#My life has been blown up a bit... sorry for my absence! <3

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Festival (Part 3)

Start here if you'd like!

Harry genuinely cannot remember the last time that he was this nervous.

He stood outside the address Draco had given him for the gallery opening and watched as other people wandered in and felt like maybe he should have dressed differently. Maybe settling for a band t-shirt tucked into his jeans, and a suit jacket thrown on top was too casual. Maybe this had been some sort of test that Draco was setting for him, if that was the case he was destined to fail spectacularly.

"Hey," a voice breathed next to his ear a moment before he apparated away to change his clothes.

He turned to see Draco standing there wearing a pair of skin tight black leggings that tapered into thigh high lace up black boots; a black button up shirt with billowing sleeves, top four buttons undone; and a pale pink lace corset that emphasized their narrow waist.

"Sweet Merlin," Harry breathed, eyes raking over Draco's body once more before taking in their hair. They'd done an elaborate plait, smaller braids twisting together before collecting into one. "You-" he broke off and shook his head at a loss. "You look fucking gorgeous."

They preened, tilting their head down demurely so that Harry caught the hint of glitter that graced their cheeks and collarbones.

"I feel like an absolute troll."

At that, Draco looked up, head tilting as they took in Harry's appearance. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes, "I should-"

"Are you comfortable in the outfit you're wearing?"

Harry shrugged, "I guess, but I feel like I should have dressed up-"

"You look perfect," Draco interrupted. "If you feel comfortable in your own skin, that's good enough." They smiled and trailed a finger along Harry's jaw. "You," they said, "just as you are, are good enough."

His jaw clenched and he had to look away, eyes stinging.

"Did you need someone to tell you that?" they asked, softly, gently. "Harry," they murmured and he glanced up at them. "You're enough."

"Thanks," he whispered.

Draco's mouth quirked into a small grin, "pleasure," they replied. "Ready to go look at some art?"

"As I'll ever be," he replied dryly, feeling more out of his depth by the minute.

Their smile melted a little bit, brow furrowing, "You don't have to do this. I'm sorry if I made you fee-"

"It's not that," he protested quickly, scrubbing a hand through his hair. "Sorry. I'm just feeling really-" he broke off searching for the right word, "Insecure?"

"You are Harry fucking Potter," Draco said fiercely. "You've slayed dark lords, and fought in wars, you actually died," they added. "And you sassed back at teachers who used their power over you to treat you badly."

He blinked, unsure what to say.

"Who are you?" they asked. "How did this happen to you?"

"I like you," he blurted.

"And?"

He shrugged, "I feel like you are significantly cooler than I am."

The corner of Draco's mouth turned up, "I'm not. I just really don't care what people think of me."

"I care what you think of me," Harry clarified.

"Good thing I already like you, then."

He ducked his head, smiling down at the sidewalk, "thanks."

"Don't mention it," Draco said, looping their arm through Harry's, "it's tremendously good for my ego."

Harry laughed and allowed Draco to lead him into the gallery.

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

When they emerged, two hours later, Harry was still laughing. Draco had spent the majority of the time talking with Harry, teaching him about art but not in the boring way that other people did. They knew funny facts about history, techniques, and the person who'd made the art in the gallery. And Harry was beside himself with giddiness.

"Thanks for coming with me," Draco said as they wandered down the street with no particular destination in mind.

"My pleasure," he said. "Genuinely."

Draco's shoulder bumped his, "you don't have to be nice."

"I mean it!" he protested.

He glanced over to see a small, pleased smile curling the corner of their mouth and he couldn't help the way his own lips curved in delight.

"Have a drink with me?"

Draco looked over at him, "I don't drink."

"Oh?" he asked, "Alright-"

"It's not about you," they said quickly.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I didn't think it was," Harry smiled at him.

Draco's shoulders relaxed a bit, "Oh."

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee?" he asked instead.

They nodded, "Thank you," and the genuine way they said it told Harry that was a boundary that hadn't been easy to hold.

"I like you," he said, not quite what he'd meant initially but the sweet flush that bloomed on Draco's cheeks was enough that he couldn't mind the slip. "A lot," he said. "I don't care where we go, I just want to get to know you better."

"There's a coffee shop I know," they offered, "they're open late. There's a corner with some cozy armchairs."

He grinned, "Sounds perfect."

Harry followed Draco's lead, letting them wax poetic about the art they'd seen, about the streetlamps, and the people out smoking. And Harry became impossibly more besotted with them.

They found their way to the chairs in the corner, cups of coffee in their hands, and snuggled into them to chat. Before Harry knew it, one of the baristas was making her way over to let them know they'd be closing in ten minutes.

Draco checked their watch, "Circe," they said, "has it really been that long?"

He stood and stretched, chuckling at the look of incredulity on Draco's face. "Time flies and all that," he said. "Can I walk you?"

Draco looked up at him, "That's awfully chivalrous."

"What can I say?" he grinned, "Gryffindor and all that."

Draco laughed and their hand tentatively brushed against Harry's, finger curving over his knuckles.

With a little burst of bravery Harry tangled their fingers together.

"Gryffindor indeed," they murmured, a pleased smile curving up their lips.

He walked several blocks until they reached an apparition point.

"This was really fun," Harry murmured.

Draco dipped their head, nodding a bit, "it was."

"I'd like to do it again sometime."

They smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind their ear, "me too." Then before Harry could say something more, Draco continued, "I've gotten the sketches done for the kitchen."

"Oh," he said, surprised that Draco had finished them so quickly.

"I could come over tomorrow, if that would suit?"

"Yeah," he replied, nodding for emphasis. "Yeah, whenever you'd like."

"Lunch time?" Draco offered. "I'm trying to finish up a sunrise series right now-"

"Lunch is perfect," Harry said, "and if you're working on a sunrise set of paintings, you should definitely go to bed now since sunrise is in-"

He started to look at his watch but Draco beat him to it, "about 5 hours."

"Five hours," he repeated, "Sorry I've kept you so late-"

"It was my choice," Draco replied, catching under Harry's chin with their pointer finger and tilting Harry's face up, "I wouldn't change a thing."

"Tell me how you feel about that in the morning," he said with a little laugh.

Draco hummed softly then leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth.

Before Harry could so much as move, Draco was spinning away and making their way to the apparation point. "See you tomorrow," they said as they disappeared.

His fingers drifted up to trail over the tingling spot where Draco's lips had been a moment before. He was so far over his head, he had no idea where this was going, but he couldn't be arsed to care. He was too happy.

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

Part 2 | Part 4

Read more of my gentle July ficlets

#drarry #drabble #part 3 #listen. i still don't make the rules for the muse. #My life has been blown up a bit... sorry for my absence! <3 #love #soft #genderfluid draco #harry's besotted #so it the author #fluff #artist draco #gentle july

[yandere-3-sagau]

Yandere!Wanderer x Secret Creator Reader Pt 2

warnings(s): slight angst, kinda? humanish wanderer (he can bleed, throw-up and cry), its unedited cause i’m spam posting my drafts <3

word count: nunya

First Part: Here

Wanderer never realized how much you affected his daily life until your absence began to sink in. He never noticed how much your smile and kind greetings made his heart flutter until his heart ached from the emptiness.

At first, he didn’t really think your absence was such a big deal til he’d wake up with tears in his eyes and the faint whisper of the name you had given him ringing in his ears. It was like you were haunting him. How could you name him with such care but disappear and not even think to visit? Did you really abandon him? Were you lying when you told him the meaning of his name?

Wanderer began traveling the world, following any reported sightings of the creator. Each time he’s left with a dead end, he feels his sanity wear thinner and thinner, a gentle touch away from snapping.

It isn’t until he hears of a parade being held to welcome and thank the creator for restoring the kingdom of Khaenri’ah. He drops everything he’s doing, and heads straight to your supposed location.

When he gets there, the streets were crowded with people watching as you give a speech high up on a balcony.

He ignores everything else, his focus entirely on you. It’s as everything melts into the background and his actions are on autopilot.

He flies over your position, not hearing any of the gasps erupt from the crowd nor noticing the guards that seem alert at his presence.

His are wide and blown out as he grips your wrists tightly.

“Wanderer…”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT…” he says, tears lining his eyes. Your eyes furrow in confusion. He seems unstable, face full of desperation.

“What do you mean…”

“… my name,” he says quietly. “Say my name!” You pause for a bit, not understanding what he wants. Finally, you speak.

“__”

The voice he has been longing to hear… the name he dreamt of you saying reaches his ears.

He lets out a choked sob, all the emotions he held in finally spilling out as he grips your clothing. It’s like nothing else in the world matters but the two of you.

Even as there are whispers all around speaking of blasphemy.

Amidst his sobs, he asks you all the questions that had been plaguing his mind.

“Do you really see me as a gift… a blessing? Am I really that important to you…”

You’re silent, unsure what to say as all eyes watch you. He feels his heart break at your silence.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, hands trembling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been using it. I love it! I love what you named me, I really do!”

“I’m your blessing, right? Why aren’t you saying anything.” His movements grow desperate as he shakes you. “… you said so yourself, you can’t take it back. Why aren’t you speaking?!”

You notice the judging eyes staring at the man on the floor. You try to push him off of you but he lets out another heavy, choked out sob, his tears flowing harder. Your attempts to get him off you is seen as a form of rejection. “You-“ he suddenly doubles over, throwing up on the ground. ”…you can’t abandon me!” He screams.

The guards grow closer and he finally notices them. “Please…” he crumples to the floor, trembling hands clutching his chest. He gasps as he finds it hard to breathe. He feels a pressure in his head, and suddenly blood flows from his nose.

You begin to panic, seeing him cry so hard his nose begins to bleed. You bend over and bring him into your arms. Rubbing his back, you call out the name you’ve given him. “I’m not abandoning you. You’re a gift.”

He shakes his head, pushing himself further into your arms. “I’m yours! I’m your gift…” He needs to hear you say it. He needs you clear all the insecurities and doubts in his heart. He truly looks pitiful, his face covered in snot and tears.

The guards are unable to pull him away from you no matter how hard they try. His grip on you is like iron. The guards have no choice but to disperse the crowd. With a nod of your head, the guards allow the two of you some privacy.

Almost an hour passes of him crying into your arms, begging you not to abandon him and demanding you say his name over and over again.

Finally, his tears run out and he’s left sniffling with his eyes swollen shut from the salty tears.

“You love me, right?” he whispers, staring up at you from his position in your arms. You sigh and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Yes, I love you ___.”

He smiles with his red puffy eyes and tear stained face.

“I love you, too…” he whispers before he passes out, the exhaustion finally taking over. You try to move but even unconscious, his grip is tight and unrelenting.

You sigh and let him cling to you. You’re glad that he likes the name you’ve given him but you’re a bit concerned on how much importance he’s placed on it. As you relax in his hold, you fail to realize that simply typing in a cluster of letters into a game has set your fate in stone and that no matter how hard you try to deviate from it’s tracks, you’ll never be free from it’s grasp.

#i don’t know how to end this #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere sagau #yanderexreader #yandere #yandere wanderer #Wanderer #scaramouche #sub wanderer #sub genshin #creator #genshin cult au #sagau #acolytes #yandere x reader

[so-long-soldier-writes]

drabble #3 - can’t help that i love you

kai parker x reader

summary: while you and kai aren't necessarily in a relationship, no one can ignore the way you are together. it started with kai's nightmares, bringing you to his side for nightly comfort. soon, gentle touches on his back led to full blown hugs and forehead kisses; simple conversation turned to long talks, and you're only getting closer every day. kai feels safe with you, and you're falling for him. maybe he's falling for you, too. this is why your "thing" needs to stop. right now.

tags: fluff, parker siblings meddling in your business, soft!kai

word count: 463

a/n: i have been totally MIA bc life has suddenly gotten so, so chaotic, and i feel awful that i haven't posted, and sad bc there's nothing i love more than writing, but here's a little gift (🫱🎁🫲) {*hands you gift*} in the meantime. 😘 ily all and i'm sorry for my absence. though I'm going on vacation next week, so hopefully time off work and life gives me time to write! (it's a family reunion {urghhh}, but i wake up at 5:30 and everyone else around 9, so i'll be tip-typing away!)

The moment you wake up, you feel a presence in the room with you. Flipping onto your back, you focus your eyes on one blurry, exasperated, Luke Parker. He speaks before you can even ask what he wants. 

“This thing with Kai needs to stop.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Your thing with him - whatever is it.”

You internally groan, knowing this day would come. 

“You’re gay, right?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Yeah, why?”

Without further question, you take off your top to reveal your bare chest, before putting on a bra and a new shirt. You slip on a pair of panties under your sheets, then proceed to walk around the room to find a pair of shorts to wear. Luke half-watches while trying to explain “your thing” with Kai, and why it “needs to stop.”

“-just, you’re in danger, and you’re putting other people in danger, too.”

Now dressed, you give him your full attention. “I’m pretty sure I’m one of the only people to ever give him any attention in his life, so how would that put me in danger?”

“Because he’s a sociopath and doesn’t know what to do with attention. The minute you take it away, you’re dead.”

“Well I’m not going to ‘take it away’.” He sighs, but you’re not finished. “Listen, Luke, I can’t stop feeling what I feel for him. And as long as I…” you pause, getting a taste of your words before saying them, and wondering if you should. Your eyes drop to the floor. 

“As long as you…?”

Looking directly at him, you decide to admit it. ���As long as I love him, everyone’s just a tad bit more safe now, don’t you think?”

Love. The word dances in the air above your heads. 

Luke is speechless, and doesn’t even follow you out of the room. You pat his shoulder on the way out, giving him a small, victorious smile. 

Unbeknownst to you, Kai heard the whole conversation. Right before you opened the door, he managed to sneak away unheard.

