head full of dark hair and anger. He was mad at her, beyond pissed that she had even entertained the idea of him going down on her.

“No, no, I’m sorry. Plea- I’m sorry!” She was absolutely petrified, unable to move as he slowly crept up her body. He was going to hurt her. Again. She couldn’t let that happen. She had the twins now. He couldn’t win again.

He didn’t say anything as he climbed towards her face and she almost thinks thats for the better. Thinks she would rather die than hear him say something about how much of a slut she is and how she didn’t deserve to be a mother. She was inclined to believe him. She squeezed her eyes shut as he got closer, yet she could still see him, still feel his rough hands against her body.

“Please don’t.” Wanda whispered, desperately trying to stop her tears. He hated when she cried. Said if she wanted to be a little bitch, she could go home. She didn’t have a home. She only had him. And he knew that too. Knew she had nowhere else to go and no one to turn to. And he would always use it against her.

His hands were wrapping around her throat before she could say anything, forcing her down against the bed. She gasped as her airway was cut off, her eyes popping open in surprise. She tried to take in a breath, struggling against him as she was unable to, shaking her head once again. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe and he was going to kill her. It sent another wave of panic through her body. Her boys. He was going to kill her and take her babies and-

“Wanda!” And she was pulled back to reality, gasping as cool water hit her face. She curled onto her side as she started coughing, arms curling around her stomach. A hand against her back had her flexing away from it, gasping through her coughs. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re okay, Wanda. It’s just me.”

“Nat?” Wanda blinked her eyes open, eyes trailing up the redhead’s body in slight confusion. What happened? She felt woozy, like she could throw up any second. Nat’s hand disappeared from her back, instead threading through her sweaty locks. She leaned into the touch.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart.” Natasha smiled sadly at her, brushing the wet hair out of her face. It vaguely occurred to her that her hair was a mix of sweat and cold water. It made her realize how cool her chest was all of a sudden, a stark contrast to how hot she had been moments earlier.

“Why am I wet?” Wanda murmured, delicately touching her forehead. Sure enough, as she pulled her hand away, droplets of water followed, dripping onto her chest. It pulled her attention down, registering the fact that she was very much naked. It was instantaneous how she curled around herself even tighter, wrapping her arms around her breasts and stomach.

“You were freaking out. Nothing was working so I went with water and well, you know what happened from there.” Natasha looked sheepish, her hand being removed once again in favor of placing a towel over the brunette, her free hand dragging the comforter over her body. First the water and now a towel. Where was she getting stuff? The bathroom, her tired mind supplied.

“Oh.” Wanda mumbled, her eyebrows furrowing. Natasha stood and walked towards the closet and Wanda had to suppress a whine, not wanting to be alone. The feeling of danger still rang through her head, a gross tightening still in her chest. It felt like he’d appear at any moment. That it wouldn’t be Nat coming out of the closet, it would be him. The thought made her shudder.

But the redhead was walking back into the room seconds later, a pile of fabric held in her hands. It sent a wave of relief through her body, her chest loosening just slightly. Natasha sat on the edge of the bed, holding the clothes in her lap. She wrung them out, briefly holding them in the air for Wanda to see before laying them out on the bed.

“Here, sit up.” Nat helped her up, letting Wanda keep her arm wrapped around her towel. A shirt was being pulled over her head, the redhead silently guiding one of her arms through the hole and then the other, pulling the top down over the towel and to the top of her comforter. A sweatshirt was guided onto her as well before the towel was pulled away, Wanda’s body remaining covered the entire time.

“Thank you.” Wanda spoke softly, a certain apprehensiveness to her tone. It was accompanied by a blush. She felt vulnerable and insecure, not even able to put clothes on herself. She wasn’t complaining about the fact that the clothes were Natasha’s, though, the scent of sandalwood and fabric softener washing over her.

“Lay back.” Nat didn’t react to her, instead urging her to lay down, one hand supporting her back while the other pushed her shoulder back. Wanda easily obliged, sighing softly. More clothes were held in front of her before being laid out, Nat waiting for her eyes to meet hers to talk. “Can I touch you to put these on? I won’t look.”

"Y-yeah.” Wanda swallowed thickly, nodding her head. She didn’t know how that was going to work, but she trusted Nat to figure it out. Before she could even try to think, the redhead was standing, flipping the comforter over her ankles. The sudden change in temperature had her shivering, a small smirk pulling at Natasha’s lips.

“Sorry, baby.” Nat pressed a kiss to her ankle, her breath hot against her cool skin. Wanda breathed a sigh through her lips, forcing herself to relax against her pillow. The thought made her blush. Her pillow on Nat’s bed. It made her heart swell. She hardly paid attention as the woman slid a pair of panties up her legs, barely touching her body. It made her heart swell even more. “Lift your hips, love.”

The term of endearment made her stomach flutter, though it clearly slipped past the woman’s lips without a second thought. That made it even hotter, if anything. She whined as she raised her hips off the bed, Nat sliding the garment past the curve of her ass and settling them on her hips. She carefully slid the tip of her fingers in the waistband, easily sliding them around her body to make sure it wasn’t twisted anywhere.

“You doing okay, baby?” Natasha was back by her face, gently pushing her hair back once again. It was so intensely intimate, the way that Nat didn’t hesitate to take care of her. Wanda loved it. Loved her. Holy shit. She loved Natasha. Truly, genuinely loved her. Fuck.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” Wanda tried to shake the thought away. If she hadn’t been so shaken up about what had just happened, she thinks she would’ve taken Nat on the spot. Not thinks, knows. Instead, she laid there in her daze, barely aware of the redhead’s hands on her body.

“Up.” She was lifting her hips without a second thought, the softness of the woman’s sweatpants comforting her even further. Nat made sure the elastic wasn’t twisted once again, pressing a kiss to her forehead before tugging a pair of socks over her feet. “Good job, sweetheart.”

Wanda keened at the praise. She pursed her lips, humming as Nat took the hint and pressed a kiss against them. She loved Natasha’s lips. Wanted to kiss them forever. The woman laid a multitude of kisses across her face, not stopping until she deemed the entirety of her face covered.

“Let’s get out of this wet spot, yeah?” Wanda had forgotten about the water and cringed. She hardly nodded before Nat was tugging her to sit up, easily maneuvering her across the bed and into her arms. Smooth, Wanda thought.

The brunette easily cuddled into her frame, sliding her head under the woman’s chin and wrapping an arm around her waist. Natasha held her close, pressing kisses along her forehead and brushing her hair. This is why you love her. Wanda’s heart leapt at the thought. They laid there for what seemed to be hours, decompressing after the unexpected.

“What happened?” And for what seemed like the upteenth time that day, Natasha wanted to know why she was so fucked up. Why she couldn’t go through her day like a normal person. Her tone was soft, though, like she expected Wanda to not answer.

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Her tone was just as soft, accompanied by confusion. It was the truth. She didn’t know what happened. Nat was kissing her one moment and the next… the next she was being choked by him. The thought sent shivers down her body and she curled into the redhead.

“Was it something I did?” Natasha pushed her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet. She was so genuinely concerned it made the brunette want to cry. Except, she had already cried enough that night and didn’t want to anymore. It was embarrassing. She knew it was because of how fucked up her hormones were, but it didn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No! No, I just…” Wanda trailed off, blushing as she didn't know what to say. It was hard to look away. They both wanted to know why she freaked out so suddenly. It had never happened before. Why now? She was tempted to leave it at that. To say she didn’t know and call it a day. She had an idea as to why though and was blurting it out before she could stop herself.

“He never-” Wanda cut herself off with a nervous giggle, her lips quivering. She knew Nat would never make fun of her for it, theoretically, at least, but she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about it. He had eaten her out once, and it didn’t even count because he was drunk and it was no more than a warm-up for him to sloppily fuck her before he passed out. It had been discovered early on that faking her orgasm was the only way she would get him off her case. He had declared the next time he was thrusting into her that neither of them had liked it and that it would be a waste of his time. Thus marking the first and last time Wanda had ever been eaten out.

“My ex never did… that because neither of us liked it and it doesn’t matter that I don’t like it, but I don’t want you to do it because you won’t like it, either.” Wanda covered her face as she spoke, muffling her already high-pitched and hurried words into something unintelligible.

“Woah, woah. Wanda, slow down.” Natasha reached to pull her hands away, gently holding the brunette's wrists between her own hands. Her face was flushed a bright red that traveled down her chest as her breath heaved, clearly embarrassed by the revelation.

“Hey.” Nat let go of one of her wrists, allowing it to drop onto her stomach in favor of brushing her hair out of her face, trailing her hand down her face to cup her cheek. Wanda could hardly see the woman with how glassy her vision had become, a new set of tears threatening to shed, no doubt.

“I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you didn’t like it and I’m sorry for not asking beforehand.” Natasha spoke softly, stroking her cheek as she did so. Wanda’s eyes traveled along her features, scanning for some sort of insincerity on her face, only to find none. It was both confusing and comforting. “As for me not liking it, well, let’s just say I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t like it either.”

Wanda laughed half heartedly at that. She sniffled as Nat brushed the pads of her thumbs under her eyes, swiping at imaginary tears. The brunette’s eyes fluttered shut, relaxing further into the woman’s hold. Her body felt like jelly, her brain working at a pace far faster than she was able to process in the moment.

Natasha didn’t say anything else, instead reaching to turn the TV on and pulling the comforter snuggly around them. It was a position they found themselves in often, mostly after sex, but also after a nice day or night where both of them are exhausted. It was nice. Being held in someone’s arms without any ulterior movement.

“I’m sorry I ruined the mood.” Wanda’s voice was quiet, spoken in that soft, timid timber she uses far too often in Nat’s opinion. Had they not been so close together, Nat thinks she wouldn’t have heard her. Natasha shook her head.

“You didn’t ruin the mood, love.” She spoke just as softly, letting the fleshy part of her palm near her thumb rest against her cheekbone. Wanda could hear that her heart was steady, nowhere near as fast as her own was beating. She thought of how a nurse had explained to her that that’s why her twins loved to be held, that they could feel her heart beating like they had when she was pregnant and it comforted them. She wondered if it was the same with adults.

“Okay.” Wanda whispered, sinking further against her chest. She felt safe. She hadn’t felt that in a long time. Maybe Nat could protect her. She’s not sure against what, but the thought warms her heart. It’s the last thing she thinks of before she falls asleep, just how much she loves the woman. Maybe she did need her after all.

#jane's fics #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat

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jreads · 2 years

Text

Unexpected Constellations (Part 03)

Rating: idek somewhere between PG-13 and M

Word Count: 3047

Warnings: Angst, Canon level violence, Mentions of blood, Foul Language, Din being hot

A/N: Sorry this took so long!!! I'm still not super happy with it but it's coming up on a week since I last uploaded so here. This part covers a bit of the time frame from the last two parts but SURPRISE! it's Din's POV! He's a hard character to write so I hope I did him justice! Please check the masterlist for tags. If you reblog you get a kiss. Also maybe comment if you want to get added to a tag list and I’ll figure that out for next time. 🧍‍♀️

6 hours earlier…

“If it has something to do with the mission, I should know.”

He cursed himself soundly after leaving you in the cockpit. What the hell was he thinking?

The Mandalorian had little to no experience in talking to women. Especially frighteningly gorgeous ones like you, who made him want to see the prettiest parts of the galaxy and tell jokes and laugh without restraint.

You were way out of his comfort zone.

And he had panicked just then, with the revelation that he wanted to know more about you: your past, what you did before you met him, and why a hologram of a crystal would so easily leech your skin of its stunning colour.

It wasn’t new to him, this feeling he harboured for you. Though it had started as something much less terrifying.

Desire was a concept Mando was familiar with. He had visited pleasure houses more than once to get the feeling out of his system, to allow himself to focus better. It had always seemed more of an annoyance or an inconvenience to him than anything else.

With you, it was all-consuming. You were like a flame given form, setting him alight with every brush past his shoulder or utterance of his name.

It had first started back on Sorgan, before the battle had even begun. You had been talking to him about strategy and casually leaned forward to fix the lay of the belt over his chest plate. It had seemed like a natural movement for you but fuck… it did something to him.

It was so much worse during the battle, when he had scanned the swamp to watch you masterfully using his pulse rifle, brow furrowing in concentration. And then finally when you had thrown it back to him, waded knee deep into the water and lifted your hands.

He had seen Grogu do the wizarding thing before, but the child always seemed to look pained, like he struggled with it. With you, it looked… euphoric.

You were an enigma, as were his feelings toward you. So when you asked him, rather shyly, if he might need an extra pair of hands on board or someone else to help protect the kid, he had felt… scared? Relieved? Worried? Confused? Could wizards read minds?

Since then, there had been a liveliness to the Razor Crest that he had never seen before. Laughter, leaking through the closed cockpit doors as you played with the kid down below. Chatter, more talking than he had done in years, so much so that it often left him hoarse the next day. Smiling, though you’d never know it, was a frequent occurrence now, a secret of his kept safe under the helmet.

He wished he could say that the change happened slowly… but that would be a lie. He didn’t fall for you over time; it had barreled through him like a ship through hyperspace.

Grogu had formed a fast attachment to you as well. You two were playful around each other, and the ability to communicate mind-to-mind with him meant that the two of you were mischievous, often ganging up on him or playing jokes.

You would smack fat kisses to the top of his head and he would giggle, such a strange, joyous sound. It would have you laughing along with him in seconds.

Mando loved the sound of your laugh. He loved the sound of your voice.

One night, soon after Grogu had been taken by the Jedi, the two of you had lain side by side on a grassy knoll under the stars, on some planet he couldn’t even remember the name of. He remembered being so worried that, now that the kid was back with his own kind, you would have fulfilled your purpose and you would leave him behind.

He would have given any part of himself to get you to stay. But that night, under the clear sky, he gave you his name.

His full name.

And when you repeated it back to him, the syllables rolling effortlessly off your tongue, it almost undid him.

By some stroke of luck—or maybe you read his mind again—you had decided to stay. And he was so grateful for it, as he had realized that he couldn’t imagine what a life for him might look like without the kid, and without you.

He’d never tell you any of this. Behind the exterior of cold beskar, he worried that you wouldn’t feel the same, and it would drive you away from him. He’d much rather live a life like this with you, never drawing closer, than risk losing you forever.

So he had kept his thoughts to himself today and snapped that shield back into place. He had stalked back into the engine room. He couldn’t face you again today so he would hide here, and toggle around with some loose wires in the left wall panel. And wallow in self-pity.

An hour went by. He had managed to fix a light indicator for one of the engines. Very important. The ship was set to exit hyperspace in a few more hours, so it was probably best to get some sleep while he still could. The next few days would likely be chaotic.

He exited the engine room and scaled the ladder back down into the hull. He tried not to dwell too much on the mission before him, on the unknown figure who had hired him and the value of the bounty. He didn’t like to ask questions about his work. The one time he did, he ended up being chased relentlessly across the galaxy. He ignored the nagging part of his mind that suggested that that same questioning had brought him two priceless companions and experiences he never thought he’d have.

He was quiet as he made his way across the floor. The door to the sleeping nook was still open, and he could just barely make out the outline of your legs through the visor.

So carefully, he removed his belt and armour and stacked them against the wall. Truthfully, he was exhausted, fatigue from the last bounty and stress from the near miss on Nevarro catching up with him.

Easing onto the blankets, he settled into a light sleep.

And woke to a guttural cry.

Up in a second, the night vision in his visor helped to identify the origin of the sound.

You must have thrashed about in your sleep, for the sheets were in a state of disarray and you were heaving… big, uneven breaths that racked your body. Grogu was awake, leaning over the side of his hammock, a sad expression painting his face.

He was to you within seconds, another pained sob bouncing off the walls of the alcove. From here he could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead. You were dreaming.

The kid looked to Mando then, an insistent sound coming from him. He needed to wake you.

Slowly, carefully, he placed a hand over your ankle, squeezing firmly. You didn’t stir. He squeezed again

“Come on, wake up.”

He didn’t expect the speed at which you shot from the mattress.

He also didn’t expect his airways to suddenly close. Completely.

He gasped… and failed to draw in breath.

You were staring at him with undiluted fear, fear and then horror, pure horror as he choked again.

And then you were scrambling away—so at odds with the usual fluidity of your motion—until your back hit the wall with a horrible thud. He reached out on instinct to try to steady you, only then realizing that he was able to breathe again. He savoured the stale air of his helmet for barely a moment before assessing you.

You were cowered in the corner, face pressed into your hands, shaking so hard he thought you might fall apart. An unfamiliar emotion speared through him, sharp and hot.

Before he was even fully aware of his actions he leaned in, so slowly, as to not startle you. You didn’t look up. You were muttering apologies under your breath, like a prayer.

It was jarring for him, seeing you like this. You were always smiling, effervescent, quiet and somber at times but… never like this.

He reached for your hands, body moving of its own accord. If he could just see your face, maybe he could… what?

Comfort you?

He didn’t know how to do that. He had never been taught. His hand stilled.

He regarded you again. Your breathing seemed to be evening out and yet you had sunk into yourself. The tensing of your body had been replaced with a feeling akin to defeat. Still you wheezed your apology.

Something in him strained.

“Look at me.” He meant to sound assertive, but his voiced came out rough, all wrong. Astonishingly, you listened anyway.

Your eyes were haunted. And yet you looked at him like he was the centre of the galaxy. Like your world began and ended with him. Had he not been braced on the edge of the mattress, the force of it may have blown him over. There was a track of glistening wet trailing down your cheek.

How he yearned to brush it away.

You didn’t say a word to him, and he wasn’t going to make you. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you alone either.

Making up his mind, it took him only a moment to climb the rest of the way into the alcove and shuffle ungracefully into place beside you. He was hyperaware of each point of contact between the two of you, felt them like light electric pulses.

He noticed then that Grogu was crying, faintly. You apologized again, your voice only slightly more stable this time.

What the hell were you apologizing for? Mando was fine, the brief shock of the attack long since buried and replaced with something new. It was you who was sitting beside him, curled into a ball smaller than he ever would have thought possible for a human being and trembling so hard it’s a wonder your teeth weren’t chattering.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” It was true.

You said nothing.

He knew what trauma looked like. He had suffered his fair share of it as well. He recognized the way you pushed it down, crammed it into the smallest darkest part of you, filled yourself with something else so it would have no room to stay anymore. He had tried the very same tactic. It never worked.

You had told him nothing about your history and he had been content to leave it that way… until tonight.

“Tell me everything.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the mission, I promise.” Farrik, he was such an asshole. He knew you’d pick up on that comment the second the cockpit door shut behind him.

“I don’t care about the damn mission. Tell me everything.” He hoped you’d get it this time. The meaning behind that sentence. He hoped you’d put the pieces together eventually.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Your voice broke. Fuck, this girl who’d been holding him together for longer than he cared to admit was on the verge of crying in the dark and he hadn’t the faintest idea why.

“Start from the beginning.” When you shakily inhaled to speak, he realized he had absolutely no idea what he expected.

But it certainly wasn’t that.

He allowed himself to dwell on it now, seated alone in a booth lining the wall of some backwater Mos Eisley cantina. He wished for the luxury of being able to have a drink, if only to wash away the feeling in the back of his mind, the nagging idea that when he got back to Peli Motto’s landing bay… you might not be there.

He had landed the ship on muscle memory alone. The truth was his mind had been thoroughly distracted since you had told him the truth about your past. Your close ties with the Empire and the Emperor himself had startled him, but not scared him.

He knew who you were. Perhaps better than anyone else in the galaxy.

You were reserved at first, with a sense of humour that took a while to show. You smiled easily, unrestrained, which was a wonder considering all you had been through. You loved even easier, and he saw it clear as day when you looked at the kid. There may have been a dark side to you, one he had caught glimpses of when you fought alongside him, but how was that any different from himself? How were you any different from him?

He had also spent days and nights worrying over the danger you’d be in if you travelled with him. There was a target constantly on his back and when you had chosen to accompany him and Grogu, by default it had been transferred to you too.

He had considered it, forcing you to part ways with him, sending you somewhere, anywhere, if it meant you were safe. The only difference was he was too selfish to do it.

He had left soon after the ship landed to weave through town, hoping to pick up bits of chatter. But also because he wanted to give you space.

Actually no, he didn’t want to give you space. He wanted you so damn close that he could feel you through the beskar. But you hadn’t ever been given a choice in your life. He wasn’t going to be the one to force you to do anything.

So he left earlier than he had planned, to give you time if you needed it. To pack a bag and say goodbye to the kid. You didn’t owe him an explanation.

Some part of his brain sparked incessantly. At the idea that he hadn’t told you he wanted you to stay. That you didn’t realize just how much him and the kid relied on you.

That maybe… maybe you thought he wanted you to go.

He didn’t notice the hunters until they were sat across from him in the booth. Until the unmistakable tip of a blaster nudged the side of his thigh under the table.

Fuck.

Two Trandoshans, scales reflecting under the dim cantina lights, armed to the teeth. He should have seen it coming.

The one on the left spoke first, his voice a low hiss. “We heard through the grapevine you might come sniffin’ here.” Mando stayed still as death, mind running through a million different possibilities. The gun against his leg was the most pressing matter. If he were to angle his knee down just enough, any blast could deflect off the beskar plate on his thigh.

The lizard kept talking. “We just missed you on Nevarro, but it’s all good.” He tipped the remainder of his drink back and slammed it down on the table. “Here’s the plan, you tell us what you know about the bounty, and we might conveniently miss any important organs. Got it?” His friend chuckled, the blaster shifting slightly.

Still, Din said nothing. Just stared the two of them down. He had come across this pair once or twice before when doing business with the Guild. They were ruthless, bloodthirsty, but untrained. If he could just…

“Or, if you insist on stayin’ quiet, we’ll kill you, get our information elsewhere and take that pretty little prize of yours from your ship as a deal sweetener.”

He moved.

His knee came up, smashing the second Trandoshan’s wrist against the underside of the table. The blaster shot went wide. He heard a crunch. The first was already up, drawing knives.

But he was faster. The table was overturned in a second, nearly crushing the second one as he cradled a limp hand. The first started throwing his blades.

It was a stupid tactic. Most bounced harmlessly off his armour. He caught one midair, twirling it expertly before sending it back.

The lizard had started backing away, almost tripping over his partner, as if realizing his attack attempts were futile. He managed to haul the other one up, just in time for the returned knife to imbed itself just above his beltline. He was dead weight.

The other Trandoshan knew it. He dropped the body before taking two steps back. He turned tail… and ran.

Cursing slightly, Mando stalked after him, but not before slamming a pile of credits down on the bar.

“For the dead men’s drinks.” He explained. The barkeep looked pale.

Outside, both of the suns were beginning to set. The sandy alley beside the cantina was relatively quiet, but he could hear chatter in the distance. The hunter was nowhere to be seen.

He activated the tracker on his visor, watching thermal footprints branch away from the cantina… and then back towards it.

He twisted, following the prints around the side and… up.

He lifted his gaze just in time to see the hunter leap from the domed roof of the cantina. He caught Mando around the neck, sending them both tumbling to the floor. A blast of pain razed across his side, in between the gaps of his armour. He barely perceived it.

Up within a second, he spun to face the Trandoshan. It was crouched, one remaining blade in its scaled hand, blood dripping from its edge. And then it was lunging toward him, swiping, slashing. The blade connected with his armour in a flash of sparks.

He caught the lizard around the wrist, squeezing until the blade dropped into the sand. His other hand went to the throat. And then his was lifting, until the hunter’s feet dangled just off the ground. It wheezed.

He moved until he had slammed the lizard back against the wall of a neighboring building. Only when it started thrashing did he finally throw it to the ground.

It had the audacity to beg. “Please… no, we- we won’t get in your way.” Mando reached to his belt, to the now familiar weight at his side. The darksaber ignited smoothly.

Serpentine eyes went wide. Before he could utter another word, the Mandalorian brought the blade down.

As always, he struck true.

#din dijarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din darjin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #sw the mandalorian #star wars #mando x reader #mando x y/n #sw tbobf #the mandalorian #my fic #jreadswrites #unexpected constellations

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moonlit-imagines · 4 years

Text

Misbehavior (Part 1)

Jason Todd x batkid!reader

warnings:

a/n: tysm anon!!

prompt: anonymous: “Hello Lacey! Hope your doing great! Could I please request a bat family x batsis!reader where the reader is Kind of the middle child (I was thinking older than Damian but younger than Tim) and she’s always forgotten and in the back. Maybe some scenarios can be that no one listens when she talks or they forget to invite her to do stuff. So then one day she acts up in school like maybe punching someone for no good reason because she’s craving attention but instead of Bruce showing up to get her Jason shows up and he sees that she’s actually really sad and starts to question her until she tells him everything and maybe spills some tears and it ends with just Jason comforting her and cheering her up. Just some soft Jason for my soul! Also have a great day and I hope that you feel better and more motivated now after your break! 😘”

part 2

No matter what you did, none of your deeds went unnoticed. Good or bad.

You always heard how Dick was so independent, the one everyone should use as an example.

You always heard how Barbara could do it all, she never failed to impress.

You always heard how Jason was reckless, someone who needed to get his act together.

You always heard how Tim was such a prodigy, he was one of a kind.

You always heard how Steph was so determined, she had such amazing goals.

You always heard that Cass was perfect, they’d never change a thing about her.

You always heard that Duke was so strong, he’d never give up no matter what stood in his way.

You always heard that Damian was dangerous, a kid that needed to be guided.

But what about you? What did they hear about you? Nothing. No one ever spoke of you, they didn’t have the time. It seemed as if you were just unimpressive, there wasn’t one thing that needed to be mentioned. Stuck in the middle of a bunch of bats and birds, no way to stand out in the crowd.

Maybe not in a mask or a cowl, a dress or a suit, behind a computer or among the darkness, but there was one place you couldn’t be ignored...

You sat at your desk, picking at old tape with the tip of your fingernail. The teacher had nothing interesting to say, so what was the point of being here? What made Gotham Academy so special that you just had to attend this place?

The uniform was overkill, the classes went nowhere, the students were too preppy, and you didn’t have a single thing in common with anyone here.

Anger was starting to bubble inside you as you continued your internal self-loathing. Your mind was only focused on the negative, but it was shifting from school back to home.

No one was ever there for you, not even on patrol. You’d called for backup several times on missions and nearly lost it all when you had to go in alone. If it were anyone else, a teammate would have met them in a heartbeat.

Your plans were always overshadowed whenever you tried to set up a mission or even just a day off. You wanted cookies? Too bad, Tim wants brownies. You wanted to watch a movie? Too bad, everyone chose a TV show. It was the little things that irked you the most. Half the time, you never even got the memo.

And what about when you all come back from patrol with all sorts of injuries and Alfred comes to patch you up? Well, not you. He’ll run to check on cuts and scrapes. Meanwhile, you had a broken wrist and a black eye.

You’d finally run out of things to pick at around your desk which resorted in you tapping instead. There was a brief bit of zoning out as you remembered the time that Damian’s plan for evading Killer Croc’s attack was to push you in the way. Or the time that Jason hid his guns in your bed for reasons he didn’t care to explain. Or when Dick drank the last of the milk and didn’t tell you until after you poured your cereal. Or when Tim told you that you weren’t fit for the mission he had been planning. Or when Bruce blatantly ignored the story you told out of pure excitement, giving you nothing but a “sounds like you had fun.”

While you were in a horrible daze, you felt a hand on your shoulder that snapped you out of it faster than the Barry Allen. Without even evaluating the situation, your reflexes caused you to turn and twist your classmates arm backwards as he screamed.

“Hey! Stop, ow, that hurts! Stop! Stop it!” You processed his words too late and knew exactly what was coming next.

“Y/N L/N!” You teacher shouted as you drew your hand back. “Dean’s office. Right now.” Her sharp voice sent a chill down your spine, not even the Joker could do that. You’d be able to explain the situation pretty easily, you just didn’t want to make it worse. But there was one ankle that sent you off the edge. Another student tripped you on your way through the aisles, and that student caught a fist to the face. The audience gasped and shouting from your teacher ensued, but you didn’t listen, you’d take the punishment at this point. So you walked right out and headed for the dean’s office without so much as a hall pass.

“Mx. l/n? What’s this about?” Dean Williams was surprised to say the least, you’d never been sent in for discipline before. Was there a certain way to do this?

“Well, I zoned out and some kid behind me grabbed my shoulder, I accidentally twisted his arm.” You retold your story, the abridged version. “But on my way out I punched a kid in the face because he tripped me. That one’s on me.”

“...Well,” the dean frowned at his obligations, but had to go through with some kind of punishment, “I’m going to have to suspend you for physical contact with a student. I’ll call your father to come pick you up.” You shrugged and slouched back in your chair, giving up on any hope of talking your way out of this. It might as well just happen. You listened to the clicking of the buttons on the dean’s phone as he typed in the Wayne Manor phone number, obviously reaching Alfred almost immediately.

“Wayne Manor.” You eard his faint voice through the speaker.

“Hello, this is Dean Williams from Gotham Academy, may I speak to Mr. Wayne? I have his child in my office.” Your dean explained over the phone, peeking back at your for a split second. You were completely unbothered, it was baffling.

“Is it Damian?” You heard him ask, causing an involuntary eye roll.

“Y/N, actually.” There was a long pause before someone else picked up the phone. “Mr. Wayne, this is Dean Williams at Gotham Academy. I have y/n sitting across from me right now, they seemed to have gotten themself into a physical altercation with two separate students, I have no choice but to suspend them.” You heard a deep sigh over the phone, then the handheld piece was handed to you.

“Bruce?” You asked.

“Really? Fighting at school?” He sounded unimpressed. Nothing new, even when you do something new.

“Something like that. Whoops.” He hung up on you right after that, so you handed the phone back and told your dean, “Guess they’ll get me soon.”

“You call your father by his first name?” Dean Williams had nosily questioned.

“I’m adopted.” He obviously didn’t know you as well as your more troublesome sibling, it was time he just minded his business.

After a good thirty minutes of silent waiting while listening to keyboard clacking and papers flipping by the front desk, the office door opened, and to your surprise, it was one of your brothers.

“I’m here for y/n.” He mumbled, signing the piece of paper and showing his ID.

“Alright, Mr. Harper, I just have to check some paperwork really quick...” The receptionist went into your file and checked for your emergency contacts. “You’re all set. Now, y/n has been suspended for two weeks. I suggest you get to the bottom of their little ‘outburst’ before they’re able to come back to school.” It actually pissed Jason off to hear her say that.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His sarcasm wasn’t subtle. “Come on, kid.” Your brother gripped your arm and led you out of the office, noticing your bitter expression that he couldn’t even rationalize. Was that normal? “So what happened. Bruce just told me to come get you.”

“Of course he did.” You rolled your eyes on the brink of tears, he didn’t even come to get you himself. Jason opened the car door for you and nudged you inside, slamming it once you were clear.

“You better have a good reason,” he warned as he started the engine, “I was in the middle of a poker game.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘cause I’m such an inconvenience.” You were starting to remind him of himself. That was never a good thing.

“Okay, my bad. I didn’t mean it like that.” Jason began speeding down the block, you’d never once seen him obey a speed limit. You’d think someone with a fake ID and a death certificate would want to avoid any run-ins with the cops, but Gotham was just one of those cities.

“Yeah, right.” You reached for the radio knobs and felt Jason’s hand wrap around your wrist.

“No music until you explain yourself.” You fell back into your seat to pout, muttering some curses under your breath. “I won’t tell Bruce or anyone. I swear.”

“I just zoned out. Reflexes.” You bluntly replied.

“What?” He still didn’t have any context to go off of.

“I twisted someone’s arm backwards. Honest mistake.” Jason knew there was more to this story. “But on my way out of the classroom, I punched this kid who tried to trip me. That was on him.”

“As much as I condone payback, you can’t do that at school.” He sighed. “You’ve never been sent home before. That I know of. So why now?”

“Yeah, you know, maybe that’s the issue? You couldn’t tell me if I’ve ever gotten in trouble before. None of you could. You couldn’t tell me a definitive thing about me. When’s my birthday, Jason?” He was at a loss for words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So this was all for attention?” Jason asked. “There’s a hell of a lot of better ways to go about that.”

“Tried them all, this one barely even worked.” You replied with a crack in your voice. “How come none of you care about me? Why am I always looked over? I’m just like the rest of you. I put on that stupid suit every night and kick ass, I get my job done, I get good grades, I’m resourceful, I’m special—” You’d let that last one slip in your rant to your older brother, it shocked him so bad he stopped the car.

“I know what you mean.” Jason stared straight ahead at the empty road. “I felt the same way when I came back. After everyone was used to me being back, it was like nothing ever happened. Bruce just went back to calling me careless, irresponsible.”

“At least you get noticed, Jason. Your identifiable.” You turned to him with a pained look and he risked his confidence to look you in the eye. Once he did, he couldn’t look away. It hurt him to see someone so familiar to himself have tears running down their face because they felt forgotten. No kid should ever have to feel like that. That was why Bruce took him in. That was how Jason became Robin.