As soon as you come downstairs, brotherless, he surprises you by wrapping his arms around your waist. His head rests on your shoulder and a deep breath exhales his body. 

“Hi, puppy,” you greet, kissing his head. “How are you?”

If it’s even possible, he melts even more. “Good,” he mutters. 

“Good. Want some coffee? You can still hug me while I make it.”

A contented groan falls from his lips before he can stop it. Part of him expects you to push him away because of it, but instead you just pull him closer for another forehead kiss. As promised, you let him koala-style hug him during your whole coffee-making process. He’s never felt more at peace in his life than when he’s in your arms. 

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #kai parker fluff #tvd fanfiction

[bubblyhoney]

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

-

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

-

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap oneshot #bubblyhoneyfics #honey answers #mcyt x reader #🥚except small

[plush-rabbit]

A Protective Partner - Tomura Shigaraki Headcanons

Request: hi- im really sorry to bother you but ive been going through a tough time lately, stuff with my past and all but your writing has really been helping me through it. ive kind of been ghost binging your work and its one of the few things that calms me down as of late. i was wondering if maybe you could do a fic, a drabble, or even just some hcs about shigaraki who loves his s/o with everything he has, is just protective and won't let anything bad happen to her? just vows to protect her and let's her know that. i know its pretty soft and vague, but id just really like to read some whole-hearted love stuff right now, even if its blown completely out of proportion. dunno if you'll see this, but if you do, please don't feel obligated to answer or anything! i mostly just wanted to thank you for creating content that genuinely makes me feel better. i hope you have an awesome day/night! <3

A/N: I hope that you like it!! Feel better spoon!! Im always happy to talk to yall if youre going through stuff!! I hope that you enjoyed this. I always try to keep things realistic in a way when i write so i really hope that this was cute!!

-

Tomura isn’t quite the best with words. Living a sheltered life altered him, deprived him of the basic social skills and made a man who has set beliefs and morals. No matter the part of the relationship- the beginning stages of friendship, the trust gained and lost, the soft touches that burn against his skin, and the relationship part- it still remains forgin to him. It’s still something that he works on, that he grows and mimics. The parts that should be easy don’t read that way to him. He wants to prove to you and to himself that he isn’t just another chess piece but that he is his own person.

Though with stunted social skills, he still tries his best. He may not be the best at figuring out which emotion you are growing through nor can he properly read them, but he tries. Every touch is tentative until you reciprocate back towards him, your own hand twisting against his, your warmth pressed against his side, and your lips ghosting over his; every touch is something that he reaches with such carefulness as if he were to be pricked by a thorn. A simple touch makes his breath hitch and his heart skip a beat, a tender kiss against the scar near his eye makes him let out a shaky breath- he is so starved for affection that he is unable to word what he wants properly. He can try to act aloof but he knows when he’s been caught with a red face and a creeping smile that won’t falter so easily.

As the relationship develops, he’s able to tell when you’ve grown agitated or when you simply aren’t feeling your best. He understands that- he’s gone through huge shifts in his villainous career and while he may have been best when left alone and time to cool off, he knows that you are different from him. He doesn’t want to push so much, rather he’ll ask you if everything is okay, his hand reaching out to give yours a squeeze before releasing it and a pack of fruit snacks placed in your hands. Even then, he doesn’t relent, he may not push for an answer but he pushes for your time, wanting to be beside you even in silence to simply just sit and be in each other’s company.

More than likely, he’ll let you be in your thoughts for a day or two before confronting you- actually confronting you and asking you to tell him what’s wrong. He knows you’ve been acting differently- he can see the forced smiles, the way your eyes droop and how you distance yourself from the others in subtle ways from making yourself smaller to engaging with simple answers. His weight shifts in each foot, his hands clenched and a beginning redness starts to creep from his neck up towards his face. He doesn’t wait for an answer, rather letting out a sigh and sitting beside you as close as he can.

You can only suffer in silence for so long before he holds out his hand to you. An artist's glove covers his ring and pinky finger, his palm facing towards the cracked ceiling with the dim lighting making his features seem sharp, the shadow it casts grazing his profile and hiding the red that tints his face. He doesn’t verbally ask for your hand, rather letting it stay there as an offering for you to hold it or not. He wants for you to make that decision rather than him making it for you.

After several minutes of silence with his hand extended out towards you, your hand fits into his. Your fingers interlace with one another, the fabric soft against your bare skin. He takes this as his chance to talk, to let you slowly become comfortable in his presence, letting you know that you don’t have to talk, you can simply be there and he’ll be right beside you.

While he may not express it verbally, physical contact is something that he has grown to love. He believed that he could have lived without it, lived with the fact knowing that his hands could cause decay, but he wonders if that was something that he made up to ease the pain. He relishes in your touch, leans towards your warmth and loves to know that he can hold you with fear that you’ll leave him.

Your words come out slowly, a brief whisper that’s pained about how everything has suddenly gotten a bit too much. Your laugh is bitter, your eyes downcast and he can see a faint reddening of your cheeks, the brief color of red that settles against your skin and the way that you start to shift, looking at everything but at nothing, your eyes flickering around the room but never meeting his own eyes. Your voice tightens, your words tense and cracked between and he can see your facade slip for a moment, the eyes your eyes shine and how you suck in a deep breath of air through your teeth and the painful hold you have of his hand. You turn to him with a trembling bottom lip and a reddened nose, your eyes shining with tears. You slowly let go of his hand and call his name, your knee bumping against his as you turn to him.

His arms are solid against you, his hands pressed flat against your back as he pushes you close to him. You let out a short whine, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, your nose pressed against a pulsing point where he softly knocks his head against yours. Once he’s deemed that enough time has passed, he’ll pull away from you, cupping your face in his hands as he tells you that he would protect you against anything and everything. No matter what it is or who it is, he will always be on your side, he’ll protect you until his dying breath.

Slowly his hands fall from cupping your face to curving to your neck and towards the back of your head, tapping lightly to have you lean towards him. His lips press against the tip of your nose and he can hear your airy scoof, your lips tilting upwards as you wipe at your eyes. If there’s anything to describe Tomura, it’s passionate. He’s passionate about his goals, aiming to do whatever he can to make sure his version of the future comes into fruition, passionate about those close to him, becoming distraught at their absence and wanting to make sure that when he succeeds, whatever they want, they’ll receive. You’re one of the few people that he cares for, the lucky few that he would take with him to the ends of the world, to give you all that you ask for as long as you let him rest beside you.

#bnha #bnha imagines #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura headcanons #bnha shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki headcanons #boku no hero academia shigaraki #bnha shigaraki #mha shigaraki #so #about that mineta confession huh #im honestly gonna scream #possibly not the best place to add that tidbit given the request #but i wanna talk about it #and the om works are taking longer than expected #why oh why did i choose parargaph headcanons #im sticking with it tho #maybe #one of them is kinda like idk how to advance it to my liking

[awritingtree]

The Complications of Friendship and Love

James Potter x reader, very little Sirius Black x reader, James Potter x Lily Evans

@wand3ringr0s3‘s 1.9k follower writing challenge: Angst prompt 5. “I never thought something could hurt this bad.” The prompt has been bolded :)

Summary: Being best friend’s with your ex is complex. But adding your best friend dating your ex? Things got a whole lot more complicated.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, low self-confidence talks, friendship betrayals, unrequited love, 1 swear word

A/N: jsdf I’m sorry this took so long love <3 I wrote half of it and then lost motivation and then got back to it after so long 😂 anyways I hope you all enjoy it xx

Next part: The Benefits of Friendship and Love

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Y/N Y/L/N had believed that James Potter was her one true love; the person she was going to spend the rest of her life with. But there she sat in her Potions class watching her two best friends giggling and flirting with each other wondering where did she go wrong?

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked, not glancing at her.

“Of course I do, James,” Y/N replied, bewildered he would even think about asking her such a question.

“It’s just- I’ll be really busy you know. With quidditch, NEWTs coming up and being head boy, I won’t have a lot of time to give you,” James explained.

“I don’t care about that. As long as I’m with you, nothing else matters.”

James didn’t get a chance to say anything as Sirius just plopped down next to Y/N, throwing a hand over her shoulder. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing,” said James before launching into a conversation with Remus about prefect duties.

“Right, nothing,” sighed Y/N, picking at her food.

“Hey, can we talk?” Lily’s voice snapped Y/N out of her daydream. Her eyes connected with the grey eyes of Sirius Black before she turned around to face Lily with a smile, “Of course, Lils.”

“Can we go somewhere...” Lily looked around the courtyard, “a bit more private?” she finished.

Y/N nodded, stringing her bag around her shoulder as she followed Lily towards the Black Lake. It was a rare warm day at the beginning of October of their seventh year. The grounds were filled with students soaking up the remnants of the warm sun before a cold, harsh winter took over.

Lily led Y/N to a secluded area near the edge of the Black Lake. She stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels, wiping her hands on her uniform every few seconds. She took a deep breath, turning to face her best friend. Her forehead creased, her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth, nibbling down on it.

“Is everything alright?” asked Y/N softly, concerned at her best friend’s behaviour.

“Yes- well um no. I guess- I just need to tell you something. Promise me you’ll listen to the whole thing before speaking?”

Y/N nodded; her eyebrows furrowed in worry. What could Lily possibly have to say that’s gotten her so anxious?

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did, especially without talking to you first. James and I, we’ve been dating. Since a few weeks ago before the term started. We didn’t tell you because I knew it’d hurt you and none of us wanted that. We’ve broken up now. We talked a few days ago. I- we couldn’t carry on like that, not when we knew what we were doing would hurt our best friend. I knew you liked him, and I still said yes, and I shouldn’t have done that, especially after he hurt you so badly. I know you’re upset; we shouldn’t have hidden it from you in the first place, but we’re over now.”

Lily looked up suddenly, shocked to hear Y/N laugh. Not a hurt, mocking laugh but a genuine laugh as if she had heard something really funny.

“I know, Lily,” Y/N said giggling, “You all did an extremely bad job at hiding it.”

“Really? And you’re not upset?” Lily asked nervously.

“Of course not, silly. But I do think you’ve both gone mad. Absolute bonkers. How could you ever think I would stand in the way of my two best friends’ happiness?” Y/N asked with a small smile.

“I can’t. We can’t do that to you.”

“Rubbish! You’re not doing anything to me. Go, be with him. Be happy, both of you.”

A grin made its way onto the redhead’s face she jumped onto the Y/H/C, squeezing the life out of her.

“Thank you! Thank you so much. You’re the best,” Lily shouted as she ran back towards the castle. She turned her head to see her best friend with a small smile on her face, what she didn’t see were the tears gathering in her eyes and how her face fell once she was alone. What she failed to see was the sight of her best friend falling onto her knees, breaking down once again.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Sirius, Remus and Peter found Y/N sitting against a tree, face resting on top of her knees drawn to her chest. They all grimaced at the sight of her blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. She looked so broken.

“You knew, didn’t you?” she whispered, continuing to stare at the still lake before her.

Sirius, Remus and Peter stayed silent not knowing what to say. They did know from the beginning. James came back home shouting about it as soon as it happened. They were asked not to tell her and so they didn’t, a big mistake on their part they realized a little too late.

“Leave me alone” requested Y/N, her voice hoarse from crying.

“Y/N/N, we are-” started Remus.

“Please, just go,” she pleaded weakly. She had no energy left to do anything anymore. Her heart hurt too much. She’d wasted all her energy trying to be enough for a boy who wanted nothing to do with her; all for nothing.

“Alright. But we are sorry Y/N,” said Remus softly.

“We’re here if you need anything,” Peter went on.

Y/N didn’t reply. She made no acknowledgement that the words reached her ears. She continued to stare at the still water, a defeated look on her face. Remus and Peter turned to walk back to the castle. Sirius sighed and took a step towards Y/N, ignoring the pointed look Remus sent him. He leaned down to press a soft kiss against her head.

“We really are sorry, love,” he mumbled before following his best friends back to the castle.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

A few months passed by. The weather got colder; the wind got harsher. The leaves changed colours and fell. The green grass began to get covered with white snow. All through this, Lily and James got stronger. Every girl was envious of their relationship. The golden couple, they were known as throughout the school.

Meanwhile, Y/N continued to suffer on the sidelines, never showing anyone how badly she was hurting. She wore a bright smile, fake to anyone who really looked. Sirius, Remus and Peter noticed it, she had begun to pull away from all of them, spending all her time in the library when she could, sitting with other people during meals. Anytime they approached her she would cut the conversation short saying she had somewhere to be. The times where she did stick around them, she wasn't the talkative Y/N they knew and loved but a shell of her former self.

Y/N felt disgusted with herself for the hate and anger she had begun to feel towards her best friend. It was justified in her eyes, but she knew no one else would see it that way; she would be considered too dramatic, petty and honestly, a bitch. Due to this fear, Y/N kept quiet about how she felt about the situation. She couldn’t rant to Remus, Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Alice or Dorcas. The only person she could rant to, who would understand her completely or otherwise not judge her, was the sole cause of all her problems in the first place.

James Potter not only ripped her heart right out of her chest and stomped all over it but also left her alone with no one she could talk to, making her spiral into a whirl of self-hate and loneliness with nothing to keep her from drowning.

“What happened to not having enough time to be in a relationship?”, “Be more like Lily then maybe we’d like to hang out with you more”, “Look at Lily, she’s beautiful and she takes care of herself” were the only thoughts that swirled through Y/N’s head on repeat. Her self-worth was reduced to the size of a speck of dust, ready to be blown away into the open by the lightest of breaths. Sirius had noticed her change in mannerisms, clothes, tone of voice; almost everything and it made his heartache. He watched from afar as she continued to distance herself; not that anyone could blame her. But it appeared that her absence went unnoticed by everyone, except by him, Remus and Peter. Not even her best friend noted the lack of her presence; too involved in her new boyfriend and busy making new friends.

Y/N soon found comfort in her friends from Ravenclaw, particularly Dave. He understood how she felt; not completely but a bit was better than nothing. He was someone she could rant about James and Lily to without the fear of judgement. Dave and Lily had broken up a few months before she’d started dating James; turns out she had liked James throughout their relationship, using it as a backup since James was showing interest in her best friend at that time. But in the end, not even the friendship of Dave was enough to fill up the empty void inside her, the gaping hole that she believed only one person could close.

Y/N was broken, like a mirror shattered into a thousand pieces and the glue that could put her back together was only in one person’s possession.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Y/N wanted to cry; she wanted to break things, thrash a whole room as she collapsed under the weight of her sobs. She wanted to scream into the void until her throat ached, her voice hoarse and raw. She wanted to shout at Lily for deceiving her; for pretending to care all these years. She wanted to yell at the universe, asking what she had done to deserve this. She wanted to punch James, break his nose for destroying her. Y/N Y/L/N had lost herself and she was nowhere to be found.

Y/N knew everyone would pick Lily if it came to it. Everyone always picked Lily; she was the much more favourable and lovable choice. It hadn't bothered Y/N much at first, she would gladly pick Lily first over herself too, but it started to get too much when people she was close to first - she’d introduced Lily to (such as the Marauders) - chose her. The last straw was drawn when James, the only person in the world Y/N had thought would never abandon her; tossed her aside like a second choice, opted for her. The person she revealed her deepest, darkest secrets to; whom she told things she’d never imagined telling another living, breathing soul had thrown her without a second thought, without any regret, onto the side of the road like rubbish without glancing back once to see the damage he’d caused. He’d promised he wouldn’t turn out like the rest. He’d promised to her.

Maybe it was all her fault. She gave her everything to him; her heart and soul, all her time, her first kiss, amongst other things whether she wanted to or not. There were days where she wondered whose fault it really was. Was it her? Was she not pretty enough? Lily Evans was beautiful; no one could deny it, you looked like a tiny twinkling star next to the glowing moon. Surprisingly the only person that comprehended what a first kiss and relationship meant to Y/N was Sirius Black, the notorious player of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was the only one who’d not told her to get over it and instead held her hand through the period of time when she had needed someone to rely on.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“Y/N! Wait! Y/N/N!” Y/N reluctantly slowed down, waiting for the person calling her name to catch up to her. She found herself in the company of Sirius, Remus, and Peter once a hand quickly grabbed her and pulled her to the side of the corridor.

“What do you want?” she asked impatiently. She just wanted to go back to her common room and sleep - an evening of peace - but the universe was against her, as usual.

Peter looked around nervously at the tone of her voice whilst Remus looked as if he’d been expecting this reaction.

Sirius raised an eyebrow in question, “Have somewhere to be, do you?”

“Yes actually.”

Sirius sighed before his mouth pulled into a wide cheerful smile choosing to be the bigger person, “Well we’re all sneaking out to Hogsmeade later if you wanted to join us.”

“No thank you. I’m busy,” Y/N said pushing her way from between them and walking away.

“How long are you going to keep this up!?” he yelled after her, irritated.

Y/N froze, anger bubbling through her blood and she turned on her heel slowly to face him.

“What?” she asked slowly, her teeth gritted, and her free hand clenched in a fist.

“Padfoot, don’t,” Remus muttered in warning, placing a hand on Sirius’ arm.

“No Moony,” Sirius said shrugging his hand off, “Someone needs to tell her that enough is enough.”

“Enough? Enough!?” Y/N laughed taking a step closer to Sirius with every sentence. “Enough was when my best friend decided to date my ex despite him breaking my heart not once, not twice but three times! Enough was when my best friend decided to date the boy who left me shattered behind my back! Enough was when my best friends knew about all this and chose to keep it from me!

“Enough was when all my friends left me stranded alone.”

The pain she’d locked up inside washed over her, her knees buckling beneath her. Sirius moved swiftly, gathering her in his arms before she hit rock bottom. Y/N clutched his shirt in her fists, soaking it as she sobbed against his chest.

“I never thought something could hurt this bad,” her voice broke, tugging Sirius’ heartstrings. Y/N’s heart ached; her chest physically hurting as it constricted her heart. The pain was too much to handle; the wound tearing open and blood smearing the ears of whom the sounds of her anguish fell upon.

Sirius had always known a time like this would come. A time when he’d sit there holding the love of his life in his arms as she sobbed into his chest over his best friend, for his brother. And there was nothing he could possibly do about it.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

If you enjoyed reading this fic, please like/comment/reblog! Your opinion/feedback is welcome, appreciated, and motivating :)

General taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @pregnant-piggy @approved-by-dentists @remmyswritings @lenalxvegood​ @idont-knowrn @coffee--writes @kinkyduuh @ickle-ronniekins @the-mighty-bookworm @chaoticgirl04 @malfoyspogue @dracofeltonmalfoy @dracosmainhoe @tinylumpiaa @gcdric @theweasleysredhair @pandaxnienke @george-fabian-weasley @sarcasticallywitty15

Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter fanfic #james potter imagines #james potter fic #harry potter imagine #harry potter fic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter marauders #marauders #marauders fic #marauders era #harry potter #hp imagine #hp fic #hp fanfic #hp imagines #hp #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #wand3ring1.9kchallenge #harry potter imagines #lily evans #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #james potter x lily evans

[wickedgamesoyaoya]

⇺ ⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂⁂ ⇻

↣ Masterpost

↣ inspired by @haik-choo’s post

↣ wc: 1.7k 

↣ warnings: some self inflicted pain (nothing major!), cheating mentions, serious heartbreak. 

↣  song recommendation:  tolerate it - taylor swift 

↣  preamble (as written by haik-choo):  akaashi keiji doesn’t get that not everyone can understand how someone feels with one look. he puts an extra sugar in his coffee and expects you to know that he wants to go out to a bakery, he clicks his red pens a few extra times and expects you to know that he needs refills – he says he has a lot of work tonight and expects you to make him midnight snacks. to him, that stuff is easy. why can’t you understand him? he does it for you – he shouldn’t have to say it out loud. you should already know what he’s thinking. if you don’t, maybe you don’t love him as much as he thought you did.

The complexity of love has never been accurately represented in the media. Films present reality through the lens of a fractured mirror to provide viewers a sense of emotion they cannot find elsewhere. Fairy tales are perhaps the worst form of media to exist. They are created to be consumed by young impressionable children who develop unrealistic expectations that are later thrust upon the unfortunate souls that become their partners. You were one of those children who bought the falsities sold to you. Love was something magical, the intertwining of two hearts.

You were sixteen when you fell in love for the first time. Enthralled by how one emotion could paint new colours in the horizons, you allowed yourself to fall… it was perfect, until you found yourself crying on the bathroom floor, wondering why the fairy tales lied to you.

You were seventeen when you first experienced heart break. Even now, you can remember the shame that drenched your soul when you learned that the one you loved, had slept with someone else. Each inch of your skin was tainted by your “prince charming.”

That night, your mother had to drag you out of the bath. The pads of your toes and fingers had shriveled up, while your arms and legs burned a bright crimson from the incessant scrubbing. Yet the tingling of your skin was merely a scratch in comparison to the laceration inside of your heart, and there was no band aid that you could apply there.

That was December 3rd 2014 – the date you abandoned your foolish ideals.

You met Akaashi Keiji exactly six months later.

If you were ever asked to describe the mystery that is Keiji, where would you begin? Were there truly any words that could accurately capture the very essence of his kind soul? Or the depth of this mesmerizing eyes? How would you possibly begin to explain how a single caress by his calloused fingertips had melted away the imaginary grime that had coated your skin? If anyone was prince charming, it was him.

But little did you know that sometimes he doubted whether you were his Cinderella. His happily ever after…

The first indication of his veiled concerns occurred in your last year of high school. With the departure of his third-year friends, Akaashi was titled captain of the boy’s volleyball team. While he enjoyed volleyball, he was never obsessed with the sport like his best friend. Volleyball was his hobby, nothing more and nothing less. He was more concerned with maintaining his high academic record than securing a ticket to nationals. Last year balancing the various fragments of his life was simple. But the absence of his friends weighed on him, each day the anxiety increased until he could barely sit without jitters swarming his limbs. As his girlfriend, you should have known the stress he was battling… Sure, he was pushing you away, but you should have known why.

Yet, when you attempted to thwart his efforts to establish distance, you were chastised for your lack of understanding.

“Y/n. I am busy. Please do not disturb me during practice.” Not the slightest bit of respect was allocated to you, despite your status as his girlfriend. And while his pointed response was undoubtedly directed towards to you, his attention was on the practice commencing inside of the gym. “Listen, I need to go back. If you want to talk, consider picking a more appropriate time in the future.” Rolling the towel within his grasp, he refused to acknowledge you beyond sharing these words.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” To even utter an apology stole the limited resolve you had to address the situation. How much did you have to degrade yourself to fix a relationship he evidently did not want?

But the following day at lunch period, a dozen roses were delivered to you with an apology note attached to the stems. It was only natural for you to grant him the forgiveness he sought. Dismissing his actions was simple once you rationalized it as a normal reaction to an abundance of pressure. Diamonds may be created under pressure, but he was no diamond, and neither were you.

The second indication of his concealed doubts did not emerge from a set of actions, nor did it include the exchange of harsh words. Rather, it was his silence that nurtured your insecurities and provided you confirmation that while he was your happily-ever-after, you may not be his.

To celebrate Keiji’s 19th birthday, his mother had offered to host a gathering at his childhood home. When the details of the party were conveyed to you, excitement had fluttered to life inside of your stomach. It was the perfect opportunity to develop your relationship with the woman who had raised your wonderful boyfriend. Yet, not even the purest of intentions would save you from the humiliation that awaited you that night.

At one point of the evening, Keiji had vanished for a considerable amount of time. Naturally, you searched the house for your boyfriend. When you peaked inside of the kitchen, you found him engaging in a conversation with his mother. You almost called out to him instinctively, except your vocal cords denied you access when you caught the end of their conversation.  

“Has she been tending to your needs yet? Or has she remained as useless as before?” The older woman clutched the stem of her wine glass, with a scoff clawing at her throat. It seemed that the liquor coating her tongue had turned the muscular organ into a knife.

Keiji stood with his back pressed against the kitchen island, listening without a reaction. The nonchalance emanating from his demeanour indicated that this was not the first occurrence. No, this had happened before, otherwise he would have had some form of a reaction. A flinch – a twitch – anything. But he stood still, emotionless, distant. The targeting comments were equivalent to a whisper in the wind – not deserving of a response, nor a stir.

“Keiji, you are aware that you are wasting your time and yet you stay with her?” The sigh falling from her stained lips was extended to emphasize her distress, and the gentle sound was enough to weaken your knees.

No longer able to support your own weight, you leaned against the wall, allowing your eyelids to flutter shut. Your fingers tangled with the fabric of your shirt as you waited for his response.

Say something – anything. Just tell her she’s wrong.

Yet the denial never came.  

The first two indications were shoved aside, dismissed with excuses that would serve as a band-aid on your decaying relationship. But then came the third.

The third indication of his doubt occurred on an average college night when you were in the process of selecting your outfit for the night. Bokuto had arranged an unofficial Fukurodani reunion for the boy’s volleyball team. As Keiji’s girlfriend, the invite was naturally extended to you. Usually your boyfriend would be in higher spirits knowing that he would soon be in the company of his high school friends. But tonight, a frown remained etched into his features, not wavering for even a single moment.

“Which one? I don’t want to be underdressed. But on the other hand, Kou is always dressed really weird. So, I don’t know.” Two outfits were presented towards the male, a scarlet cocktail dress and a navy pantsuit with a low cut.

“Does it matter, y/n?” The sharp remark was blown out with a heavy sigh. It was as though he could not muster the energy to care for your feelings. Or perhaps, he simply chose to display his inner conflict, with no concern of the consequences of his decision.

The noise was startling enough to strip you of the excitement that once animated your movements.

“I guess not, but is it wrong that I want to look good for my boyfriend?” The counter question was voiced barely above a whisper, with each word sounding fainter than the last.

“Maybe if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t have to ask.” His eyes did not meet yours, rather they stayed fixed on the writing utensil within his grasp. “It’s not that hard, y/n. You just don’t care enough to put in the effort.”

The verbal assaults implanted daggers into your chest, but the pain would only become worse – since he was not done just yet.

“If you refuse to love me with your entire heart, what is the point? Let me go.”

“Keiji!” Pain cut along the inside of your throat from the shriek erupting from your chest. Had you ever screamed his name in quite a harsh manner? Liquid blurred your vision, and with your air-filled organs wheezing in distress, your words were stated between staggered breaths.

“I am not a fucking mind reader.” The fog of desperation encompassing you was comprised of poison, one that soon threaded throughout your system. The properties of the poison enflamed your lungs, burning the organs and halting the flow of air. Instinctively your hands were sent to your skin, clawing at the flesh as if you could simply rip out the emotions suffocating you. “Just because I don’t love you the way you think I should, doesn’t mean I don’t.” Whether the words spilling from your lips were responsible for the bitter taste in your mouth, or the tears now gracefully parading down your cheeks was unknown. Either way, the release of the steaming liquid eased the burning sensation in your lungs.

“I’m done, Keiji. I’m done.” Slowly claiming your insides was a thin layer of ice. By now, you had run out of excuses for his behaviour. There were no longer any band-aids you could use to tend to the wounds. The question of whether your boyfriend considered you “the one” was answered.