“Fuck this.” Jason hit the gas and turned the car around. “We’re getting ice cream. Do you like ice cream? That’s a serious question.”

“I...I guess.” You were somewhat confused by his sudden literal change in direction.

“Good. You’re my kid for today, all my attention goes to you. I’m sure Bruce won’t notice if you’re gone for a few hours.” Jason’s jaw dropped at his last comment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right and you should say it.”

taglist: @thatwaspossession // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @kinoko-kai //

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Note

hello, excuse me if this makes you uncomfortable but my birthday is September 14 and I have very few friends and therefore I did not receive congratulations or gifts, could I please ask for something with drarry and scorbus? something like Harry and his children living in the manor anda Lucius and Narcissa still alive, I know it's out of your comfort zone and if you can't or don't want to then sorry for the inconvenience🥺😖

Scorbus

Hello friends, First thing- Happy birthday to the nonnie who requested this. Second thing- Yes! For your birthday and for the other lovelies who have requested Scorbus, I will write one (1) Scorbus fic. I will do my best but I've got to be honest- I don't have any real feelings about Scorbus (I don't read much of it and didn't enjoy The Cursed Child). So we'll have to see how it turns out.

cw: talks about hospice care and future death (not of a main character- we're talking about Lucius, no death will take place in the fic) without further ado, here's the best take I can give you. <3

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

"But Daaad," Albus whined, "I don't want to go!"

"I know, bud," Harry replied, instantly regretting calling his 15-year-old 'bud', as he helped Lily find her bag.

James came in and flopped on Albus' bed, "It's just because he-"

"Shut up!" Albus shrieked, pouncing on him and smothering him with a pillow.

"Boys-" Harry started even as the boys started screaming and wrestling and Lily started to cry about not being able to find something. "Enough!" he shouted, casting a shield charm between the boys. "All of you," he said, "Let's just take a breath."

"But-" multiple voices rang out.

"No buts," he interrupted. "Deep breaths. Right now."

(Read more below the cut)

Everyone glared at him but at least they stopped talking.

"Okay," he said, "James, please stop intentionally trying to bother your brother."

Albus stuck his tongue out at him.

"Al, please finish packing. Lily, your straightener is in the bathroom under the sink."

They let out a collective groan.

"Look guys," he said. "I know. I know it's hard when I have to go to work. I know being in a house where someone is about to die is difficult. But Draco is a good friend and if I can help Lucius pass on, I need to do it. Okay?"

All of his children nodded sullenly.

"Besides," he added, "The manor is huge. You won't even have to see Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy. And," he said, smiling at Albus, "Scorpius will be there. I'm sure he'll be glad to have a friend, yeah?"

Albus rolled his eyes and just muttered, "Can you get out so I can pack, please?"

With a sigh, Harry nodded and left, thinking for the thousandth time that single parenting was really fucking hard.

---------

He hadn't expected this to be his life. Harry had expected that he'd join the aurors or that he'd go on to be a quidditch player.

Working as a hospice care healer had never been in the plans. But there was no denying that he was good at it; he wasn't grossed out by all of the ways that bodies failed as a person began the process of dying. He didn't mind the late nights and early mornings. He actually usually enjoyed listening to stories from his patient as they reflected on their lives. And death didn't bother him. He'd spent nearly twenty years in this profession, he was good at his job, and he liked it.

Still, as he stood looking at the Manor, nerves that he hadn't felt in years settled in. He couldn't be sure if it was because the Manor still gave him the creeps all these years later, if it was because it was Lucius Malfoy and they'd never had the best of relationships, if it was because he was anxious about how Draco would handle his father's death, or something else entirely.

"Let's go," Albus snapped, impatient and anxious.

He nodded once and stepped up onto the top step and rang the door bell.

Draco opened the door, looking exhausted.

"Hey," Harry said softly, aching to hold him, to take him into his arms and hide him away from the rest of the world and all that was happening to him.

But they didn't do that. Not in public, not where anyone could see them including their families. Maybe especially their families. "Hi," Draco replied and Harry knew he was wishing for the same thing. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," he said because there hadn't really ever been a choice. He loved Draco and he would do anything that would help make this easier. "Let me just get these guys settled in and I'll check in with your dad, okay?"

He nodded, "I have you guys set up in the West wing," he said as he started inside, "I know this is probably not the way you were hoping to spend your summer hols-" Draco started.

"It's okay," Lily said, falling into step beside Draco. "I'm sorry about your dad," she added.

"Thank you," he replied.

And Harry smiled, if nothing else, he and Ginny still agreed it was important to raise their kids to practice kindness.

-----------

It was a long day. The first day at a new job almost always was, lots of intake paperwork, lots of working to make sure they had all their doses right in order to keep their patient comfortable, and inevitably lots of input from the patient's family.

By the time Harry had gotten everything set up and diagnostic spells and alerts in place, Lucius was sleeping comfortably in the hospice bed, Narcissa on the cot beside him.

Only Draco remained awake, watching Harry work from the sofa in the corner.

When he finished he nodded to the door and Draco followed him out. "You okay?" he asked softly once the door closed.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" he whispered.

"Yeah, love," he replied, giving Draco's hand a quick squeeze. "Of course."

Draco nodded once and led the way through the halls to a different wing entirely. He opened the last door on the left and let Harry in first.

Harry looked around curiously. He'd obviously seen Draco's room in his own home but not the room he occupied when he stayed at the Manor.

"It's actually not the room I stayed in as a child," Draco informed him as he made his way to the drawers to pull out two pairs of pajamas. "It gave me nightmares," he said, "after everything in this awful house."

He hummed, "It must be hard," he said gently, slipping into the comfortable clothes Draco had tossed him. "A lot of trauma wrapped up in an already challenging event." He folded down the covers and climbed in, making a space for Draco so he could curl up in front of him.

"Harry?" he asked once he'd settled back against him and pulled Harry's arm snug around his waist.

He hummed, pressing a kiss to the smooth, soft skin of Draco's neck.

"Do you think you might want to tell our families about us?"

Harry froze, "Do you think you might want to tell our families?" he asked.

"I asked first."

"Personally," Harry said, "Yes. I would like that. I don't like keeping things from my kids and you're," he swallowed. It was silly to be nervous, he'd said this before, but he couldn't help the surge of adrenaline. "I love you, Draco. You're important to me. But the real question is do you want to tell them? You dad-"

"My father is a bigoted arse," he snapped. "And yes he is dying but Harry you make me so happy and I just," he sighed. "I don't want to keep it a secret anymore. If he hates it, he hates it but I don't want him to go from this life thinking that he got to control mine."

Harry didn't quite know what to say.

"I'm awful. I know. I-"

"Draco," he said, squeezing him a little tighter, "I wasn't judging you. I don't think you're awful. Grief and death affect us all differently. If that's what you want, let's do it."

"Let's tell our kids first."

--------

Harry called a family meeting the next day after he'd check on Lucius and they'd done a bit of exercise and gone for a walk.

In retrospect, this might not have been the best thing to call it. Family meeting had never had the best associations and the last one they'd had was to tell the kids that he and Ginny were getting a divorce.

His kids were cagey, Scorpius was withdrawn, and Draco was honestly a bit erratic.

"Okay," he said, smiling at the room, only Lily smiled back. "So we," he said pointing back and forth between him and Draco, "have some news."

"Oh Salazar, please no," Albus whispered.

Harry gave him the look the one every parent had perfected by the time their child was three. "It's good news," Harry said.

"We're together," Draco blurted.

James barely looked up from his book as he said, "Called it."

Lily said "Like together-together?"

And Albus promptly burst into tears, fleeing the room.

"Albus!" Scorpius shouted, jumping up and chasing after him.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. "Maybe he thought that Ginny and I would get back together someday?"

James rolled his eyes, "That's not it. He and Scorpius are like," he waved a careless hand, "a thing."

Draco's eyes widened.

"Oh," Harry said. "And no one could have said something about this before?"

James shrugged, turning the page, "I tried to say something yesterday and you told me to shut up."

"I did not use those words," Harry said.

"Yeah, but that's what you meant."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, he was careful about his words, never wanting his kids to feel like they were unloved and unheard.

"It's fine, dad," James said, waving him off, "You should talk to Albus."

He was right, they really did need to talk to Albus and Scorpius.

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

When they found them, Al and Scorpius were sitting together on one of the swings and Al was still crying.

"Alright," Harry said, transfiguring a couple of sticks into chairs. "Let's talk about this."

"You're the worst," Albus shouted at him. "It's like you're intentionally trying to ruin my life without even knowing you're doing it."

It took everything in Harry not to point out the fallacy in that logic. Draco, too, if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by. "Could you tell me more about why you feel that way?" Harry asked, gently squeezing Draco's thigh.

"Because he thinks you're going to ask us to break up," Scorpius said, biting his bottom lip.

"And even if you don't, everyone's going to think it's weird," Albus said, a hiccoughing sob escaping.

"Think what's weird?" Draco asked.

"If you guys are dating and we're dating," Scorpius said.

Harry nodded, "I think I understand," he said. "But honestly, guys, we're not going to ask you to stop dating and it doesn't really matter what other people think."

"Easy for you to say," Albus sniffled, "You're Harry Potter. Everyone already loves you."

"I agree with you dad," Draco said, "other people's opinions are irrelevant. It's not as though you were raised together or anything like that."

"Well everyone already hates you anyway," Albus snapped, "So why would it matter?"

"Albus," Harry warned, "Apologize."

"No, it's alright," Draco said. "I used to be a lot like you, you know," he said. "I used to really care about what other people thought and how they felt."

"What changed?" Scorpius asked curiously.

"Your mum, actually," he said, with a little smile. "She helped me to look at myself and see who I really was, not the person that people believe me to be. She helped me to recognize that other people didn't define me, I did." He shrugged, "At the end of the day, if I chose to listen to them I was still the one defining myself that way."

"That," Albus started, wiping his nose on the back of his hand, "Makes sense."

"Good," Draco said, nodding once.

Harry squeezed his hand, "Right, well, congratulations, you two. Please be sure if you decide to make things physical you talk to one of us about protection spe-"

"Dad!" Albus shrieked, covering his ears. "Shut up! Shut up! Merlin save me."

Draco laughed, attempting to stifle it with a cough and failing in Harry's opinion.

"I'm just saying," Harry said, holding up his hands in defeat. "We should probably have this conversation at some point."

Albus shook his head and Scorpius had turned as red as a beet.

"Well. I'm off, then. Back to work," Harry replied.

Draco took his hand, "I'll walk you," he offered and they headed back to the house.

"Well," Harry said, once they were a good distance away. "That was unexpected."

"Was it, though?" Draco asked. "The way Scorp talks about Albus," he trailed off. "Well, let's just say he reminded me a little too much of me at that age."

"Had a crush on me that long have you?"

He laughed, "Longer. My father was just too bigoted to take my ramblings for what they really were."

Harry leaned over and pecked his cheek, "Well, I after that, I think that telling your parents will be a piece of cake."

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

See the rest of my drabbles here

#100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry #scorbus #sorry i did my best friends but i don't know that i did a very good job to be honest #love #hospice mentioned #lucius is dying #I feel like this is a mess #drarry ficlet #drarry fics

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jawllines · 4 years

Text

He’s too far in thought, he realizes, when Ellie comes and waves her hand in his face, “Are you okay?” She asks quietly, eyes wide as saucers, “Maisey said you look like her aunt when she zones out and she’s depressed.”

Harry huffs out a laugh, one that expels the air from his lungs as he nods, “Yes, Ellie, I’m okay. What’ve you painted, hm? Can I see it?” She grins, her cheeks pudgy and rosy as she runs back to her seat and picks up the canvas she’d been working on. It’s a sun and a moon, both with rather cryptic looking faces on them, and Harry had never so perfectly had to manage his poker face, “Whoa!”

“I think that might just be the coolest thing I’ve seen in my entire life,” Y/N appears behind him, Oliver more or less clung to her pant leg as she’s reaching over his body to set a box of juice down on the oak table for him to disperse among his campers, while holding her hand out for the canvas, “May I see it, Miss. Ellie Bellie?”

Ellie smiles shyly at her — she always got so shy around Y/N, but never in the way where you would think she’s nervous. No, she gets shy the way you might when meeting an older sibling’s friend and wanting to desperately try to impress them. Harry knew as much, considering he would attempt to perform for each and every single one of his sister’s friends growing up (and each time, Gemma would make a few colorful threats to deter him). No matter how quiet Ellie gets with her though, she’s always the first to ask if they got to play with Y/N that day.

Harry still doesn’t like the other camp counsellors but Y/N’s an exception

part 1

(tw: mentions of suicide)

ii.

Psst.

Harry was typically a heavy sleeper. When he was younger his mum used to joke that he could sleep through an earthquake-induced tsunami if someone allowed him to. An alarm would have to be pretty loud to stir him from his slumber, and unless he was on edge, a mere call of his name would not drag him from whatever dreamland he’d submerged himself within.

Psst.

There had only been two things before that could notably wake him. His mum, who was the sweetest person on this planet yet managed to be the cruelest being on earth when he needed to be up for something, and his childhood cat Molly, who sits on his chest and makes it hard to breathe (which, from what he’s learned, encourages his brain to panic and wake him up so he could fix it). Other than that, he was blissfully unaware of the world for hours at a time.

Yet, there was something stirring him now. A low sound that puzzles him as he toes the line between consciousness and his dreams, aware of the blankets that cover him but still dancing on a stage with his limbs thrashing wildly and people shouting his name.

Psst.

Was it an insect? Maybe he was performing outside then -- a crowd of thousands in an outdoor field to see him for... .what was it that he did again?

Psst.

Oh, he’s dreaming, isn’t he? How deep in his dream is he? He thinks this is the first time he’s ever been asleep and realized that he was asleep...he could probably conjure something up, right? Manifest something that he’s always wanted, try his hand in lucid dreaming. If only he could focus apart from the insect zipping past his eardrum.

Harry, please wake up, we’re being haunted -- or murdered, or something.

Harry’s eyelids flutter like swallowtail wings, his gaze blurry and unfocused as he comes to. He’s confused, piecing together the puzzle that always presents to him when he’s just woken up and has to readjust to the world around him. The whole process of it took nothing more than 10 seconds, maybe 15 if he’s really out of it, but that’s only because thoughts run through his mind at a hundred miles a minute.

What time is it? The room around him his pitch-black apart from a very small amount of light illuminating beneath the curtain covering the window he’s beneath, so it couldn’t be morning. Potentially early morning, but he would say that would be 3-4 AM. Did he need to be up? He didn’t think so, actually, because there’s no alarm buzzing him awake and as far as he’s concerned, he hadn’t signed up for any early morning shifts at the bookstore as of late. The last time he went in at 5 to open up shop while the owner was on vacation and Harry was more or less ran down by a mother raccoon when he’d stumbled upon her babies after getting out of his car -- Harry had been reluctant to go before sunrise since.

Where was he? He knows he’s not at home, that’s for sure. The sheets smell like him but not him enough to be at his own place -- and the bedding isn’t as soft either. He knows he hasn’t passed out at someone’s house because he only does that if the person is close enough to him that he would recognize their scent, or if he was too drunk to get home, but that was usually accompanied by a wicked headache and a sour stomach. No, where he was smelled like wood and generic fabric softener. There was an air conditioning unit that rattled and rumbled from where it was fixed to the wall, he felt a tension in his neck that he only experienced at one place and, yeah, he was at the camp.

He was at camp, in a cabin with Y/N, who slept with the lamp on because she hated the dark, was the owner of the voice that had woken him up in the inky black room.

“Hm?” He hums, brows pinching as he lets his eyes shut again, only to open them a few seconds later, “Wha’s wrong? Why is your light off?”

“I don’t know,” her voice is still just a bit over a whisper, and Harry wonders why she doesn’t just speak up now that she knows he’s awake, “I woke up a little bit ago and thought maybe there was a storm that knocked the power out or something, but I checked the weather and it’s been clear skies all night. I think our power line was cut which is like -- straight out of a horror film.”

Harry sighs, a bit of him regretting the number of horror movies they’ve been watching once they finally got to watch Midsommar (in three days, they’d sifted through six different movies -- two movies a night and each one managed to horrify Y/N more than the last). He begins to press himself from the bed, his eyes adjusting to the dark around them, making out slivers of shadows, “I’ll go check --”

“No! Are you crazy?” He hears her bed frameshift with her as she moves, “That’s just asking for a maniac to come for us. Plus I keep hearing noises and I can’t tell if it’s like...like little raccoon feet or a one-armed hook man.”

“Alright, then go back to bed.” Harry begins to lower back down to the mattress but a sharp whine leaves her throat, “It’s dark when you close your eyes.” It’s silent for a moment, but then Harry feels a bead of guilt dribble through his body. He sighs, reaching up and wiping his hand down his face, “What do you want to do, yeah? If you don’t want me to go out there. Do you want to stay up?”

She’s quiet, Harry is straying further and further from the state he would’ve been in to fall right back into his dreams but he tries to wipe away the irritation the best he could. What he reminds himself is that four days prior, Y/N had trekked out in the forest toward a lake despite her unremitting distaste for the woods in the dark and slapped Jack clean across the face because he was being rude to him. And he was going to ignore her? Fall asleep while she’s frightened? Harry could be a prick, but he wasn’t the bleeding antichrist.

“I...um, well, I don’t want us to stay up, no, we’ll be so cranky tomorrow,” she shuffles in the sheets, “I dunno’, I’m sorry, you can go back to bed, I’ll be okay.”

Harry isn’t sure what to do but in his half-awake state, the next few words that leave his mouth seem like just the temporary fix necessary for them to get the last few hours of sleep that they can, “Do you want me to read you a story or summat?”

She giggles quietly, “No, it’s okay, really, go back to sleep, okay?”

What Harry could have said was I can’t now, knowing that you’re awake and scared, but instead he utters a simple, “No.” He sits back up, patting blindly for his phone in his sheets, slipping his fingers around it, and tapping it awake. His screen blinds him with its brightness, so he lowers it before finding the flashlight. It lights up the floor at his feet and subsequently at its edges, he can make out Y/N’s shadowy figure. She’s sat up, curled in her blanket, wrapped around her head, and giving her a pseudo-nun appearance. She waves at him lamely and he struggles not to roll his eyes, “Maniac be damned, I’m gonna go out there and look for the breaker. Maybe the arseholes broke their vow of integrity.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if Jack or one of the others came around and switched the breaker off, just to be inconvenient for the morning. They’d left them alone for four days sure, but Harry figures that it’s not so much four days of silent reflection and questioning why they feel the need to be such pricks to him, and more so four days for their anger to fester and brew. If not for the fact that Y/N slapped him then made him find laundry detergent and commanded the others to go get his clothes, then for the way she acted like nothing had happened the day prior. Jack’s cheek was still a stingy, red splotch, Oliver and Brandon were straight-faced looking irritated, and Y/N -- well, Y/N had never been more content with her day. She was having a blast with her kids playing bean bag toss, they did their little dance when one of them got it in the hole of the board, and when they were all getting drinks, Y/N offered to grab Harry his. He watched as she went to the cooler around the same time Jack did, they both reached for the last Dr. Pepper, and Y/N plucked it up and handed it to him before grabbing both her, Harry, and Mitch’s lemonades.

He thinks it’s the sincerity that she holds, that would aggravate him had he been in their shoes. Y/N was completely unbothered by the night prior and Harry could tell, just like when he doesn’t reciprocate their maleficent tendencies towards them -- it was digging under their skin.

(She makes Harry laugh when she comes back with their lemonades, handing him one and uttering, “I let the prick have the last Dr. Pepper, and I’m regretting it.”)

And while he’s hoping that they haven’t turned their target to her out of spite, he wouldn’t change what had happened for the world. It had made the two of them that much closer, and in the following day’s Harry had poked and prodded Y/N’s brain a bit more. Especially after what he’d seen on her page, he was intrigued by her. Intrigued by how she saw life, why she came at things the way she did, what built her up to be the person that she was in these very moments that he’s speaking to her. Harry hasn’t asked her about her old college roommate and he doesn’t plan on it either -- he doesn’t feel like he could, or he should.

Harry has lost people before and he thinks the worst thing someone could do was to bring it up unprompted. He knows that it’s probably always on her mind but even then, maybe it isn’t at the forefront of it. Maybe she’s just trying to have a good few weeks, separate herself from the real world for a while, and he would be cruel to dig up something that she may not be ready to just up and chat about. No matter how curious he is about the whole situation, and no matter how much he wonders if she treats him the way she does because of what happened. If the topic was brought up by her he would openly and freely discuss it as long as she was comfortable, but he wouldn’t give her the third degree.

So he minds his business and focuses on trying to get to know her better instead.

He can’t say that it doesn’t change how he treats her a bit though. Harry is much. . .gentler, than he had been. He tries to be less critical of her unwavering optimism and seeks to understand where it was coming from instead. If he’s in the right mood he’ll attempt to match it, which makes for a good day with their groups, who he finds -- despite the small age gap -- have begun to kindle very close friendships. Mrs. Graham had even commented on it one of the days after they had a riveting game of balloon tennis.

“You two make a good team -- putting all these other counselors to shame. And to think you were pouty about having to share a cabin.”

It was true, they did make a good team. Harry thinks that them sparking a friendship had made the whole experience much more enjoyable for everyone involved.

All of this together gives insight into why Harry is willing to stuff on his shoes at 3 AM and go out in the dark, muggy night to check and potentially fix a breaker. And no matter the number of times he assures her she does not have to come out there with him, she keeps hold of her ‘no man left behind’ mentality, pulls on a pair of flip flops, and pads out after him.

Had they been in any other cabin, finding the breaker would have been much easier. They’re typically on the backside in the upper right corner, surrounded by a little cage with a lock similar to that of an animal crate. The struggle with their cabin was that the backside was basically in the woods, so he had to dodge low hanging branches and tangles of ivy to get even remotely near it. He hands Y/N his phone and she shines the light over the metal box, her hand steady despite how she looks back and forth and all around them like she’s making sure there are no red eyes glowing at them. The world around them is silent apart from the chirp and groan of insects, the scutter of an animal somewhere in the far distance makes Y/N huff a weary sigh but otherwise, nothing comes out to attack them. Harry restarts the breaker, they go back inside, and the lamp on its dimmest setting is switched on how they had fallen asleep with it.

They both breath out in relief, Y/N dives back into her bed and Harry flops down atop of his covers, giving himself a second to feel the cool air from the conditioner fan over him.

“Theoretically,” Y/N begins as Harry lets his eyes fall shut, “If there were some creature in the forest --”

“There’s no creature in the forest.”

“I know, but theoretically --” She continues again, but Harry is quick to cut her off once more.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he tells her, “Go to sleep.”

Once more, Y/N falls silent, but a quiet, “Thank you,” was the only thing to leave her mouth.

. . .

A summer thunderstorm wasn’t abnormal during camp, which is why the recreation center and the art building are beneficial. It keeps everyone preoccupied and entertained with well-insulated walls to mute whatever carnage is taking place outside, which makes for less frightened children and an easier time for everyone involved. Harry liked being active and running around with his campers, sure, but he also really enjoyed a nice, calm, relaxing day trying his hand at DIY projects and abstract paintings. Plus it gave him the chance to wear the camp hoodie that he had spent a pretty penny purchasing, which was made of the softest fabric he’s ever felt and was far more comfortable than the t-shirts that they normally wear.

Y/N had also bought the hoodie, Harry saw as she stepped out in it after her shower this morning, and she seemed to be drowning in it but in the best way. The fabric pools off of her, but she looks cozy, and well-rested despite them waking in the middle of the night. He thinks she looks pretty cute, but he kept the thought to himself and instead asked her if she wanted his extra granola bar for breakfast.

They alternate throughout the day, between the rec center and art building, and on the schedule, it appears that most the day he would be with Y/N’s group (which he prefers) and a few times he’s even with Mitch as well, which is nice. Mitch doesn’t grow to like many people, but he liked Y/N well enough -- he thought she was oddly entertaining (or so he’s told, Harry) and good for a chat. The only times he and Y/N were not with each other were when the activities were age-specific, but even then, it wasn’t like anyone was in a different room. They were all just at different stations within a big room in the art building and the recreation center was more or less free for all.

Harry wondered when he started basing whether or not a day was going to be good by whether or not he and Y/N were able to be around each other, but he decided not to think about it too much. Lately, he’d been a little more on edge with whether they were together, simply because of Jack and the others. He didn’t want them fucking with her, and even though she’d proven that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, he still worried, especially knowing he would be the cause of it.

Y/N doesn’t seem the least bit distressed about it, or as far as she was letting on -- she’d not expressed any thoughts or concerns that they would be spiteful towards her. Hell, the only thing she had told him the night after was that she hoped she didn’t make things worse for him. For him. Why was she so willing to defend him? What did she get out of being so kind?

“I especially like how multidimensional it is — purple and pink stars? Beautiful, I love those two colors together,” she places her hand on Oliver’s head, and it’s then that Harry notices he’s holding something, “Harry, Oliver here wanted you to see the flower he drew because I told him how much you like lilies.” As bashful as he always is, he holds out the paper toward Harry. It was cute — a singular, yellow lily and he could tell that Y/N helped him draw it, but the paint and crayon marks all over the page suggested she left the color duties up to him.

“Oh my goodness,” Harry gasps, looking at the painting, flipping it to Oliver and pointing at it, “You did this?” Oliver nodded excitedly, “It’s gorgeous.”

“I think our groups are the best artists,” Y/N motions to her table, only a meter away from them all working diligently on their projects, “Charlotte is over there doing an artistic interpretation of the both of us, we are not allowed to see it until she’s finished. Mikey is doing his own rendition of Disney world, I see Maisey is creating a beautiful tree -- Noah is that a cowboy you’re drawing?”

Noah barely looks up from his paper, very carefully dragging the tip of the marker in a circle, “Yes.”

“And Noah is drawing a cowboy! Modern-day Van Gogh’s, all of them.” Harry smiles as Y/N drags a stool up beside him, positioning it in a way so that she could watch both her kids and speak with him, “I heard they’re having one of them party things tonight, I didn’t know if you wanted to go or not.”

“Hm, I dunno,” his brows knit together as he lightly scratches a mosquito bite on the inside of his forearm, “Do you feel comfortable with going after what happened last time?”

She suckles her bottom lip into her mouth, gnawing on it as she nods her head, “Mhm,” she looks around them for a second, making sure that none of the kids are paying attention to them before she lowers her voice, “Mitch said that you used to go to all of them last year, and would like -- have a good time. I hope that I’m not ruining that for you.”

“How would you be ruining it for me?” It’s true, Harry hasn’t gone to any of the parties that they’ve been doing since the very first one he’d escorted Y/N away from. Not for any other reason apart from he was just spending time and hanging out with Y/N, or he’d be too knackered to even think about leaving the nice, cool setting of their cabin to be in the muggy heat with drunk college students. He had much more fun not attending, and other nights Mitch would come around and chill with them too. . .he had all he needed then. Didn’t need the booze for a good time.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t know if you weren’t going ‘cos of what happened the first time and you felt like you couldn’t leave me out or. . or something like that.”

Harry shook his head, “No,” he answers, “We can go tonight if you would like, but it’s unnecessary for me. I’m good either way.”

Although Y/N appears unconvinced, they have little time to go further into the topic because Charlotte is running up to them, a big grin on her face, “I finished!”

“Well give it here,” Harry holds out his hand, waving her over, “Let’s see it.”

On the paper are stick figure versions of he and Y/N, with big grins and 12 other little stick figures surrounding them. Above Harry’s stick figure, there’s a pink arrow and a very five-year-old esque writing of HUSBAD (Harry presumes it’s supposed to be husband), and above Y/N’s in the same fashion, she’s written WYFE. It’s then Harry realizes that Y/N’s figure has a veil on and Harry’s has a bowtie, “This is for you twos wedding! So thens when they take pictures you can has this one.” Charlotte chirps brightly and Y/N and Harry both cast each other a disbelieving glance.

“Whoaaaaa,” Y/N is the first to break their silence, a smile pulling at her lips, “This is really good Charlotte! I didn’t know Harry and I were getting married, though.”

Charlotte nods quickly, still grinning at them, her bottom canine missing as she gleams, “Me n’ Mikey thinks you should!”

Y/N turns toward him, nodding toward Charlotte, “Well, the god’s have spoken. Where’s my ring?”

Harry coughs on a laugh as he hands the paper back to Charlotte, “This is really good, Bug. Why don’t you and Oliver go help Josie finish her coloring pages, hm?”

The both of them head the short way back to their table, hiking up on the small stools and Harry makes sure they’re all settled before he turned back to face Y/N, who was biting down on a grin, “Don’t start --” he began but she’s already started, shaking her head.

“Listen, it’s okay to be in love with me, but you should really try to tone it down. . .the kids are starting to notice.”

Harry scoffs before he proceeds to tease her,, “How d’ya know they aren’t basing it off your actions, huh? Giving me love eyes every couple minutes like nobody would see.”

Y/N mocks offense to his words and he tries to keep up the facade, but his sheer delight for getting in a teasing match with her overcomes him and he can’t help his smile. Harry loved teasing people -- loved making them flustered or reducing them to a bashful mess by his words alone. Y/N, however, was much less into flustered gazes and sheepish tendencies, and more so ready and willing to give him it right back. He’d met his match -- if he teases her she’s teasing right back (if she hadn’t started it in the first place), and both of them found mutual pleasure in it.

“You can’t use my love eyes against me, I can’t help but give them to everyone I’ve ever met” she tells him, feigning sincerity before an additional anecdote, “You know my college roomie always told me they’d get me in trouble one day, and she had never been more right, ‘cos they did once at a party. She wouldn’t shut up about it weeks after it’d happened.”

Harry feels his body tense just a bit at the mention of her, and he tries not to let it show on his face that he’s surprised how she so casually brought her up, “Yeah? What’s the story?”

“The little ears around us suggest that I tell that story later,” she checks her watch, before looking back up at him, “Oi, we’ve got five minutes until we’re in the rec center. You get to pick what we all do since I picked the last rotation.”

. . .

This time when they’re on their way to the party, Harry lets Y/N walk in front of him as he directs where she was to go. Opposed to when they had first made this journey together, Harry feels far more protective of her than he originally had. Plus, he’d seen how clumsy she could be and after the earlier storm, the softened dirt and broken off tree branches from the billows of wind made for a much harder terrain to navigate, so he felt more comfortable being able to reach out to catch her if need be.

Harry was wary of going to the party tonight but Y/N had been borderline insistent that they attend, “Mitch says he misses you at these things and Niall told me he could only stand Shaun theorizing about the universe and us not being the only life form so many times before he snaps. I say we’re needed.” Harry never minded free drinks, and a potential fuck at the end of the night, so he wasn’t all too worried that he would be having a good time. He just hoped that the others would allow Y/N to have a good time. And he knows he’s being paranoid, because they hadn’t necessarily targeted her for anything prior to or after the lake incident, but he still worries. . .he can’t help but worry.

But he wouldn’t hover. Once they got to the clearing, he helped Y/N get her drink and she sought off after Niall while Harry went over to Mitch, the two of them promising to meet up again in a little bit. He didn’t hover, but he did watch semi-closely, eyeballing Jack and the others, making sure they were staying away from her. Apart from a few less than friendly looks thrown in his direction though, they seemed to be keeping to themselves which Harry was ultimately very thankful for.

The night goes by as these nights usually do -- he and Mitch drank, had a laugh, gabbed about music for a while, some of the drama going on around the camp (Y/N had an ear for gossip and eyes that could make anyone tell her anything, so Harry’s had a door to all the melodramatic events happening throughout the counsellors). It was a bit weird when Stacey -- one of the counsellors he’d only ever briefly spoken to -- had come up to them, and a little weirder when she borderline propositioned him for something more than a chat in the woods, but Harry politely declined. Told her that he was pretty exhausted after a long day and was probably just going to have a few more beers and retreat back to his cabin.

He passes it off as a fluke. . .maybe he’d been making eyes at her and hadn’t realized it. But then Mia makes her way toward him and Mitch, and this time Harry’s brows furrow when she starts chatting him up. This one he entertains for a little while before eventually ebbs away from the conversation, because he and Mia had a fling once, but Jack convinced her and the free world that he was a prick, so she called it off. He didn’t necessarily understand why she would want to start that up again, or what “little birdie” put a bug in her ear that he still thought about her (as she said one did).

It was after Cara had finally left after coming around to chat with him, that Mitch began to chuckle lowly at his side, shaking his head slowly, “Jesus Christ,” he tilts the nozzle of his beer against his mouth, and when he pulls it away, his lips are shiny from the liquid, “She really is working hard.”

“Huh?” Harry feels desperate for an explanation as to why three times he felt as if he were being propositioned for a romp in the woods when he was not actively pursuing one. He had a feeling that it was the others trying to get him alone so they could enact some sort of piss poor attempt at fucking with him without Y/N spotting and tearing them a new one over it, “Are you in on something that I’m not, ‘cos m’feeling pretty fucking lost here, man.”