Despite the ache weaving into your muscles, your feet dragged you to the front door. A piece of you desired to catch one final glimpse of him – as your heart knew this would be the final time you would see him. But afraid you would lose your resolve to leave, you pressed the car keys against your palm, and remained fixed on the exit.

Behind you, the brunette voiced a weak apology – you were unable to catch the exact words, as they were muffled by the fabric of his sleeves. But not even the sweetest words could remedy the situation. Since, now you had accepted the truth.

Love was never a fairy-tale, and Akaashi Keiji was not a prince. Love would never be what you wanted it to be, and it would always hurt.

Love would always hurt.

A/N: I ended up finishing this today because I got into a bad mood and so I needed to channel it into something lol 

Taglist: @sayakaaaaaa @sanitisegermsfree @haikyuufairy @newfriendjen @lvoejimin @moonlightaangel @gyozaaaaa @byun-nies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @amberalisa @graykageyama @yourstarvic @chaichai-the-weeb @chibishae34 @haikyuusimp91 @volleybloop  @rajablast @idiot-juice-enthusiast @melonmayhere @cuddlesslut  @athenarosaline @memes-and-money @coconut-dreamz  @mismatched-loves @elianetsantana @tsumume @tsukkismamagucci @the-golden-jhope @camcam1617 @prettyforpapiiwa @swoonhui​ @neobakas​ @azumane-kun @elephantloser​ @dreamstormings​ @anejuuuuoy​   

~ message me to be removed from the general taglist + bolded means I can’t tag ya 

#akaashi haikyuu #akaashi keiji #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x y/n #akaashi imagine #akaashi angst #akaashi x you #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu

[minnochu]

Lustrous (pt. 15)

Hybrid!Kook x Fem!Reader AU

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6 | Pt 7 | Pt 8 | Pt 9 | Pt 10 | Pt 11 | Pt 12 | Pt 13 | Pt 14 | Pt 15 | Pt 16 | Pt 17 | Pt 18 | Pt 19

Warning: Suicide attempt/thoughts

Note: Hi! A little shorter this week! I didn’t know how to go about writing the beginning so I apologize if it’s a bit of a mess or something! But hopefully y’all enjoy!!

Also, when I find time this week, I’ll try to update links!

..

Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, unable to enjoy the hot porridge without him retching and desiring for something else. Setting the tray back on it’s previous place at the nightstand, he slumped with a loud exhale. To his right, beyond the closed glass panels of the window, he could smell the different creatures residing outside. It didn’t help it when his stomach gurgled for food, and he could practically taste the blood of the unsuspecting deer prancing through the forest at this moment. 

Yoongi had left him alone when he refused to speak, only glare. The pre-teen could smell it on him, another werewolf like him. Or he was. But he was not in any mood to be social with anyone. What he wanted now was his family.

But he couldn’t have that.

Junghyun, he thought along with the images of his parents, before they morphed into his last glance at his family; all dead. His elder brother bleeding from the eyes and mouth, jagged gashes running over his face from the rejection. His parents’ mangled bodies from his own claws. They called to him. Did they blame him? For being the only one to survive? For being the one to ruthlessly murder his parents?

He sucked in a breath, he couldn’t do this. He didn’t ask to be turned into a complete monster. Why didn’t he just die along with his family?

The wolf continued to simmer in his depressive state, mulling over the events at the warehouse, his survival, and his memories of his family back at their home. Where was the point in living anymore? No one was there to care, was there? No. He’d killed them. They were gone. And he was alone. 

The more he sat in that room, glaring at his pink stained fingers, it felt like he was suffocating. It hurt to breathe as the walls of the room seemed to draw closer and closer towards him. He would cover his ears, palms clamping harshly over the sides of his head when he couldn’t stop hearing the shouts of his parents and the cries of his sibling. The indistinct noises turned into morbid shouts of his name, blaming him, criticizing him.

It’s wasn’t that he hated vampires. Sure, there had always been an unspoken rivalry between the two races. It had always made him wonder how mixed societies even survived with different species coexisting. Besides that, this was  not something he wanted. He didn’t ask for this. Moreover the fact that he blamed himself for the death of his parents, he blamed it on him turning in the first place, the vampiric blood multiplying his anger and desire to kill.

The thoughts hit a break point. 

Jungkook would sit in the dark, holed up in that room still, and you had to watch on as the boy extends a single claw from his index finger and run the sharp tip across his forearm experimentally. Time and time again the wound closes immediately after the fact, no matter how deep he attempts.

Figures, he thought glumly, the blood heightened his healing ability. 

And then he experimented further. You screamed, but no sound left your mouth as Jungkook kneeled over the mattress, inhaling and exhaling before he raised his clawed hand. Eyes burning blue and amber, he grunted as he impaled his own chest. Breathing heavily, he gasped at the searing pain, blood pouring from the wound and onto the linen. 

And then fear struck across his once void eyes. 

As his claws grasped at his heart, he knew he’d reached the threshold of life and death. Extracting his heart now would mean instant death and that scared him.

Jungkook didn’t want to die.

Tears fell as he cried in anguish, wanting to end his suffering but also wanting to live.

It was only a matter of time before the other pack members would smell his blood and despair, and soon enough the tell-tale loud thuds of footsteps thundered outside the door before it was blown off its hinges and across the room. The wooden structure hit the wall with a crash, crumbling to the floor in pieces as Yoongi stands at the doorway with three other teens. 

To your surprise, Yoongi clamors silently onto the bed and glares down at him as he looks up through blurry eyes.

“Do it.”

You suck in a breath.

“Do it, you fucking won’t.”

“Min Yoongi!” One of three reprimands, when you look over as he stomps over to yank at the wolf’s shoulder, you recognize him as Hoseok. Those heart shaped lips, gentle mocha eyes, and lean body with the carefree way he carried himself. Although, he seemed frazzled at the situation, face scrunched in alarm and disapproval of Yoongi’s baiting. 

“What?!” The elder hisses, “If he wants to die so bad, then he can just do it.”

“Why are you crying?” He scrutinizes the younger with hardened golden eyes, “Don’t you want to die? Isn’t that why you’ve got your claws nearly tearing out your heart?”

Jungkook shakes his head, body trembling from both pain and fear, “I… I don’t want to die…”

“Then what do you want?” Yoongi asks, “I don’t know what you went through… but I’m sure there has to be something inside you keeping you from wanting to die. You wouldn’t be crying and hesitating now would you?”

“There’s nothing here for me... I’m alone... I have nothing... but I don’t want to die.”

He eventually relents with a sag of his shoulders, letting his heart go and retracting his hand. Kim Seokjin introduces himself before healing the boy with a whispered spell to quicken the rate of his healing ability.

Yoongi heaves a sigh before taking the boy by the back of his head and pushing it towards his chest, “No need to tell us now, but if you need a reason to live. Let us be your reason. Family, am I right?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, his heart warming at the offer, looking up between him, Hoseok’s bright smile, and Seokjin agreeing with a gentle quirk of his lips.

Before he can say anymore, a tall ash blonde boy strides over, interrupting the touching moment between the future pack mates.

“You’ll die if you keep resisting your hunger,” Namjoon says bluntly, tossing the pack of pork blood onto the youth’s lap, “You might hate it now, but this is what you’re going to have to live with. Get used to it.”

The vampire’s taut lips turned up into a slight smile, “Please cherish your life as much as possible. Love yourself, you’re one of us now.”

Mom, Dad, Junghyun. Please watch over me. He thought as his eyes welled up with another round of tears. The boys watched as he tore the corner open and downed the contents before sobbing into Yoongi’s shoulder. 

It’s delicious. And despite the fact that he hated that he enjoyed the deep wine colored liquid, he knew he had to keep living. It would be what they wanted for him, and looking around at the four older boys, he may be able to live a little while longer. 

You watched tearfully as life went on. Jungkook would observe the pack, deeply intrigued by the dynamics and how the group was able to get along like a real family would when the group comprised of a warlock, a vampire, and now three wolves. Not too long after Jungkook had integrated himself into pack life and went back to school, attending the middle school in the suburban town bordering the forest, another wolf and vampire were accepted into the pack. They went by the names of Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung respectively.

The two were balls of pure energy, easily adapting to the mixed environment and soon becoming close friends with Jungkook. And it surprised him. They were merely a group of different races and yet they were nothing short of brothers. Each had their own story leading up to their gathering as a seven-membered pack, and everyone had been accepting. 

So he decided it would be time. 

He told them. When he was comfortable enough, he asked Namjoon to arrange a pack meeting where he would open up about his transition into a hybrid and his murder spree before he had met Yoongi and the pack. The vampires of the group couldn’t blame him for his hatred of his vampiric side. They took the information in with open minds and comforted him with open hearts and grilled lamb skewers, his favorite. 

Later, Jungkook learned to suppress the vampire blood, only letting his wolf gene remain activated with the help of Seokjin. He didn’t crave only blood and he returned to eating like normal with small increments where he had to replenish his desire for blood. A year passed, there was no problems, then eighth grade came around. 

You watched as the hybrid attended his last years of middle school when Jungkook became attracted to a girl. Almost immediately, you recognize her as Hyejin, gasping loudly as Jungkook can’t help but sneak shy glances her way and try anything and everything to impress her. Everything seemed to connect when your world shifted so suddenly, as though someone were yanking you back from the collar of your shirt. 

Dizzy, you fall back, hands releasing the hybrid’s head as you breathe heavily from the exertion of being shoved out of his brain.

“S-sorry…” he sighed with his hand running down his face in exasperation, biting back the pain in his heart at the absence of your touch, “I didn’t mean to show you that...”

The areas on his temples resonate with your lingering heat, his wolf whimpering at your distance between you both.

“When were you planning on telling me then?” You ask, although you were unsure why you were even upset in the first place. In the first place, you already figured that something had gone down in the past if Hyejin was always adamant on staying away from just Jungkook. They had a past, but you didn’t think it was this kind of past. Realizing the bite in your tone, you shake your head and offer an apologetic smile, “Sorry, it’s not my place… whatever happened between you and Hyejin is not my business.”

He doesn’t respond, gazing down at dirt underneath him in tense silence. “Besides that…” You continue stiffly, rubbing your arm in an effort soothe the goosebumps from remembering the rest of what had happened into memories he’d shown you, “I’m so sorry about your brother… and your um…”

“Parents,” He finished with a grimace, “Don’t be… I… er at least you know why my eyes are blue…”

But it did not answer what he was keeping from you about him and Hyejin. In effort to change the subject, you bite your lip and ask, “So… what’s this about a she-wolf? Imprinting and all that?” You offer a meek smile, mentally preparing yourself for his answer. 

Fuck.

“That was something my parents told me… about wolves imprinting on their fated soulmates…”

“Mm… That’s cool… lucky her then right?” What were you saying? You inwardly screamed at yourself as you rose to your full height and turned to go home. By now, noon had gone and passed and the sun was beginning to set in the west, ducking it’s bright rays behind the tall trees of the forest. “It’s getting a little dark… we should go home,” you conclude with a forced smile.

Jungkook felt a painful pang in his chest, as though he’d been stabbed a million times each step you took away. Gasping, he doubled over and wished that you wouldn't leave him.

“What’s the difference between Hyejin and (Y/n)? What sets them apart?”

Yoongi’s “food for thought” has his mind racing, eyes wide.

Hyejin was Hyejin. She was the past. An old flame but not his… his… 

He sucked in a breath.

His soulmate. 

Thinking back to his father’s explanation of his parents’ fated relationship, he knew what you had to be. It was more than just his present. You were his future, and eternity. It was cliche but the moon had chosen for him the perfect match: you. It was widely rare for wolves to imprint on species not their own, and that made the uncertainty of the future even more bleak when other species didn’t understand the way imprinting altered the world for the imprinter, meaning a non-wolf imprintee had the power to reject them or not. Unlike wolves, they did not spatially feel that pull towards the imprinter as full-blown as a wolf would. That fact did not change what you were to him. Fated. Soulmate. Everything. He wanted nothing more than to make you happy and protect you. Fuck the imprinting, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to fall for you fate or not. You were accepting, caring, fucking adorable, and a complete badass. He pushed you away not out of revolt or contempt, only out of fear of hurting you physically and emotionally if he could not control his vampiric urges and if you thought he didn’t really feel something for you genuinely. 

But that’s the thing, he thought. There’s a reason he would be drawn to you. You are his match. He could not find another woman like you, everything is deemed inferior to you. 

Seizing you by your wrist, you jolt with a start and look back at him with furrowed brows. When he meets your gaze, his eyes are shimmering a gorgeous shade of blue. Quickly, he grows shy as he looks away and is unable to meet your eyes anymore. 

“U-um… I… i-it’s not only wolves that we can imprint on…” he stammers as his cheeks burn and his front teeth chew on his bottom lip. An action you find cute before you stand straight and reprimand yourself for staring at his lips. 

“Then what else Jungkook?” You ask, feigning impatience.

“It’s rare, but werewolves are able to imprint on other species as well…”

“And you imprinted on Hyejin?” You blink, frowning at the clench in your chest at the thought.

A pressure on the back of your head pushes you forward, your lips colliding with Jungkook’s, shutting you up effectively with a chaste kiss that has you nearly collapsing right then and there. The world dips below your feet, almost as though the world has disappeared and you’re merely existing in a space with only the two of you. The lines blur and all you can see, feel, and smell is Jeon Jungkook. The way his lips caress your own one last time is nothing short of gentle before he pulls apart with a pained frown. “I imprinted on you, dumbass.”

...At least that’s what he’d like to do, he thought helplessly as you walked away. Most likely fuming over the idea of his past with Hyejin and fated. Lone figure retreating back the way you both came from. 

He just could not do that to himself or you.

A frustrated growl emitted from his chest, ruffling his hair before he sensed it. You must have sensed it too as you turn to look at him for a split second and he’s too late to grab you when large meteor sized balls of dark flames come smashing into the ground in front of you. They crush trees and decimate the ground, debris flying as your body is shot backwards from the impact.

..

Tags:  @twilight-loveer @reinyrei@mistytail@mygukandonlyficrecs@xanny91@unpocodesoledadywisky@xxqueenwxtchxx@lildemonangele@gukworld@sunnyoongles @zamirayinyue13@hannahdearr @serendipity-secrets @ilaria-np @jules-park @treetops68 @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @jeonkooksgirl @coffeeismylife28 @nshitae @bookoffracturedescapes @ellsbells72

@tiredjedi

#i have no ragrets :') #please don't hate me for that ending i swears #im sorry LOL #lustrous #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts au #hybrid!jungkook

[singingunderthecurtain]

DIAMOND (CEO AU Baekhyun Series) Part 20

Author: @julietsoddeye​ AU: CEO!Baekhyun Genre: Angst | Smut | Romance Pairing: (in this chapter) Baekhyun x Lee Soojin (OC) | Junmyeon x Yanmei (OC) | Chanyeol x Hisako (OC) Word Count: 5.5K Trigger Warning: Strong Language, Gun Use, Blood, and Physical Violence

Plot: After 10 years of exile to another country, Soojin is finally back home and was surprised to find out that she was already engaged to the son of her father’s long-time friend and business partner.

Diamond Mini Mansterlist

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20

“Don’t fucking panic, guys!”

Hisako yelled suddenly as she was pacing around the small space provided for her in front of everyone. Friends are all gathered in Baekhyun’s office, figuring out where Soojin might be. Yanmei then grabs Hisako’s wrist to pull and squeezes her in between her and Jongdae. The man has no other option but to scoot farther away from Yanmei so that Hisako can properly sit down.

“Nobody’s panicking, only you.”

Yanmei said matter-of-factly rolling her eyes at her friend, Hisako pouted like a child as a response. She can tolerate this crazy attitude of hers just as long as she provided a barricade between her and Jongdae.

It has already been two and a half days since Soojin has gone AWOL. President Lee Seungho almost had another heart attack when they found out that his daughter was missing. Both Soojin and Baekhyun’s mothers were inconsolable with the news, they kept crying when Soojin’s name is ever mentioned.

After the Twenty Four hour mark of her absence, private security and investigation companies were called, but not the Police. They knew the media would soon find out that the Heiress of the Lee clan and soon-to-be Daughter-in-law of the Byuns, and sure news about her disappearance would blow up if they decided to ask for the Police’s help. They didn’t want unwanted attention from anyone or anything at this point, reporters and journalists will swarm their buildings and homes and that will definitely affect their stocks.

“Shouldn’t you be at work today?”

Jongdae snarked, suddenly annoyed at Hisako even though it wasn’t her fault that he was blocked from being next to Yanmei.

“How can I go to work when one of my two best friends is missing?” Hisako snarled her lips at Jongdae. “Also, President Seungho told me to take a break.”

“You think she’s been kidnapped?”

“Yes, probably. Soojin-ssi wouldn’t just suddenly run away like that.”

Mia answers Baekhyun’s question immediately.

Everyone fell silent for a while. They all have sullen-look in their faces, the wedding is just right around the corner, why is this happening now?

Baekhyun felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he must have accidentally put it on silent. Looking at the screen, he was jolted to see that Soojin is calling him. 

“What is it, bro?”

Yixing saw the bewilderment in his friend’s eyes and everyone’s attention snapped to Baekhyun as he sat on his office table with his jaws hanging down.

“I–It’s S–Soojin.”

“Answer it!!!”

Soojung pushed through people to get near Baekhyun. Her eyes were blown big as she waits for her future brother-in-law’s next move.

With quivering hands, Baekhyun slides accept the call and put his phone on his left ear.

“H–Hello?”

“Listen Byun Baekhyun, I know you’re probably surrounded by people right now. Pretend like this is Soojin…”

“Okay…”

Baekhyun answers with a shake in his voice, everyone looks at him expecting a piece of good news. He recognized the person on the other line and already know who the person was behind all this and his blood is already boiling with anger.

“We have your fiancé and if you still want to see her alive, you will do as I tell you. Understood?”

“Okay,”

Baekhyun repeats his one-line answer, lips quivered and nose flared when he hears Soojin screaming for help in the background.

“You will meet me at the address that I will be texting you... alone. And then you will come with me. Don’t let anyone follow you or I will make sure my men will put a bullet through Lee Soojin’s skull. You don’t want a dead bride at your wedding, am I being clear?”

“BAEKHYUN, BAEKHYUN NO! DON’T LISTEN TO TH—”

“SHUT UP, BITCH! Shut her up before I punch her unconscious once again!”

Baekhyun hears loud banging noises until he can’t hear Soojin’s screams and cries anymore. He hits his fist on his table, grinding his teeth together to suppress his anger.

“What? What’s happening?!”

Seungmin was about to snatch the phone away, but Baekhyun motions for him to stop.

“Do you hear that, Byun? Now be a good boy and don’t fuck shit up for me!”

The call ended abruptly and it took a few moments before Baekhyun’s inside battles clammed enough to answer everyone’s loud questions.

“Baekhyun-ah,”

Seungmin sounded straight-up begging now, the desperation in his tone made it a little harder for Baekhyun to lie. He is deliberating what sort of bullshit he will tell Soojin’s brother. He needs to be careful or they will kill his Fiancé for sure.

“I…”

Baekhyun trails off, suddenly zoning out again.

“Oppa, please.”

It was Soojung, this time, to beg Baekhyun. Begging to know what was going on. She can see the feat in Baekhyun’s eyes and she’s worried what sort of danger her sister is in.

“Sooj– She wants me to meet her… Soojinnie.”

Baekhyun stutters.

“It was Soojin eonni on the phone?”

“Y–Yes.”

Baekhyun’s phone dinged with another notification and sure enough, it was Soojin’s number they used again and he starts scrambling on to his feet, grabbing his motorbike keys out of the many vehicular keys inside his office table drawer.

“Please, guys… I need to go.”

Baekhyun was stopped mid-run by Junmyeon, he looks back at everyone to see them all confused and puzzled by his sudden odd behavior.

“What is happening, Baekhyun-ah?”

Junmyeon tightens his grip on Baekhyun’s arm when he tries shaking him off. Sehun and Jongdae then grasp his other arm when he suddenly bolted and tries to escape. 

Every single person in his office probably thinks he’s about to or has already gone insane, but right now is not the time to care about that. He needs to go because the text message only gave him an hour to get there or they will get rid of her - immediately. He has no other options but to just go there even if he wasn't sure they were tricking him or not.

He has so save Soojin!

“Baekhyun, relax! Use your words, please.”

Yanmei pushed pass bodies to touch Baekhyun’s cheek, using her ‘teacher approach’ she practices with her students daily. Baekhyun slumps when he felt his fiancé’s best friend’s warm hands on his face. It reminded him of the warmth Soojin shows him every single day even though he probably doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve her and now she’s at the hands of bad people and it’s his fault.

“Mei-Mei, please…”

“Tell me, Baeks it’s okay.”

Baekhyun’s tears are pouring like rain, he just wanted them to let him go but he can’t verbalize what he wanted them to do.

“Baekhyun-ah.”

Jongdae pushes on, shaking Baekhyun’s arm that he was holding.

“Jongdae, no—”

Yanmei warns her ex and Jongdae immediately silenced with the mention of his name straight from her lips.

“Baekhyun? Talk to me.”

She returns her attention to the aggravated man once again, gently coaxing him to speak. It took a while before Baekhyun calms down from his sobbing and he finally found his voice, determined to save the woman he only ever loved in his life.

“Guys, please… Please trust me. Don’t follow me or they will kill her.”

“Hyung, what are you saying?”

Sehun interjects.

“I need to go… NOW! Or they will kill Soojin and if that happens, I will never, ever forgive myself for it. Do you understand me? I have no time?!”

Baekhyun starts screaming now to no one in particular.

“Oh my God! What are we gonna... What are we gonna fucking do?”

Hisako then paces back and forth again, Chanyeol pulling her arms to embrace her, pushing her face to his chest. She starts bawling her eyes out when she felt his warm chest on her cheeks, his tight embrace around her body.

“Let go of him.”

Mia all of a sudden speaks, still seated in one of the chairs in the office. Her face was calm, but her feet are quavering into place in agitation.

“What?”

Sehun yells, mouth ajar as he looks back and forth between Mia and Seungmin. Seungmin just stares back at his younger cousin with no answer to the silent question in his eyes.

“I said let go of Baekhyun!”

“Are you a fucking lunatic?”

Yanmei protests, suddenly angry at Mia’s rash decision.

“And why are you even still here, Mia? Hasn’t Soojin already fired you? Why are you still lingering around us, you fucking psycho?!”

Yanmei added, her ears obviously beaming red with anger.

“Yanmei-ssi!!!”

Seungmin infiltrates, pulling Yanmei’s arm harder than he intended to and she yelps in pain.

“Hyung!”

Junmyeon and Jongdae bellow simultaneously. Jongdae lets go of Baekhyun as Seungmin releases Yanmei wrist.

“I–I’m so… I’m sorry, I– Didn’t mean to.”

Seungmin apologizes profusely as Yanmei clutches her wrist.

“Baby, are you okay?”

Jongdae ran to Yanmei's side, grabbing her arms with gentle care to examine it. Yanmei was too lost for words or reactions and so she lets him comfort her.

“What is happening?”

Sunmi starts sobbing silently with no idea what was going on, only hearing the commotion around her. Yixing instantly pulls the poor weeping girl in the farthest corner of the room to calm her down.

“Sunmi, everything will be just fine, okay? Do you trust oppa?”

Yixing starts whispering comforting words to her ears.

“Yes,”

Sunmi replies, although still crying. But Yixing’s soft and gentle words are very effective at making her nerves quiet down a bit to stop her lament.

“I’m so sorry you have to hear this, love. We can go if you want to.”

“No, oppa. I want to know what’s happening, we need to find Soojin eonni.”

She juts her lower lip out, tears ready to be shed just thinking about her oldest sister being gone without a trace.

“Just… Trust me and let go of Baekhyun.”

Mia insisted on with both boldness and assurance. Her eyes were burning with determination, but her heart is somewhat scared of the ten percent chance that all the plans might turn into shit. Hopefully, that doesn’t happen or she will not only fail Soojin, who has already become a big part of her life, but also Seungmin. He trusted everything on her, she can’t let him down... ever. It would totally break her heart.

Seungmin nods towards Sehun and Junmyeon, both looked at each other before hesitantly letting Baekhyun go.

Baekhyun bolted out of the door right away with his newfound freedom.

“I hope you’re not digging yourself a grave with that decision, Mia.”

Yanmei yaks at Mia, pushing Jongdae’s embrace away from her and went for the door also. Both Junmyeon and Jongdae followed immediately after her.

The rest were quiet and it was quite a deafening silence for Mia. But before her mind spiraled into insanity, Seungmin reaches his arms towards her and envelopes her shoulders with comfort. Him cradling her like a lost child, she couldn’t help her tears but spill like a dam letting water out.

— – — – —

It was wise of Baekhyun to have grabbed his bike keys instead of any of his many cars, it’s a Friday night and the traffic jam is insane in the rush hour. 

He can’t let anything happen to Soojin, not now that their wedding is just right around the corner. 

Not now that they can really, finally call each other theirs, that they belong with each other only. 

He parks his bike on a random alleyway where the location was pinged. 

Immediately after he killed the motor off of his bike, get down from it and removed his helmet, a man in all black clothes and dark hat grabbed his arm forcefully and drag him where a black van is waiting.

“Come with me and don’t make a sound.”

Immediately, Baekhyun knows who it was by the tone of the voice.

Kim Namjoon.

Taeyeon’s younger brother. 

“Aah, Namjoonie… It’s been a long time—”

“Don’t fucking call me that as if you’re still Noona’s boyfriend!”

Namjoon cut Baekhyun’s affinity quickly with a harsh dismissive tone. Baekhyun, as a reply, laughed tauntingly at his captor.

“You’ve seen how your sister treated me when we were still together, Namjoon. I can’t stay with a woman like that.”

“You’re just the same, Hyung.”

Namjoon puts a sarcastic emphasis on the word Hyung as if to mock Baekhyun with fake politeness. There was never any camaraderie between Baekhyun’s and Namjoon’s set of friends. There was always a silent rivalry between them ever since they were young.

“I only repaid her for what she did to me. To be honest with you, your sister’s sins are much heavier than mine. I just dated around, meanwhile, Taeyeon sleeps with any man she encounters when we’re fighting.”

Baekhyun sneers and Namjoon pushes him inside the van that has two other people inside who he recognizes as Namjoon’s friends, Yoongi and Jimin. 

“Don’t you dare talk about my sister like that, you asshole!”

Namjoon grabs Baekhyun by the collar and slams him on the vehicle wall. 

Baekhyun groans slightly when the back of his head hits hard on the other side of the heavily tinted van window. 

His head was then wacked using a loaded gun by Yoongi and the last thing he remembers before he lost his consciousness was that a sack-like material was being put on his head and then everything went black…

“What took you so fucking long?!”

Taeyeon stood up from Seokjin’s lap when she finally sees the door of the room opens.

Namjoon is walking in front while Yoongi and Jimin are just close behind, dragging a tied up and very unconscious Baekhyun along like a piece of dead meat. Jungkook, the youngest and the newest member of their friend circle took a chair and settles it in front of a deeply wounded and very weak Soojin who was also tied up to an uncomfortably cold and metallic chair.