Mitch nods his head, and Harry follows his gaze to Y/N, who is speaking with her brows dipped inward to Cara, “A few days ago she’d been asking me and Niall what you were like last year, and we told her just the same, jus’ a lot more ‘fornication’ is how Niall put it,” he smirks softly with a shake of his head, “And she seemed all concerned, asking us if we thought she was holdin’ you back or something. Personally, I told her if you wanted to sleep with someone you would have whether she were around or not but she didn’t seem very convinced.” A snort leaves him as he motions towards her again, still as amused by her ideas as he had been when she’d first explained them, “Guess she’s trying to set you up.”

“Oh fuck me,” he exhales so forcefully, it whips the delicate plumes of smoke from Mitch’s cigarette into a misshapen huff. Why was she so concerned with it? Harry hadn’t once expressed any avidity in needing to spend time with someone in that manner -- he could go without sex for three weeks. . .did she not think he could? Was he exuding nymphomaniac tendencies? He surely hadn’t thought he was -- a few quick handies in his nightly showers typically tide him over just nicely for a bit of a dry spell. And what was her business that he hadn’t slept with anyone since they’ve gotten here? Why was she speaking about him with the others what she could as easily ask him? What she had as easily spoken with him about, albeit leaving out a pretty large portion of it.

For the first time since they had begun getting along, Harry was irritated with her. He’d never been one to brood, however. He liked things to be up front and honest as soon as possible if the situation allowed for it, to stop his mind from taking an idea and running away with it. He held little interest in playing mind games with people.

Which is why he hands Mitch the rest of his drink, fixes his heavy cardigan around his shoulder, and sets off in her direction. He dodges many bodies, avoids an empty cup on the ground beside what he could only presume to be a sticky puddle of liquor, and narrowly makes it past a playful fight between Oliver and Brandon who were wrestling one another. Y/N doesn’t realize that he’s making his way to her until he’s just a meter or so away, when Niall catches a glimpse of him and attempts to be inconspicuous in the way he pinches her side. She gasps from the way his nails had accidentally bit into her skin, flinching from the pain before her gaze had settled on him, “Harry!” She cheered but his face doesn’t soften as it usually does when they see one another, which alerts her to his disapproving gaze, “Oh, what’s wrong?”

“Can I speak with you for a moment?” He inquires, motioning out past the trees. Enough trust had been built into the foundation of their friendship for her to not question him. Instead, she passes her drink off to Niall and follows Harry into the woods -- he wouldn’t go so far that they wouldn’t be able to see one another from beneath the curtain of leaves shielding away the moon, but just far enough that nobody would be eavesdropping. In any other situation he might wait to bring this up until they’ve made it back to the cabin, but Y/N’s intentions had been clear that the person he was taking home tonight wasn't supposed to be her.

She pauses with him at a particularly thick tree trunk, and places the arch of her foot against one of the jagged roots that carved its way through the earth, “Is everything okay?” She balances herself with a hand against the bark, wincing when it jabs into her skin, “I was keeping an eye on Jack n’ them I thought so they wouldn’t try messing with you, but did they say something?”

That does melt him some, Harry was strong enough to admit that. Just as he had been concerned with her wellbeing, she was just as much concerned for him, and he appreciated that. And while it does threaten to soften him down to his core, he still had questions that needed answers, and he wouldn’t let up until she responded to them.

“Why are you sending girls over to me?”

Her brows raise, but less in shock of learning the information, and more so with wonder how he’d found out she was the one sending them their way. The surprise dissolves into embarrassment quickly, her shoulders slump and she casts her gaze deeper into the forest, “Dammit,” she doesn’t hide her disappointment from being caught, or even feign confusion to try and pass the blame off coincidence that every girl who had come up to him had subsequently talked to her prior, “I was hoping you would be less observant.”

“Y/N.” He says her name sternly, and her shoulders drop dramatically further as she steps down from the tree root.

“Listen, in my defense I just felt awful!” She admits, waving her hand toward the party, “Jack had tried telling me a few times about how you just fuck people and leave them, blah, blah, blah, right? And I wasn’t paying any attention to him, but it made me curious to what you were like last year, so I asked Mitch and Niall. You came to these things all the time and you had fun -- then I come ‘round, ruin the first one, and you’ve been hanging out with me since. I just. . . I wanted you to be able to have fun and not feel like you have to worry about me, y’know?”

A ‘v’ sits between Harry’s brows, “What is it your business what I’m doing, hm?” He fixes his cardigan from where it slumps off his shoulder once more, “If I wanted to sleep with someone then I would. Do you think I can’t set something up myself?”

“No, of course not, I just thought --”

“You didn’t think,” he cuts her off, and Y/N’s arms curl over herself instinctively when a cold brush of air rolls past them, “You should have just came to speak with me about it, I could have told you that I didn’t need anything like that, and that would have been that. Don’t go behind my back trying to orchestrate things for me, okay?”

He wanted to say it -- he needed to say it, because Harry wasn’t some sex driven lecher that everyone at this camp tried to make him out as. He thought Y/N had known that too, but he guesses he was wrong.

But he wasn’t expecting her to look so fucking defeated by it. A guilt weighs on his being when she nods, tipping her head down, “Okay, yes, I won’t anymore. I’m sorry,” her fingers dig into her bicep, as she breathes out, a shiver rattles through her that she tries to be inconspicuous about it, “I wasn’t thinking -- I wasn’t thinking how it would look.”

Harry sighs, peeling his cardigan off of his arms, revealing his bare arms to the chill but he ignores it in favor of holding it out to her, “Put this on,” he wiggles it some, “I know you’re cold.” She takes it from him carefully, looking up, brows raised slightly as if to ask if he’s sure, “Go ahead.”

“I really am sorry,” she tells him, pulling the patchwork cardigan over her arms, it hangs off of her, and Harry swallowed thickly. She’s. . .cute -- Harry had always been able to admit that. Her face is sweet, her eyes exudes nothing but understanding, kindness, and such a soft glow that Harry couldn’t quite explain. He finds that those eyes give him great comfort and warmth, because now when they’re tinged with the contrition she feels and Harry feels cold.

“I know,” he murmurs, he holds out his hand for her, and very carefully Y/N slides her hand into his own, “Do you want to go get pudding?”

A small smile pulls at her mouth.

“Yes please.”

. . .

Niall lets them use the key after a few dozen promises to be careful with it. They trek the familiar way, mindless chatter fills the air around them until they get to the cafeteria and their voices quiet in case the security guard is looping around. Y/N reveals her hand from the shield of his cardigan sleeve, Harry watches as the fabric pools around her arm, toward her elbow, and produces the key (that Niall only trusted her with). They creeped into the kitchen, pulled open the large refrigerator door, and the pudding sat in rows on the bottom shelf.

They both choose vanilla this time, having tired themselves out on chocolate, and they sit at the spot they had last time, across from one another. He can tell, despite his peace offering, that Y/N still feels upset about what had happened earlier and it sullies his mood. She’s still chatting but not with as much heart as she typically has, and Harry couldn’t stand it. He just wanted her to giggle as she teases him again, without feeling like she’s tip toeing on eggshells around him.

“Hey,” Harry starts, dragging her attention towards him where it had previously been scooping the sides of her pudding container, “Would you stop being so. . .tense? Is this about earlier?”

Y/N clears her throat, opening her mouth and furrowing her brows like she was about to deny it, but she relents, shoulders dropping, “A little. I still feel bad about everything,” she shakes her head, dragging the edge of the spoon around the plastic, “About everything, not just that you aren’t able to sleep with someone. I came in late, ruined you having your own cabin, woke you up with my alarm, made you get out of bed ‘cos I’m afraid of the dark and -- I just feel like this massive burden. I feel like this massive burden on everyone.”

Harry is alarmed by this sudden confession, but his body ultimately rejects the notion that she could ever be a bother, “How are you a burden to anyone?” He inquires, shaking his head, “You’re such a ball of light that just swarms through rooms. The thought of you being a burden is akin to the thought of Satan being a saint. . .it doesn’t sound right.” Harry sets his pudding down, though he keeps his hands fixed around the cup and the spoon, “Don’t know what gave you that idea, but the last thing you are is a burden. Who gave you the impression that you were?”

She wipes tiredly at her eyes, “Nobody in particular, it's just,” she shakes her head, “Even now, I wanted to make your night good, and then I fucked it, and now you’re here with me instead of having fun at the party. I just feel silly.”

“Don’t.” Harry tells her simply, “I like to spend time with you, and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

The tension in her shoulder releases, “Thank you for this, I’m sorry m’just saying the same thing again and again. Back at home it feels like everyone is just. . .so hyper aware of me -- they’re always being so careful, or overly concerned and I always wonder if it feels like a heavy weight on their shoulders, like I’m forcing a piggyback ride.” She shrugs her own, reaching for the second pudding cup, “It’s just shit, so I overthink everything all the time to try not to be a burden, but I keep making it worse. Or at least that’s how it feels.”

Harry tilts his head to the side some. He’s not usually someone who pries and probes people for information, but he’s never been more curious about Y/N than in this moment. When he thinks of Y/N at home, he thinks of sunshine pooling in the hallways through casement windows, her spinning around the kitchen in a dainty floral dress that billows around her as she stirs homemade jam. Harry imagines her amongst woodland creatures who coax her to the forest with songs, escorting her there as she gambols freely.

He could not imagine her going home and feeling like a burden. Hell, he would have thought that she considered everyone else a burden -- that maybe it was draining to be the absolute light of everyone’s life. Yet here she stood, seeming worn, and broken.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why is everyone hyper aware of you at home? You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable.” He says it delicately -- he means it. . .if she didn’t want to share this with him, then he wouldn’t force her, but he wants to open up the possibility. He wants her to know that he’s an open ear if she so chose to utilize him.

“Um,” her gaze does shift downward -- she suddenly appears so small, “Are you sure?”

Harry nods.

“I just -- it's not that I don’t like bringing it up, I just don’t want you to treat me any differently than you would knowing it, yeah? I think that’s what I hate the most.” She notes, “So do you promise that you won’t -- you won’t start tiptoeing around me?”

“You’ve got my word.” Harry vows, but he has a feeling he knows what she is to say.

The sleeve of his cardigan covers her hand as she brushes the hair from her face, “In freshman year of UNI, my roommate was Mrs. Graham’s daughter, Penelope.” She straightens out in her seat, “We didn’t like each other much at first but we had grown very close -- um, once she threw away my fruit snacks and so I dunked her toothbrush in the toilet, but I felt guilty and went out to buy her a new toothbrush,” a laugh leaves her at the memory, as she rolls her eyes at herself, “That was what we had going for a while, but a late night heart to heart kind of made us closer. She told me things that. . .she’d been through a lot that nobody should have to go through, you know? She was bullied a lot growing up—in high school it was bad, people used to always gang up on her over stupid shit.” Harry hums, encouraging her to continue, and she stirs the pudding around mindlessly, “And we were just close after that. We had a flat together sophomore year and most of junior year, she’s my best friend,” she swallows thickly, “I didn’t realize how sad she was. . .I didn’t realize what she was still holding onto, and she -- we went home for Christmas break, and she never came back.”

Harry feels his stomach sour as her eyes bead with unshed tears, “Oh, Y/N,”

“It’s alright. I’m okay, I’m fine as I can be -- I’ve -- I’m mourning and I miss her, but I’m trying to be strong. Most days I am, but everyone at home just expects me to be this fragile thing, y’know? The days I’m happy, and chatty, they think I’m faking it. And some days I do, yeah, but. . .it’s just disheartening when everyone pretends to know what’s going on in my head.” She plants the pudding directly in the center, leaving it there and retreating her hands to her lap, “Mrs. Graham told me she felt the same. That’s why I came in last minute -- I’ve got all my volunteer hours settled and everything but she said it might be nice to get away.” A slow, easy sigh leaves her lips as she blinks the tears away, not one drop trickled down her cheek, “It is nice, but I still worry that I’m a strain on people around me, even if not for the reason I am at home. And I’m sorry to like, info dump all this on you,” she laughs a little in spite of herself, “You can’t ask me things, unless you want an hour long explanation.”

Harry reaches out his hand for her, for the second time that night, and once again she slowly slips their fingers together, “Thank you for sharing that with me, I know it must have been hard,” he squeezes her hand, “But I understand you a bit more now. I’ll keep my promise, I won’t treat you any differently, but before that --” she blinks at him, waiting, “I think you might just be one of the kindest, strongest, most caring people that I have ever meant. I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or add stress onto my life, so you don’t have to worry about that. You don’t have to try with me. We can just exist together, yeah? We’ll exist without burdens and without worry.”

The look in her eyes, was one that Harry had never seen before. One that makes him melt in her touch.

“I would like that.”

. . .

“I can’t swim.”

Harry was crouched down to Maisey’s height, fixing purple mermaid floaties around her arms. The day was not unusually muggy, but there was an additional itch to jump belly first into the cool watered lake. He had woken with a revitalized need to pry a star from the morning sky as it shifted from an inky purple to an early, dusky morning blue -- and give it to Y/N. He had decided after their conversation last night -- after they’d gone to bed and Y/N fell asleep cuddled in his cardigan -- he had an overwhelming, and an all encompassing want to hold her.

Which made it hard to part ways this morning, but he managed. And maybe he played out an image in his head where he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek before they went to wake their respective cabins, or maybe he didn’t (but if he did that’s his own problem). He is quick to convince himself it was because she’d shared a piece of herself with him that he doesn’t think she lets many people see, and Harry always develops a bit of a platonic crush on his friends at some point or another. He questioned whether or not he was in love with Mitch for a solid four days once. . .sometimes he just let his heart get carried away.

He had been enmeshed in these thoughts as he got his campers ready for their time in the lake. At first glance, a ton of children in the lake seemed like a horrible, and faulty idea, but they took precautions so that everyone was safe. Every child wore floaties and/or life jackets no matter how proficient their swimming abilities. There was netting about ten meters out so that the children and counsellors couldn’t float out toward the middle, and they worked it so that only three children could be in per counsellor at a time, so that they could keep an eye on everyone. Harry wasn’t so nervous because he was a strong swimmer, and his kids were a little older, but he could tell Y/N had been a little jittery about it. It’s why Harry told her that while she was out in the lake with her little ones to let him know, he would come out with her to bring her some additional comfort that even the floaties could not provide.

Harry had been pretty sure all of his kids were excited to go to the lake and he was grateful for that, until he looked up to see the nervous, large blue eyes of Jackson, downcast after he had spoken the words. The unprompted admittance confused him as he turned to face him, “That’s okay, buddy, we’ve got floaties for that.”

Jackson did not seem convinced, shaking his head fiercely, “No, I -- I can’t swim.”

“J.J. is afraid of the water,” Noah exposes the truth just as easy as he takes a sip from his juice box, equipped with his own blue arm floaties, “He didn’t want to say though ‘cos --”

“Noah!” Jackson cuts him off, betrayal laced within his features.

“--’cos he didn’t want to seem like a wimp, but he almost drowned when he was little.”

Jackson looked as if he could cry, and Harry shook his head quickly, “Hey, hey, hey, c’mere buddy,” he motions him over, and he comes easily, stepping before Harry who had not bothered to leave his already crouched position, “Explain to me what’s going on, yeah?”

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, a frown prevalent on his mouth, even as he speaks, “When I was little little, my big brother pushed me into the pool and I went under the water and my mom had to come in and get me because I can’t swim good.”

Harry pulls his lips back, reaching out to squeeze Jackson’s shoulder, “I’m sorry to hear that buddy. I won’t force you to get in the water if you don’t want to, but I do want to tell you that if you feel more comfortable, we could try a life jacket instead of the floaties? It’ll keep you more buoyant -- more bouncy in the water.”

“Aren’t those for little kids?” Jackson inquires, brows pinched, but Harry shakes his head and points toward Y/N, never more glad in that moment that she had the age group she did, along with her views on not making them do, wear, or say anything that she wouldn’t herself. She’s got the life jacket swung around her arm as she clips Oliver into his own.

“Y/N’s going to wear one too, and she’s not a little kid. I’ll wear one as well if you’d like.” He promised him. Albeit looking reserved, Jackson nods softly with his hands in little fists, worrying his lip between his teeth. The poor thing, Harry thinks -- he used to be afraid of water too. Nobody wants to conquer that fear suddenly, let alone with a group of people that may or may not poke fun because they’re kids and kids are jerks sometimes.

Harry finds him a life jacket -- a cute one with a shark on it, that he helps him clip on, and fits it to his body with the straps. Next, he needed to find one for himself, but he wasn’t entirely sure where they kept the counsellor life jackets, so he called for Y/N where she’d been a few meters away and she popped her head up from where she was like a meerkat. Her eyes softened when she realized who had called her, and a gentle smile pulled at her mouth, “Hey hubby,” she greets him, much to the delight of Charlotte, who claps giddily, “What d’ya need?”

“A life jacket, please. Where’d you get yours?” Harry tries to be decent -- tries desperately to keep his eyes to himself, but he finds that this is surprisingly difficult when Y/N is in her swimsuit. It wasn’t obscene in any sense of the word -- in the pamphlet they get when they sign up, it is very clear that speedos and bikinis were not appropriate, and therefore not allowed. If a child couldn’t wear it, then you shouldn’t bring it -- was the apothegm that they chose to live by in reference to dress code.

This, however, doesn’t mean that Y/N’s swimsuit didn’t suit her well. It was fitted in a way that wasn’t too tight, yet wasn’t too loose -- like it might have just been made with her in mind. A simple one piece of nylon and lycra colored a powder blue, that barely showed off that much more of what she wears to bed, and yet his mind still flutters elsewhere. To unwise places, that he drags himself from before clearing his throat and forcing himself to look around the lake so it appeared his eyes were just scanning everything.

“You’re in luck,” Y/N jogged the short way from where they stood, back to where her kids were all gathered, playing happily in the sand. Beneath what Harry had assumed was just a cluster of towels, another life jacket was hidden beneath the fabric. She hands it toward him with a triumphant grin, “This was the last one. I grabbed it for you in case you just wanted to float rather than keep your legs kicking -- you had a big lunch, didn’t want you to get a cramp.”

Harry hates how his heart balloons in his chest. There was no reason to be a melt because she had thought of him -- that she had him in mind, so she snatched the last life jacket, and hid it beneath towels so nobody else could have it. No reason to feel all mushy from the way that she unfolds it for him, a silent prompt that she’s going to help him pull it on. And there was certainly, absolutely no good reason for how stupidly affectionate he feels when she strokes her finger along the heart tattoo on his forearm mindlessly, before murmuring, “You make me wanna get covered in them. Maybe I’ll just go and get all of yours.” She looks down at the ground, “Maybe not the toe, my feet are ticklish -- think I would kick the artist.”

He recruits Y/N for the process of easing Jackson into the water -- Noah and Elinor are floating and bobbing about happily at their sides, while Charlotte and Mikey playfully kick and float close to their older counterparts (if not practically on top of them). There was a chill bite to the water when they had first stepped in, but as they walked out further and sunk a bit deeper, the cold eases up. The cool air soothes them from the sharp bite of the scorching sun, Jackson holds his hand so tightly Harry thinks his fingers may go numb, and he figures Y/N is feeling the same way, if her soft, “Loosen your grip up a bit, Sweetheart, you’re gonna take off my hand.”

Eventually, Jackson relaxes. He finally understands that the life jacket will keep him afloat and holding onto Y/N and Harry wasn’t a necessity. Once the idea of this settles in his brain, he is more willing to let go and enjoy himself. It feels wonderful to see that he’s having fun, and even better when he sees the smile on Y/N’s face from this small victory. Last year, he hadn’t felt this parental over the children last summer, but something had changed. . .something that made him feel like he was a bit of a parent.

It has to be Y/N. There was something about her that just oozes mother figure for these kids, even if she wasn’t intending to do so. She kissed the bandages over their wounds to take away the hurt, she praised the ground they walked on, picked them up if they asked, danced with them, encouraged them, treated every single child as if they were her own. Harry believes she’ll be a beautiful mother one day, if that’s what she’d like, and whoever the father or mother was she had chosen to spend her life with, they were unbelievably lucky. He just hoped they would understand that.

Y/N floats into his line of sight, “Are you okay? Ellie said you look like Maisey’s aunt again, whatever that means.”

Harry snorts, before nodding, “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit tired.”

An understanding gleam overtakes her, “Y’know, I did think you seemed a bit snoozy,” she reaches out for him, squeezing his shoulder softly, “D’ya want to have a sneaky nap? I could watch the kids.”

“But I like having you both,” Jackson whined, shaking his head quickly, finding their hands once more, reassuring that his grip was tight as ever, “Please stay.”

“Yeah,” Noah splashes over to them, sliding his arms around Harry’s neck, wetting his hair with the water clinging to his life jacket, “You two are fun together! We always have so much fun -- Brittany said her counsellor always yells at them when they ask her to play with them.”

Elinor was quick to add, “And Ro’s counsellor falls asleep during art days! He doesn’t even help them stay in the lines, and they’re little like Oli, and Charlotte.”

Y/N’s bottom lip juts out in the prettiest little pout -- Harry finds himself wanting to pluck it with the pad of his thumb, “That’s silly, isn’t it? I have so much fun with you guys, I couldn’t imagine not playing. Right Harry?”

Nodding his assent, he reaches up, settling his hands around Noah’s arms and bring him along with him as he kicks them closer to Y/N and the other three, “It is silly. Some people just aren’t as fun as Y/N and I, Bug, it’s proven fact. They did the scientific method and everything.”

Oliver gleefully pushes himself up on Y/N’s shoulders, flopping back into the water and bobbing, “I love yous!” He chirped brightly, “Yous guys are my favorites! I love yous.”

The sight is adorable, especially as Y/N wriggles around and holds her arms out so they could hug, which Oliver happily accepts, “I love yous too, button.”

They have fun -- for hours, as they switch out which kids are in the water, spend time on the beach with all of them, making sandcastles, burying one another, chatting and playing. It was very freeing; Harry could easily tell that he and the others were having far more fun than any of the other groups were -- Mitch and Niall had gravitated their groups closer to them when Y/N and the kids began to pour sand over the top of him. Even Cassidy came around with her kids after they had heard them all giggling and laughing and wanted to know what was going on. Harry was having fun, and maybe he was just mushy, but he credited it to the joy Y/N was exuding. It was hard not to be in a good mood when he was around her.

By the time the sun sat a little lower in the sky, casting the shadows of trees over the sand and cooling them to the point of chilling. The kids washed their feet and hands beneath the rush of water from a yard hydrant, wrapped up in towels, and headed toward the dining hall for their dinner. There was a taco bar today, and Harry found that Y/N and he had a mutual love of tacos as a whole. She showed him how she adds feta crumbles, even let him have a bite of hers to see if he would like it so he could decide whether or not to put it on his own (it was delicious, she was right).

Once dinner was finished, everyone was exhausted. They all gathered around the campfire, one of the counsellors strummed a song on his guitar, they all had s'mores and then they dispersed. Not even the rush of sugar from the chocolate and marshmallow gave any of the children an umph in their step; they were all so sluggish and slow, dragging their feet through the dirt on their way to their cabins. Harry’s group barely kept their eyes open as they stalked to the showers, washing off the lake water and sand that had been clinging to their bodies. After they brushed their teeth, they all but face planted in their beds and snores soon filled the quiet air of the cabin. They only made him realize how exhausted he was from the day spent baking in the sun, floating and kicking in the water.

He trudges back to his cabin, where he finds Y/N had already showered off. She was face down in her pillow, her back slowly rising and falling with each gentle breath she took. She hadn’t covered in her blankets -- no, instead she used his cardigan as a makeshift cover over her body, and Harry thinks it might just be the cutest thing he’s ever seen. The patchwork swallows a good portion of her body, the sleeve flopped limply by her head. . .he could imagine her crawling into bed. Could imagine her putting her knee up first, dragging the cardigan that had been lying limply over the post with her and just letting it drape over her body. She probably wasn’t thinking she would fall asleep. . .probably thought she would just lay there for a minute before gathering the strength to get beneath her covers.

It’s adorable -- Harry hates how adorable he finds it, actually. If he could crawl in beside her he would, but instead he ambles to the bathroom, starts up the shower, and climbs in.

The water his hot -- boiling drops pelt his skin, washing away the grime and sweat that felt as if it’d been caked onto his skin. It felt good; to cleanse and scrub himself free of the lake, massage shampoo into his scalp, soften his curls with the conditioner, and just allow himself to revel in the feeling. Showers feel wonderful - a renewal that he deemed necessary by the end of the day. And when he gets the temperature just right, it soothes the aches and soreness in his bones, turning his muscles to softened jello. By the time he slipped out of the shower, he was practically boneless and thought he’d be lucky if he made it to his bed before dropping to the floor and falling asleep.

He expects Y/N to still be asleep when he leaves the bathroom, but he’s surprised to find her sat up in her bed, his cardigan pooled around her body and a deep frown on her face.

“Oh!” He’s started some -- he really thought she was out for the night, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“It’s morning?” Her face further turns to that of distress and Harry bites down hard on a chuckle.

“No,” he responds, “It’s not morning. Only about 10PM, so you’ve got plenty of time to rest still.” She looks around groggily, rubbing at her cheek with one hand while she fisted his cardigan in the other, pulling it closer around her body, “Why don’t you get beneath the covers, Babe?” He asks her, and she’s quiet for a little while. The only inkling Harry receives that she even heard him was how she tries to shuffle and wriggle the covers down with her still stretched out on the bed, stuffing her legs into the blankets first, then sliding the rest of the way smoothly. All the while she clings to the cardigan, holding it tightly, resting her cheek on it. Harry doesn’t know if Y/N’s just far more affectionate than he had even thought prior, or if she was just half awake and doing things she wouldn’t do if she was fully conscious. Vaguely does he remember her saying something about typically cuddling with a teddy at night -- how she stuffs her face against it because it always smells like her fabric softener.

He wonders if that’s why she snuggles with it -- he wonders if she likes the smell of him, so she buries her nose in the fabric and breathes it in as she rests.

Harry hates this. He hates how inconceivably soft he’s been feeling, but he can’t help it. Y/N had found him worthy enough to poke inside her brain -- she opened up to him in a way she expressed she’d not been opening up to many people about. It made him feel closer to her.

But he told her he wouldn’t treat her any differently after finding out. And if he suddenly started expressing more affection, he fears she would think he was only doing it because of what she told him. He just wants to be. . .he just wants to be gentle with her. Doesn’t want her to ever think that she’s a burden to him, because the anecdote had made him question and second guess how he’d been treating her their entire time here. Of course, he was never intentionally cruel, but some of the situations he thinks about the two of them in, and how he responded, makes him cringe.

He switches off the overhead light, her dimmed bedside lamp and muscle memory guide him to his bed. Harry climbs in, shivers as he adjusts to the warmth beneath his covers, and breathes a soft sigh of relief to have finished with the day.

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice startles his eyes open, which he’d not been aware he’d closed.

“Hm?” He hums -- he had thought she’d fallen back asleep already.

“You’re okay?”

A soft smile plays at his mouth -- she asks him every night before bed, he’s noticed.

“Yes, I’m okay. Are you okay?”

She nods, “You did really good today,” her voice is muffled from her cheek mushed against his cardigan, “The kids had a lot of fun, they were telling me. I had a lot of fun too.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he reaches to thumb the hairs of his eyebrow down, “And thank you. You always do really well with the kids.”

She’s quiet for a minute, and once more, Harry thinks she must have fallen asleep, but the shift of the mattress tells him she’s changing position and Harry notices once more that his eyes have closed, “I’m glad you’re my roomie.”

Harry utters the words, that two weeks ago he thinks he would have spit at.

“Yeah, I’m glad you’re my roomie too.”

. . .

Harry was drunk.

Typically, he didn’t allow himself to get very drunk at these little parties. He trusted the others so little, he had no doubt in his mind that any moment he was slightly impaired in some way they would take it upon themselves to prey on his weakness. This means he only ever gets mildly tipsy -- drinks enough to feel good but caps himself when he thinks he might start stumbling.

But he just didn’t cap himself today. Not for any reason in particular -- their day hadn’t been difficult. They helped their kids through a mildly strenuous obstacle course throughout the morning, cooled down with them drinking juice boxes and eating popsicles and by 2PM they were inside doing little DIY projects. Harry burned his finger with some hot glue, but otherwise it was a pretty easy smooth kind of day that they didn’t get often. He and Y/N hadn’t gotten to spend much time together, which he wouldn’t admit loudly was a disappointment, but he and his kids had all agreed that they missed her.

(And when they had seen her and her group walking into the art room, the lot of them had erupted in cheers, Noah, Eli, Maisey being the loudest of them.)

They had a pasta dinner that was surprisingly filling, they told “spooky” campfire stories and ate s’mores, he got his kids ready for bed and he went off to the cabin. He and Y/N were going to one of the parties tonight, not because they had such spectacular luck with a good time before, but because they were coming up on some of their last nights here at camp. It was a bittersweet feeling -- Harry remembered being more than ready to flee last year, counting down each day, each hour dragging on longer than the last. This time, it felt like it was coming too quick. He would miss the kids, he would miss the busy days some. . .and sure, he was happy to go home and take a shower that stays hot longer than five minutes and rest on his soft, cozy bed, but he would miss not having Y/N right across from him.

That was what he was having the most trouble coming to terms with, he thinks. The idea of them not having to spend every moment of every day with one another after doing it for three weeks almost sounds wrong. It's the same feeling he gets when he knew he and Mitch wouldn’t have such easy access to one another once they went back home. Being at this camp sort of felt like being stuck in a time loop where the outside world doesn’t exist, so it’s very easy to forget that they all have lives outside of here. They all go to class, go to work, go home, study, eat and sleep.

He and Y/N live relatively close to one another -- only about a ten minute drive up the street with only one turn and it's into her apartment building -- but he wonders if they’ll utilize it. He wonders if their friendship is tied to this camp and if that’s where it will remain, or if she even wants to be friendly with him after. Harry hadn’t considered that maybe she was only putting up with him because they had to live together and she didn’t want it to be miserable. Had he questioned if he was even enjoyable to be around? How does he ask her that without sounding entirely too desperate or needy?

So partially, he drinks to ease some of the worry in his mind. Harry doesn’t think he would “break down” or something like it if they weren’t able to continue being friends -- like a forgotten summer love that he might think about throughout the fall, and message her to see how she was doing -- but he certainly wouldn’t be delighted if that’s how it ended up. Harry thinks there’s so much more to Y/N that he would like to see, and know, and hear. Three weeks isn’t enough time, Harry decided, but in the same breath he wondered if she had thought it was more than enough.

Harry knows she cares for him, at least a little bit. He knows that he cares for her and her wellbeing; he was fond of her. From what he knew of who she was fundamentally, down to her core, Harry knew she was selfless and kind -- it was hard to find people like that, who were that, without it being cakey or clouded by something else. She was transparent in who she was and her feelings regarding most things, and Harry valued her honesty.

And she was just so damn fun. Every moment with her he spent, the air filled with laughter; she brought a slice of sun in her pocket wherever she went and Harry was consistently being warmed beneath it.

The fact of the matter is, Harry doesn’t know how he could meet someone like Y/N, and get used to the idea of her not being in his life after three weeks. If he could refuse it he would, but what was he going to do? Kidnap her and take her home with him?

He’s sat on the tree root, opposed to standing beside it like he usually is, with his back pressed against the bark of the tree and he ignores the jagged, uneven trunk against his skin. Mitch was beside him, leaning lower than he was with his jacket bundled up and stuffed behind his head, his legs kicked out as far as they would go and because of this, his foot rested against Niall’s lap. Niall was pleasantly gone himself, a bit louder than normal but also zoning out every so often.

He was a good guy, Niall -- he had good opinions, and he chatted him and Mitch up about guitars often (he was typically the camp’s go to for an acoustic guy if they ever wanted campfire songs). Harry thinks they could probably be really good friends, if not for the fact that Niall was so barefaced in his crush on Y/N.

It was obvious, Harry thought. He’d thought it was obvious from the first moment he spent a prolonged period of time with both he and Y/N -- his cheeks got rosy when she touched him, he stuttered over his gratitude if she complimented him, and if she went out of her way to do something (like when she’d stuffed her hand into a thorn-bush for his guitar pick that had flung from his fingers, and subsequently got all scratched up), he would look at her how someone might stargaze.

Harry doesn’t know why he doesn’t just ask her out, if he likes her so much. It almost irritates him how skittish Niall seems to get at the prospect of it; to run away from those warm, nice feelings that she provides is silly. It reminds him entirely too much of himself and he loathes it.

Tonight had been no different, only Y/N was dancing back and forth between them and a few other counsellors (Harry only recognized one of them , who was called Rosie and had been in his first year maths). Harry watched her most of the night, in the least obnoxious and creepy way he could, just because. . .well, she was nice to look at. He liked how her body animated as she spoke, or how she nodded her head as someone was speaking to her -- it was an encouraging nod, and her eyes locked onto theirs like they might be telling her where the fountain of youth might be located, or the secrets to the universe.