“Noona, it’s the rush hour traffic… I’m sorry.”

Taeyeon’s hard look softened a bit when she sees her brother almost shaking in fear of what she will do to him for being late.

The two sat Baekhyun up on the chair and tied him to it in a similar way they tied Soojin.

“It’s okay, baby brother… Noona understands. Did you get the gun I specifically asked for?”

“Yes, Noona. It’s here.”

Namjoon handed a small velvety gun case to Taeyeon, her smile widens when she grabs it and felt the soft case on her fingertips.

“Good boy. You’re not as useless as what our parents make you seem to be, hmm.”

Taeyeon briefly pats her brother’s head and walked towards a nearby table and carefully places the case down. Her boyfriend, Seokjin, offered to open up the case for her and she gave him a quick kiss on the lips before she let him open up the case for her.

Both of their faces lit up when the light hits the rose gold revolver gun in all the right places. The dark mahogany hand grip compliments the glimmer of the handheld gun really well. 

“Beautiful.”

Seokjin sighs looking between the gun and Taeyeon.

“I hope you’re talking about me, Jin...”

One of Taeyeon’s brows raised as she asked. She took her younger boyfriend’s face, her long red nails scratching slightly on to his smooth face.

“Of course, baby. Nothing shines brighter than you.”

“Correct answer.”

She lets his face go and returns her attention back to the handheld gun she especially purchased just for this very occasion.

If she can’t have Baekhyun, no one will.

Especially not Soojin. Hell no.

— – — – —

“Report?!”

Mia roars as the heavily-armed door guards slams open the production floor of their headquarters as she arrived with her entourage. All the staff's heads turned towards her and straighten their positions upon the arrival of their biggest boss.

“Bugs 2012, 2014 and 2015, eyes and ears are inside of the property since 20190304. Targets one, two and three were seen leaving the property at oh-two-twenty-three. Three fawners are left inside to man and be on the lookout, about five fawners are scattered outside. Pawns one and two are alive, but unconscious.” 

Mia sighs in relief when she hears the report from one of her skilled men.

“Do you know what their condition is right now aside from being unconscious?”

Mia asks and Seungmin bit the inside of his lower lip, waiting for the answer as the man types in on his computer.

“Latest update, oh-three-oh-seven, Pawn-one is heavily bruised all around the body, bleeding from the side of the head and has been unconscious for fifteen hours. Last meal offered twenty hours ago, rejected and then received a few slaps from Target-one…”

He paused for a bit to breathe in deeply before reading on the second report.

“Latest update, oh-three-oh-seven, pawn-two bleeding from the nose, a few bruisings on the face and body and has been unconscious since or even before arrival at twenty-two-oh-five.”

“Fuck! Is pawn-one my sister...?”

With Seungmin’s silent question, Mia hesitantly nodded her head. His knees caved and couldn’t control how he knelt on the pavement, with Mia catching him as he falls. She sat him down on one of the couches on the production floor.

Seungmin couldn’t help but cry.

How could such a thing happen to her sister and his childhood friend? How could he let it happen to them?

“It’s my fault! It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have brought my sister or Baekhyunnie into this mess.”

Seungmin howls, punching and hitting his own thighs as if it’s going to make things better for everyone. Mia immediately wraps the man inside her embrace to stop him from hurting himself.

“Stop that!”

She warns.

“We always knew there was a threat—”

“But I never knew the threat is as near as it is!!! Who knew a woman like Kim Taeyeon can do such an evil thing! Even to Baekhyun, her ex-boyfriend”

Seungmin laments some more.

“She’s the daughter of the devil himself, of course, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

Seungmin laughs as he realizes that Taeyeon’s father, who is one of the biggest share-holders of the Byun Group of Companies, is a vile man in silence. There were rumors about him being linked to the mafia and that he has been paying his way to be on the top.

“Yeah, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree…”

Mia whispers as she plots ways to capture the whole family of their crookedness

— – — – —

Diamonds.

Diamond eyes.

Millions of diamonds surround her. Like stars in the sky, they shine so brightly even without a source of light.

“Please come home…”

She begs.

“Come back home, eonni…”

The diamond-eyed little girl sheds holographic tears.

“Soojin eonni, please…”

AMMONIA.

The smell of ammonia. 

The ammonium inhalant shoots signals to her brain to wake up. The vile and putrid smell of it almost made her want to vomit, only if there’s something inside her stomach. But there is none. 

Soojin hasn’t eaten a bite of anything they give her since she was abducted, what, maybe five days now. She is not really sure, she doesn’t have a sense of time anymore because she was just there. 

No mornings, no nights. Soojin was just there, constrained not only by the ropes tied around her weak body but also by the evils of Taeyeon and her sycophants. It feels like months now and she misses Baekhyun so bad. She’s not even sure if she will see him ever again. If he’ll ever see her alive again.

“Good morning, Princess.”

A familiar voice greets her.

It’s a very familiar voice, and not in a good way, that has been haunting her for days already. That’s why she would just rather be unconscious and unaware of everything around her. The nightmares she had before may be back, but at least those nightmares won’t cause her physical pain.

She says the wrong thing, Taeyeon will slap her in the face or hit her with whatever she has on hand.

Breathes the wrong way, Namjoon will punch her stomach or kick her sides.

Doesn’t take the food they give? They will swing her head with a gun.

Whatever she does, they beat her up.

“I was so worried you won’t wake up. Oh! Thank God you’re not dead yet.”

Even though she is in her current state, beat up, weak and hurting in all places, she still did not miss the sarcasm in her voice.

“Fuck you, Taeyeon.”

She coughs the moment she spoke and spits up a combination of blood and phlegm. Taeyeon jumps up, face sours when Soojin’s bloody phlegm spatters on her shoe.

“MY FUCKING DIAMOND JIMMY CHOO!!! CLEAN IT OFF, RIGHT NOW!!! FUCK!!!”

Taeyeon panics, hitting her boyfriend, Seokjin on the arms as she screams as if she’s being swallowed whole by the ground. Seokjin then starts panicking as well, as he cringes by both the vision of Soojin’s bloody cough on his girlfriend’s expensive shoes that he bought for her last birthday.

“Get me a fucking rug or some shit!”

Seokjin snarls at Jungkook, their youngest and the group’s gofer.

“Don’t fucking use a rug, you stupid piece of shit! I have some wet wipes in my purse!!!”

Jungkook then starts panicking also, a rug already on his other hand and Taeyeon’s small bag on his other. Namjoon rolls his eyes at the commotion, snatches his sister’s handbag from the younger man and grabbed a handful of wet towelette and wiped the bloody discharge from the shoes himself.

Soojin is painfully laughing at the dumb assery in front of her, but the moment she saw a glimpse of Baekhyun from behind all of them, she starts choking on her spit and tears already starts welling on the side of her eyes.

“Baek… Is that… BAEKHYUN!!!”

Her scream was piercing and it made everyone stop fussing and Baekhyun to stir awake.

“That’s right bitch, your Prince Charming is dumb enough to save you.”

Taeyeon unintentionally kicks her brother off as she starts walking in the direction of Soojin again. She grabs her by the hair and made her look into her eyes.

“Hurt me all you want, Taeyeon, I am begging you. Don’t touch Baekhyun.”

“Too late. My men already tainted his pretty face.”

Taeyeon pushes Soojin’s head forward as she lets go of her hair.

“Stop! Stop it right now, Taeyeon. Let us go and we will all forget about this.”

It’s Beakhyun’s turn to negotiate with his ex. His lips quivered when he finally saw the complete condition of Soojin. His heart breaks seeing how bloody and beat up the woman he loves. She’s probably just as damaged, if not more, on the inside.

“Oh sure.”

Taeyeon suddenly pipes.

“Go ahead, Yoongi, Jungkook, let them go. Go on!”

Baekhyun’s eyes lit up as he turns his eyes from Taeyeon to Soojin whose head is bowed down in exhaustion. Blood, sweat, and tears dripping from her face simultaneously. His ex’s laughter then woke him up from the few seconds of false hope he felt.

His face painted disappointment all over when he looks back at Taeyeon who is now smirking slyly at him.

“You’re stupid to think I’d let you go just like that, darling.”

Slowly, like a ghost in the night, Taeyeon plods her feet one by one on the direction of the table where her gun is settled. Neatly tucked in a velvet and silk case. Tracing her fingers delicately on the metal object before grabbing it, making sure it’s a complete seven shots of bullets.

Seeing the complete seven shots, Taeyeon then makes her way back in front of Soojin, who seems to be unconscious once again.

“Wake up, bitch!”

Taeyeon slaps Soojin’s bloody face to wake her up, causing Soojin to moan in pain.

“Baekhyunnie, say goodbye to your precious bride…”

Taeyeon aims the small gun at Soojin’s head. Soojin just stared at the gun directly, probably too weak and too tired to even recognize a gun that’s being pointed directly at the middle of her forehead.

“TAEYEON! STOP!”

Baekhyun cries.

“Okay, okay.”

Taeyeon drops the aim. And Baekhyun chokes with his own emotions.

“I’m gonna count from ten to one... So you at least still have a little more time seeing her before I blow her brains out.”

Taeyeon’s manic laughter can be heard from miles away and it sent shivers down Baekhyun’s spine knowing that in ten seconds, he will be losing the woman he is supposed to love until his dying day. 

Hopefully, Taeyeon kills him too because he’s sure he couldn’t live without Soojin. 

It would be painful to imagine what their wedding might have looked like, what her wedding dress would look like on her, how they will be spending their honeymoon, to what their children might look like. Will they have his eyes, Soojin’s cute nose? Will they also get their mother’s intellect or will they get his quirky personality?

“TEN!”

Baekhyun snaps from his day-nightmare when he hears Taeyeon’s scream. She had her gun pointed at Soojin’s head again.

“Taeyeon…”

Baekhyun begs.

“NINE!”

She screams, voice shaking with nervous excitement and adrenaline.

“TAEYEON-AH!!! PLEASE!”

He begs once more.

“EIGHT!”

“Taeyeon, please… Don’t do this.”

Baekhyun’s tears are starting to wet the dried blood on his face and he’s ignoring the taste of salt and iron on his lips.

“YOU MADE ME DO THIS BAEKHYUN! SEVEN!”

Everyone around them is just silent, just clammed up with the commotion happening in front of them. Some are obviously disturbed by the fact that Taeyeon is committing a crime and they are being accessory to it. Some are just neutral, maybe even impassive and detached.

“SIX!”

“Taeyeon…”

“FIVE!”

“Please… Please…”

You can hear the defeat in Baekhyun’s voice.

“FOUR!”

Baekhyun stopped fussing, but his tears continue.

“THREE!”

Taeyeon cocks the gun and places her pointer finger on the trigger.

“TWO!”

Baekhyun’s life with Soojin flashes before his eyes and it just made him sob really hard.

“ON—”

And before Taeyeon can scream the last number completely, a silent sniper bullet hits her shoulder and caused her to outbalance and pull the trigger accidentally hitting Namjoon on his thigh.

The Sister-Brother duo both scream in agony as multiple men in black clothing and bullet-proof vests enter the scene.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the union of Byun Baekhyun and Lee Soojin in marriage. Through their time together, they have seen their love and understanding of each other grow and blossom and now they have come to recognize that their personal hopes, dreams, and goals are more possible and more purposeful through the combined effort and mutual foundation provided in love, commitment, and family; and so they have decided to live out the rest of their lives as one.”

The marriage officiant starts.

It was a beautiful day at a peach orchard in Yongin. This 100 acres land is owned by Yixing’s family and Soojin and Baekhyun have the best memory in this place. 

Yixing brought them here on a previous time to pick Peach and other fruits that are on the property and this is where Baekhyun first fell in love with Soojin so they decided to do their wedding here.

Soojin and Baekhyun are currently hand in hand, shaking with excitement, sporting their own bruises from the previous incident they experienced at the hands of Kim Taeyeon. Who is now in jail for kidnapping and attempted murder alongside her five lackeys.

But none of it matters now, because they are finally in front of everyone, affirming their love for each other. It may have started as an arranged marriage, but they are glad they actually fell hard head over heels for each other. It’s not always you get to choose the one you spend your life with, especially in their circle. They are lucky they were the perfect match from the beginning.

“I, Baekhyun, take you, my Soojinnie, to be my wife, my best friend, my faithful partner and the love of my life from this day forward. In the presence of our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful husband and partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you forever, unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.”

Baekhyun gingerly places her wedding band next to her the engagement ring that’s still on her finger. Even through all the beatings the ring and the Diamond are still intact, shining beautifully in the beautiful daylight.

“I, Soojin, take you, my bubu… Baekhyun,”

Soojin paused to giggle along with the crowd.

“to be my husband, my best friend, my faithful partner and my love from this day forward. In the presence of our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful husband and partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live.”

Soojin also places his wedding band on his ring finger and they both gave each other tight hand squeezes after.

“Before we proceed, should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The officiant jumps in before officially ending the ceremony.

“Hell no, no one’s stopping the wedding!”

Chanyeol hollers from the groomsmen side, Baekhyun, and Soojin with playfulness in their eyes!

“Well then… By the power vested in me by the Republic of South Korea, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now seal the ceremony with a kiss!”

Baekhyun gently reached for Soojin’s jaw and she slightly tiptoed to reach Baekhyun halfway for their first kiss as husband and wife.

“I now give you, the newlyweds, Byun Baekhyun-ssi and Lee Soojin-ssi!

Every single soul in the property that is part of the wedding rejoiced. Finally, the much-awaited wedding happened and they couldn’t be happier.

~~~

Sunmi and Yixing came to the wedding as an official new couple as well. 

Sunmi finally found the courage to tell Yixing how she feels and surprisingly for her, the man actually feels the same as she did.

Yixing was glad Sunmi was the one to confess first because if not for it, he will probably never tell her that he is in love with her.

~~~

Turns out, Mia is the “maid” Soojin’s brother, Seungmin, ran away with.

Mia is definitely not a maid, she is actually a leader of a private security agency who has been serving The Byuns and The Lees for years. 

Mia and Seungmin met in College and have been together since.

Seungmin connived with Mia, Baekhyun, and Minseok a plan to seek revenge for what their father did to her sister, Soojin.

They explained everything to Soojin and she finally understood now why everything happened. Although the incident with Taeyeon was not according to plan. They have always known her family is shady, but they never post any threat to anyone so they have let their guards down in regards to that.

But good thing, they planted small tracking devices on both Soojin and Baekhyun’s phones and clothing just for security purposes. And that’s why they were able to see their location and save them from the hands of evil.

~~~

Taeyeon and her crew are now in jail and they will be for a long time, Chairman Byun made sure of that.

Taeyeon’s father has been terminated and shamed for what his daughter and all his shady activity with the Byun Conglomerate.

~~~

Hisako and Chanyeol and keep their hands to themselves all throughout the wedding. 

They don’t hide the fact that they are displaying skinship on public and when people ask, they just shrug their shoulders and say they’re really good friends.

~~~

Yanmei went to the wedding as Junmyeon’s date, wearing the necklace he gave her.

Jongdae went alone.

But he saw her still wearing the bracelet he gave her.

~~~

"It– it wasn't your fault."

"What?"

"It wasn't your fault, I'm sorry."

"Ten years... I suffered ten years away from you. And you're saying that now?

"I'm sorry… We only found out a few years after I sent you away. I was too ashamed to let you know that I made a mistake. My pride ate me, I’m sorry."

Soojin just smiled and gave her Dad a warm hug.

“It’s okay dad. I forgive you and I understand. I’m still thankful for what happened. If not for that, I might actually turn out to be like Taeyeon, who knows?”

Both of them laugh.

“And thank you, dad, because if not for you, I wouldn’t have met Baekhyun.”

…

And so…

They lived the rest of their lives…

Happy…

Or not?

Aikie Masterlist | Michiko Masterlist | FIC RECS | FIC REC SIDEBLOG

#exowritersnet #exosnet #kpoploversnet #smtownnetwork #Baekhyun #Byun Baekhyun #EXO Baekhyun #baekhyun exo #exo byun baekhyun #byun baekhyun exo #angst #romance #fluff #action #blood #gun #violence #baekhyun angst #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fluff #exo angst #exo fluff #exo romance #baekhyun violence #exo violence #fic #fanfic #fan fiction

[fanfics-await-you]

I never know what to expect from him (Part 2)

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Female OC

Summary: Poe Dameron is your friend, your fellow resistance fighter, but most of all he's a goddamn pain in your ass. And yeah, maybe you're falling for him and well yes, it seems like he's falling for you too, but now REALLY isn't the time.

Tags: angst, a pair of dumbasses unnecessarily complicating things, minor ROS spoilers

notes:  yeah, it’s been a bit, sorry. Yes, there are literally overlapping themes/lines with the last thing I wrote but I will not apologise. I write what I write lol. I also thought of the quote from the Christmas movie in here when it was Christmas time, so it’s fine. Also, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the movie now so if anything’s wrong sorry, I’m going off memory. I genuinely cannot remember like anything about the general fleet after the lightning happened?

Inspired by: @polkanote‘s post & @andhumanslovedstories‘s post

Word Count: 1,642

masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

I would follow you anywhere…

The noise of the party continues to pound in my ears like a drumbeat. I don’t move. A moment passes, and then another. I try to find the words to describe the flurry that is going on in my mind. Poe saves me the trouble.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

I can’t take my eyes from his face. Poe’s expression is tight with tension and his eyes are troubled.

He speaks again, “I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have put you in this position, I’m-I’m sorry.”

My mind finally catches up to the situation as he pulls away from my touch. The absence of Poe’s warmth at my side spurs me to action. As he takes a step away, my hand darts out to grab his arm. As Poe turns around, my hand slides down his forearm until our fingers are touching.

“Poe, I don’t understand.”

“I know, I shouldn’-“

“No, I don’t understand why you’re leaving.”

I intertwine our fingers and then use my grip to pull him closer. Poe’s face is conflicted, but he doesn’t fight me.

The words come out as a whisper, “I never said that you couldn’t come with me.”

His breath catches slightly before Poe turns away and pulls his hand from mine to distractedly push his hair away from his face. His rejection stings but I don’t let it stop me; for once, when it comes to Poe, I am feeling brave. I step towards him so that we’re almost touching and place my hand in the middle of Poe’s chest. He looks at me in surprise and then down at my hand. I can feel the quick thump-thump of his heart beneath my fingers and all I want to do is sink into his warmth.

“Poe.” He doesn’t meet my eyes.

I speak again, “Poe.”

His gaze finally finds mine, and everything that I’ve been dying to tell him tumbles out in the form of a single, breathy sentence.

“Poe, I never said that I didn’t want follow you too.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, like he’s fortifying himself, before gently taking my hand from its place on his chest. Then, steadily like he might startle me, Poe adjusts it so that my palm faces the ground. He raises my hand upwards and places my knuckles against his mouth for a moment.

He murmurs against my fingers, “Kess, it’s not that I don’t want this.”

Slowly, always slowly, Poe cradles my hand against his chest.

He speaks softly, “In fact, all I want to do most days is grab you and get on the next freighter out of here…The thought of you being mine but getting hurt anyway- I- I-” He trails off.

I can almost sense what he’s about to say next before he even starts speaking; mainly because the same thought is playing in my head.

“And that’s exactly why this can’t happen. I can’t give myself the choice between you and the Resistance.”

With a quiet exhale, he lets go of my hand.

“Because if I’m honest…I need to be here but I’m always going to want to choose you.”

I want to fight him. I want to say he’s wrong. I want to be selfish and demand that he stays right here in front of me. Most of all, I want to say fuck the Resistance if it means that I lose you. But that’s exactly it, that’s the problem. What’s more, I gave up the right to be selfish the day I signed my name on the dotted line and became a soldier. So, I say the only thing that there’s really left to say; the one thing that my thumping heart is telling me not to do.

“I understand.”

Poe closes his eyes and nods slightly, like he’s in pain.

“But I just need to you to know one thing.”

He opens his eyes and for a second, I can’t say it because it feels too much like goodbye. I want to forget my responsibilities and just want to drown in the warmth of his eyes and mouth and hands and-

“Given the chance, I’d follow you to the end of the universe and back ten times over,” my tone is steady despite the fact that I feel lost at sea.

Poe’s sad smile is like a stab to the stomach, but I force myself to keep my hands at my side as much as I want to pull him closer.

“We can’t do this again, can we…I don’t think that I’d be able to resist your charms twice,” his tone attempts to be playful but just sounds ragged.

Poe’s gaze doesn’t leave my face as he takes one small step backwards, and then another. Every step feels like another mile between us that I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to cross. I want to say but I can’t lose you completely, that some days the thought of your smile is the only thing that keeps me going.

As if he can hear me, Poe throws one last line over his shoulder with a soft chuckle as he turns away, “Call it self-preservation.”

I only find something to say once his figure has melted back into the party that I had all but forgotten. It doesn’t mean anything now that he’s gone, but I say it anyway.

“Goodbye, Poe. Maybe in a better life.”

---

“I’m hit! I repeat, Black Eight is hit! One wing is compromised. I am losing altitude!”

Radio silence is all that responds.

Forks of lightning are everywhere, and the world feels wrong; this choking, paralytic intensity is clawing its way through my chest. I’m battling the controls but it’s useless. A laser cannon blast tore through my left wing not a minute ago, causing me to dive, and these unnatural bolts of lightning have robbed me of any remaining ability to steer. The ground is getting closer and closer and the goddamn parachute is increasingly seeming like the only option left. I’ll be a great big target for First Order guns, and I have a better chance of being hit by an errant X-wing than hitting the ground, but what’s my choice? Definitely burning to a crisp in this earth-bound hunk of metal or only maybe being shot to pieces? I’ll take a small chance over none any day.

I try the comms again, “Can anyone hear me? Black Eight has lost control and is diving! I’m going to bail!”

Again, only silence.

All Resistance ships are dropping, but thanks to my damaged wing the black earth is coming up on me fast. Fuck, I have to go now or I’m gonna be hitting the ground hard either way.

“I don’t know if anyone can hear me but I’m bailing. Any assistance is welcome!”

…

I’m alone.

“Fuck!”

With that, I pull on the oxy mask and pull the eject lever. I’m violently thrown from my fighter and the world spins beyond my control as the chute struggles to open. My sight alternates feverishly fast between streaks of purple light and black earth, and all I can hear the screaming rush of the air around me.

Why isn’t my goddamn shoot opening?!?

Then suddenly the light stops and my sight is swallowed by black.

---

The lightning suddenly disappears, and I wrestle back control of my X-wing.

“What the hell was that?!? Command, what’s the situation?! Black Squadron, report!”

Quickly, a few names (heart-sickeningly too few) sound off but there is one particular absence that stops my heart.

“Anyone got eyes on Kess?”

It’s Jess who responds finally responds, her tone tight, “Poe…her fighter took damage before the lightning…it didn’t look good.”

In an instant, I can’t breathe. This cockpit is too constricting as I desperately try to spot her X-wing in this mess of a battlefield. The general in me continues barking out orders and the pilot keeps shooting down Final Order freighters, but the simple man in me is distraught. My eyes keep darting from ship to ship, trying to spot her. It’s only when I dive steeply to avoid the debris of a freighter do I finally see Kess’s ship. The flicker of relief in seeing her airborne is quickly swallowed by dismay as I notice how quickly she’s plummeting. Automatically, I push my controls in a deep dive towards her.

“KESS!”

The two-way channel just hisses a static that sets my nerves on fire.

“Kessandra! Kess, answer me!”

It’s like I’m watching in slow-motion as the scene unfolds: I’m gaining speed on her, thinking maybe I can help or do something when suddenly there’s a massive explosion in the nose of her fighter. Within a moment, the entire X-wing has blown apart and is raining debris on a fleet of grounded ships. My world has gone absolutely silent but I can feel Kess’s name ripping out my throat. It burns with all the things I never told her and now will never have the chance. I repeatedly beat the console in front of me and beg someone to help her, to help me, but there’s no one who can change things and now there’s nothing left to do. She’s gone, she’s gone, oh Maker she’s dead. I vaguely hear someone through the comms, but their words are hazy and I can’t understand them. For a second, all I want to do is let go, to plummet downwards to stop the heavy ache in my chest that is threatening to consume me. Then through all the grief, the blazing and white-hot fury of everything that I have lost sweeps over me like a tsunami. I clench my hands around my controls and fly back into the battle. I steel my voice despite the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Let’s burn these fuckers to the ground!”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #my works

[anne-lister-adventures]

Tuesday, 23 April 1839

8 5/’’

12 55/’’

Rainy morning – Had Mr. Shackleton (A-[Ann] had him first) at 8 3/4 she for 1/4 hour and I for rather longer – Dressed – Breakfast 9 3/4 in 35 minutes then had Mr. Harper – Before settling with him about windows &c. wrote and sent by George note as follows:

“Mr. Gray junior Petergate

Mrs. Lister and Miss Walker would be glad to see Mr. Gray at 12 at noon today, if that hour will not be inconvenient to him –

George Inn. Tuesday morning 23 April 1839”

 Note in answer would come at 11 1/2 having an engagement soon after 12 – Settled with Mr. Harper about windows and a long list of items to be done in our absence so that we might find all comfortable on our return – (Vide rough book entry of all directions) –

Mr. Gray came at 11 1/2 and staid till 12 20/’’ – Old G-‘s[Gray’s] money when paid in to be invested in the funds – So that there will be no difficulty about A-‘s[Ann’s] paying it in a little sooner or later – By the way sooner was not hinted at – My estate safe from the mortgage till some one should come into possession who could cut off the entail, and pay off the mortgage – The money not likely to be wanted during Miss Jane Preston’s life – And if wanted Mr. G-[Gray] will transfer the mortgage without giving me any trouble whether I may be in England or abroad desired him to prepare a little codicil to my will giving A-[Ann] and him as executors and trustees the discretion to sell all or part of my property in H-x[Halifax] to pay off the mortgage – He gave me a sheet form of agreement for letting the colliery from year to year – To see him again on our return from North Cave – He will be at home all the day on Thursday – But not after 10 tomorrow morning –

An agreement to take requires only a 20/- stamp – An agreement to let requires a stamp according to the amount of rent; but if the amount is altogether uncertain, vide Kearsley’s Tax Tables what the stamp will be – Something considerable –

Mr. G-[Gray] went at 12 20/’’ and then seeing that we could not get off till Thursday wrote and sent as followed (on 1/2 sheet of note paper) to Mrs. Oddy, Shibden Hall, near H-x[Halifax] to be delivered immediately:

“York – Tuesday morning 23 April 1839.

Mrs. Oddy.