She was cozy today -- it was cooler out than most of the nights that they had experienced, with a chill breeze that had even stirred goosebumps on Harry’s arms (and he was all but swaddled in his hoodie). Y/N had a light fitted sweater that she sometimes slept in -- not heavy enough to shield her from the icy terrain that winter would provide, but enough to fight past the harsh summer night breeze that threatened to help a storm roll in within the next few hours. Loosely, he let the images of her cuddled close to him invade his brain. What it might feel like, how the knit would brush against his skin, if she would hide her face in his neck or spider around him as the big spoon and burrow against his hair. Y/N struck him as someone who liked to do more of the cuddling than being cuddled herself.

He would miss her when they had to leave. Harry worried who would just exist with her, like they had been doing. He worried about her going back to a place where she felt like a burden -- he would be around, wouldn’t he? If she allowed him to, he could be there for her, but he doesn’t want to seem pushy. By all definitions, they had really just met -- Harry had known Y/N for approximately 17 days, but it felt like so much longer. He wonders if he had known her in a past life, or if it was the fact that they spent almost every day all day with one another for at least 15 of those 17 day -- he finally understands how everyone in the Love Island villa always goes on about how a day in the outside world feels like a week where they are.

It’s not like he’s professing his love to her, for fuck sake. He just likes her -- whether it be platonic or not, Harry thinks Y/N is just delightful.

“Your little girlfriend’s not with you?”

Harry had forgotten how Jack’s voice sounded how grating nails against iron pipes might make someone feel, mostly because they hadn’t spoken in quite a while. After Y/N had slapped him, he had kept to himself, resorting more to disgruntled glares and probably pissy comments he was murmuring to his mates about him. If someone asked Harry, he would say that him and his friends were afraid of Y/N -- she posed a good threat to them. Sure, they hadn’t understood the extent of her words that night (like how and why she knew Miss. Graham), but they were enough to rattle them. No matter being in university, or within the range of 20-23 years old, nobody wanted to be scolded by a woman in her 40s, nor did they want to be kicked out of a camp counsellor position, or to have their volunteer hours revoked.

So they had left him alone, which Harry thinks may have been such a strain for them he would be surprised if they hadn’t popped a blood vessel. Even if they wanted to, he was always with Y/N -- they never really had the chance, and if they did, they didn’t really take it.

Which is why he is both surprised and incredibly annoyed with Jack’s sudden appearance.

“Piss off.” Harry responds, nursing his beer bottle closer to him.

“You’re always so ill-tempered,” Jack leans up against the tree, “Just wanted to have a chat. Like why Cassidy suddenly wants to break things off after chatting with you and Y/N. Got any ideas?”

Harry’s brows dipped in confusion, “What? What are you on about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know,” Jack rolls his eyes, “Cassidy and I are doing just fucking fine for six months, but we come here, she starts chatting with you and now all the sudden she’s ready to break up. What the fuck did you say, hm?” He nudged Harry’s side with his foot, “Fucking Y/N wasn’t enough, you had to fuck Cassidy too?” He kicked him this time, harder than before.

Harry, who did not take too kindly to being kicked, rolled his eyes and pushed himself to a stand, “Dunno why you’re so fucking insecure that you think me being around has anything to do with Cassidy finally seeing what a prick you are, but this needs to stop,” he handed his bottle to Mitch who took it wordlessly, “I’m not fucking Cassidy, I’ve never fucked Cassidy, so if you could just grow the fuck up and recognize that maybe she broke up with you, because you’re awful to be around, that would be great.”

Jack, which Harry had expected, took more of a physical approach, giving a shove to Harry’s shoulders, and Harry’s back slams against the tree behind him, “Fuck you,” he spit, “You all holier than thou ‘cos you’re dipping your dick in Miss. Rainbow Bright? What do you know about me, hm? You’re just a dumb fuck who has to be here because you’re a no good druggy fuck with anger issues. How does it feel knowing you’ll amount to nothing after UNI?”

There isn’t a lot that could get under Harry’s skin. A lot of people could say a lot of shit that he brushes off and lets go, but there are two things that he really just can’t. One of them is when people try to speak poorly of his mum, and the other, was when someone pretends to know his situation when they don’t have a fucking clue. Who was this trust fund bastard to tell him he was a druggy fuck? That he would amount to nothing after UNI? Harry worked two jobs to set himself through school and keep himself fed, with a roof over his head, just so that he could live the life he wanted to after university.

Maybe it was silly to punch him, but it felt good to. Harry reared back his fist and it collided with his jaw, making Jack stumble backward, his hand flying to his face, “You fucking --” he swung in return, only he catches Harry’s shoulder because Harry moved out of the way in anticipation. Niall narrowly dodged being caught in the crossfire as he rolled out of the way.

The fight didn’t get too far, however, because when Jack was gearing up to swing again, Y/N appeared and easily wormed her way in between them, “Are you serious right now?” Her brows were furrowed -- she looked legitimately pissed off, and, well. . .it made Harry take a step back at least, “Thought we had a chat about this, hm? You were going to leave him the fuck alone -- no, look at me, not him,” she grabbed at his collar, giving a sharp tug when his angry gaze had flittered back toward Harry, “I’m not an angry person, Jack, I don’t like being mean, or cruel like you seem to be so fond of, but I can and will be if I need to and I promise you that. Don’t you ever speak to someone like that again, yeah? What you were saying was just awful.” She lets go of his collar, taking a step back and sighing in a sharp huff, “I can’t speak for Cassidy, but if I had to guess she probably cut things off because you’re a jealous bastard who questions every interaction with another person and try this alpha male persona to scare other people away. It must be exhausting.”

Jack shook his head, “We were fine --”

“You thought you were fine. Things aren’t always what they look like, alright? The sooner you understand that, the easier your life will be.” She nods toward the center of the clearing they were in, “Go get some ice from the cooler, and go the hell back to your cabin. You’re not a fun drunk.”

Albeit reluctantly, Jack follows her orders and slinks his way to the cooler. The others around them had grown quiet as they had watched the confrontation unfold, but they soon all lost interest once they realized nothing more would happen. Y/N turned to face Harry, the anger on her face immediately dissolving, as she shakes her head, “What a dick. I’m so sorry he spoke to you like that,” she takes ahold of his wrist, the hand that he had punched Jack with, running her thumbs over his reddened knuckles, “I told him -- after the lake, I told him that he needed to leave you alone or I’d do something about it. Dunno what I was gonna do, but I was going to do something -- I will --”

“Hey, hey,” he cuts her off, “It’s okay -- it’s okay, come on, let’s. . .let’s go to the cabin, yeah? Should we go back to the cabin?”

Y/N looks at him like he was batty, “No shit we’re going back to the cabin! I’ve got to give you like a full medical look over. He slammed you into the tree, and honestly, you bruise like a peach.”

They make the trek back to the cabin, relatively quiet, Harry still attempting to process what had happened and what Y/N had said. Had she really spoken to Jack after the fact and threatened him if he messed with Harry again? The softest, probably sweetest person he knows, had taken Jack off to the side and told him if he didn’t leave Harry alone she was going to do something about it. Not only that, she grabbed him by his collar and told him off in front of everyone. It made his heart race, the thought of it, and his cock twitches in his pants at the moment on repeat in his mind.

Once they get back to the cabin, Y/N has him take his hoodie off with her in the bathroom so she could visualize his back and shoulder. Jack may be short-tempered and smaller than Harry, but his punches still packed a great deal, so a nice, reddening bruise was forming quickly around his shoulder. On his back there were scrapes from the tree bark, Y/N tells him, and a ton of little bruises that had begun to form as well. She makes him stay still as she retrieves the first aid kit from their medicine cabinet.

“Y/N,” he started, and she hummed to encourage him to continue, “When did you speak with Jack privately?”

She clears her throat, plopping the first aid kit down on the sink counter and unclipping it open, “The morning after the lake,” she answers without hesitation, “I wasn’t trying to like, fight your battles or anything, but I needed him to know I wasn’t bluffing when I told them I would rat them out, and worse if the situation allowed it. I hate bullies,” she pulls out a small tube of bacitracin, tutting her tongue as she squeezes it out on the tip of her finger, “And I hate how they treat you. I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“You didn’t at all,” Harry remarks softly, jolting when her fingers very carefully graze over one of the tender areas on his back, “Thank you, actually, for sticking up for me again.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I think I’m pretty scrappy when I need to be,” she giggles to herself, “Like, if need be, I would take on the Queen for you. Might be an uneven match though, she’s pushing 100.”

Harry spins around to face her though, “Y/N, I mean it,” he tells her seriously, their gazes locking, “Thank you for everything. For dealing with my attitude, for sticking up for me, for helping with the kids, for making this experience bearable, for being such a positive light,” he sighs, “You’re amazing, you deserve amazing things.”

Y/N looks taken by his words -- he wonders if she’s as lost in his eyes as he is in hers. Her mouth falls open gently, like she may be searching for what to say back to him but can’t come up with anything. He worries that he’d said too much -- that he freaked her out or something. He wasn’t trying to, he was just so grateful for her, he didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to express it.

He is about to apologize for being too forward, when Y/N pushes the short distance and connects their lips together.

Harry’s confused for a moment as his brain registers what’s happening, but when he feels that she might pull away, his body finally seems to wake up. His hands find her face, cradling her jaw in his hands as he reaffirms the kiss and lets the butterflies in his body take over in hoards. He’d given thought to kissing Y/N, sure, but he’d never thought it would happen. Not only that, he’d never thought it would feel this nice. She tastes like the pineapple wine coolers she’d been sipping on that night, her lips still a bit sticky from the residue of the alcohol on her soft lips.

She’s gentle in how she kisses, like Harry would have guessed -- careful too, and cautious with how her lips parted from him only to fix back together. A pool of heat had formed in Harry’s lower belly and rose to his chest, stirring his heart in flutters when her tongue slid into his mouth and met her own. Harry hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to kiss her until their tongues are sliding against one another, and his hands are slipping down from her jaw, caressing the delicate skin of her throat, skating down her chest to her hips. He squeezes her sides and pulls her closer to him, feeling the knit of her top rub against his bare torso. It was as soft as he’d imagined it’d be.

Had she been wanting to kiss him for as long as he wanted to kiss her? Normally, Harry could tell how badly someone wanted to kiss him by the act alone, but with Y/N he was so caught up he couldn’t focus. She was calm and soft, but the longer they kissed, the more ardent she became. It was the tiny moan that had left from her mouth into his own, that made him lightheaded. He had to pull away to breathe but his forehead pressed against hers as he breathed in, “Harry?” Her voice is low, she says his name like a secret, “Was that okay?”

His response is to press their lips back together, but this time only for a moment, before he withdraws. Harry loops his fingers around her wrist and brings her with him back into the main room, flopping onto her bed since it was the closest and urging her to climb into his lap. She straddles him, and just as soon as she’s within reach, he slides his fingers at the nape of her neck and pulls her back to his mouth.

It was good -- it felt so fucking good, Harry couldn’t begin to describe it. He held her close, and tried as he might to stave off his cock from ruining the moment, the longer they kissed the harder he got. How she was positioned at first made it so she couldn’t really feel him, but when she tried to get closer to him, she scooted her hips forward and rubbed up right against him. A gasp leaves her as she parts from him, looking down, having lifted her hips, “I’m sorry,” she apologizes and Harry gives a startled laugh.

“I’ve got a stiffy, and you’re apologizing?” He chuckles with a shake of his head, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I’ve got a pretty girl in my lap kissing me, s’kind of hard not to get hard. We can stop if you want.”

“I don’t want to stop,” she answers with no delay nor doubt, as she lowers back down, resting her front on his prick and with this she gives an experimental roll of her hips. Harry hisses in a breath as she does it again, her own little moan slipping from her mouth. She was only in a thin little pair of shorts, and Harry had chosen sweatpants for the night, so there was little fabric truly separating them. Harry was thankful for it as she continued to roll her hips against him, sponging kisses from his mouth, down his jawline, to the curve of his throat. She fixed her lips there, lulling her tongue over the skin before she started suckling at him and Harry’s hands danced along her back, stroking up and down it, feeling her, holding her closer. Each roll of her hips made him harder, and he was desperate to know if she was wet. If he pushed his fingers into her shorts, would they come back slick from her arousal? Would she watch him as he slid them into his mouth to taste her? Would she let him split her thighs and lick straight from the source.

His mind was overcome with filth, smutty images entangle once innocent thoughts as she brought the blood to the surface of his skin. When one of his hands left where it had latched onto her hip and slowly maneuvered around to her front, she paused, but left her face dipped in his throat, “Are you wet for me?” He asks her quietly and she nods through a little shiver, “Yeah? Bet you soaked through your little panties,” he murmurs as he slides his fingers past the elastic bands of her shorts and underwear, but left his fingers just past them, “Answer me.”

“Yes,” her voice trembles, she swallows thickly and the muscles in her abdomen contract beneath his fingers.

Harry hums low, slipping his fingers down further and he dips between her slick folds, “Oh, Sweetheart,” he presses a chaste kiss to the side of her head, “Is this your first time getting wet for me?” She shakes her head, “Hm, really? So you’re like this often? Do you take care of it?”

“I -- yeah,” she stutters over a moan as the pads of his fingers roll over her swollen clit slowly, feeling it flick beneath them, “At night, sometimes I will in the shower if I can’t. . .if I can’t wait anymore.”

He feigns a gasp, “Oh my goodness,” he speeds up the slow lull of his fingers, “Your showers are always so fast, doll, you’re really that quick to cum?”

Harry may not be able to see her face, but he can hear the pout clear in her voice, “It usually isn’t that fast! Just with you, it is -- when I think of you, it’s always quick.”

He thought it would be impossible for his cock to be harder than it already was, but her words make pre-cum bubble at the tip, and when he dips his fingers back into her slick little hole, he gets even harder. Gliding his fingers from her panties, he draws them up to his mouth and presses them past his lips as he’d wanted to. Y/N has withdrawn from his throat, watching him do it with glassy eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders, digging her fingers into grape sized dents at the muscle. Her mouth falls open as he sucks her juices away, his eyes fluttering and a groan torn from his throat.

“Get on the bed,” he instructed and Y/N followed without question, crawling from his lap and lying her head on her pillow as Harry stood, and repositioned himself. He takes a hold of shorts and drags them down her legs, wriggling them off her ankle and tossing them elsewhere. His lips finds her ankle first, before he’s peppering and sponging kisses down her leg, the parts that he had tended to throw over his shoulder. When he gets to her thighs, he makes the kisses slower, softer -- he suckles and nips at the supple skin until he’s right before her center, only to switch to her other thigh and push kisses up and down the length of it.

Y/N’s whole body trembles with each shaky breath she gives. She’d spoken no words until he was positioned right in front of her core, looping his fingers in the waistband of the little cotton pair she had on, pulling them up toward her hips so the fabric stretched out over her. He could see her pussy beneath it, made out the outline of her swollen lips and engorged clit -- it made his mouth water.

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want,” she tells him, and his gaze is pulled back up to her -- she looks apprehensive.

“What?”

She shrugs, “I know some guys don’t really like to so --”

“Do you want me to eat your pussy?” Harry asks her bluntly, and he revels in the way her eyes widen, and how bashful her face turns as she looks away, “It’s a yes or no question, honey, if you don’t want me to, I can come back up and kiss you while I make you feel good with my fingers. If you do want me to, I’m g’na pull those panties to the side and make you cum on my tongue -- either I’m good with.”

“I -- yes,” she answers, her voice meek, “Yes I want you to.”

Harry smiles softly, “Poor thing, How many stupid boys were refusing to eat this sweet little peach?” He runs his thumb up and down her slit, visualizing where the wet spot had grown and soaked her panties so that the fabric thinned. Leaning in, he nosed at her clit and she inhales, “God, I’m so excited — you’re okay with this? You’re okay with me eating this little pussy out? Need you to let me know because once I start sweet girl, I’ll be in heaven.”

“Yes, please, please lick me.”

“So polite,” he suckles a kiss at the very innermost part of her thigh, before licking one, long stripe up her center through the fabric. She moans, pushing her hips down toward his mouth as he drags his tongue over it again, and again, and again. He soaks it with his spit, teasing her — he wanted to pull her panties to the side and suckle and slurp between her lips until she came — but he wants her to beg for him. Wants to hear that she wants him just as much as he wants her.

He smiles against her as he hears her getting impatient, little huffs between each moan. She whines, her hips bucking up against his tongue — he looks up to her, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly. The fingers of one hand are dug into the sheets beside her, while the others rest between her teeth. Her brows were tilted, lips pouted, whimpers come more frequently the longer he suckles and laps on the fabric, drenching it.

“Harry,” she finally works out, shivering when he pauses just over her clit and flickers his tongue over the top of it, “Oh, please just -- please.”

“Hm?” He hums against her, jolts, inhaling sharply, “What is it, baby? You’ve got to use your words.”

“Please stop teasing me,” she tells him, “Please take them off.”

And Harry may love to tease, but he wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t a bloody monster, was he? So he slides his index and middle finger in between the fabric and her core and tugs them over to the side -- he didn’t want to waste any time wiggling them down her legs. No, instead he dips his tongue in between her lips and slides it flat and straight up to her swollen clit. The groan that leaves her is sinful -- it makes his cock twitch in his pants, his heart slamming against his sternum as he suckles and her fingers find his curls. She digs her fingers within the strands, rocking her hips up to meet his mouth, and for a moment, Harry just leaves his tongue out and flat for her to grind against. Harry thinks, if he could spend the day just strapped to Y/N’s bed, willing, ready, and waiting for her to come use his mouth how she pleased -- he would be inconceivable happy.

Eventually he wiggles his face back into her, sliding his tongue back and forth before he latches his lips back around her silky folds. The swollen little button crying desperately for his attention was where he spent most of his time, lapping, or lulling his tongue in circles around it. She keens, her heel digs into the mattress and begins to slide down but Harry grabs a hold of her thighs and pushes both of them up, so her knees are to her chest. The new position makes her cry out his name raggedly, and Harry was teeming with carnal desire, and so horny he thinks he would barely have to hump against the mattress to cum.

“I’m close,” she warns him, mewling, “I’m g’na cum, I’m -- oh, please don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Harry doesn’t think he’d stop if he was paid to do it. He doubles his efforts, sucking harder, sliding down to tongue at her hole while his fingers wrapped around and spun little circles into her clit. His other hand he reaches up with and slides his thumb into her mouth and she accepts it graciously, as it muted her moans that grew louder and louder the closer she got.

When she cums, it’s beautiful -- Harry wishes he would be able to see it on repeat, how her back arched upward and her hips bucked loosely as she pulsated around his tongue. Her mouth hangs open around his thumb, her eyes squeezed shut, the fingers in his hair tighten and her other hand wraps around his wrists and holds him tightly. The initial lurch of it subsides and she melts into the mattress, trying to catch her breath, her chest heaving beneath her sweater.

After he thoroughly cleans her (until she’s twitching and jumping away from his tongue), he crawls up her body, pushing her sweater up over her breasts, “Can I fuck you, Darling?” He asks her, a small smile on his mouth when she leans her chest closer to him so he can reach behind her and unclip her bra. Tugging the cups away, he grabs them carefully, thumbing over her nipple, “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, don’t feel bad about it, just let me know.”

“I want you to,” she rushes to tell him, nodding, “Do you have a condom?”

He dips his head against her chest, breathing out a sigh, “Fuck me,” he utters, shaking his head, “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”

He usually does -- Harry always keeps a few on him, but he remembers very vividly he and Y/N had blown his last one up just a few nights prior and drawn a face on it. For a moment he feels hopeless, a sad pit forming in his stomach because the thought of fucking Y/N sounded like paradise and he only brought one bloody condom that he wasted.

“It’s okay, we’ll do it next time then,” she tells him, and Harry feels a joyful spike in his overall demeanor. Next time -- she wanted there to be a next time? And if she wanted there to be a next time, then they would have to see each other after the camp. . .they would spend time together, Harry could learn what she was like in her normal day to day. He was eager and delighted, and not even just at the prospect of pushing into her (which he was also pretty damn excited for), “I mean, if you wanted to do this again, then, yeah -- right? We’ll hang out after camp is through?”

A smile threatens to split his cheeks, “Of course we will,” he tells her, nosing at her jawline, “And not just ‘cos you promised to let me fuck you. I was hoping we would see each other still but was worried that you might be sick of me.”

Her brows pinch, “Sick of you? Dummy, I thought you would be sick of me!” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at the both of them, “We’re so stupid, we ought’a communicate better.” Y/N presses at his abdomen, “C’mon then, I’ll spin around and you can fuck between my thighs. I did it once with a boy -- I just shaved in the shower last night too so it should be soft.”

Y/N flips over, scooting her bum in the air for him as she cuddles a pillow to her face, her ankles locked in place and her thighs squeezed together. Harry wiggles out of his pants and boxers before he lets a glob of spit fall onto his stiff cock that had soundly slapped up against his stomach, slicking it up nice and wet so the glide between her thighs wouldn’t be too dry. One hand he lays palm flat to her bum, stroking the skin there with his thumb while the other hand navigates his prick, tipping it down and fitting it between her warm, soft thighs.

It felt good; Harry groans wantonly as he pulls out and sinks back in, watching himself disappear between them. She wiggles her bum at him and Harry playfully swats it, chuckling when she squeals and giggles, “You’re so fucking cute,” he coos before bending over, stretching himself over her so his chest was pressed to her back as he started steadily fucking in between her thighs. One hand he uses to cup her breast and tweak at her nipple while the other he slides down to her pussy, finding her swollen little button and rubbing it.

Harry’s skin prickles as she moans, her legs falling open just slightly but he tuts his tongue, “Keep them nice and tight for me, baby,” he murmurs, and she nods, tightening the channel for him once more. He won’t last long, he knows it -- he can feel that pool of heat crackling in his lower belly. His blood buzzes in his ears as he fucks his hips forward, their skin slapping together sound in their little cabin. Her breasts bounce with each thrust he gives, she’s beginning to cum again from the ministration of his fingers, and Harry’s nearing the end of his rope.

“You feel so fucking good,” he’s just a breath away from her ear, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

He nibbles at the shell of her ear and lets his eyes flutter closed, his senses on overload. All he can hear, and taste, and smell, and feel is her. Dizzy and overwhelmed, Harry feels as if he may burst at the seams.

“Cum,” she murmurs, “Please, I want you to feel good -- I want you to cum.”

That’s all it takes -- the little push of her words has his hips stuttering as he cums, spurting long stripes between her thighs, some catching her skin, some landing on her sheets below them. His world fizzles out, static splinters through his body as warmth rushes through his veins, and his toes curl hard enough to lock up. As he comes back to, he giggles, the last of his orgasm drooling from the tip as he pushes a kiss to the back of Y/N’s head, “Stay still, lemme go get us a rag.”

His legs feel like jelly when he stands, fleeing arse naked to the bathroom and returning moments later with warm, wet rags. He cleans her first, careful in how he works her underwear down her legs before he pats gently around her thighs and at her center. She’s sensitive, so a few times she twitches and flinches from him but eventually relaxes as she holds tightly to the pillow. He wipes himself off a bit haphazardly, more concerned with getting Y/N somewhere to lie down as he gently tugs on her arms, “C’mere, poor thing, I came all over your bed.”

“Yeah, you jerk,” she says puckishly, letting him guide her over to his bed, climbing in and immediately snuggling beneath his covers. Harry is not too far behind her, and at first she snuggles up close to him, she hisses and squeals before trying to shuffle away, “Why are your feet like ice?” She asks him, her words accusing, like he’d come in the bed with intent to freeze her.

Harry shrugs, “I dunno’ I usually wear socks to bed to keep them warm.”

“Socks? To sleep?” She slowly wiggles her way closer to him, despite the words that follow, “I don’t think we can share a bed, you’re batty.”

“Guess you’ll have to go sleep on the jizzy bed then.”

Y/N laughs, and Harry feels it vibrate through his body as he holds her close to his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. They’re quiet for a moment, as they both settle, taking deep, slow breaths, allowing themselves to slip towards sleep.

Before Harry could get there, Y/N murmured his name.

“Thanks for being my camp ‘husbad’.”

Harry smiled to himself, and held her a little closer before he teased her.

“You can say thank you next time with an 18 carat diamond.”

#WRITING #WOOOOOOOOOOO #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT #YAHTZEE :D #IT WAS FUN TO WRITE #IM GONNA DO A SMALL PART 3 TO TIE THINGS UP IN A LITTLE BOW #HAPPY READING #harry smut

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shotowoki · 3 years

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PAIRING: shouto todoroki x gn!reader WARNINGS: fluff, swearing, kissing, mutual-pinning, implied nsfw, pretty much just fluffy goodness :) WORDCOUNT: 4k

SYNOPSIS: Being roommates out of sheer convenience shouldn't have been a problem. It shouldn't have been as difficult as Shouto had made it out to be. I mean, you two barely spoke, barely found time to be together in one room and barely even came in contact with one another despite living under the same roof. It really should have been a piece of cake. But the feelings Shouto had for you grew larger with every day that passed, complicating things far more than was necessary...

In an empty room, Shouto lay sprawled on his bed. The thought of you conquering his mind as he envisioned you in your entirety.

The lazy slither of moonlight that pierced his curtains left a gentle glow across his face, the sorrow in his eyes highlighted as he pondered over the same thing he did every night. Who were you?

It seemed like a stupid question on the outside, as to those who didn't know you two well, you seemed like good friends. After all, you did live together; it would be harder to know nothing about the other. But, in Shouto's case, he knew near nothing about you. So, every night he lays in his sheets, frustrated with his lack of knowledge, listing all the things he did know. As he balled the covers under him, intertwining his fingers with the cotton, he asked himself one thing: 'who were you?', once more.

There were a few vague things he knew. He knew you worked as an office assistant, finished your work off late at night in the kitchen, took around 45 minutes in the shower, you rarely ate food at home, and brought take out every other evening. Not to mention, you barely left your room and thus leading to this lack of relationship between you two.

But what did this random trivia on you do for him? Nothing. It provided him with zero useful information, nothing to work with, and it most certainly did not quench his curiosity for you.

A heavy exhale parted his lips, and he sunk deeper into his mattress. Maybe this was enough for today. The constant worrying about you wasn't doing him any good, and he knew it. At this point, his curiosity was turning into something more. Before Shouto knew it, his once frustrated wonders had turned to admiration. And this was his current situation, face feeling hot as reality hit him like a train. When did he start to like you, and more specifically, why?

That empty feeling filled him once more; the lack of answers to all these questions had him feeling beyond exhausted. He barely knew you, and yet even moments like these felt like enough. A small rush of nervousness always stopping him in his tracks whenever the sheer thought of you crossed his mind. It felt ridiculous and brought Shouto way too much humiliation. And so, he shook these feelings off. The mystery that was you was far beyond his reach, and it was time he submitted to that fact.

Fluttering his eyelids shut, he put his mind at rest, drifting off into dreamland.

The next day had arrived, Shouto's previously exhausting night already long passing him. A wet towel swung over his head; he exited the bathroom somewhat wet, and ready for a new day.

A cold shower did the job alright, waking him up and helping him forget about the endless thoughts of you that had him up late last evening. All that remained was to fill his stomach up, and he would forget the whole ordeal. Still slightly embarrassed at the realization that he had caught feeling for the stranger that lived in the room opposite his own.

Scrubbing his hair and patting his face dry with the towel on his head, he entered the kitchen. He expected it to be empty like every other regular morning. But instead, Shouto was greeted with arguably the worst and best thing. There you sat at the kitchen island, eyeing a cup of coffee, evidently zoned out.

Shouto stopped in his tracks, and his heart dropped to his stomach. If it was even achievable, the beating of his heart was more rapid than humanly possible and probably more audible than ever. Why were you home? Not that he was complaining, it was just rare to have you home this early in the morning. Did you not have work today? Did something happen? Why are you just sitting there staring at a cup? All these questions sprung up in Shouto's head as he stood dumfounded and nervous.

His cheeks lightly sprinkled in a pink blush; he just stood there awkwardly, not daring to even move an inch. To anyone but himself, he would look pretty composed, but internally he was malfunctioning. He had hoped for a moment like this to arise for a while now. But now that the opportunity had presented itself, he barely knew what to do. It didn't help the fact he was already a flustered mess over the thought of you last night, and now there you sat in front of him.

Taking one deep breath, Shouto resumed his walk to the fridge, waving off the nerves that had built up inside him.

"Good morning, y/n. It's rare to see you home at this time." Shouto attempted to break the silence in his signature monotone voice.

It remained pretty tranquil for a bit. The only noise being that of Shouto making himself breakfast and the sound of you taking a shy sip of your drink.

"Morning. I don't have work today, so I'm home."

Your voice simmered out into the atmosphere, but it remained looping in Shouto's mind. As his back faced you, he felt his ears get hot, and he knew for a fact, he was beet red now. How did just hearing your voice already throwing him off guard?

Shouto gently exhaled, feeling his adrenaline spike through him. He just needed to stay calm. But how could he when he wasn't accustomed to hearing your voice, especially when you spoke so softly? Having a crush on your roommate was most certainly an inconvenience, as Shouto struggled to keep his concentration on making a simple cup of coffee for himself.

"Oh. Did you finally get a day off?" Luckily Shouto's voice came out calm. He'd be damned if he stumbled and made himself look more like a fool than he already had.

Well, he looked like a fool to himself, at least. You barely took notice of the random pauses his whole body made or the way he would occasionally take self-soothing deep breaths. If anything, you wouldn't even know if this type of behavior was unusual for him since you saw him so rarely.

Come to think of it, you don't even have a baseline to work with when judging his overall character. That's partially due to the fact you two have never actually sat down and bonded, which led an idea to spark off in your mind.

"Yeah, it's my first day off in a while." You spoke in a slightly more upbeat tone now, excited for the proposition you were about to make. "So, since I'm home, how about we hang out and get to know each other properly." You smiled his way, tilting your head slightly as you awaited his response.

And just as the suggestion escaped your mouth, Shouto made the unfortunate mistake of turning around, his surprised expression out on display as he was yet to process what you just had said.

"Um, sure." is all Shouto was able to say. His heart thumped out of his chest, and his words knotted up in his throat.

The sudden proposition you offered him had him speechless. All these sudden coincidences being the last thing Shouto expected. Was it all too sudden, perhaps? Either way, he wasn't going to deny the opportunity at hand because who knew when you would be free again. Finally, this was his chance to answer the question that has been keeping up at night. And somewhat address these feelings that had started manifesting.

"Then, I was thinking... maybe we could have a movie night?" You chirped, leaning over the counter in excitement.

"You know, there's this movie my coworkers have been talking about, and I've really been wanting to watch."

For the first time, Shouto got to see you relish in your interests. A cute smile curling the corners of your lips as you spoke, rambling about this so-called movie. He couldn't help but smile at your bubbly nature, getting lost in the expressions you were making that he has never before seen. The way your eyes lit up and your hands waved around as you tried convincing him to watch the movie. Little did you know, you didn't need to convince him of anything, he would agree to watch anything with you. But he wasn't going to burst your joyful bubble now. He wanted to savor this moment, and so he let you speak whatever was on your mind, just burning this moment into his memory.

Dazing at your soft lips as you spoke, he realized how zoned out he had become; your speech becomes just a faint murmur in the back of his mind as all he could think about was how much more beautiful you looked up close.

"Ah, sorry! I completely went on a tangent there. I tend to do that when I get excited. I'm sorry!" You giggled while exaggeratingly facepalming yourself.

And with that, he was once more snapped back into reality. What were you just talking about? Aside from the mention of a movie night, Shouto couldn't remember much else. He couldn't have retained anything that fell from those pretty lips of yours. And down the gutter, his thoughts went once more. The overwhelming flustering feeling washed over him as he realized what ideas exactly he was having right in front of you. He needs to hurry up and respond to you rather than just standing there aimlessly staring at your lips.

"Don't worry about it. You look cute anyways when you're so excited about something." Those words left Shouto so fast he could barely believe he had said them himself. The humiliation already settling itself as he cursed himself for being such a creep.

The sudden affection from your roommate had you stuttering. You have had your eye on him ever since you moved in together. What was there not to like about him? He was good-looking, always left food out for you, and cleaned the apartment before you got back from work. The only issue was you. You were far too shy to admit to these feelings, your one solution being to lock yourself up in your room and avoid him like the plague. Today just so happened to be the exception as you felt a tad bit confident when he nonchalantly (as you perceived it) walked into the kitchen.

Now a compliment of this magnitude was the last thing you expected, and so your insides burnt hot as you shifted in your seat.

"Sorry! I didn't mean for it to come out that way." The concern in his voice was more than evident, the furrowing of his brows in frustration delivering his apology clearly.

"No-no, it fine! Really."

"What I was trying to say was that a movie night sounds great!" Shouto bopped his head down as he managed to completely fuck up this one opportunity that he had. To him, it seemed as though he had ruined everything, but if anything, he had succeeded a lot more than he gave himself credit.

You were still giddy at his subtle compliment, heart racing at the fact he called you cute. CUTE. Failure should have been the last thing on Shouto's mind as if he observed you a little more closely, he would have noticed the satisfactory grin on your face.

"Great! I'll meet you in the living room at 5 pm then." You hoped out of your chair, putting your empty cup away.

You definitely wanted to stay with him longer, but you needed to calm yourself down. The knots in your stomach tightening by the second as you felt flustered by his presence.

"Right."

Gently, you squeezed past him as you exited the kitchen, the cozy heat that radiated from his body sending goosebumps down your skin. Even with a touch so short-lived, you couldn't help but freak out. How would you manage this evening? Only future you will know the answer to that question.

As quickly as you parted ways, the evening arrived just as fast. A golden sunset burst through the living room window and drizzled the atmosphere in sweet honey. A soft breeze floated through as Shouto sat anxiously waiting for you.

His outfit was bland, but it was expected of him. Just a pair of generic grey sweatpants paired with a white tee. As stated previously, his attire was very bland. But it was comfy, to say the least.

Just on time, you finally met him at your designated period. Your heart hammered out your chest, not only from the nervous itch that was being with your crush, but the possibility of this all being awkward. It felt like meeting a stranger, only with an odd sense of familiarity attached. Maybe then calling him a stranger would be a poor analogy. Perhaps it was more like being left alone with that person your friend was trying to introduce you to. Yeah, that's a better parallel for how this all felt right now. However, it all still felt rather exciting.

"Hi! Are you ready?" You giggled as you sunk into the couch, sitting beside him.

"Definitely. What's the movie called again, y/n?" The way your name so easily fell from his lips set off the butterflies in your stomach.

It sounded so pretty coming from him, way prettier than you could have prepared yourself for. Suddenly, you found yourself speechless, mind going blank as you fished for the name of the movie you knew.

"U-um, it seems my mind has gone blank. Give me a second."

Rubbing your arm in an attempt to calm yourself, you let out your signature laugh. The golden hue of the sun stirred the color of his heterochromatic eyes as you glanced back at them, still thinking of the name of the movie you knew just a second ago. Attentively, his eyes examed you, and you managed to catch sight of this glance.

"Don't worry, take your time." With that, his eyes shot back up meeting yours. "Do you happen to be cold? You're rubbing your arm."

That explained his gaze, but it didn't happen to settle the nerves inside you. And in your flustered state, you responded with the first thing that came to mind as you swatted your hand to your side.

"Ah, yeah! It's a bit chilly with the window open in here."

Right on cue, Shouto reached for the blanket on the sofa, wrapping it snuggly over your shoulders. The way his slender fingers brushed against your skin as he positioned the fabric on you made you freeze. You could barely hear yourself think as your heart ran wild, adrenaline surging your veins. His face was so close, so close you could see how his eyelashes softly brushed his cheeks with every blink. Fast, it all happened so fast, and yet the memory replayed in slow motion in your mind. The way he just swept in and then back out.

"There. If it gets too cold I'll close the blind." He smiled at you comfortingly before reaching for the remote.

You couldn't do anything but sit there wide-eyed, your nervousness being unbearable.

"The movie... I can't remember its name." Finally, you admitted defeat, done battling your mind that was clearly not regaining composure any time soon.

"That's fine. I guess we can just watch whatever piques our interest for now. There's always next time."

There's always next time. The implication of another hang-out was soothing. Knowing that this wasn't a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity managed to quiet you down slightly as you repositioned yourself to sit more comfortably on the sofa.

"Right!" You beamed in agreement, turning your attention to the tv.

The mindless scrolling through Netflix lasted a while as you made conversation with one another. Talk of how most movies were boring filled your discussions, exchanging laughter here and there too. It all felt so reassuring, and both of you were starting to feel more relaxed. Movie after movie, it felt like you were about to hit a dead end until you eventually landed on something intriguing.

"This one! This one looks good, right?" You explained, pointed to the digital screen that gently lit up your faces.

"Right, it doesn't sound bad."

Shouto was beginning to uncover you and your character a lot better now. Seeing as you got excited about the most random things, but also the way you were so easily caught off guard. It put a soft smile on his face as he just admired you silently.

The movie began to play, the two of you settling down as the noises from the tv exclaimed through the speakers. To say that Shouto was happy was an understatement. Looking back on the evening from just last night to now was a huge shift, and a huge shift in the direction he could have hoped for. It was the start of something he had been wishing for long while now.

Hearing you laugh at the actors on screen, turning to face him as you shared the humours moments with him had him feeling all gooey inside. Lightly, your leg would occasionally brush past his, making him more than eager to pull a move on you. Fuck it, right? Apparently, Shouto couldn’t just have his cake, he wanted to eat it too.

You were far too cute in this moment, nudging on him softly as your laugh radiated through the air. And so, in a moment when his adrenaline spiked and clouded his judgment, he snaked an arm over you shoulder, cradling you into his chest. You gave into his invitation, resting against him.

Not to say you were all calm about the exchange, you were in fact the complete opposite. It was really happening, you were laying in Shouto’s toned arms, his fingers gently gliding up and down your forearm as he sunk down onto the couch. Laying himself down and then you on top of him.

Was Shouto calm about this, then? Definitely not. His hearts rapid beating was audible as you rested your head on his chest. Smiling hazily as you realised he was just as nervous about all this as you.

As he lay under you, you soaked in his touch, the way his toned figure felt as your hands snaked around his waist. And the way his breathing gently cascaded a chilly breeze down your neck, shivers forming along your soft skin. Ever smooth shift and touch his body made against yours was thrilling.

At this point you weren’t even concentrated on the movie, and instead on the boy under you. The movie acting more as background noise to the thing you really wanted to watch. Glancing up at his soft features, the way his plump rosy lips were slightly parted as his eyes shifted across the screen. Oh how you wanted to kiss him in this moment. What was holding you back exactly?

You could lean any minute if you just so pleased.

“Shouto?” You finally spoke up, interrupting the tranquility between you two.

His response was a simple hum, eyes falling to meet yours. The way he held eye contact, smiling at you invitingly was enough to have anyone falling for him. You felt extremely lucky to be even given the chance to be in this position with him.

“Can I?” You started, lifting yourself up slightly.

“Can you?”

He quirked a brow at you as he sat up to meet your movement. Trapped under you as your two legs straddled his lap, you gave him a sheepish smile. A short moment passed without a response, and Shouto smiled at you suspiciously, leaning in to jokingly examine your face.

“What’s on your mind?”

At his unannounced actions you glanced away, but Shouto only pulled your chin to look back at him. A smirk growing on his face before his palm came to cup your cheek; his other hand resting nonchalantly on your thigh.

And like he knew exactly what you were thinking, with a light brush of his thump against you bottom lip, he dipped in for a kiss.

His plump lips meeting yours. Soft, they felt so soft as they moulded perfectly with yours, meting against the other. The tender way his lips hovered for a second as he pulled away, licking his lips and then coming back in. Glazing you in his touch, he began to move again, taking in one of your lips at a time, relishing in your sweet taste. The way his lips massaged yours with every move he made had you pressing yourself into him.

It felt relieving in a way, finally dining the dish you’ve been craving for so long. After all these months you two have lived together, finally you both were holding each other like you have been wanting. Arms wrapped around his neck, fingers weaving throw his hair as you yearned for more.

Your plush tongue came to meet his, intertwining with the other. Happily, he ventured your mouth, taking in every inch of you. Smoothly dragging his tongue to the root of your mouth then pulling himself out, until he came back in once more to suck you back in.

The only think separating you two being the string of spit that drizzled off each other’s tongues as you caught your own breaths between each embrace. Your merciful moans he swallowed, his delicate hands travelling up your spin. They left a cold trail, fireworks erupting your stomach as the adrenaline of this all began seeping in.

You two were getting too carried away, but it just goes to show how bad you wanted one another. Shouto, however, wanted to clear things up before you continued any further.

He pulled away breathily, blinking at you with delight in his eyes.

“Y/n, I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now, and i’m sorry if this is sudden. But, I like you.”

That sentence alone had you more flustered than your previous touches and you smiled like a kid with candy.

Was this a dream come true? Maybe it was, which in that case, you definitely didn’t want to wake up. But, lucky for you, this was in fact reality.

“I like you too, silly” You giggled only inches away from his face, and the instant grin that sprawled across his lips was the only confirmation you needed.

Instantly, he engulfed you in a tight hug, his head cradling itself into the crook of you neck.

“Then how about we finish this off in my bedroom now that you’re all mine.” Was the last thing he said, his lips resuming their bidding on the soft skin in your neck.

225 notes · View notes

cafeacademia · 4 years

Text

Flustered

Fred Weasley x Shy!Reader

Summary: Fred Weasley is intrigued by the shy, sweet witch in his class, but when he finally has an opportunity to speak to her, he realises just how much he adores her.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, that’s it!

Word count: Approx 4300

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, I had been wanting to write something like this for a long time and inspiration struck the other day after @ickle-ronniekins inspired me with her wonderful Freddie fic Tongue Tied 💖

Enjoy! Please let me know if I could improve on writing Fred, I tried my best 😅

Taglist is open!! Please pop me an ask if you’d like to be added 💖

“Stop staring at me.” Ron snapped at his brother as they sat at the Gryffindor table at breakfast. “I’m not staring at you, I’m staring around you.” Fred countered, George snorting out a short laugh while Harry looked up at them amused, Hermione ignoring the conversation with her head down, fingers idly stirring the spoon in her morning tea as she read the book she had brought to the table.

“What the bloody hell are you looking at then?” Ron asked, dramatically swivelling about on the spot in annoyance. “You’re like this every time we sit here, you are. You stare off into space like ‘Loony’ Lovegood.” Ron rolled his eyes. “Ronald.” Hermione suddenly hissed at him and smacked her book against his arm, perhaps with more force than intended, making the boy recoil and hold his arm away from her, looking rather intimidated as if she had tried to bite him.

And as breakfast went on and Ginny rushed off to her morning duties with Umbridge while the others continued to squabble with one another, Hermione looked up from her book and looked over in the direction that Fred had been staring in and her eyes landed on something that told her that he most certainly hadn’t been doing it to annoy anyone.

“You know Fred, he’s just doing it to bother you, Ron.” Ginny added to the conversation as she pulled up her bag onto her lap and rifled through the contents until she pulled out a paper slip. “Stupid Umbridge has got me doing extra essays this morning.” She grumbled, getting up from her seat. “She better not make me late to potions.” She sighed as George quickly plucked the uneaten piece of toast off his plate and placed it into Ginny’s hands before she had a chance to walk away. “Tell us if she gives you grief, we’ll terrorise her, won’t we George?” Fred smirked over at them both.

“It would be our pleasure.” George replied with a mischievous grin.

And while Fred was reluctant to go all the way to the library and write about a subject that he thought was quite dry, he relented and made his way through the castle.

“Are you allergic to studying?” Angelina had asked in slight annoyance. “Oh terribly, I break out in boils and everything.” Fred teased. “Lovely.” She said under her breath. “Which is why you should kindly allow me to-.”

“You are not copying my notes on talking gargoyles.” Angelina told him pointedly and the Weasley twin pouted across the hall table at her. “A History of Hogwarts is your best bet.” She told him. “But if you keep copying my work, we’re both going to get caught since last time you copied it almost word for word and Binns got mad at me. I don’t want Umbridge on my back.” She scolded him in an amused tone, though she wasn’t actually annoyed at him and perhaps if she didn’t want to actually see Fred go and find a book and do his work the proper way, she would have let him copy from her. But the way Fred saw it, it was a perfectly acceptable reason on Angelina’s part, even if it was a rather large inconvenience to Fred.

Searching through the shelves for a copy of A History of Hogwarts, Fred was becoming more exasperated as he struggled to find what he was looking for, but as he scoured the shelves for the missing book, he peeked his head around the end of a bookcase and his heart fluttered. There you stood, a few rows down with a small pile of books in your arms and he felt himself practically melt on the spot.

It was not very often that Fred found himself in this situation, so captivated by a girl that he felt butterflies in his chest. But half of the problem was that Fred had never actually spoken to you, not properly at least, because as it happened, you were incredibly shy and he was incredibly… Not shy.

The times when you did speak to each other was always very short and it seemed that you were almost afraid to speak to people you were not so familiar with, but what Fred didn’t know was that you desperately wanted to talk to him.

Fred was always so intriguing to you, he was kind and sweet and extremely funny and he was never afraid to try things out of his comfort zone, or at least he made it look that way and that had you very curious.

And Fred was just as curious about you too, because even though you were very quiet and shy, he had noticed you conveniently looking away from him very quickly and even catching your eyes on him when you had been deep in your head and he wondered what you thought about when you looked at him. He wondered what you thought of him and it was so unusual for him to care or even be curious about what another person thought of him, but when it came to you, there was a strange pull he felt towards you.

Slowly, he feigned interest in a few book spines on the shelves here and there as he moved up the rows until he got closer to you, watching as you stood over a small wooden book trolley stuffed to the very seams with recently returned books while you looked for something and he wondered, perhaps the book he was looking for was there too.

When he approached, his eyes dropped to the books in your arms and he suddenly felt as if it had all meant to be and he made a mental note to thank Angelina later, because there in your arms was a very shabby, old copy of A History of Hogwarts.

“Hey,” The greeting left his lips and you quickly glanced up at him and restrained yourself from checking around you in case he was speaking to someone else. “Hi Fred.” You replied in a soft voice and he felt his chest warm at the sound of your voice. You sounded so sweet and gentle and your calm, warming vibe seemed to elate him even more.

“Would it be alright if I took a few notes from that book?” He asked, pointing at the old volume of A History of Hogwarts. “All of the other copies have been checked out and I need to write about talking gargoyles or Binns will have my head.” He joked and you smiled, glancing down at the book in your arms, pausing for a moment as you noticed another copy of the book in the cart, but you chose to ignore it, perhaps this was a good time to spend a moment with Fred.

“We can’t have that, now can we?” You giggled softly. “We can share it.” You nodded with a little smile and Fred swore he had just seen and heard the most wonderful thing ever, quickly making it his aim to get more smiles and giggles out of you if he could because if it wasn’t the warmest and most lovely thing he’d experienced all day, he didn’t know what was.

You felt elated, though very nervous as you and Fred sat down together at one of the desks between the rows of books. It certainly didn’t help that Fred scooted his seat close to yours so he could easily see the book and the proximity of him, elbows almost touching, made your heart race.

“So, talking gargoyles?” You asked, opening the book and flicking through the pages. “That’s right, don’t suppose you happen to know if there are any around the castle?” He asked. “I would, actually.” You replied with a little smile and Fred looked over at you with curiosity, looking down at you as you flicked over onto a page on the subject. “And what, do you just go around talking to gargoyles and see if they talk back?” Fred asked, quite seriously and you let out a giggle. “No, well perhaps once or twice.” You admitted, rather shyly.

The pair of you talked, not just about Hogwarts and it’s talking gargoyles, but all manner of things and on several occasions, Madam Pince hushed you both with an irritated, harsh shhh, to which Fred just shook his head and chuckled.

“Did you know that there is one in the Transfiguration courtyard?” You asked, looking up at him and the red haired boy looked at you, intrigued. “No, have you spoken to it?” He asked. “Yes, a few times actually. Some of them are very good at listening when you need someone to talk to, but the one outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom is very grumpy and ill mannered.” You informed him and while Fred was quite amused by your information, he was grateful to spend some time getting to know the girl that made his heart warm.

He just couldn’t believe he was using talking gargoyles as a way to flirt with a girl.

He was elated, his heart was practically soaring as he packed the last of his writing supplies into his bag, because you were like a breath of fresh air. Fred was unsure he’d met anyone like you, shy yet so sweet and you seemed to have opened up a little bit around him in that hour he had spent with you, he just hoped he had another opportunity to see you open and warm up to him a bit more because it created a feeling in his chest like he had never felt before.

“Thank you for letting me share that book with you, I hope it wasn’t a bother.” Fred said sweetly to you as he pulled his bag onto the table, slowly packing away his History of Magic book, hoping to have just a little more extra time with you. “Never, Fred, let me know if you want to share another book again.” You told him shyly, unable to look at him, because the invite alone falling from your lips was rather an accident and you felt yourself flush with warmth that you’d even said that.

“Definitely.” He winked at you, though he was unsure you saw.

“See you around, love.” Fred said, smiling down at you as he stood up, pulling his bag onto his shoulder. “Bye Fred, good luck with your gargoyles.” You replied, looking over your shoulder at him as he pushed his chair back in and began to walk away.

Walking briskly into the common room with a bounce in his step and an unbeatable smile on his face, Fred walked over to his siblings. “Oi, oi, what’s this?” Fred asked, plucking a piece of paper out of his sister’s hands just as she had taken it back from George. “Umbridge got her in detention with Snape because she made her late to potions again.” George told him. “They’re bloody made for each other.” Fred rolled his eyes, handing the detention slip back to Ginny before dropping himself onto the sofa between his two siblings, Ron and Harry sitting off at the side on a couple of the armchairs.

“Where have you been anyway?” Ginny asked as Fred playfully nudged her away from him on the sofa so he could have a bit more space. “Studying.” He replied with a grin.

“You, voluntarily studying? And why the bloody hell are you so happy about it?” Ron interrogated him. “Oh shove off, can’t a man be happy about talking gargoyles?” Fred asked, Ron and Ginny giggling between themselves. “Talking gargoyles? That’s what’s making you smile like you’ve just won the quidditch world cup?”

“No Ronald,” Hermione countered as she approached the group from behind, circling around the sofa and perching herself on the arm next to George. “It wasn’t the gargoyles, it was a girl.” She announced, while Fred gave her a look of cutting disappointment.

“Ooh a girl, who is it Freddie? C’mon I won’t tell anyone.” George urged, leaning in close to his twin in an effort to get him to whisper it to him. “Yeah, I bet that’s who he’s been staring at all those breakfasts and dinners too.” Ron added. “Well, who is it?” Ginny asked, imitating her brother and leaning in against Fred, looking up at him with intrigue.

“Oi piss off you lot, all we did was bloody study, that’s all.” Fred told them pointedly. “Who is it though?” Ron asked, leaning over himself and prodding Fred’s leg. “None of your bloody business.” Fred chuckled, shoving Ron back and playfully pushing his siblings away from him.

Soon after, Fred and George returned to their dormitory together and Fred knew that George would probably try and pry it out of him somehow. “So what actually happened?” George asked, now that the two were alone in the boys dormitory and they were luckily the only two in the room. “We shared a book, we joked a fair bit and did you know that there’s a talking gargoyle outside of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom?” He asked.

“No?” George replied questioningly.

“No wonder, apparently he’s a right git.”

“Is that what you talked about the whole time? Grumpy gargoyles?” George asked. “Not exactly.” Fred replied, but now that George had said that and made him think back on the conversation, Fred wished he had spent more time chatting about other things and he knew he’d have to try his best to get another conversation with you soon.

“Well at least tell me what she’s like.” George said, sitting himself down on the edge of his bed, looking across at his brother while Fred took in a deep breath and grinned to himself, telling his twin about you.

After that day in the library, Fred took every opportunity he had to chat to you. He’d round on you when your classes together finished so he could swoop in front of you with that cocky smirk that seemed to send butterflies through you and make you even more shy and giggly, he would purposely sit next to you in class, assuming Umbridge wasn’t around to control the seating patterns.

He tried his best to get smiles out of you and he was always passing you notes in classes and pressing them into your hands when he passed you in the hallways.

He was sweet and kind and day by day, Fred managed to get you more and more out of your shell.

You were well and truly falling for Fred Weasley. And he was falling for you too.

“And why exactly did you need to bring me into all of this?” You questioned, feeling a shiver creep across your skin and the Weasley twin gave you a mischievous little smirk. “It’s no fun without someone else and George is serving detention with Filch since he got caught putting stink pellets under Umbridge’s chair before class as payback for Ginny getting detention.” He explained with a proud smile, watching as you laughed, bowing your head, a bit too shy to look him in the eyes.

It was a week later that Fred came hurtling down the corridor with a huge grin plastered on his face and you looked up to see him absolutely legging it towards you and you had half the mind to brace yourself as he approached.

“Bloody hell, Fred what’s-.”

“Shh, quick.” He hushed you, gently but firmly grabbing your shoulders before he pulled you off behind a statue and winked at you as he opened the entrance to a secret passageway and pulled you in with him.

“Fred?” You asked in a quiet voice, a little confused as to why you had been dragged into a freezing cold stone walled passageway. “Might’ve just set off a bunch of exploding flowers in Umbridge’s office.” He sniggered, to which, you couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s furious, bet she knows it was me too.” He laughed under his breath. “Serves her right.” Fred chuckled and his heart warmed when he heard your soft laughter join his.

Fred wanted to kiss you, he felt the urge, the way nearly every single part of him screamed at him to do it, and yet he restrained himself, his warm touch gently tracing down your arms to your hands and taking them into his with a gentle grasp. He wanted to kiss you, but the moment wasn’t right and he pulled himself out of the warm, hazy feeling that had washed over him and back into his confident, louder than life demeanor, giving you a big grin.

It was then that Fred realised how close to you he was and the sound of your laugh, sweet and gentle, relaxed him. Your presence, warmth and beautiful smile relaxed him.

Looking up at him, your eyes met and the way he looked at you with a look you couldn’t quite place, his grin slowly turning into a smirk as he held your gaze, you felt butterflies rush through you and you were sure that Fred, with his proud smile and warm eyes, could see the way he affected you and the very thought made your heart flutter.

“C’mon, let’s get going before anyone misses us.” Fred said, gently tugging you, your hand still in his as he reached out to open the entrance of the passageway.

It was finally the weekend and a particularly chilly Saturday morning at that. Everyone had woken up to the first snow of the year and the castle was practically buzzing with excitement and even though Umbridge had made strict instructions that snowball fights were prohibited, Fred and George had spent the best part of an hour after breakfast having a snowball fight and pelting anyone that walked close enough to them with snowballs.

And as the morning went on and George decided to part ways with his brother in search of some extra layers of warmth, Fred continued to walk further into the grounds, his heart lifting when he saw you in the near distance and he picked up the pace to catch up with you.

“Mornin’.” Fred’s smooth, deep voice caught your attention and you looked up to see him walking alongside you, having caught up from behind and you smiled sweetly at him. “Mind if I join you for a walk?” Fred asked and you quickly glanced up at him, giving him that sweet smile that he loved to see so much and nodding before you looked away again. “I’d like that.” You said, Fred relaxing as he stayed at your pace, a comfortable silence falling between you as you walked, the only sound that could be heard was the soft crunch of snow beneath your steps as you both walked down the hill towards the edge of the lake.

“Not likely, Umbridge really would have my head.” Fred laughed. “But I reckon we can get away with something.” He winked at you, grinning and you wondered what he and George might think up.

The two of you walked along the edge of the lake, most of the middle of the body of water was frozen over, but the gently lapping shores of the lake were still free, at least until the temperature dropped even more in the coming weeks before Christmas. “It always feels more magical around Christmas time, don’t you think?” You asked, looking back over your shoulder at Hogwarts, sitting proudly up on the rocks. The roofs were blanketed with fresh snow from the early morning flurry, it was as if everything was suddenly quiet and still and despite the excitement that filled the castle, there was an air of calmness that came with the first snow.

“Definitely.” Fred agreed. “Reckon they’ll put the tree up soon?” He asked.

“I hope so.” You replied, smiling up at him.

“What are you putting on the tree this year? More exploding baubles?” You asked, referencing the previous year when he and George had made some very pretty baubles that exploded when people walked a bit too close to them, causing half of the hall to shriek at the sudden chain of mini explosions like tiny fireworks and the other half to collapse into laughter.

As you walked a bit further through the grounds, a soft flurry of snow began to fall and the temperature seemed to drop a bit and you shivered as the chill rushed through you.

Without a word, Fred smiled at you, slowly putting his arm around you and you gladly leaned into his side.

Your heart sped up and you could barely look at Fred as you stopped near the forest edge, looking out across the lake with his arm around you. You had never expected to be this close to Fred, especially when you had considered yourself far too shy to even speak to him, let alone take walks with you tucked against his side.

A comfortable silence lingered between you for a moment as Fred slowly reached up, his warm fingers brushing against your cheek and he leaned in, pausing for a moment as his lips barely brushed against yours, his smile widening when he felt you lean into him, hands slowly trailing up his chest to rest on his shoulders and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, your eyes sliding shut as you leaned into him.

“I reckon this is more magical than a snowy Hogwarts.” Fred broke the silence, his voice low as he looked over at you. “What is, Fred?” You asked, unsure of what he was referencing.

“Out here, with you.” He admitted and you almost felt as if you needed to check if you were imagining all of this. “With me?” You asked, glancing up at him and meeting the warmest, sweetest look in his eyes and you practically melted on the spot.

Fred Weasley was capturing your heart and you were more than happy to allow him.

“Of course with you, silly.” He chuckled. “There’s something special about you, love.” Fred admitted, though he wasn’t entirely sure how to tell you how he felt, that being around you seemed to halt the entire world, as if everything you did just made his heart melt and gave him butterflies and not to mention, he felt calm around you and it was wonderful.

And as you parted, you could barely share his gaze until Fred lifted your chin with his fingers, his warm smile capturing you and you couldn’t look away, not when he looked at you so lovingly.

The kiss was slow and gentle and the moment was peaceful with not a single sound disturbing the moment you shared together. Your lips were sweet against his, tentative yet loving, shy yet warming and Fred swore he had never felt so wonderful.

Gently, he pulled you closer against his chest, deepening the kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly and the loving haze he had felt before in the secret passageway, that he felt every time he looked at you, lingered between you both.

“Fancy going back in for a cup of hot chocolate, love?” Fred asked after a moment. “I’d love one.” You nodded, smiling up at him and the twin grinned at you.

Slowly, Fred guided you back along the side of the lake, your hand in his with you against his side. And while you shared a silence between you, you looked up to find his gaze and the way you looked at each other said everything you needed to know.

You were well and truly in love with Fred Weasley.

Fred walked you slowly back to the castle, the pair of you enjoying each other’s company out in the snow, and it was almost strange to see Fred so quiet, yet his smile was wide and beaming as if he had just, as Ron had put it, won the world quidditch cup.

“I knew it.” Hermione whispered, somewhat triumphantly as she watched you and Fred settle down at a table near them in the great hall. “Knew what?” Ron asked. “The girl Fred’s with, Ron. She’s in some of our classes.” George explained. “Gotta say, they were spending a lot of time sitting together recently.” He shrugged. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you say anything?” Ron hissed at him. “I’d never snitch on my twin.” George said teasingly.

“Thank Merlin for talking gargoyles, ey?” Fred said as he watched you take a sip of your hot chocolate, swirled high with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. “Glad there was only one copy of that book that day too.” He said, lifting his own mug in his hands and taking a small sip as he listened to you giggle in response.

“And I’m glad I never pointed out the other copy of the book in the library.” You added, Fred looking at you with surprise and amusement as he let out a breathy laugh.

“You’re bloody sneaky, you are.” He chuckled, hugging you to his side as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“What do you say, darling?” He asked after a moment of silence. “Would you do me the honour of going out on a date with me?” Fred asked, his thumb gently soothing over your cheek as his eyes met yours.

Butterflies bloomed in your chest, an uncontrollable smile forming on your lips as you looked up at him. “Absolutely, Fred.” You replied with a little nod and Fred leaned in, his lips gently capturing yours in a loving, tender kiss.

And as he parted from you, beaming at you with the brightest smile you’d ever seen, Fred knew he was in love, just as you were with him.

Permanent Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7 @paintballkid711 @thesewaywardskies @coldlilheart @victorialynn7 @pandaxnienke @megantje123 @loving-life-my-way

#fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley #weasley twins #hp fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fan fic #the weasley twins #fred and george #weasley twin imagine #weasley twin fanfic #weasley twins imagine #weasley twins fanfic #hp fanfiction #george weasley #hp imagines

527 notes · View notes

watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years

Text

positive

warnings: pregnancy, anxiety

word count: 3.8k (look at me go 😃)

Your stomach clenched as you walked into the store, keeping your head down. You didn't want anyone to see you. They would probably know what you were here for just by looking at your face.

You paused for a moment, wondering why you thought that would be so bad. You were an adult; a woman with a job and a house and a husband who loved you. There was nothing shameful about this. Worrying, yes. Terrifying, absolutely. But not shameful.

Even so, you refused to look at anyone as you made your way to the aisle you needed. Once you got there, you finally looked up, staring at the rows and rows of pregnancy tests.

You grabbed the closest one, wanting to get out of there as soon as you could. You brought it to the self check out, scanning it quickly and throwing it in a bag. You didn't release the breath you had been holding until it was safely hidden under the bag of chocolates you had also purchased. You had decided those were necessary, too. To manage your stress levels, obviously.

Once you got back to your car, you took s few steadying breaths.

Everything will be fine, you reminded yourself. Harry will be happy. He definitely wants kids. You’ve talked about this.. You know he will be happy.

Knowing that still didn't help much. Your hands were shaking as you turned the key in the ignition, backing out of your spot and heading home.

-----

This had been the longest two minutes of your life. You sat on the edge of the bathtub, shaking with nerves and forcing yourself to take deep breaths. The timer on your phone slowly ticked off the seconds until you could check the test. 45 seconds left. You stood, pacing in front of the sink.

30 seconds left. You braced your hands on the vanity, looking in the mirror. Were you really about to be a mother?

15 seconds left. You counted silently along with the timer, getting more nervous with each passing moment.

You stopped the timer on the first beep, taking one final steadying breath. You ran your hand through your hair, looking into the mirror again. You were a mess. Your eyes were red and watery, the mascara you had put on earlier smudged underneath.

You reached for the stick on the counter with a shaky hand. Just as you picked it up, your phone rang. You jumped, gasping and nearly flinging it away from you. You looked at your phone, heart pounding when you saw Harry's face smiling up at you. It’s like he knows, you thought. You quickly shook that idea away.

You exhaled shakily, setting the test down without looking at it and answering the call.

"Hi Harry," you said, sliding down to sit against the wall and pulling your knees to your chest.

"Hi love! How're you doing?" He smiled, leaning back against his dressing room wall.

"I'm- I'm good," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm just- I'm good."

"Are you sure? You sound like something’s wrong," He said, cursing himself for not FaceTiming you.

"No, I'm fine," you said. You almost laughed at how easily he could read you, even when he couldn't see you.

"Ok, if you're sure," he said, sounding hesitant. Immediately, his mind went into overdrive. What is she doing? Where is she? Why does she sound scared? Did something happen? Is- He was pulled out of his spiral when you spoke again.

"I'm sure, H. What's going on, though? Don't you have to perform in ten minutes?"

"I do, yeah, but I just really missed you," he said, sounding almost shy. "I haven't heard your voice in so long, just wanted to say hi."

You smiled, resting your head against your legs.

"It's so good to talk to you, I feel like it's been forever. I hate being so far away from you, in a whole different time zone. It's very stressful," you said, sighing.

"I know, and I'm so sorry, but it's only for two more days- oh," He smacked his hand over his mouth, but the damage had already been done. She wasn't supposed to know about that, you idiot, he mentally yelled at himself.

You sat up quickly, moving your phone away from your ear to check the date. You weren't crazy, it definitely read "Tuesday, March 8".

"What do you mean two more days? I thought you weren't back until the 24th?"

"Uh- oh boy, you weren't supposed to know- I wanted to surprise you. The shows got cut short. I wasn't going to tell you, I was just going to show up at the house and fall into your loving arms," he said, sighing dreamily. He smiled, already excited to see you for what felt like the first time in ages.

"You- you're not- Harry!" You practically yelled into the phone. You were elated at knowing you would get to see him so soon, but your panic quickly took over. What if the test was positive? You had expected to have two more weeks to figure out how to tell him that he was going to be a father.

"Wow, Y/N, I expected you to be happy!" he said, laughing. "Come on, you don't hate surprises that much. Plus, it's me," he said, shoulders slumping a bit. He kept his voice light and happy, but inside he was worried. Does she not want to see me?

"No, of course I am!" you said quickly. "It's not- I just... I planned to-" You paused, searching your mind for a believable lie. "I was going to paint the bedroom, you know, redecorate. Then when you came home it would be totally finished, and it would be all cute and everything."

"Well, this way I can help! It'll be fun, you know, a group project." He laughed, relaxing again.

"Yeah, sounds good," you smiled. Knowing him, he would probably be sending you paint swatches and furniture ideas for the next two days. He might actually be disappointed when he got home and you had an entirely different conversation ready for him.

"Two minutes, Harry!" you heard faint yelling in the background before Harry spoke again.

"I'm sorry, I've gotta go, they're yelling at me. Call you after?"

"Of course. Have fun, babe!"

"Thanks. Bye!"

Harry hung up, setting his phone on the dressing room vanity before he made his way to the door. Right before he stepped out, though, he had an idea. Spinning around, he quickly went back to his phone and pulled up his mom's contact.

Harry: I'm going onstage soon, could you go check on Y/N? I think something's up but she won't say. Thanks, love you️❤️

"Harry, get out here!" Someone yelled again.

"I'm coming!" He responded, quickly pressing send and putting his phone back down.

-----

You finally found the courage to stand up again. You decided it was best to do this fast, like ripping off a bandaid. So you reached for the test, flipping it over before you could lose your nerve.

Positive. It was definitely positive. You exhaled shakily, sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

You weren't sure how long you sat before you heard a knock at the door. You flinched, deciding to just ignore it. It couldn't be that important. At least, not more important than the crisis you were currently having.

The knocking didn’t stop, though, so you finally got up from the floor. As you made your way to the kitchen, you heard a gentle voice calling your name. Your head snapped up, red-rimmed eyes glancing through the window to see who it was. You nearly collapsed in relief when you saw your mother in law standing at the door. You quickly moved to open it, smiling apologetically at her.

“Anne, it’s good to see you, come in,” you said, holding the door open wider. “I’m sorry I took so long, I didn’t know you were coming by!”

She smiled back, stepping inside and pulling you into a hug. You leaned into her, eyes welling up as your emotions washed over you. She pulled back, looking worried.

“Y/N, what’s the matter? Oh, don’t cry dear, come, sit and let’s talk.” She led you into the living room, sitting you on the couch next to her. “Harry sent me. He was worried about you, said he thought something was wrong. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Your eyes welled up again at how thoughtful harry was. He could tell you were upset, even over the phone. Even when you insisted everything was fine.

“It’s just...” you could barely speak through your tears. “I’m sorry, I’m- I don’t know how to say this, it’s-“

Anne looked at you encouragingly, rubbing your back in a soothing motion.

You took a deep breath. “I’m- I think I’m pregnant,” you whispered.

Anne’s eyes went wide for a second before she broke into a smile.

“Really? Oh, Y/N, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you,” she said, pulling you into her arms. “But wait- you think? Did you take a test?”

“Yes, from the grocery store. But those aren’t always accurate, right?”

“I suppose, but... I don’t think those give false positives, almost ever. Y/N, are you- Are you not happy about this?”

“No, I am, I just- what will Harry say? He’s touring again soon, and there will almost certainly be more of that. What if he doesn’t want to put his entire career on hold? What if he’s not ready to have a baby? What if-“

“Y/N, slow down,” she said, pulling away to look at you. “Have you met the man? He loves children. He loves you. He loves you more than anyone else on this earth.”

“Besides you,” you added, chuckling. “And Gemma.”

“Honestly, I think that’s a three-way tie” she said, laughing. “Why don’t we get you a doctors appointment, confirm this.”

“Yeah, that’s probably smart,” you said. “Thank you so much, Anne. I was so scared,” you said, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

“Of course, love! Anything for my daughter in law,” she said, hugging you again.

-----

Anne insisted on driving you to the appointment the next day, claiming she “wanted to be involved in every part of her possible grandchild’s life.” You had accepted reluctantly, not wanting to inconvenience her but secretly glad you weren’t alone.

Your leg bounced as you filled out the papers. You brought the completed forms to the desk, thanking the woman who told you the doctor would call you back soon. You settled back into your chair, checking your phone when it dinged.

Just like you had expected, Harry was sending you paint colors. He had sent about ten different shades of grey, then about twenty five different blues for “the accent wall”. You smiled at how excited he was. He was already great at domestic life, why should that be any different with a child?

-----

You texted Anne when the appointment was over, letting her know which door you were at. You got into the car, unable to contain your smile.

“Everything alright?” she looked at you expectantly.

“Yeah, I’m definitely pregnant,” you said, smiling. “Anne, you’re going to be a grandma.”

“Oh, congratulations! I’m so happy for you,” she said, leaning over the console to hug you. “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell Harry?”

“I actually do have an idea,” you said, pulling away to fasten your seatbelt. “Do you still have your Cricut?”

-----

You beamed as you held up the white onesie.

“Let’s see it, then!” Anne said excitedly.

You turned it around, revealing the large black Jersey font that read “STYLES 03”.

She was smiling as wide as you were. “That’s just precious, he’s going to love it,” she declared.

“Yeah?” You asked, grinning.

“Absolutely.”

Just then, your phone rang.

“Speak of the devil,” you said when you saw Harry’s face. You picked up the call, putting him on speakerphone so you could finish your project. “Hi Harry! Sorry I didn’t get to call you again yesterday, how was your show?”

“It was great, love, it went really well. How are you? Feeling better?”

“Yes, much. Thanks for sending your Anne to check on me, that was very sweet of you.”

“Yeah, of course! I’m glad she could be there, even though I couldn’t,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Don’t make yourself upset, Harry, I’m always here for Y/N!” Anne said from across the table.

“Oh hi mum! Didn’t know you were there too. What have you two been up to?”

“Um...” you looked at Anne desperately, not sure what to tell him.

“Just been looking through some furniture, love,” Anne jumped in. You smiled at her gratefully.

“Oh, about that! I was thinking we should get one of those benches, you know, the ones that go at the end of the bed? I think they just add a nice little accent to the room. What do you think?”

“Sure, Harry, we can find one of those,” you said, smiling. Just then, you heard a strange grinding noise. You looked down to see the Cricut attempting to eat the vinyl you had been printing out. Your eyes went wide, trying to get Anne’s attention without alerting Harry. She yelped when she saw what you were pointing at.

“What happened?” Harry asked quickly.

“Uh, nothing, we just... found a really nice rug. I gotta go, Harry, talk later!”

You quickly hung up, trying to suppress your laughter as Anne fought with the machine.

“Stop that, you stubborn thing!” She said, pulling the paper out. “That’s quite enough out of you,” she said sternly, pressing the off button when the machine beeped at her.

Once everything was settled, Anne picked up the onesie again, smiling at the letters.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to worry. He’s going to be elated, truly.”

“I know, it’s just... a little scary,” you said, laughing nervously.

“Sure it is, this is a big thing! But remember that it’s a good thing, and it’s something you both want very much. And of course, so do I.”

“Right, of course,” you laughed. “Do you have a gift bag? I want to wrap that so it’s ready to give to Harry as soon as I can.”

-----

Your stomach had been fluttering since you got the text from Harry. The text. The one that read “just touched down! I’ll be home in two hours ️”. The text that meant you were about to tell him something that would change his life forever.

You were pacing in the living room, unsure of what else to do. You had tried to read a book, but that was useless. You found yourself reading the same sentence over and over with absolutely no comprehension. Then you tried making some pasta for Harry, since you knew it was his favorite and that he would be hungry. This didn’t go so well, though. You were so nervous and shaky that you almost splashed boiling water all over yourself. You decided it wasn’t wise to horribly injure yourself, so you moved on from that. You even tried watching Grey’s Anatomy, which had never failed to distract you before. Even so, you found yourself unable to relax. All you could think about was Harry. What would he say? What would his face look like when he saw the onesie? Would he get it, or would you have to outright tell him you were going to have his child?

You decided to listen to “Kiwi” to get yourself ready to say “I’m having your baby” in case he needed extra help understanding.

At this point, you were basically just watching the clock. You were sure the seconds had never been so long, even when you were waiting for the results of the test.

Finally, you gave up on trying to get your mind off the topic and decided to dive headfirst into it. You made your way upstairs to the room closest to you and Harry’s.

This will be the nursery, you thought with a smile.

You began to map everything out in your mind, from where the crib and dresser would go to what color the blinds would be. You quickly opened Pinterest, very creatively searching “cute nurseries”. You immediately made a new board, flooding your screen with images of play pens and rugs and wall stickers and rocking chairs and everything else you could possibly need.

The time passed faster than you had expected, and the next time you looked up it was 4:52. Knowing he would be home in less than 10 minutes started a whole new rush of nerves in you, and your heart started pounding again.

You went back to the living room, grabbing the little gift bag before going into the kitchen. You adjusted the tissue paper, making the onesie was completely concealed before you put the bag on the counter near the door. You leaned back against the sink, checking your phone again. Your heart jumped when the time changed to 5:00, knowing he would be home any second now. He always managed to get home exactly when he said he would, usually not even off by a minute.

By 5:01, your heart was absolutely pounding out of your chest. Your hands were shaking, so you gripped your phone tighter to steady them. You thought about going into the living room so you could sit, but then your thoughts were interrupted. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard the sound. A car door slamming.

You could barely breathe from the anticipation as you heard his heavy footsteps on the porch; his key clicking in the lock. You rushed forward to let him in, but he had already flung the door open.

He dropped his bags, not paying the slightest attention to where they landed. He didn’t hesitate for even a second before he surged forward, pulling you against him.

“I missed you so much,” he said, breathing heavily. “I would have died if I had to go one more day without seeing you.”

“H... I can’t breathe,” you said, your face squished against his chest. He laughed, loosening his grip just enough for you to fully inhale.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m just so happy to see you,” he said, pressing his face to the top of your head. “I’m never going on tour without you again, I was so lonely.”

You smiled, standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“I’d be ok if you took me with you next time,” you said, wrapping your arms tighter around him.

You stood there in his arms for a few more minutes, just listening to his heart beating. He swayed you gently, breathing in the sweet smell of your conditioner. Finally, he lifted his head.

“So, tell me everything!”

“Everything about...?” You said, looking up at him quizzically.

“The decorating! Did you and my mum buy any good stuff? I’m ready to go, I’ve been thinking about this for the past two days.”

You felt your face heating up as he looked at you. You felt kind of bad that your lie had gotten this far. He was practically ready to redo the entire house, thinking that’s what you wanted.

“Uh... why don’t we go to the living room?”

“Sure,” he smiled, grabbing your hand to lead you.

"Wait!" you said, pulling back. You reached behind him, picking up the gift bag. Then you smiled, allowing him to lead you to the couch.

Once you were both settled, he turned toward you expectantly. You took a deep breath, knowing everything was about to change.

“Ok... I’m really sorry, but I lied to you,” you said, avoiding his eyes. “There was no redecoration, there was no painting, there was no rug.”

“I- why? What were you doing that you couldn’t tell me about?” He asked, looked confused and a little bit hurt.

“No- it’s not... I wasn’t-”

“Why was my mom here, then?”

“Harry, just let me-”

“Why did you- was there-”

You could tell he was spiraling, and that he was probably imagining some pretty bad things. You couldn’t really blame him, though. You had been acting weird and secretive and now you straight up told him you had been lying. You knew this looked bad.

You quickly placed your hand on his knee, trying to ground him.

“Harry, will you let me talk, please?” You asked gently, looking in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course, I’m sorry,” he said, placing his hand over yours.

“Ok, here goes,” you said, blowing out a breath. “When you called me two days ago, the day you told me you were coming home early, you were right. Something was wrong. Well, not wrong exactly, just... scary,” you said, trying to collect your thoughts. And then when you called yesterday, when your mom was here, we weren’t looking at rugs. We were... crafting.”

“Crafting?” He said, looking confused. “Crafting what?”

“Well, it was... actually, why don’t you see for yourself?” You said holding up the gift bag.

He felt how shaky your hand was against his leg, and he looked at you with concern.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Just... just open it, I’m fine,” you managed to get out.

He pulled away the tissue paper, looking very nervous. He lifted the tiny garment out, holding it up in confusion.

“What’s...” he trailed off as you motioned for him to turn it around. When he did, you were met with the big letters telling him there would soon be a third member of the Styles family. You quickly looked at his face, trying to decipher his thoughts.

He lowered the onesie, turning slowly toward you.

“It’s... you’re... really?” He said, a slow grin spreading across his features.

You nearly fell back against the couch in relief as you nodded.

“We’re... really?” He asked again, seemingly in disbelief.

“Yes, really,” you said, smiling.

“You’re- we’re having a baby?”

“Yes,” you repeated. “We’re having a baby.”

You barely got the chance to take a breath before he jumped on you, pushing you down on the couch and kissing you. When he pulled back, he didn’t go far. He leaned his forehead against yours, smiling from ear to ear.

“We’re having a baby,” he whispered.

“We are,” you said, grinning.

“Wait,” he said, pushing himself up. He took your hand, pulling you up with him. “Does this mean we don’t get to redecorate? Because, honestly, I was getting really excited about that, I picked out some really good colors-”

You laughed, pressing your face against his chest.

“We can do whatever you want, we just have an extra room to think about now.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “The room where our little jellybean is going to live.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction #fluff #fluffy #pregnancy #dad!harry

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adhd-adept · 3 years

Note

I have self diagnosed adhd and i was wondering if you could provide some advice regarding reading. I used to be able to just pick up a book and read when i was younger, but now that I'm older it's a bit difficult to just pick up a book and read for the sake of reading. I love reading, but i just can't seem to motivate myself to.

Any advice? I'd really love to get back into reading, but I'm trying to find a way to do it easier

Hello! I’m sorry this took me so long to answer, I’ve been mostly off Tumblr for a little while. I saw this some time ago at 3AM and thought “this deserves a more coherent response than I can give right now” and then forgot that this blog existed for several days.

That said, I absolutely have some advice for reading! I was a big reader as a kid, too, and I’ve recently had to re-discover reading after a long gap in any time spent sitting down with an honest-to-goodness book. There are a number of things you might consider!

DISTRACTIONS

First and foremost, recognize the reason it is difficult to read! For me, it is because reading isn’t the most interesting thing available. That doesn’t mean I don’t love reading! If I can manage to sit down and read a book, it is immensely satisfying - but it’s the satisfaction of the effort you put into something paying off. My favorite hobbies - drawing, writing, reading - are my favorite because of that sense of accomplishment that they give me.

I love the feeling of holding a book and watching my bookmark move through the pages each time I set it down. However, it doesn’t give me the same instant gratification of reading wikipedia, or tvtropes, or scrolling Tumblr, or checking notifications on social media; even when I am unsatisfied, or even frustrated, with the internet, it can be very hard to put down. I know that people will tell you all the time “You need to put your phone down more!!” It gets old. But they have a point. What people don’t tell you is how to do that.

For me, that tends to be about making it inconvenient for myself to get online, or do whatever is distracting me. This doesn’t necessarily mean making it completely unavailable. The distraction just needs to be less available than the task I want to do. I am the kind of person who gets online out of muscle memory, and then gets stuck there. Thus, many of my tricks rely on disrupting the muscle memory that lets you pick up distractions. I will put my laptop charger in another room, so that my screen time is limited to its battery life. I might tie a string around my laptop, or tape it closed, so when I go to open it I will be reminded “Oh yeah, I don’t want to do this right now.” I will occasionally rearrange the apps on my phone, so when I try to open Instagram and end up with the weather app instead, the thought of “wait, how did i get here” will snap me out of the thoughtless habits that led me to pick up my phone in the first place. I’ve even gone so far as to tape my phone to the ceiling. Whatever works.

If the weather permits, I might also walk a little ways down the block and find somewhere to sit and read. This can come with its own distractions, but it gets me away from my laptop, and I get a tiny bit more exercise and sunshine than I would have otherwise! This depends, of course, on whether you have transportation and whether you feel safe. But getting yourself out of the house can be a great way to get away from the things that would otherwise draw you away from reading. If you have a local cafe or library that permits you to sit and stay, those are also great options! I will bring my phone when I leave the house, but I might put it at the bottom of my bag, or put a bit of scotch tape over the power button, so that I have my phone in case of emergency but it’s just slightly inconvenient to get to without thinking about it.

It may not be the internet distracting you. But whatever the distraction is, it doesn’t need to be less compelling than reading. It just needs to be less readily available than your book is!

ENTHUSIASM

Another thing that prevents me from reading is that it often doesn’t have the same sense of urgency that other tasks might, whether that urgency is real or not. Give yourself a time limit! I may own books I haven’t read yet, but I will get to a book sooner if I have borrowed it from the library, because I know there is a deadline to return it!

You can also get other people involved. If you have a friend who wants to read the same book, commit to a chapter or two a week and then call to discuss it.

Or, if you have a friend who would be interested, and you are comfortable with your reading voice, you could read to someone! It might feel weird to offer, but you’d be surprised how many people really do enjoy being read to. If you both have time in your schedules, you could try to set up a regular call to get through a few chapters at a time.

Generally, having a friend who likes the book is great for maintaining enthusiasm, even if they’re not reading it with you - I get to books faster if someone with similar taste says “This is one of my favorites! You would love it!” If you have a friend who has read the book you plan on reading, announce to them that you intend on reading it. Their enthusiasm might help you feel more compelled to read it, and there’s a good chance that if you don’t sit down and read it, they will remind you by asking “Have you read it yet? What do you think?” the next time you talk to them.

PREPARATION

Another great way to make reading easier is to set up a reading space beforehand. It’s one thing to pick up a book and say “I’ve been meaning to read this.” It’s another thing to put on some pajama pants, make a cup of tea, and curl a soft blanket around your shoulders before you settle down to read. For one thing, it’s just nice. But more importantly, it can function as a signal that tells your brain “it is Reading Time now. We are in the Reading Zone.”

Do you ever watch a TV show or listen to a podcast, and you let the theme song play on the first episode, and then skip it for the rest? Even if I’ve watched a show before, I will play the theme song on the first episode I watch that day. It’s the same principle - it serves as a transition, an intro that says “this is where I am now, and this is what I’m doing.” Give yourself an intro for reading! Have a certain spot that you like to sit when you read. Have a certain snack you eat beforehand.

I have all kinds of tasks with little “rituals” before them that help me focus on that task, or certain items that I interact with which I associate with it. I call them “declarations of intent,” and once I’ve made a declaration it’s easier to commit to it. Sometimes that means simply saying out loud, “I am going to do the laundry now.” Sometimes it means I wear a certain shirt if I’m planning to go for a walk that day, or drink from a certain mug at breakfast if I want to get some homework done. I have a specific hat that I put on when I want to write a certain character. Try to find something you can do to act as a cue that says “When I do this, then I will read a book.” Because of this, it can help to really lean into whatever the “aesthetic” of reading is, in your mind. Embrace a reading atmosphere!

It may also help to recognize that reading is something you can work your way up to! There is no shame in being out of practice with a hobby. I took my reading proficiency for granted for a long time because it was just a part of my life. It may help to think of reading as a skill! Start with something smaller and work your way up. Pick up a book of short stories or folktales before you tackle that six-book series you’ve heard good things about! Set achievable goals for yourself when you’re setting out. An early success can make a huge difference to morale, and it’s much better to start “too easy” and accomplish something than to jump in at the deep end and be frustrated by an early setback.

FORGIVENESS

On the topic of working your way up to things, I would like to say a word about mindset. It is easy to feel self-critical about things. Things that you think should come more easily to you. Things that you feel like you have no reason not to be able to do. One of the biggest things I’ve done for my ADHD is recognizing that there is always a reason why I behave a certain way. Accepting that allows me to actually address my struggles, rather than just feeling ashamed of them. I’ve had to accept that I won’t always do things that I set out to do the way I set out to do them.

I bring this up because not all of my advice here may work for you. In fact, some of it doesn’t work for me every time - a technique may work once, but I might fail to make a regular habit of it. I may make a regular habit of something, only to have it become less effective as the novelty of it, or my enthusiasm for it, wears off. I may eventually talk myself out of implementing an effective strategy because there is some part of it that I find unpleasant; or an intentional unpleasantness I once found motivating may eventually become intolerable.

That’s okay. I’m telling you now, it’s okay if that happens. It’s okay if the first method you try doesn’t work. Don’t set yourself up to feel frustrated. If you become frustrated, take a step back. If you borrow a library book and you still haven’t read it by the due date, just give it back. If you don’t actually enjoy the first book you pick up, put it down and try a different one. If you feel badly about not reading something your friend wants you to read, be honest and tell them you have a hard time sitting down, and that you don’t want to disappoint them if they keep asking, but that you will let them know once you have started it!

It can be easy to convince myself that feeling badly about something means it’s important to me, and that maybe if I feel bad about not doing something, it motivate me to do it. There is a balance between making commitments, and not committing to anything that is just going to distress me. Sometimes there is a benefit to a sense of pressure, but I have to recognize when the pressure I create turns into frustration. That’s a fine line to walk! For all I speak of inconveniencing yourself, or holding yourself accountable, your strategies should ultimately feel satisfying, and show results fairly quickly! You may not see immediate results, but if it has been several days and your strategy isn’t working out, change tactics! And the moment you feel apologetic or ashamed about the thing you are trying to do, drop that strategy. Again, this can be easier said than done, but it is so worthwhile to learn how to allow yourself to “give up” on things that aren’t actually helping you, without feeling like you’re giving up entirely.

You want to get back into reading again because you want to enjoy reading again. If you set it up to feel like homework, or a chore, or an obligation, you may make it more difficult for yourself! Getting back into reading is about focusing on what you love about reading.

And hey, I’m always happy to help! I do only check Tumblr every couple weeks right now, but I’ll do what I can to be supportive. If you’ve tried these suggestions and they don’t work out, no worries! Everyone is different, and it’s no insult to me if things that work for me don’t work for you. But feel free to reach out again, let me know anything you have learned about how you function best in the meantime, and we can reevaluate your strategies!

I hope that helps! Happy reading!

#thanks for asking!!#nezjazz #let me know how this works out #a lot of the advice i have for reading is advice i have for Doing Tasks With ADHD in general to be honest #i use the same tricks i use to get myself to read sometimes to get myself to do things like wash dishes #it's about making yourself more interested in what you want yourself to do #and making it easier to do the important things relative to the ease of doing the less important things #i will just straight up delete apps off my phone if i spend too much time on them #most of the time i dont miss them #and tumblr i can access from my laptop it's just slightly more steps to actually log in and type in my password #(i ONLY use tumblr on incognito mode so it doesnt save my login and i have to actually enter my password every time)#(that way i know that if i actually take the steps to log on it's because i WANT to)#(because something about doing that is worth it to me)#(i did that today to come and answer this question lol)#(but that's also why it's taken me so long.)#(do let me know if you have any other questions! i'll be back eventually to help as best i can!)#(and i love feedback)#(if you discover something that works better for yourself let me know that too so i can share with everyone!)

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brandywine-tomatoes · 3 years

Text

Lightsaber Trials

Bad Batch Fluff

Prompt chosen by my wife @icedcoffee101

Masterlist

TW: arguing/bickering, a few dark implications here and there, ms. tano not leaving the jedi order, Ahsoka saving the day

Word count: 2163

Prompt/Inso: #4 from my list: Fun times with a lightsaber

QUICK NOTE: BSL stands for Basic Sign Language, and yes I made it up

“Why exactly are we giving our debriefings on Coruscant?” Crosshair asked, the question directed beside him at Hunter who was fiddling with a datapad. Something about booking landing zones?

“The Jedi want to meet us in person apparently,” Tech, who was bringing the Havoc out of hyperspace, answered instead.

“Haven’t we met them already?”

“It’s statistically impossible for us to meet-”

“I didn’t ask what was statistically impossible,” he sat forward in his seat. “I asked why we’re debriefing on Coruscant.”

“They ask squads to report to Coruscant whenever they feel it’s necessary,” Echo said from the co-pilot's chair.

“That must waste a lot of time,” Wrecker piped in from behind them all.

“The jedi just love to control everything,” Cross mumbled and sat back up, crossing his arms.

“I doubt you’d get away saying that around them.”

“Well then it’s a good thing we haven’t landed yet.”

“Will you ever stop being so condescending to authority?” Echo turned to face him.

“Guys,” Hunter interjected. “Enough.”

Echo rolled his eyes and turned back to help Tech land the ship.

“We have better things to do than meet the people who send us to die every day,” Cross wryly concluded. He got up and went to open the hatch. The bright Coruscant sun blinded him for a few seconds as he stepped out onto the tarmac, the rest of the batch following closely.

They lined up and stood at attention for the general approaching from the Jedi temple.

“At ease Clone Force 99, welcome to Coruscant,” Jedi General Plo Koon greeted them. “I assume you know why you’ve been called here.”

“Yes, general,” Hunter answered.

“There will be an evaluation of the mission's report and of course an extensive debrief...” Plo Koon went on about how the day would shape out for the batch and what was expected of them, Hunter nodding at every word beside him while the rest of the batch followed in their path.

“You’d think they’d be more efficient,” Crosshair mumbled to himself.

“Trust me, CT-9904, this is the most efficient and effective system for assessing clone squads,” Plo Koon turned to look at a flustered Crosshair.

He nodded and muttered an apology.

“Just through here, it won’t take an obscene amount of time I’m sure,” the general gestured to a doorway as they climbed the staircase of the temple.

---

“‘It won’t take an obscene amount of time’ he says. ‘This is the most efficient and effective system’ he says,” Crosshair complained on the way back to the Havoc.

The bustling city around the temple went on as the sun was crawling towards the horizon, casting a wave of deep orange over the little part of Coruscant. The clones walked wearily back to their ship, completely exhausted from the assessment and debriefing. The helmets under their arms were close to falling out of their grips as every step took more energy out of them.

“It could’ve been worse,” Wrecker tried to reason.

“Worse? What could’ve been worse than that!”

“Being court marshalled, decommissioned, reconditioned-” Echo started rhyming out, counting on his left hand.

“You know what I mean!” He threw his free arm in the hair.

Echo smirked. His favourite game was messing with Crosshair, it was just so easy, it was always an effortless achievement.

Tech was lagging behind the others, too busy sorting through his notes from the assessment on his datapad to contribute to whatever Echo and Cross were arguing about. Though, he wasn’t so tuned out that he missed the small cylinder his foot kicked. The metal tube made a small jostling sound as it rolled a couple feet away from Tech. He’d studied them enough to know what it was on sight. A lightsaber.

Not uncommon on temple grounds, but very uncommon just lying on the tarmac. Such a crucial part of the Jedi religion would never be left without its user nearby. He looked left, looked right, nothing but perfectly lined up ships on either side. No jedi to claim it, no general there to see him maybe...

He quickly picked it up and stuffed it in his satchel. What could happen? A Jedi would need to make another one, boohoo. They’ve made them for thousands of years, their stash wouldn’t deplete. The religion would survive, the temple would still stand, the war would go on. Who cares if he gets to study a lightsaber up close? He was becoming as giddy as a cadet. Who ever got to study a lightsaber other than their creators and the wielders?

As soon as they were in hyperspace, he whipped it out and started examining the intricate designs and mechanisms. Tech had fiddled with it for a solid couple of hours, trying to open up the hilt, before Wrecker noticed Tech had been weirdly quiet during their hyperspace trip.

“What is that?” He asked, pointing to it for emphasis.

Everyone turned to look at where Wrecker was pointing. Tech slowly raised his gaze from the small tool in his hand that was previously trying to pry open the hilt. His feet were on the seat, his eyes level with his knees and various small tools were balanced on them.

They stared at him, at first, with fear for their own skins. Then it turned to frustration. They all knew Tech wasn’t one to let go of something he wanted to study, but this definitely crossed a line.

“Tech,” Hunter said slowly, like he was coaxing a clanker into submission.

Tech sprang from his seat and darted down the Havoc, the rest of the Batch quickly following.

“Tech!”

He spun around and the green blade ignited from the hilt in his hand. Everyone jumped back immediately, hands held up in surrender. Tech practically threw it away from him in surprise. The polished dark metal hilt clattered to the ground and the green plasma retracted, leaving the crew in an adrenaline-filled silence.

Then all hell broke loose.

“What the absolute fuck were you thinking!” Echo yelled, not so much a question.

“It was just lying there!”

“You can’t just go around taking lightsabers whenever you damn well please!”

“But no one was using it-”

“We were at a Jedi fucking temple, Tech!” Echo threw his arms in the air.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it,” Wrecker tried reasoning.

“Really! He didn’t mean anything by it! Stealing a fucking lightsaber isn’t nothing!” Echo was fuming angry. “We could get in so much trouble, do you understand that!”

“Enough Echo, we all know how serious this is,” Hunter interjected.

“I don’t think you do!” He took a step towards Hunter, his fist shaking.

“Echo, they’ll know it’s a misunderstanding, it isn’t like they’re going to execute us,” he tried lightening the tension, but it seemed to only make it worse.

Echo looked at all of them with a dark look on his face. “You’re all lucky I have strings I can pull.”

“And what are those, exactly?” Crosshair smugly asked.

“I know people, and most of them own me favours.”

Echo dug through his belt of pouches to retrieve a single commlink.

“Oh yeah, we’re all saved,” Cross mumbled, walking back up the aisle to the cockpit, conveniently where the lightsaber was sitting.

“Rex, we have a problem,” he spoke into the comm, leaning against one of the bunks.

A few tension-filled seconds passed.

“Oh no, do I want to hear this?” Rex’s staticky voice filled the silence.

“Probably not, is Commander Tano with you?��

“Uh, yeah, hold on.”

The comm went silent for longer, everyone growing restless.

“Great plan, your reg Captain ditched you,” Cross said from the isle, no one noticing him examining the polished dark metal hilt.

“Echo? What’s up, what happened?” Ahsoka’s calm voice floated through the comm.

“You remember that place with the thing that one time and the promise you made?” Echo’s lips twitched up in amusement.

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” she groaned. “What do you need? How can I help?”

He gave Tech an irritated look. “Well, we accidentally stole a lightsaber-”

“Accidentally? How do you accidentally steal a lightsaber?”

“It’s a long story. Can you maybe just... I don’t know, work the force in our favour?”

She sighed fondly. “Who do I need to talk to?”

“I like her,” Wrecker tried to whisper.

Echo glared at him. “General Plo Koon.”

“I’ll holo him right now- oh wait, oh shit,” the crew heard Ahsoka ignite one of her lightsabers and deflect a couple blaster bolts. She shouted orders to Rex and the other clones who sounded like they were taking heavy fire.

“Slight inconvenience, I’ll have to holo him later. This won’t take long,” she shouted over the intense fire. “I’ll talk to you later Echo.”

The comm went silent and Echo looked worried sick.

“She’ll be fine, she’s a jedi. They don’t need anyone else’s help,” Crosshair bit out as he looked for the ignition button on the lightsaber.

“I guess- wait, Cross, what are you-”

The green sabre shot out, startling everyone except Crosshair who looked pleased with himself.

He spun it around in his right hand, getting used to the weight. “These are pretty cool.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Quit it Crosshair, they aren’t toys.”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” he tried to spin it in front of him, doing a terrible imitation of the jedi.

“Cross-”

As soon as he tried to switch the blade to his left hand, the plasma sliced through the thin aiming plate attached to his shoulder. The thin plastoid plate clattered to the ground and everyone burst out laughing while Crosshair looked absolutely heartbroken, his gaze never leaving the sliced armour.

He pushed the button on the hilt and the blade retracted. The thick tension evaporated and everyone walked up the aisle to the cockpit, patting Cross on the shoulder and chuckling to themselves.

“Switching course back to Coruscant then?” Tech asked, amusement still edged in his voice.

Hunter took his seat behind Tech. “Let’s just hope Commander Tano keeps her promise."

---

“We are incredibly sorry for the inconvenience, it won’t ever happen again,” Hunter practically followed Plo Koon out the temple and into the gardens like a sad puppy. The Batch held in their chuckles at his behaviour, all of them purely relieved Ahsoka holoed him in time.

“There’s no inconvenience, Sargeant. The padawan who owns this sabre learned a valuable lesson.”

The group walked around a cement corner to see a little twi'lek sobbing, holding her face in her hands as another padawan had an arm around her shoulders.

“Sapher.”

Her head shot up and ran to the group, seeing her hilt in Plo’s hand.

“You know not to leave this lying around,” the general knelt on the cement.

She nodded profusely, stray tears dripping down her cheeks.

“You’ve learned your lesson, Sapher?”

She nodded again. The general offered her the blade and she snatched it up, overlooking it with a keen eye. Tech felt a little bad for the scratches he made in the metal while trying to pry it open.

The kid must’ve put 2 and 2 together to figure out the clones decked out in red and black armour were the ones who returned it. She started moving her hands and arms around in precise movements, trying to convey her thanks.

“Uh, Tech, do you know what she’s doing?” Hunter whispered.

“You don’t understand BSL?” Tech rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t survive a day without me. She says she’s eternally grateful and she’ll always be indebted to us in the simplest terms, she’s using quite advanced phrases I doubt you’d understand.”

The girl looked very pleased with herself at his compliment and signed something back to Tech. They conversed for a few seconds more before she handed him a small circular piece of matte metal. He signed a goodbye and she ran back to her friend to tell her all about her new allies.

“We best be going then,” Hunter said to Plo Koon. They bid their thank yous and goodbyes and soon enough, they were finally en route to their next mission without any detours.

“What was that disk she gave you?” Echo asked.

“A holo. For once, I think we have an ally amidst the jedi ranks.”

“A holo that small? Impossible.”

Tech smiled slightly. “Very limited production, I’ve only heard about them from comm chatter.”

“How touching,” Cross sarcastically added, fiddling with a toothpick between his lips.

“You’re just sour cause you don’t have a levelling plate anymore,” Echo chuckled, turning his attention back to the controls.

“We’ll find someone to get it fixed,” Hunter cut in, not wanting another argument to break out.

“Fates forbid you don’t have the best sniper in the GAR watching your back.”

“From today's events, I’m not so sure I want you watching my back at all,” Echo jokingly mumbled.

Cross stood up. “Why you little-”

Hunter blew a fuse. “Enough already!”

A/N: This took so much fuc-fricking time to write!! I thought it was gonna be maybe 500, maybe 700 words, but I ended up with a 2000 word fic. Life just does that to you ig.

ANYWAYS, I hope y'all liked it, I loved writing that little Rex and Ahsoka cameo. I do want to note that this is after they rescued Echo from the Techno Union, but it's many months before the events of the Seige of Mandalore. It's also kinda a fix-it fic?? I wanted to bring ahsoka in and I was just so excited to do so that I forgot she wasn't part of the order during this time... WHOOPS

(Don't forget to drink some water right now and go eat a snack, you deserve it so much bestie ❤️❤️)

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sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose · 4 years

Text

Thorin x reader | Hanahaki |

Summary: Reader falls in love with Thorin even if he isn't always nice to her. Reader gets Hanahaki disease and it worsens everytime she realizes Thorin won't ever love her.

Hanahaki: A rare disease caused by unrequited love. It manifests when the afflicted believes their feelings are unrequited. Thus even if the feelings are requited, they will have to be convinced they are loved.

If the afflicted has been rejected then the disease will worsen and the afflicted will die within a few hours.

(I once read this version of Hanahaki somewhere but I don't remember where so it might seem familiar.)

Warnings: Angst, panic attack (but good ending, promise, I can't stand bad endings lol my heart can't take those)

You would've never guessed that love could produce such a disease. Flowers rooting themselves in your lungs, growing and limiting your breathing capabilities. Gandalf, the sly wizard, found you throwing bloody petals away and pulled you aside.

Your gut told you the Grey Wizard already knew who it was but you still refused to say. It was painful enough to realize he would never love you back, so why say it out loud? So you would die quicker? No. You refused to die until you've done your part in the Quest for Erebor.

Gandalf kindly (urgently) told you the 'cure' of the Hanahaki disease. Should you confess and your feelings are requited, then the disease would disappear. But the afflicted would need to truly believe they are loved, otherwise they will end up the same way should their feelings be unrequited. If you confess and the other person doesn't feel the same, then the afflicted would die within a few hours instead of dying a slow suffocating death.

After being transported from your home to Middle-Earth and stumbling upon the little hobbit hole, you were swept away on this quest. Gandalf had to do a lot of convincing the King under the Mountain to let you join the Company because he thought you would be an asset to the quest. How? You did not know...

You were certain you weren't fit for this quest but you knew the feeling of missing home. Something you hadn't talked about it with anyone yet. No one asked so you didn't say a word about it.

The first to approach you were the nephews, Bofur and Bilbo (and Gandalf of course). They made you feel welcomed when the others didn't.

Thorin didn't budge from his first impression of you. Frail, weak and just a human female. Useless and an extra mouth to feed.

Your first impression of him on the other hand was quite the opposite. He was more handsome than in the movies, more majestic and even more intimidating.

You developed a little crush on the brooding King but that was only because he was attractive. His personality made you gag in the beginning, but after some time on the quest, you saw through little actions that he cared greatly for his kin.

You began to admire him more, even if his attitude towards you was less than optimal and even though you weren't the recipient of his small acts of kindness. Even Bilbo was more accepted by the Company and Thorin than you were. This made you feel like an outcast.

Even though Thorin treated you like you were less, your crush on him began to develop into love because you saw what a great king he would be. The important decisions he makes and leading the Company, you wouldn't be able to do any of those things, and you doubt anyone just could. He was extremely loyal and honorable (just not to you I guess).

After a while your throat began itching and you felt an urge to cough. It began as an annoying itch and transformed into a painful cough. You didn't want to be seen as an inconvenience (even more than before) so you hid it.

Then came the petals. Bloody petals. Hiding these were easy enough since it didn't happen a lot, but Gandalf was able to pick up on it. It looked like he pitied you, and was always kind and understanding when you didn't want to say who it was (but he probably already knew).

After the ordeal with those trolls (were you weren't much of a help) Bilbo became more accepted into the Company than you (though Fili, Kili and Bofur were still very accepting and open minded).

The Company slowly opened up to you, reluctantly albeit, because of your gender. Dwarves thought that females should stay safe at home and not be out adventuring.

That hurt you to be honest. After transporting to this world you didn't have a home to turn to, but apparently these dwarves never realized that. It bothered you greatly since you never talked to anyone about your family, but you did talk about your world when certain dwarves asked questions about your world.

Little by little you began feeling more worthless and depressed, even when the Company keeps you company. (hah get it?)

You stayed quiet more than ever, only saying something when something was asked, and with less enthusiasm. The Company must've noticed how your mood dampened. You missed home and Thorin's harsh words didn't make it any better. He always remarked how you should've stayed home, but it's not like you a choice now had you? You always went out in the woods to cough out all the petals you were keeping in and hoped no one would notice.

One night, when you were keeping watch (yaaay you got a task...but it was a sign that the leader thought you weren't completely useless) you felt someone sitting next to you. You hoped your tears weren't visible as you were thinking of home and how you're probably stuck on Middle-Earth.

The fur of the King was unmissable as he was sitting next to you. Little did you know that he saw your tears glistening in the moonlight. He probably thought you were too emotional and not fit for this quest.

What he said next was unexpected. "I am sorry for how I acted towards you in this journey. You clearly have an effect on the moods of everyone here. So much, that when your mood dampened, it affects every one of us."

Confused you looked at Thorin and furrowed your brows. "There is something clearly bothering you, something you haven't told us. May I ask what it is?" He said with concern laced in his voice.

That made you break down and cry out all your pent up emotions. Thorin must've thought you were an annoyance as he shifted a bit, probably out of shock.

"I don't have a home, I don't have anyone, no family or friends to turn to, so when this journey is over where do I go?", you said with frustration and tears streaming down your face. You felt hopelessness increasing as you said those words aloud.

As your body was shaking, trembling, you put your head in your hands and soon your crying turned into a panic attack. Your mind foggy and blurry, face wet from the salty tears that were flowing down your cheeks, body shaking from the mental stress you endured during the trip.

Your breathing shortened and you brought your knees to your head while using your arms to shield yourself from the outside world.

You couldn't take it anymore missing home, the loneliness, being out of your comfort zone. Even if the Company was there to comfort you, it just wasn't the same. It became to much. You loved the soon-to-be-king and that didn't make it any easier.

His eyes widened as he took in your trembling figure. The gruff dwarf sat next to you, as seeing you in such a state made him want to comfort you. He didn't know everything about you but he had a snippet of knowing that you missed your home, even though you never said it. He heard it in your voice and when your eyes looked distant and glazed over.

He was very prideful, but seeing how he never saw signs that you would break down like this he got worried. He wondered how long you were bottling up all your emotions.

It comforted you greatly to have warmth next to you, especially when it was him.

After trying to get your breathing under control in which you failed as it almost induced another hyperventilation, Thorin helped you.

"Breathe in, breathe out, listen to my breathing and to my voice only," his deep baritone voice said as he turned to you and placed a hand on your back, "your doing great (y/n)."

The first time he said your name. That was enough to make you calm down but you didn't dare to look at him so you kept your eyes on the ground.

"I am truly sorry that I did not discuss this earlier with you," he said with a voice full of regret, "I didn't think how my words would've hurt you and how I treated you would've affected you. You are but a mere daughter of the Race of Men and this is a dangerous quest. Your life and health is my responsibility and I will not have you get killed because of a quest you have nothing to gain with. But I see that you did have a reason after all. It's my fault that I didn't see the dedication you put into your contribution to this quest."

It's true. You wanted to help them (after Gandalf informed you of this quest), because you didn't have a home either (at the moment).

In reality Thorin didn't hate you or anything, he thought it best to scare you away so he wouldn't have to worry about a woman getting hurt in his presence. Though it was very obvious that it wasn't a good method of showing his concerns. He felt an unknown pull towards you and it irritated him that he didn't know why.

"Perhaps," he continued, "when this journey is over and Erebor is ours again, I- we would love it if you stayed with us... in the mountain."

The dark-haired dwarf fidgeted a bit.

"R-really," you said tears still staining your face and a bittersweet smile after calming down a bit, "that would be my honour."

For the first time during this quest, Thorin smiled at you. A heartfelt and genuine smile. His eyes twinkled. "My apologies for being blind, my lady," he said with a soft look on his face, "you deserved better, and I will make sure no one treats you the way I treated you."

Both of you smiled at each other and began talking about your life before plunging in this world until it was time for the second watch.

After that night, you felt better. Everyone treated like you were one of the Company and things seemed to go perfectly. Except your disease, which worsened.

Weeks after that night you finally had first watch with Thorin again. He was much nicer to you. He gave his coat to you on multiple occasions, made sure you ate enough and you loved it. But you dreaded moments alone because it was becoming increasingly difficult to hide your disease. After every one of those sweet moments you felt an urge to cough, because you realized your feelings would never be returned. He was just being friendly after that night.

You were having a pleasant talk with Thorin when you felt the petals coming up.

Throat itching more than ever, you began coughing violently, trying to catch your breath. Thorin saw you struggling and it alarmed him because he didn't know if you were sick or anything like that. As he raised his hand to rub your back to help you or soothe you while coughing since it looked painful, you turned away from him. You didn't want him to see the petals, almost full flowers now.

He still put his hand on your back. Then his eyes widened. Bloody petals. Bloody half-flowers.

He knew of this disease. He knew it was bound to end with a heartbreakingly and sad death.

You knew he had seen them.

"Who?" he asked with the softest voice you ever heard from him. His voice laced with concern and something you couldn't really place.

Shaking your head you said, "It doesn't matter."

"It matters, (y/n)," Thorin said sternly as he looked worriedly at you, "the person who holds your heart must see what a kind and strong person you are."

"If it's someone in the Company, I can talk to him if you want," the Dwarven King continued.

You hurriedly shook your head and looked up at him, slightly surprised by his concerned face, "No that's not needed, I am content watching from afar."

The gruff dwarf dropped it, for now. But you could see the glances and worried gazes from him across the campfire if he heard you cough or clear your throat.

Balin knew of your predicament as he also knows of the extremely rare disease and saw some of the telltale signs. And seeing his King staring at your sleeping figure also cleared up some things for the old dwarf.

Balin, together with Oin helped you hide it from the rest of the company, they were already protective enough and you didn't want to complicate matters further. Oin made something that would soothe your aching throat.

One evening Thorin followed you out when you were 'gathering wood'. And was surprised to see you coughing up full flowers, blood included.

Tears were streaming down you face as your throat burned from all the flowers you had to cough up.

"(Y/n)?"

You turned around and saw Thorin's eyes glazing over. "Please, tell me who it is. I will do everything in my power to make them see what a beautiful woman you are. If not, please let Gandalf help you."

He was referring to the surgery to remove the disease, which would also remove your ability to ever love again. You couldn't blame people for taking or not taking the surgery. Everyone to their own. You understood the pros and cons of undergoing the surgery, but you liked the pros of suffering from the disease more than the consequences.

You only shook your head as you began crying. "You know I can't, I don't want to be rejected. I'd rather die loving him than live never being able to love."

"Who is hurting your heart, amralime?", the usually gruff dwarf said with a cracked voice, "please, let me help you. I can't bear to see you suffering like this."

Thorin's eyes were glazing over and he held a very sorrowed look. His heart was breaking as yours was, but you didn't know that. The foreign word was also unknown to you which made you confused but you didn't pay any attention to it. You still refused.

"(Y/n), please," he put his forehead on yours, "I'm begging you. I love you too much to let this go. I don't want to lose you. I want you to be my Queen under the mountain so please... let me in. Even if you don't love me, I will still love you even after I go to Mahal's Halls. You are my One, (y/n)."

Gasping as your eyes widened at his confessions. The tears streaming down your face turned from sadness turned to tears of happiness.

You smiled brightly at him. "You love... me? ", your voice wavered.

"Yes, I do. I truly do," he said with a light smile on his face as a tear of worriedness trickled down his cheek. All the brooding dwarf wanted, was for you to be happy.

"But...," your smile faltered and you stared at him, "w-why?"

It broke Thorin's heart to hear you say that for he thought you were the definition of perfection, "At first I didn't know what I was feeling but then I saw you for who you really are. You didn't complain and kept walking while the others complained and whined. I fell in love with you, your beauty and personality. I was hoping to be the target of your affections, but if it's someone else... I would totally understand for I am not an exemplary dwarrow." The blue-eyed dwarf looked at you with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Thorin, if you would've told me this sooner then... this disease wouldn't have gotten so far," you said with a gaze filled with adoration, "I-I love you too, Thorin."

Suddenly, your breathing hitched and you couldn't breathe... Thorin looked alarmed "Ghivashel, what's wrong?"

Clawing at your throat you tried to catch your breath. As if the Valar heard Thorin's whimpers when you collapsed, you started to breath again. Normally, without any pain whatsoever.

You could feel the disease going away as it had a strong reaction to the feelings Thorin and you held for each other.

"I'm fine, my love. Everything's going to be fine," you reassured the love of your life as he held you.

Thorin smiled brightly as he finally had you in his arms and he had no fear of you loving someone else. Just him and only him. You were made for each other and the Valar knew it.

#Thorin #thorin oakenshield #thorin fic #king thorin #thorin x reader #one shot #hanahaki!reader #hanahaki #happy ending #wattpad #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #gandalf

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its-ya-boi-autumn · 4 years

Text

Alright, you asked for it, you got it, Part 4 of my yandere Feitan series~ honestly I feel like this is more so soft yandere rather than intense. I could do better, but as long as you like it~ And you also deserve it for being so accepting of me recently ❤️ If this is kind of out of wack/order it’s because I started writing it and reallllyyyyy got into it but just kept writing and not really thinking so if it’s weird I apologize, but I did have one single goal in mind for it

An incoherent cacophony of voices plead from the room below you. Over the last year and a half, blocking them out had proven difficult, though not impossible. In fact, sometimes they were comforting, even if you knew exactly what was happening. Feitan had brought a couple over not even twenty minutes after you’d woken up. They had been unconscious and slung on either side of a different man’s shoulders. He didn’t bother to introduce himself yet you didn’t mind. You’d ask Feitan later if it has seriously began to eat at you. Likely, it wouldn’t.

The young man and what you supposed may have been a friend of Feitan’s were heard to be shouting profanities and the woman could be heard wailing, though you couldn’t exactly make out the words of the men’s argument, too focused on the little white butterfly fluttering about the dead dandelions in front of your window. Eventually, silence clouded into your mind. Whether Feitan had offed them or you had gotten too good at blocking them out was unbeknownst to you.

Your eyes followed the butterfly back and forth, up and down, around the dead flowers and grass. It seemed so unbothered by such an ugly sight. It wasn’t too common for them to be wandering about the area, though occasionally they popped up here and there, accidentally bumping into the glass but quickly recovering. Just like you. It was almost like a hyper focus on the creature. So small and frail, such an innocent insect. It didn’t think much of pain or misery. It’s only objective was to survive. Eat. Fly. Live. A small part of you in the back of your mind wished for that simple objective. Well, you guessed you had it, though it seemed a lot harder as a sentient being. What with the pain of mental situation rather than just physical stimulation.

Once the butterfly flew away, you came back into focus of your world. The realization of your situation, the familiarity of Feitan’s cabin closing in on you. Your head sank, the sound of screams causing your ears to ring. Your hands covered your ears and you jumped up and left the room. Your breathing had sped up in the slightest and your legs wobbled with the numbness of sitting in one position for too long. You swung the bedroom door open, not bothering to close it behind you–though it bothered Feitan to no end–and headed straight down the hall for the bathroom, where you shut the door quietly and stepped into the tub, not bothering to turn the light on. Your body sank against the wall while you tucked your head between your knees, legs beginning to shake and hands sweating over your ears. Blocking them out wasn’t hard, but when you came back into focus, for some reason you panicked. You hadn’t realized you were crying until you heard yourself sniffle. Why were you crying? You didn’t feel unsafe, you didn’t have sympathy for these people. You’d heard many people die down there, this wasn’t a new thing for you. Why were you so upset?

Eventually, silence spread across the cabin and footsteps clambered up the stairs. You attempted to quiet your sniffling and stop your leg from bouncing off the porcelain of the tub. Feitan and the other man stomped down the hall to his room, stopping at the doorway.

“Where’d she go?” the other mans voice penetrated the silence. It was rough and husky, though no where near comforting or worried. It sounded agitated at your absence. You took a quiet deep breath, waiting for Feitan’s answer. Nothing. The door handle to the bathroom wiggled before knuckles rapped at the door.

“Y/n?” Feitan asked through the wood. Your hands left your ears and rested on your cheeks.

“Yes?” your voice wobbled slightly in attempt to be loud enough.

“Unlock the door.” the command startled you. He didn’t sound harsh or forceful, just a rough way of asking. Slowly, you stood from your position, trying not to trip over the wall of the tub as you left it. You steadied yourself against the wall before shakily reaching out to unlock the door. Afterwards you retreated backwards, hugging yourself and sitting on the floor against the tub. The door opened gently as not to spook you, though the other man seemed to be rather impatient with Feitan’s slowness. You glanced up at him, red-eyed and trembling, knees folded against your chest in front of you. His eyes softened for just a moment before hardening again. He sighed.

“What is it this time?” he asked, coming over to crouch down in front of you.

“I-I’m not- I don’t-” you stuttered over yourself, trying to think of an answer before he grew impatient. He didn’t rush you, simply staying crouched in front of you.

“I think it’s- the- the- um-”

“Oh come on. Spit it out already!” the blonde man shouted through the door. You jumped at the sound, banging your funny bone on the side of the tub. A whimper escaped your mouth at the initial shock it caused.

“I don’t like the screaming...” you hurried to say as to keep from upsetting the other man, who rolled his eyes at your answer. Feitan gave you a perplexed face.

“I was zoning out just fine and then I couldn’t... block it out...” you trailed off to Feitan, who was surprisingly listening to you intently. He stayed crouched down in front of you, now sitting on his knees and turning to the door.

“Phinks you can leave now.” he spoke in his soft tone. Phinks didn’t seem very happy about this order, though he left anyway, the front door slamming behind him. You remembered that not even a few minutes ago he was annoyed by the fact that you weren’t where you were supposed to be. It made your stomach churn. Feitan turned back to face you and stood up.

“Come.” he turned and left you there, expecting you to follow, which you did. You struggled to stand upright for a few seconds before making it out the door and back into the room where Feitan was sitting on the bed, removing his cloak and throwing it into the hamper next to the bed. You kept close to yourself in the doorway just in case he was upset about something. He was awfully calm and collected right then though, so you assumed you had to of been safe. He beckoned you to come to him with his hand and sat on the bed, fiddling with something in his pocket again. You closed the door, moving to sit next to him on the bed.

“The screams bother you, yes?” he started, turning to face you again. You sniffled, nodding your head as your hands played with your fingernails, picking at them gently.

“I thought you said you found them comforting not even a few nights ago.” he started to pry at you little by little, figuring out what had upset you. Your shoulders shrugged.

“I- I don’t know I just... um...” you were just as confused. You’d been nothing but confused for the last few weeks. Staying with Feitan for so long has turned your kidnapping into an almost completely normal home life. You didn’t feel trapped or lonely in any way anymore, I’m fact you thought you were beginning to like it here, or at the very least get used to it.

Feitan hummed, averting his gaze from your face. You didn’t make to return it either. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and head down. You wondered what he was thinking about. How to deal with you? You could only assume your discomfort in his hobby was more than inconvenient. Would he shove you down in the crawl space again? It wouldn’t help, but you didn’t know if he’d care. In fact, he might do it just for the sheer fact of you sharing that bit of vulnerable information. You regretted telling him anything at all.

After a few moments of silence, he stood again, leaving you alone in the room. Thinking. Your legs closed tighter and you hunched over yourself. Had you just made a fatal mistake? Should you have just kept your mouth shut? Trembling sensations trickled along your spine and branched to every other bone in your body, muscles spasming slightly and goosebumps tickling your arms and thighs. You shut your eyes to block it out and covered your ears again. You didn’t know what he problem was, just that it was beginning to break you. Something sick twisted against the lining of your stomach, nausea suddenly flooding your mouth with saliva. You were going to vomit. Immediately you rushed to the bathroom again, doubling over the toilet. The thought of his fingers toying with whatever was in his pocket intruded your mind in the midst of your misery. You had to find out what it was. Tonight. Whether he told you or not.

You finished up and cleaned your nose and chin, standing to make way back for the room. Swallowing roughly, your legs carried you back to the bed, sitting at the edge once again. Feitan came back in, shutting the door behind him and standing in front of you.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.” he spoke softly, “I’ve noticed a change in your behavior over the course of the year, so I’m going to give you a choice.”

His words confused you. For once, you had a choice. His pale hand reached into his pocket, pulling something out. When he opened his palm, you noticed not one, but two items. One a golden key, it’s ridges rusted from overuse and age. The other, a silver ring with a single miniature gem on top. It looked similar to that of diamond. You took a glance up at him then back at his hand. A light gasp emitted from your lips.

“Wh-”

“I’m letting you make a decision. Right here. Right now.” he dropped to kneel in front of you. Your hands fisted the sheets as your lip wobbled. A choice.

“You can take the key, I’ll give you the nearest location to stay, and you can leave. Or, you can take the ring, and stay with me. Safe and knowing you have someone to feed you and...” he trailed for a moment, “love you...”

The first instinct in your brain was to snatch the key and run. Leave and never come back. Your legs were already bouncing. at the mere thought of it. Yet something in the back of your mind tugged at the idea of staying with him. Guaranteeing what you considered to now be your safety and your home. It had been so long since you’d seen anything outside of these walls and that fence in the back yard. You could go back home, see your mother again. The necklace felt warm against your skin.

“Do I have time to at least think it over?” you tried, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. He stared back at you, then gently shook his head.

“I need your answer now.” he stated flatly. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, thinking. The cons outweighed the pros in staying with him and yet it felt almost wrong to leave him here. It felt wrong to run from him. It felt wrong to be free. You reached a hand out for the key, urging yourself to take it and make your choice. The choice to live happily. Even if alone. But something in his face twitched, just for a second. His brows knitted in sadness and the corners of his lips drooped. Your breath caught in your throat as your body tensed. You couldn’t leave him, not like this.

The ring was cold and heavy in your sweaty palm.

#feitan #feitan portor #hxh #hxh 2011 #hunter x hunter #anime #fanfiction #soft yanderee #yandere feitan

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btssmutficslovingfan01 · 3 years

Text

Friendly Encounters- Chapter Six

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A friend challenges you to go out of your comfort zone and talk to one of the cute boys at the café. However, after attempting to flirt with one of them, they reveal that they are in a relationship with each other. It’s fine, though, because you’re all friends now!

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Romance

𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔: Smut, Fluff, Angst

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Graphic Depictions of sex, Mature Language, Angst is Yoongi-centered

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 5k+

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimin x Yoongi x Reader

Masterlist

⇤Prev | Next⇥

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Yoongi watches, with his dick in his hand as Jimin wrecks you. Over and over again, your blue haired boyfriend pounds into you, as you continuously convulse around his massive girthy dick. He’s feeding you well.

“Jimin...I c-can’t anymore.”

“It’s okay, baby. I’m almost there...come on babygirl, don’t give up on me now.” You shut your eyes, panting heavily as your final orgasm hits you in a euphoric wave of pleasure, making your muscles tense and you gasp as his dick twitches inside of you from all your clenching.

“Sorry...Yoongi...couldn’t take you too.” Your older boyfriend shakes his head, kissing your forehead lightly as Jimin recovers, pulling out of your sensitive body slowly.

“Don’t be. Seeing you two enjoy yourselves was reward enough.” Yoongi leaves a tender kiss on his boyfriend’s lips before departing to his room. “Take care of her, alright? And wash up, your mom should be home soon.” Yoongi gives you both a stern talking-to before departing with his clothes in hand.

“You okay?” Jimin asks while wiping you down with a washcloth. You nod, sitting up on the bed as your boyfriend brings you a warm towelette for your face. He had an extra one on hand. “Think you can walk?” You shake your head, limping as he helps you up. “Here, get on my back.” You don’t think much of it, as you both saw each other naked and took your relationship to the next level all in one night.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever. Hah...A hot bath was exactly what I needed.” Jimin smiles at you as you lather your body with soapy bubbles.

“Thanks. You know...you’re pretty cool yourself. Able to take me like a pro. Wow, that was some expert level stuff right the-”

“Shut up.” You splash him with water, laughing as you both have a water fight. After you finish bathing (with a lot of water ending up outside the tub, much to your inconvenience), you just end up cuddling with Jimin in your room. Your more bubbly boyfriend texts your older, introverted partner that he’ll be spending the night with you.

You’re not very surprised when Yoongi replies with the response that he is completely okay with it, since he spent a night with Jimin and left you in the dust. You also understand it, they’ve been together for so long that it probably feels weird to adjust now that a third person is a part of the relationship.

You’ve felt like you’re out of place, like the awkward puzzle piece that has the right shape and fits but it just doesn’t fit quite right. Obviously, you won’t express your concern to the gorgeous specimen of a boyfriend in front of you, because you’re worried about upsetting him.

His reaction is predictable though, since you’ve grown used to the barista by your side. He would probably just kiss you and hold you tight, claiming that if he let you go you would fly away like a butterfly, or maybe he would just tell you all of the things you want to hear and more. You’re already deeply in love with him, might as well just get everything out in the open.

Then there’s Yoongi. Your kind, sweet, gummy-smiling boyfriend. You initially thought he was annoyed with your friendship and closeness to Jimin, but he ended up expressing the opposite, and in the end your bond was strengthened even more. You’re afraid of disappointing him, or even worse, making him cry. You know his “tough guy” act is just that. The real Yoongi is frail but you’ve only caught glimpses of his vulnerable side. From everything you’ve seen so far, you can tell he still hasn’t opened up to you. You’re afraid of jeopardizing your relationship and possibly losing one-or two of your boyfriends in one go.

One wrong move and it can possibly be the end of your dream-like romance. You sigh, falling back into Jimin’s arms with one of your hands covering your eyelids and the other on your hip. Your boyfriend just grabs your hips and helps you settle into a comfortable position on the bed. He spoons you, and you’re mostly grateful as the warmth envelops you and lulls you to sleep relatively quickly.

Morning comes early, your alarm waking you up earlier than you expected. You groan, rolling over and finding your boyfriend still asleep and snoring lightly. Jimin looks cute even when he’s sleeping. You try taking care of your appearance, since you want to at least be remembered for dressing well during your last year of high school, but at the same time you dress for yourself. And your boyfriends. When you go downstairs in your short black miniskirt and denim jacket covering your sky blue tee, Yoongi raises an eyebrow at you but most of the time stays quiet. Before you decide to hug him.

When he smells your expensive perfume, he asks, “Going somewhere after school?” You shake your head.

“I was thinking I could head to the café in the evening. I have a lot of busy work. I doubt any of the teachers even know what they’re teaching anymore,” You shake your head, before shuffling through your backpack and then pulling out your phone charger. Finally, after three and a half days of searching you’ve found your old friend! “Ah-ha! I knew I put it in here. Finally, now I can charge my phone during the 3rd period.”

Yoongi watches you scramble around to make breakfast as fast as you can before asking you another question, “Do you want a ride?” Curse your dirty mind for reading that the wrong way!

The car ride is long, and awkward. You and Yoongi had all this pent-up sexual tension possibly from the moment you met, and now that you’ve both seen each other naked, done other nasty things together as a couple and such, the only thing left to do is to fuck.

That’s right, you both just need to let out your feelings, when you’re alone. Like you did with Jimin before Yoongi joined, or rather, watched. You were spending sufficient time alone with each of your boyfriends, but as of late, you need to get down and dirty with Yoongi. As fast as possible, before things get any weirder.

“Thanks.” You say before getting out of the car.

“Hey, um, I know after yesterday things are different but can I please ask you to pretend like it didn’t happen? I was clearly not myself. I’d rather that we do things naturally and let everything happen when they’re supposed to. I apologize if you felt forced to do stuff in any way.”

You almost cry at how gentle he sounds. He talks to you like you’re a princess, literally the kindest man you’ve crossed. Your heart flutters just from hearing him speak, like your eyes have been opened for the first time.

“No, not at all!” You clutch your backpack strap, biting your lips in anxiousness. “I wanted to. I actually hope I can do it with both of you someday. Like actually..the three of us in one bed.” You trail off, realizing what it is that you truly want.

“You okay? You zoned out there for a second.” You nod, smacking yourself internally for spacing out with Yoongi.

“I’ll see you after school, bye.” You share a quick kiss before you run to your first period class.

For some reason, your friends seem busy. No one is eager to talk to you about their lives or even stop for a second to listen to you talk about yours. You understand it, though. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with. You’re sure all the other girls your age are worrying about bigger stuff than boy problems, like possibly being pregnant, or scared that they don’t have enough credits to graduate.

You stay glued to your phone most of the day, as Jimin sends you heart emojis and lengthy passages about how he loves you. He just had to message you during English class, during which your teacher caught you on your phone, and she picked up your phone and when she read your text, it brought her to tears, resulting in her asking you if she could read it out loud to the class.

You insisted it was from your boyfriend and how it was for your eyes only, but she said it demonstrated how simple sentences work well in writing when used correctly and that his use of grammar and vocabulary was that of a college graduate, or at least a professional writer.

She read it aloud, with emotion, and feeling. It made your heart swell up in joy, as you heard his voice through hers. The message behind his words.

“Oh, how you make my heart ache, and in the end it only longs for you. How could a person affect me so much? Come home and hold me, my love, I promise you won’t want to leave,” She finishes reading the long text and after you get your phone back, you bury it deep inside your backpack.

My teacher calls you to her desk after class, and she tells you to cherish your boy with your whole heart, as it’s evident enough that no couple would be crazy enough to send love poems to each other unless they were truly fond of the other. There was no way you wouldn’t treasure him; You already loved him. And Yoongi. You love them both.

༻• Later That Day •༺

“Tell me what’s happening in front of my eyes isn’t really happening right now.” You huff at your blue-haired prince.

“Oh no, you’ve got it right. He’s really doing it.” He drinks his sweet tea with more vigour, sucking the straw harshly.

“This is pathetic. What does he think he can accomplish by upsetting his partners?” Jimin shrugs at your rhetorical question. Honestly, if you had a whip right now, you wouldn’t mind using it on Yoongi.

He actually has the balls to flirt with a regular female customer, a girl you actually caught making goo-goo eyes at him and trying to get his number every time she orders something. He’s not even shrugging her off anymore, but instead encouraging it. Jimin slams his hands down on the table, as he wipes a spot near you, glaring daggers at his boyfriend.

“Okay, I think I really wanna punish him now.” You were joking before, but the flirting has gotten out of hand as of late. He’s been doing this for two weeks already.

“Good, as it should be. Training continues in your room at 6:00 sharp. Be there and be ready, there’s a lot we have to cover before you dip your toe in the dom puddle.” You raise an eyebrow at his terminology. You knew what a dom was, but didn’t think he was serious. There’s no way that you’d actually take control in the bedroom, right?

Images of Jimin naked and whining beneath you flash in your mind, as you imagine all the different ways you could make him a mess. You’ve heard what Yoongi does to him, but imagining what you could do-that could go anywhere.

“Why do we have to wait?” You find yourself growing bolder as you lean forward, innocently sucking the metal straw that Jimin provided to you earlier when you ordered the mango smoothie.

“What are you suggesting, kitten?” You laugh at his nickname, before narrowing your eyes at your incredibly sexy boyfriend.

“Bathroom.” You continue sucking the straw, innocently sipping your drink before getting up and walking to the restroom.

After 5 minutes of waiting, you hear the door open, and heavy footsteps. They were much too heavy to be a woman, for sure.

“Baby!” He hisses right outside of your stall, signaling you to grab him and pull him in.

“I checked. It’s empty. No one can disturb us anyways, not unless they see two pairs of feet underneath.”

“Oh, I have an easy solution to that,” He folds his arms across his chest. “Kneel,” You listen to him, happy to follow his orders like a mindless kitten. “Go ahead, suck.” He has his phone in one hand, recording you as you take him into your mouth.

“Remember who’s boss, baby? You said I’d learn how to be a dom.” He groans lightly as you suck his length, slightly squeezing his testes as well with your free hands.

“Alright. Show me what you’ve got.” His eyes are clouded with lust as he watches you swallow his precum, but you do eventually get you fill, instead opting to let his semen spill to the floor.

“Should I just prep you right here? Finger that beautiful asshole so that Yoongi can fuck you later?” Jimin groans at the thought, and you do too, imagining how his cock would bounce in your face as your older boyfriend fucked him carnally. “Ohhh, look at you taking my fingers. So, so, pretty Jiminie. Hear that? This is what good dick sounds like.” Your panties are drenched, you’re leaking through. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you were on your period.

“F-fuck me good Y/N.” You smirk, pinching his scrotum, making him shriek in urgency.

“Sorry, bad boys don’t get to cum.” You continue rubbing his shaft, a sloshing sound resounding through the bathroom walls as you give him a moist handjob. He tries his best to stay quiet, with a few whimpers escaping his lips.

“Please, Y/N. I need to cum, please I can’t hold in!” He whines wantonly as you continue pumping his dick, letting his erection peak to the highest point before rubbing him out during his climax. He gets so loud that he has to cover his own mouth with his small hands.

You go on for several minutes after that, or what feels like an eternity, laughing maniacally as Jimin squirts and cums for you. You just did that! You made him feel so good he came.

After you let his cum spill to the floor, you stand up, tucking his dick back into his pants before licking your fingers clean of the savory juices Jimin left behind.

You both wash your hands in the sink and leave the bathroom in turns, so it won’t raise any suspicion.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Jimin gives you a quick peck on the cheek before running off to the counter to grab another order.

“So, I’m guessing you guys spent his entire break together?” Jin asks, wiping your table for the hundredth time again.

“Yes, Jin. We were just talking about the birds.” Jin glares at you, obviously not believing your lie.

“And the bees, I assume?” You clap your hands together, laughing as you sip your mango juice. “It’s no laughing matter for a girl your age. You’re already with two men who are closer to my age than your age. And I’m 27!” You roll your eyes, ignoring him as you get your daily lecture again.

“Jin, you know Jimin and Yoongi are only like 3 or 4 years older than me. And I’m already more mature than lots of girls my age. You can also save the bedroom talk, I know my limits and what I’m comfortable with. I know it’s not the most conventional agreement, but I feel safe with both of them. They treat me like a princess even though I don’t deserve it.” You tell him with a small smile on your face.

“Hm, you really love them, don’t you?” You nod, humming as Jin walks away. “While you’re here, why don’t you help out with these boxes? Just move them to the alleyway. They’re all rotten fruit.” You cringe at that, as Jin hands you a stack of two huge boxes.

“Alright. But if I get mugged I’ll sue you.” You get around to the alleyway, surprised to see that there’s no one there and you actually had a moment of peace without incident.

You weren’t expecting anything anyways, as you know this town is very safe and there’s not much criminal activity happening in this neck of the woods. You were too focused on everything going on in your mind, so in case there was an actual threat, you wouldn’t be too phased.

“Done, now when do I get paid?” You dust your hands, looking up at your boyfriends’ boss. Jin just gives you his signature smile and blows a kiss at you before turning to his office.

“Look, how about I just let you drink for free? For a month?” You nod, folding your arms as you notice the picture on Jin’s desk, a family photo of Jin with a woman.

“Sounds good, hey who’s this?” You ask, pointing at the frame.

“That was my wife. She passed away three years ago…” You suddenly feel like a jerk.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m gonna get going now, it was nice seeing you again, Jin.” You smile sadly at the man before leaving your boys to wrap up with their work. They’ll be taking a leave for a week anyways, so they’re just trying to make this week count.

You know that’s probably why Yoongi was being so friendly with most of the female customers. You hadn’t seen him flirt with any other men apart from Jimin, but he did talk to a lot of girls. Then again, the girls probably approached him themselves.

You try pushing the thoughts out of your head, as you know your ultimate goal is to have angry sex with Yoongi over the fact that he’d been flirting with other people in front of you and Jimin. You channel the anger through your body, as Jimin later presents himself to you that evening, with thoughts of only awakening the lustful dominant inside of you.

“Here are my prized positions, please take good care of me, kitten.” You shake your head, smirking at him as he gives you his box of toys to use on him.

“Want me to ride you, baby?” You ask him as he groans in pain, his bulge painfully tightening in his pants. You can see the area around his pants, the tiny wet spot around his tip.

“I’d love that, kitten,” You shed your clothes, before working on Jimin’s pants first. After the pants come off, you work on his shirt. Both articles of clothing go flying to the ground before the final layer, which is his boxers. The precum stringing from the head of his cock glisten as you gather a good portion of it onto your fingers before slathering it on your stomach. You lick the remaining juices from your fingers before placing both of your legs on either side of him. Jimin is excited. His dick seems to inflate a little as you sit down on him. “Look at you, being ruined by my cock. You aren’t gonna let it control you today, are you kitten?” You shake your head, panting slightly as you struggle to focus on what you were doing.

“I own this cock, got it? This cock is mine!” You finally start moving, making Jimin groan beneath you as he appreciates how much your boobs bounce in his face and how he can see everything as you move on top of him.

“Oh gosh, I’m gonna cum.” You gasp before quickly climbing off him and you resorted to using your mouth to finish the job.

“Um, why did you just stop when you were close?” Jimin asks. You gesture to his unprotected penis.

“You weren’t wearing a condom. I couldn’t let you cum in me and risk getting preggers. I watched Glee, I know all of the downsides.” Your boyfriend just huffs impatiently.

“I could’ve pulled out, but it seems that now I came once but you haven’t cum at all.”

“Jim, who’s in charge?” Your boyfriend is taken aback by the new name you gave him. He just sighs before turning his head to you and looking at you directly in the eyes.

“You are.”

“Great, glad we’re on the same page. Get on your stomach, babe. I wanna peg you.”

“What?!” Jimin’s eyes widen as you grab the lube from your desk drawer.

“Do you not want to do it tonight? I need to practice so Yoongi can-wait, are you telling me that you’re a top?” He blushes before running his hands through his pretty blue hair.

“We’re switches. Although, when we’re alone, hyung is more dominant in nature.” You gasp in awe as Jimin reveals this new information to you.

“That’s great, we’ll make him beg by the end of next week, I’m sure of it. But Jim, I do have a plan for how we go about it…” You quietly adjust the straps of your harness before slathering the dildo with lube. This is softer, so the texture feels like skin.

“Oh gosh, Y/N!” You hum as Jimin makes all kinds of cute noises, mostly from suffocation and feeling smothered. You take a break in between because Jimin declares it ‘too much,’ and after getting a drink of water you presume to prep him gently, so you don’t tear him apart.

Before you know it, just from the stimulation of your fingers on the base of his cock and the fingers in his hole, your man is coming undone, moaning, whining, cursing, begging-all of those things while you pump him with your right hand, as fast as possible. Seeing Jimin come on his stomach was the hottest thing you’ve seen in a long time. You really needed to see that.

“Kitten, wanna cum with me? You made me cum so many times already…” You nod, your face red from excitement. The lewd thoughts just make it worse.

“Jiminie, can we...69?” You ask shyly, but your boyfriend is more than happy to oblige.

“Sure, baby.”

༻• Night •༺

Yoongi gets home late only because Jin had some trouble with the cash register. He wasn’t feeling well as of late, but there was no explanation for his unexplained sadness. He had everything he needed in life, along with two amazing partners. So why was he feeling this way? He knows it’s normal for people to feel down sometimes.

It’s hard for people to be happy all the time, especially when there’s a lot of stress in the environment. Now Yoongi has to prepare to deal with the “break-up” since you and Jimin will share the honor of being in an arranged marriage. Well, it’s more like a trick love-marriage. If your father catches you in bed with the wrong man, there’s no telling what he could do from there.

Yoongi just needs you and Jimin to get married to save you both. Jimin gets to reconnect with his parents who cast their son out because he got a boyfriend, and you would be free from awkward marriage dinners with strangers. Oh, and your father would leave you alone because he’d consider you as “Jimin’s property.”

He knows the type of person he is. He’s dealt with the same type of parents many times over. His family wasn’t even willing to accept him even though he told them he wasn’t completely gay but didn’t agree to being labeled “straight” either.

Now look at you all, everyone is happy together and that’s the way Yoongi wants it to be. Even if he has to be in the background. For your happiness, he would do anything. For you and Jimin.

As he’s about to open the door, a text from your mother catches him off-guard. She was texting that she gets to come home earlier today, so she can spend time with you three and get to know your boyfriends better. Uh-oh, this is bad.

He shuts the door behind him before running upstairs, to look for you and Jimin. Yoongi bursts down the door with force only to find you and Jimin NOT watching iCarly together on Netflix.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” He shields his eyes, turning around so you could cover up a little bit. Nothing he hasn’t seen before, but he didn’t want to be a pervert. Even though you’d be fine with him looking. He still wants to ask for consent.

You change quickly, Jimin still panting and recovering from his last orgasm. He almost passed out from how good you were with your tongue.

“You can look, you know?” You and Jimin day in sync. The two of you share a look that Yoongi knew was the type of look reserved for two special people. You’ve already bonded, without him. It’s a good thing, even if it kills Yoongi that he's trying to earn extra money so in case you and Jimin do get caught with the plan, you would have a safety net to catch you when you fall and help you up.

Yoongi didn’t inform you or Jimin of this, but recently, he’s been opting for extra hours just to save up money. He’s also been spending some of that money on new equipment to make his producing process a bit easier, but apart from that, he has a large amount of money in his bank account. At least, it’s big in his eyes. He never had much, but now he finally has a reason to do more with his life.

You and Jimin constantly inspire him to make songs all the time, and without realizing it, you’ve changed him for the better.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But that’s not why I’m here, your mom is coming home, and she wants to spend time with us, since we’re your boyfriends!” Yoongi panics and you find it endearing how the man you once thought to be cold and unkind to now be so comfortable around you that he speaks his mind.

“Thank goodness you walked in when you did, Jimin was about to pass out on top of me.”

“Wait, you bottom for her?” You look back at Jimin to see his reaction. He gawks at his blond boyfriend in shock.

“Yeah, I mean haven’t you seen how she gets when she’s dominant? It’s sexy as hell.” You can’t understand what they’re saying anymore because they are speaking in Korean.

“Oh, I see. Wait until the roles are reversed, I’m sure our kitten will be mewling for you to stop once she feels your lips.” Jimin glances over at you quickly before looking back at his boyfriend.

“Hyung, in case you haven’t noticed, we’ve already done plenty alone.” Your prince-like boyfriend combs his hair to one side, making you giggle as you see Yoongi turn bright pink like a piglet.

“I can see that. Kitten, are you up for a date when we go up to the cabin?” You bite your lip, glancing nervously towards Jimin as he gets dressed with his back to you and looking at Yoongi as he waits patiently for your answer. You were planning to spend time with the two of them, but you know that maintaining the individual relationships with your partners are just as important as the group dynamic. You’ve also been naturally closer with Jimin, as he was your best friend first.

Yoongi deserves a break, and you know that he’s probably noticed that you and Jimin have been spending a lot more time together while he’s been working hard. The vacation is actually for Yoongi, but he doesn’t know that, yet.

“Sure. When do you want to go out?” You ask.

“Hmmm, what about tomorrow? I get off work around 4 tomorrow, so we’ll have a lot of time to spend after that.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You both share a small smile before Jimin interrupts the moment with applause.

“Great! While you guys do that, I’ll be out learning choreography. I need to keep up with my peers from the institute.”

“Wait, you went to a dance school?” Jimin gasps at the realization that he never told you about his dance classes during high school.

“Yep, I was at the top of my class,” Jimin quickly changes the subject. “Anyways, enough about me, you guys need to plan for your date!” He quickly runs out into the hallway, in his boxer shorts with the rest of his clothes in hand, as you uncover yourself and give Yoongi a quick peek before scrambling to find some clean clothes that don’t smell like sex.

“Boys, I assume you know what this meeting is about?” Your mom clasps her hands together on her lap as she basically murders your boyfriends with her eyes.

“I know it’s a weird arrangement, but we both really like your daughter.” Yoongi is the first to speak up, and you find it sweet that he can open up to your mother, since he wasn’t the most socially adept back when you first met him. You assume that’s because you changed him, you and Jimin made him crawl out of his shell and explore the world a bit more. This was mostly good but bad at the same time because he was much better at communicating, and instead of scowling at people or giving them a blank stare, he actually smiles a lot more and makes more eye contact.

Maybe that’s just the jealousy talking, but you genuinely feel that it’s better for Yoongi, in the long run.

“I’ve known you guys for six months now, and in judging you personally, I can tell that you both have excellent characters. You will make her happy, and hopefully someday you three can be more serious.”

“Hey mom, I needed to ask you something about that.” Your boyfriends glance at you anxiously as you ask your mom. “When is dad coming home?” You bite your bottom lip as you do when you get nervous.

“Hmmm, he said he would be gone for half a year. He’ll be back by October, why?” You scratch your head.

“Can’t a girl wonder when her daddy’ll come home?” You don’t even bother looking at your boyfriends as you can tell exactly what their expressions are.

Once your mother is done interrogating your partners, Jimin creeps down the hallway and sneaks into your room.

“Where’s Yoongi?” You ask, as he kisses your collarbone.

“Asleep.” You stop him.

“Look, we left him out earlier so I feel kinda bad. I don’t think we should do any more stuff tonight. We can continue tomorrow.” Jimin’s a gentleman, so he wouldn’t push your boundaries. He just backs away from you and he flops down on your bed.

“You think I’m good...right?”

“What?” Jimin’s sudden words throw you off guard.

“I’m not bad at sex, am I?”

“Jimin, where did you get that idea? Of course you’re amazing in bed, I’m just not in the mood tonight. Besides, my mom’s home.” You sit down next to him, stroking his right arm.

“Thanks. Sometimes I feel like I need validation. My confidence isn’t all what I chalked it up to be.” You just let out a long sigh. You can relate to him, in what happened with Jungkook and Jasmine. Your friendship actually made you lose trust in those closest to you. You were partially afraid of opening up to Jimin in the beginning too, but after you cried it out with him, you felt even closer to him than the people you knew practically your entire life.

Jimin is just easy to get along with, and you know that’s partially the reason why you were able to open up to him so quickly. Considering, yes you were only about three months into your romantic relationship, you needed someone to latch onto. Jimin was still the best friend you ever had, and you learned quickly that this was what a healthy friendship was like.

Unlike Jungkook and Jasmine, Jimin would listen to you, and he’d give you advice about your problems. In turn, you listened to him, just as you had with your past friends. There was something different from the other interactions you had, because it was a take and give type situation.

You weren’t just taking, though. You were applying yourself, and improving who you were as a person. This is what a friendship should be like. Even though you’re dating, it feels comfortable and familiar. You’ve learned not to depend on people as much, only when you need to. Unlike anything you’ve seen in the past, the dynamics of Jimin and Yoongi’s relationship is so free, they don’t pester the other to tell them everything.

Secrets are important in a relationship; That’s another thing you’ve picked up. Obviously you aren’t going to lie, but you feel like you have a safety net.

“Sorry. It’s just hard to always live up to society’s expectations of me.” Everything clicks for you with Jimin’s words. You quickly stand up, blood rushing to your head as you do, making you fall back just as fast. Jimin catches you, luckily, and lowers you down onto the mattress.

“We’re not getting married.” You put your foot down, catching your boyfriend off guard.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You simply stare up at your boyfriend, eyes filled with hope.

#jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #yoonmin x reader #yoongi x jimin x reader #Poly BTS #Poly #bts imagine #coffee shop #throuple #jimin x yoongi #cafeau #Smut

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orangeoctopi7 · 3 years

Text

A Negligible Price

I guess it’s becoming a tradition for me to add another chapter to A Minor Inconvenience every year for @stanuary . I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s just that the prompt “Sacrifice” got me thinking about this story and where I thought it could go, and then I got writing and I started coming up with ideas for how I could actually put a finish to this story. So yeah, hopefully it won’t be another year before I post chapter 4, but not promises!

Also, first time I’ve had to do this, but:

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE/MARTYR COMPLEX AND SUIDICE ADJACENT THEMES.

* * *

Bill rushes to gather himself together again. Now that Sixer and his idiot brother have caught on, he knows they’ll probably be making a move against him soon. The time for lying in wait and keeping a low profile has passed. He’s been getting faster, better at finding the tiny flecks of gold scattered into the dark abyss below.

Unfortunately that also means that he’s noticed that some missing pieces just never turn up. As an interdimensional being who’s existed in countless dimensions across innumerable timelines, Bill likes to think he knows himself pretty well now. What he’s made of, how much power he’s accumulated, what he’s capable of. And if he had to estimate now, which he does, he’d say he’s been reduced to maybe a third of his power. Roughly two thirds of him are missing.

What happened to those missing pieces? Were they simply deleted by that memory eraser? Did he leave some of himself behind in that physical form he left to enter Stan’s mind in the Fearamid? Bill can only guess, but really, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting out of this moron’s brain and starting again on his path to a universe free of rules.

* * *

Stan recovered from his latest memory lapse quickly, despite the fact that it was the worst one he’d experienced since he sacrificed himself to the memory gun last summer. The experience had clearly put Ford on edge, and as much as he tried to bottle up his emotions and remain calm, Stan could practically feel the panic coming off him in waves.

They were both relieved when they reached Spitsbergen. There was a hospital in Longyearbyen, where Ford insisted they stop to give Stan a check-up. Stan felt fine, but if it helped ease Ford’s nerves, then he could sit through a check-up.

Explaining Stan’s condition to the doctor was a struggle, considering English was not his strongest language. They definitely got across that Stan was experiencing memory problems, but the doctor seemed to be under the impression it had been caused by an injury to the head in an accident, rather than a purposeful exposure to a memory-erasing device.

Eventually, Ford had lost his patience and just asked if they could use the CT or MRI machine themselves. The doctor spoke enough English to tell them that the nearest CT or MRI machine was in either Iceland or Russia.

The elder Pines twins left the hospital in low spirits. Ford kicked at little pebbles as they walked down the street.

“There’s a research facility in Ny-Ålesund. Perhaps we could sail up there and commandeer some equipment to rig up our own CT scan…”

“I think it’d be easier to just hop on a plane back to the States at this point.” Stan suggested.

“If we’re going to hop on a plane somewhere, it’ll be to Reykjavik, where we won’t have to pay an arm and a leg for any treatments.”

“Yeah, we’ll just have to wait half a year.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I don’t think they’re gonna take ‘revived demon in my head’ as an urgent need.”

“Probably not…” Ford admitted.

“And you’re sure you didn’t figure anything else out the last time you were pokin’ around in my head?”

Ford grit his teeth. The truth was, he was afraid what would happen if he tried to revisit that memory. The cold flames of the memory eraser had felt so real, even just revisiting it in Stan’s mind, and they seemed to be the trigger of his latest memory lapse. Would they have a similar effect within Ford’s own memory?

“Nothing I’ve been able to make sense of.”

Stan grit his teeth. “So what now? Just leave that jerk in my head?”

Ford sighed. “I want to do some more research into what we’ve learned so far. Perhaps a trip to the library will help me find some insight. But truthfully… I may have been too hasty with punching out Bill, when I encountered him. He’s a liar who can’t be trusted, but he’s also a braggart. If I’d just let him run his mouth a little longer, we may have learned something about what he’s up to.”

* * *

Longyearbyen’s library wasn’t any bigger than the public library in Gravity Falls, and had significantly fewer books relating to Bill and mind magic, but it did at least have access to several library databases that Ford couldn’t typically log into from the Stan’O’War II. (According to Fiddleford, these databases could be hacked into quite easily, but Ford didn’t have the time or the wherewithal to learn how) It would have to do for now. Ford took a seat at a computer, and with a little help from a librarian, he was soon scrolling through peer-reviewed articles from different archeologists and anthropologists and folklore experts and descendants of the Aztecs and Mayans debating who Xolotl was, what his role was in the Aztec religion, how much his lore changed from Pre- and Post- Colombian invasion, and so forth.

What he’d learned so far was interesting, to say the least. The things that most people agreed upon was that Xolotl was a god of death, fire, and lightning. What caught Ford’s attention was the fact that they were also the god of twins and deformities. He glanced down at his twelve fingers, which rested awkwardly on the small keyboard meant for people with just ten. It seemed odd that Bill would call on this particular death god, when they seemed far more likely to be a patron to Stan and Ford.

While Ford puzzled over this new information, Stan browsed the library, looking for something to entertain himself while he waited. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t a whole lot of English books in this Norwegian library. Luckily, it wasn’t long before he stumbled upon an extensive comics section. Even though he still couldn’t read most of them, the pictures were at least enough that he got the gist of what was going on.

European comics were very different from American comics. They featured a lot less costumed superheroes punching bad guys and a lot more weird, quirky characters setting out on adventures and exploring the world. They also seemed to lean more heavily on comedy rather than drama. Stan decided he liked them.

He’d been looking at a story about some rich duck when he noticed he felt odd. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than to say that his brain felt itchy. The more he concentrated on it, the more it faded away, but when he went back to looking at the comic and got absorbed back into the story, it came back.

After almost an hour of the feeling coming and going, Stan decided he was not imagining the sensation. He stuffed a tissue into the comic as a bookmark and got up to see what Ford would have to say about it. Almost as soon as he laid eyes on his brother, a wave of anger washed over him. Just like the itchy brain feeling, it went away almost as soon as he stopped and thought about it, but it had been so strong, that he couldn’t deny it had happened.

“Hey.” Stan tapped his brother on the shoulder as the old researcher skimmed an article about why the Aztecs associated lightning with twins.

“Hmm?” Ford acknowledged him without looking away from the screen.

“Am I forgettin’ to be mad at you about somethin’?”

That got Ford to turn and look at him. “Are you having a memory lapse!?”

“I don’t think so, but just a second ago I looked over at you and I felt really mad all of a sudden. Can’t really think of a reason why, though. I’m just wondering if maybe the other day, when I had the big blank-out, maybe we missed somethin’?”

The old researcher’s face contorted with guilt. “You have ample reason to be mad at me. I didn’t stand up for you when dad kicked you out. I never reached out to you for over ten years. I expected you to drop everything and help me with my problems without any explanation. I refused to thank you for saving my life--”

“Yeah, no, none of that stuff.” Stan shook his head. “I remember all that stuff, and I’ve already forgiven you and junk. Mmmm… did you try to enchant the mop again and not let me remember it?” But even as he joked that the underlying reason must be the latest chapter in a minor argument, he knew that couldn’t be right. The sudden bloom of anger had been much more deep-seated and horrible than that. It had felt like… it had felt like Ford had ruined everything.

To be fair, there had been a long period of Stan’s life when he had felt like Ford had ruined everything. But Stan was over that now, and this brief brush with anger had felt even more heated than that.

Ford gave him an appraising look. “Were there any other memories or emotions associated with this feeling?”

“Oh yeah, my brain was feelin’ itchy right before that.”

“Have… you been using shampoo?” Ford asked, unsure of what to do with this information.

“Not my scalp, genius, like the actual thinking part of my brain!”

“... I can’t even begin to guess what that means.”

“Ugh, I don’t know how else to describe it, ok? It’s like somethin’ was squirmin’ around in my mind!”

The brothers wore twin expressions of realization as the words left Stan’s mouth.

“We need to get back to the boat.” Ford stood from the computer desk abruptly.

“Yep.” Stan set the comic he’d been reading down on the desk, not even bothering to remove his improvised bookmark.

* * *

Bill throws his hands up and roars in frustration. He can’t seem to take control, even when the moron’s mind is zoning out, losing himself in some stupid comic book. He’s already in the mind! He’s been here for months! He knows his way around here. So why isn’t it working? Is it because he never made a deal with this guy? That shouldn’t matter! The last thing they did before the whole memory gun thing was shake hands!

There's no time to waste complaining, though. Sixer will be poking around here any minute. Bill needs a plan. Before, he'd spent millions of years in the Nightmare Realm planning. Now he's making everything up as he goes.

It's clear that Bill can't just take control of Stan like he'd been counting on. But do the other two know that? He might still be able to use that to his advantage.

If Bill is going to trick these losers and get out of here, he needs to play his opponents right. Luckily, he's got years of experience fighting against Sixer. It's the Big Mackerel that he worries about.

Before, Bill hadn't paid much attention to Stan. He thought he understood what made the simple con man tick. But then, in the end, he found he didn't understand at all. Even after months of being trapped in his mindscape, Stan is very much still a mystery to Bill.

But there is one thing about Stan that Bill does understand.

He’s willing to sacrifice himself for his family.

* * *

Once they were back aboard the Stan’O’War II, Stan allowed himself to relax, just a little. At least here his surroundings were familiar, and the only person he had to worry about was his own brother.

Under normal circumstances, “the only person he had to worry about” meant he didn’t have to look over his shoulder for law enforcement or old criminals who might recognize Stan from his drifter days.

Today “the only person he had to worry about” meant the only person he could possibly endanger if Bill was able to take control of him. Ford was the last person Stan wanted to put in danger, but he also had to admit, his brother knew more about the demon than any other living being on the planet.

Stan may have been able to relax a tiny fraction once they were back aboard their boat, but not Ford. Ford was in full-blown panic mode.

He frantically searched around the storage room for something, anything, that could help protect his brother from Bill. Unfortunately, they hadn’t thought to bring unicorn hair or moonstones on their voyage. He did have titanium, but he wasn’t confident enough in his emergency medical knowledge to perform cranial surgery on his own, and he doubted they’d be able to find a doctor crooked enough to do it for them. Currently, his best idea was to build an updated version of Project Mentem, but that would take time. Time he wasn’t sure Stan had.

“I can re-enter your mindscape and shatter him again.” Ford decided, pulling out the candles again. “That should at least buy you a few days.”

“Ok.” Stan nodded. He’d definitely prefer to know Bill was shattered again, and not moving around in his brain. “But it’s not like he’s doing anything right now.”

“He’s probably trying to get us to lower our guard.” Ford assumed. “I’ll need to tie you up. He usually makes his move while his victim is asleep.”

“If I need to fall asleep for your spell while tied up, we’re gonna be waitin’ a long time.” Stan warned. “I dunno if I could even fall asleep right now if I had the world’s most comfortable bed.”

“Fair point.” Ford nodded. “I may have to drug you.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” It was abundantly clear that Ford was not kidding in the slightest.

“Would you rather be used as his puppet!?” The old researcher shouted. The outburst rang in the air for a few seconds while Ford tried to steady his breathing. “Stan I… I’m sorry, I just--”

“It’s ok.” Stan pulled him into a hug and tried his best to calm his brother down. “I know you’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared for myself.” Ford explained in a small voice. “I’m scared for you. Waking up to find that you’ve hurt someone, it’s-- I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all you--”

“Stanford, look at me. We’re not gonna let that happen. What if we do it while I’m awake, like we did with the memory before?”

Ford nodded meekly. “That… that could work.”

“You can still tie me up if that makes you feel better.”

The old researcher bit his lip. “...It shouldn't be necessary...”

“Ford.”

“...But it probably would ease some of my fears, yes.” he admitted.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll go get the rope.”

Still unwilling to let his brother out of his sight, Ford followed Stan up to the deck while he retrieved said rope. Once they were back below deck, he wrapped Stan tightly in a large blanket before sitting him down on a chair and tying him up, to ensure he was as comfortable as possible while still restricting his movement.

“How do you feel?” Ford asked as he lit the candles.

“Like I’m about to be shipped back to Oregon in the mail.”

“And Bill…?”

“I haven’t felt anything else from him since we left the library.”

The lack of activity should have reassured Ford, but instead it just added to his general unease. At least he was able to compose himself enough to perform the incantation.

Just as last time, after a flash of light, he found himself on the deck of Stan’s mindscape, with Stan himself standing beside him. This time, though, Bill was floating there, waiting for them.

“I KNEW YOU’D BE BACK HERE AFTER I GOT YOUR ATTENTION IN THE LIBRARY!” The demon taunted. “OH, AND LOOK. STANO HERE EVEN MADE A MENTAL CONSTRUCT OF HIMSELF WITHIN HIS OWN MIND JUST SO YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO FACE ME ALONE! HOW CUTE!” He prodded Stan in the stomach like he was the Pillsbury Doughboy.

“Back off, bucko!” Stan threatened. “We’re here to break your whole face!”

“WHAT, YOU COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL TONIGHT TO DO IT IN YOUR DREAMS LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO?” Bill asked, voice dripping with false innocence.

“We’re not able to risk the chance of you parading about in Stanley’s body.” Ford growled.

“HA! YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN ANYONE, FORDSY, I ONLY DO THAT TO STUBBORN KNOW-IT-ALLS WHO WON’T WORK WITH ME WILLINGLY.”

“If you think I’m gonna work with you willingly, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.” Stan grunted.

“HEAR ME OUT, MAC! WE BOTH WANT THE SAME THING HERE! ME, OUT OF YOUR SAD PATHETIC MIND!”

“You can’t leave!?” Ford asked in surprise.

“WHAT, YOU THINK I ENJOY SPENDING TIME IN THIS BOZO’S MIND? YOU THINK I WAS PLOTTING MY REVENGE?”

“Honestly, yes.”

Bill gave a long, mocking laugh. “AHAHAHAHAHA! YOU REALLY THINK I CARE ABOUT A COUPLE OF INSIGNIFICANT FLESH SACKS LIKE YOU?”

“We’re the insignificant flesh sacks who killed you!” Stan reminded him.

“WELL, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY. THE BEST REVENGE IS LIVING WELL.”

The brothers exchanged a suspicious glance. They highly doubted Bill actually believed that adage.

“BUT I CAN’T EXACTLY LIVE WELL TRAPPED IN YOUR MINDSCAPE. I MIGHT GET BORED AND DECIDE THE BEST REVENGE IS KILLING YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY WITH YOUR OWN HANDS.”

Ah yes, that was more along the lines of what they expected from Bill.

“So you’re saying you’ll just let bygones be bygones if I cooperate with you?” Stan asked skeptically.

“WE’LL GO OUR SEPARATE WAYS, NEVER TO MEET AGAIN!”

“And what are you planning on doing once you’re free?” Ford asked coldly.

“NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, SIXER.” The demon waved him off. “NOW ARE YOU GONNA HELP ME OUT OF HERE OR NOT? THE SOONER THE BETTER. YOU TWO AREN’T GETTING ANY FURTHER AWAY FROM THE AVERAGE LIFE EXPECTANCY OF A HUMAN MALE, AND FISH FACE HERE DOESN'T EXACTLY TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIS BODY.”

“Hey!” Stan shouted indignantly.

“Why should Stan’s life expectancy factor into this?” Ford asked.

“HMMM? OH, NO REASON.” Bill said evasively. “I’M JUST, Y’KNOW, IN A HURRY.”

“You’re an immortal, extradimensional being. You’ve been trying to find a way out of the nightmare realm since before multicellular life developed on this planet. If you’re so sure we’re close to the end of our lives, why not wait until we’re out of the way? You must realize we’ll try and stop you from starting Weirdmaggedon again!” Ford reasoned.

“WHO SAID ANYTHING ABOUT STARTING WEIRDMAGGEDON AGAIN?” Bill denied. “AND MAYBE AFTER A BILLION YEARS, I’M TIRED OF WAITING!”

“Unless you aren’t immortal any more.” the old researcher concluded.

“YOU’VE SEEN FOR YOURSELF, FORDSY, EVERY TIME YOU OR YOUR IDIOT BROTHER SHATTER ME, I PULL MYSELF BACK TOGETHER.”

“Immortal in the mind, perhaps. But what happens when the mind you’re occupying finally dies?”

“ALRIGHT, YOU FIGURED IT OUT!” Bill sneered. “I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN A GENIUS LIKE YOU WOULD. YEAH, MY LIFE’S TIED TO THE BIG MACKEREL’S NOW. SO WHAT? YOU GONNA KILL YOUR BROTHER JUST TO GET RID OF ME?”

“Of course not!” Ford barked.

“Hey, I’d be more than happy to take you down with me if it meant making sure you never hurt anyone else ever again!” Stan challenged the demon.

Ford stared at his brother with wide eyes. “Stanley, no!”

“Hey, relax, I’m not talkin’ suicide or anything.” Stan assured him. “But he’s right about one thing. I’m not gonna live forever.”

I’ll only do it if I have to. A stray thought cawed overhead.

Stan cussed under his breath as Ford gaped at him with a mix of alarm and pity.

“I’m not gonna take it back.” Stan insisted after a moment. “If that’s what it comes down to, to keep him from hurtin’ you or the kids, then I’m taking him down with me.”

Ford placed his hands firmly on Stan’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with all the intensity he could muster. “We won’t let that happen!”

Bill laughed at them cruelly. “RIGHT, CUZ YOU’VE HAD SO MUCH SUCCESS STOPPING ME IN THE PAST.”

“I’ll find some other way!” Ford insisted.

“I’M SURE YOU COULD, WITH TIME.” Bill agreed. “BUT I’M GONNA STRANGLE YOU IN YOUR SLEEP BEFORE THEN!”

Not if I strangle myself first! Another one of Stan’s stray thoughts called.

Ford gave his brother a frustrated shake. “No! Stanley, I swear to you, that won’t be necessary!”

“Alright, that’s it. We’re not havin’ this conversation in my brain, where you can hear all my unprocessed thoughts.” Stan decided.

Suddenly, Ford’s form and everything around them flickered and began to fade to white. Stan and Bill were the only ones who remained solid and whole. Stan was waking up? But he’d never been asleep before the spell in the first place!

“Don’t you try any funny business!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at Bill. “I’m coming back to shatter you into a million smaller pieces as soon as I fall asleep tonight!”

#Gravity Falls #Fanfiction #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Stanuary 2021 #This jerk

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