We shall not be at home at home till Thursday, but expect to be there on that day in the course of the evening – You need not sit up later than eleven o’clock at night – We shall not want dinner –

A Lister”

Kind note this morning from Miss Henrietta Crompton enclosing the card of ‘the Miss Cromptons’ for A-[Ann] regretting that the rainy morning prevented her calling – Had just written so far at 12 50/’’ – Then did up our imperials &c. and got all ready for being off to North Cave, to see Marian –

Had ordered up luncheon (our cold loin of roast mutton of yesterday and bread and butter) at 2 and had nearly done when I[Isabella] N-[Norcliffe] came soon after 2 and staid above an hour – Determined to go abroad this summer but unfixed when and where – will be away the Winter –

Off at 3 48/’’ to return to dinner tomorrow – But took all with us – Changed horses at Bamby[Barmby] Moor at 5 10/’’ – Passed the Inn (Devonshire Arms) at Market Weighton at 6 1/4 – 6 miles from there to Mill Cottage N.[North] Cave but they charged using (at Bamby[Barmby] Moor i.e. 6 miles B.[Barmby] Moor to Market W-[Weighton] and 8 from there to N.[North] C.[Cave]) and it was 7 22/’’ before we alighted at Marian’s door – 

I had not written – She had no notice of our going – She was upstairs – Lucky – Mrs. Button dangerously ill; and she had only left her and returned home yesterday – The girl woman servant did not know me – I gave no name –

Marian soon came down looking thin, and pale, and nervous – I soon set all parties at ease – I had done right to give no notice – Marian owned if I had written she should not have known what to do – Should have feared she could not make us comfortable – Should have sent to Hull for things the bed had been slept in last night – 

No trouble to re-sheet it and light the fire – We had perfumed Russian tea, and good coffee and bread and butter and toast &c. and reindeer’s tongue and all very comfortable in a few minutes and I believe poor Marian was very glad to see us – We never stirred till A-[Ann] went upstairs to bed at 10 20/’’ and I followed at 11 50/’’ –

Talked over everything – It seem she did not expect A-[Ann] to give £600 for Lee Lane – Thought it was only £500 she had bid before – Marian would have taken £550 as Mr. Parker knew – Mitchell had valued the place (coal and all) at £500 – all parties behaved very handsomely Marian in telling this and A-[Ann] in rejoicing that she had the £600 to give as she thought the place worth it –

Marian had had some trouble in determining but had at last made up her mind to sell High Royds – Mitchell’s valuation of it = £2268, odd – Had told Mr. Parker to offer it to me first – And then to Holt at £2300 he having to pay for Copperas House which Marian bought and for which a title is now about to be made – But she would take £2,000 of me – No! No! Sorry I could not give her the valuation – Sorry I could not buy it – She wants £2400 for immediate use – But not necessitated to sell High Royds at the moment as the £600 for Lee Lane will pay the bank debt – Had this money towards the end of last month – Knows that borrowing at a bank (a new and said to be liberal bank at North Cave) costs one way or another 6 p.[per] c.[cent] – Has £200 of Mrs. Button who cannot continue long, and Marian would like to be prepared to pay this off – Expects a legacy but only of one hundred – The debts on Highroyds = £1600 – These 3 sums = £2400. Skelfler is at the same rent as in my father’s time – Not quite £600 a year? Or not more than £600 her present income net from £200 to £300 per annum – And yet she every year lays out money in [marling] &c. to say nothing of accidents –

The great wind (7 January last) blew down the barn at the Grange – Butterworth End cost above £120 - £10 of damage done by the great wind at High Roydes (chimney blown down) – And she gives £20 a year to Mr. Edwards of Market W-[Weighton] for looking over the Skelfler Estate seeing that the drains are kept open &c. for she herself receives the rents which she says are now paid at the day –

I remonstrated on this over payment to Mr. E-[Edwards] for doing nothing – Yes! He would look after the barn building up again – He said it was more than he expected but Marian herself offered it because Mr. Robinson the attorney employed by my father had had this sum (independent of law expense) for receiving rents and doing everything –

Poor Marian – The thought of all this makes my heart ache – But what can I do – She will not hear of giving Mr. Edwards less – I said a professional land agent would go over the estate and note its state of management and repair – (its condition and value) 2 days per annum at 2 guineas a day and expense which could not exceed 3 guineas a day –

I advised the letting the tenants farm in a proper husbandlike manner without her laying out one sixpence more especially as she says the rents are very low – And in the case of Skelfler she is so persuaded of the hundreds that the tenant has in the land that when she made her will on going to Market W-[Weighton] on my fathers death (the summer of 1836) she willed that the tenant had the farm for ten years from that time at the rent he then paid –

She said however that tho’ she had consulted Mr. Robinson about this (and she did not say he had made any objection) that the tenant himself knew nothing about it – I advised her to sell – The Estate nets under £600 (I should think from my remembrance of the outgoing drainage &c. &c. above £30 per annum that the net income is about £560) she says (in spite of this hampering about the tenant right) she would not take less than £20,000 for it!

How can I help her – Advising is quite in vain – I urged her selling – Said she might in the course of a few years (which I believe) make her income a clear £500 a year on which, with her knife and fork at Shibden, she might live without being buried alive –

Her cottage here is damp, and too near the mill-dam – (Originally a paper mill, now a corn-mill) But pretty enough – The house is sufficient 4 rooms on a floor – 2 sitting rooms below with bedrooms over them and at the back good kitchen and pantries and rooms over them – A small cellar – A little sheltered nice bit of garden ground about 25 or more? x 15 yards and a little island (perhaps 60 to 70 square yards) in the midst of the water on which island she grows her potatoes – Good ones –

The man who does her garden, finds her all seeds and sets, and does all, for £5 a year – He might suit me – He is to speak to me tomorrow – Clerk, too, of the parish church – Ivy-covered and very picturesque – Close to here, and to the entrance gate to Hotham (Mr. Burton’s) – Marian pays £20 a year and has all taxes paid for her –

I congratulated her on her escape from her thought of marriage – I thought she had been much mistaken in her judgment in this matter – Mr Abbot not a gentleman mentioned his having called here          she did not explain how the thing was off             I conclude he let it die a natural death         she shewed neither pain nor pleasure on the subject – but said it was all off –

Light gentle rain in the morning fair the greater part of the afternoon – Poor A[Ann] had thought me long but behaved very well about it she got in to bed soon after my getting upstairs –

[symbols in the left margin:] ✓       N       N       ✓       L         N         ✓c

[in the margin:]          Mr. Harper

[in the margin:]          Mr. Gray

[in the margin:]          stamp for uncertain rent

[in the margin:]          Mill Cottage North Cave

[in the margin:]          Highroyds

Page References:  SH:7/ML/E/23/0026 and SH:7/ML/E/23/0027

#anne lister code breaker #anne lister #ann walker #York 1839

[spiritroots]

Spirit Roots 2.0

Hey Everybody,

I bet some of yall probably thought that this blog (and maybe also the blogger) had died.

Well... surpriseeeeeeeeeeeeee!

It’s been kinda difficult for me to come back because to be totally honest I was still grieving the loss of my shop (and probably still will be for a long time) and the longer I stayed away from my blog the more guilty I felt about it.

I’m very blessed that good friends like @rey-yemoja , @witch-vomit , @witchy-woman , @frankiezaltar , @ursalala , @justaqueerwitchy , @luciferianbuddhism and @tarotprose have all been incredibly kind and caring during my absence <3 I’ve really missed everybody, and I’m sorry for ridiculously long waits in replying to some of yall. It’s just been really hard lately for a variety of reasons to get online and respond and get things done!

This was a much-needed hiatus to adjust to my new job (which has been keeping me busy 24/7), to my new life in NYC (which has been a lot of changes all at once), and to really figure out who I am here and start from scratch in many ways with a lot of my practices (now that I’ve joined my spiritual ATR community). But I’m excited to put energy into this blog again, learn with and from our online community, and get back into writing new content to share!

Announcements & Updates:

I’ve updated the About Me page to reflect some changes in my practices

Finally added an FAQ and Question Archive that has an organized library of almost all the questions I’ve ever answered

Removed my tip jar (as much as I need the extra cash, this blog is no longer monetized in any way shape or form!)

Somehow while I was away, I managed to reach 5.5k followers?! I’m blown away and so thankful <3 Thank you to everyone who stuck around and to all the new followers here for the journey

I’ve been learning a LOT in the past several months about Africana traditions and ATRs that has both added to my understanding and caused me to realize some mistakes/misinformation I have accidentally shared in the past. Going forward, I’m more informed and will work to clean up a few errors in past posts and/or make clarification reposts!

If you have any questions, feel free to ask/inbox/message me as always. (I’ll be a bit slow to respond during working hours of the day, so look for my replies in the evenings/on the weekends!)

Lots of Love, Yejide

#personal #myblog #spiritroots2.0 #imback #shoutouts #updates

[the-record-newspaper]

The Killing of Rhonda Hinson: Part II

Rhonda Hinson and Greg McDowell

(Editor’s Note:  The 1980’s was a violent decade for women in Wilkes and surrounding counties.  At least four young women were murdered between 1981and 1987—their cases remain unresolved:  Rhonda Hinson of Burke County — who has relatives in Wilkes County, Angela Hamby of Wilkes, who disappeared in 1982,  Sherry Hart of Ashe County, and Candy Roberson of Wilkes. This series, “The Killing of Rhonda Hinson” is the second in a trilogy of murder cases that will be detailed in The Record over the ensuing weeks and months — cold cases of crimes perpetrated against women over 30-years ago, whose families await justice and closure.)

 By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

Special Investigative Reporter

I’m really sorry and I apologize for pushing you.  I really lost my temper and I’m sorry for being so stupid…I’m sorry I’m so jealous, but I can’t help it….—Excerpted from a letter Greg McDowell wrote to Rhonda Hinson during their Senior Year, 1981.

 By all appearances, Greg McDowell and Rhonda Hinson were an ideal match.

Born on Feb. 7, 1963 to Rev. Charles and Betty McDowell, Gregory Lynn shared several early commonalities with Rhonda Hinson. Both were born on a Thursday.  He, like her, also came from a family with two children whose birth orders were identical — an older girl and a younger boy — the age variance, in each instance, between the two siblings was virtually the same.  Additionally, his parents came to North Carolina from South Carolina just as the Hinsons had done.  Even their names — whether given or full — had exactly the same number of letters.  

Interestingly, the differences between them seemed to work to the mutual advantage of each:  Greg was an accomplished student and a medium athlete; Rhonda was the accomplished athlete and a medium student.  In one of his many missives addressed to her, Greg noted that even their dissimilarities were, in fact, complementary in nature.  “…I may be better in Math, but you are a better typer [sic] than me.  We both do some things good and some things not so good.”

No one knows for certain when Rhonda Hinson started dating Greg McDowell; however, there is agreement that it must have been in the Fall of their junior year. During the budding romance, Greg had a penchant for sending cards to his new girlfriend; in fact, there were at least nine cards forwarded to Rhonda during the 1979-1980 school year that remain in the possession of her parents.  One American Greetings “get-well” card noted an early milestone in their relationship:  

…Thanks for the happiest 4 months of my life and always remember that I love you!!! Greg  

P.S. We have 82 years and 8 months to go!

 And in a Hallmark card with an Emily Dickinson quote embossed in gold on the front plate, the young McDowell references yet another milestone; he penned:

You’ve given me much happiness over the past 25 weeks.  Keep it up forever!  I will always love you!

Love, Greg

Unable to locate a suitable greeting card to mark their first-year anniversary, Greg fabricated his own:  a booklet of thirteen 3x5 index cards befittingly stitched together with a bright red ribbon.  Then he authored an amorous aphorism:  

Rhonda, After all we’ve done together

Through hot and cold and snowy weather,

There’s something that I just must say,

On this, our very Special Day;

Looking back on what we’ve done,

I’d say we’ve had some fun;

But as we watched some things go wrong,

We found it helped our Love grow strong;

So, I know one day we’ll be,

Together, Forever—‘Just You-n-Me!’

I want to say one more thing, Pup-E,

Happy Anniversary!!!

I Love You!!

Greg

Other cards contained Valentine’s greetings, pledges of lifelong love and devotion, lamentations of pain catalyzed by the absence of the object of his affection, and “get-well” sentiments.  All were thoughtful — even sweet — overtures proffered by a young man clearly and happily smitten, laced with as much chivalry as could be mustered in Burke County in the 1980’s.  

And Rhonda seemed to delight in the attention she was incessantly receiving from her new suitor.  Mother Judy Hinson concurs, “I would say that during the first year that they dated, Rhonda was truly happy.”  

During the couple’s 1980-81 senior year, cards were supplanted by missives written in pencil and ink upon notebook paper. Rhonda apparently kept most of them — over 25 letters and three cards, carefully preserved by her parents. Though these contained similar, repetitive declarations of lifelong love and devotion; the letters were less playfully reflective of young love and gradually resonated a darker tone — becoming increasingly more insistent, more demanding, more desperate, with a foreboding edge.  

Predictably, disagreements between the two young people arose periodically, and indications of these commenced to appear within the lines of Greg’s handwritten notes, though somewhat downplayed.  

Oh guess what?  We forgot to straighten out that big argument that we didn’t have on the phone last night! I am right!  Basketball is not numero uno in my life!  So there!  That settles that.  Quickly changing the subject….

Admitting to having a “bad day” at school at some juncture, Greg writes:

…I’m sorry about while ago.  I didn’t mean to be like that.  I’m just so tired.  I’m really sorry.  I know you don’t feel too well either; so, let’s try extra hard to be nice to each other, OK?  Thanks for understanding (if you do)…I’m really sorry I was like that while ago.

PS. Come at 6:00 unless you here [sic] from me.  We’ll get some supper if you want any. I will be hungry.

Almost imperceptible at first, the letters began to assume an austere tone, indicative of more pervasive upheavals.  

Rhonda…I am not eating lunch today; I’m sitting where we were at break today and I’m writing you this letter.  It’s kind of hard to hold back the tears; so, if this paper is wet, you will know why. I just can’t imagine us not being together and when I think of it, I go to pieces.  I want you to know that I love you now and I always will love you. I never want to hurt you and I would never intentionally hurt you.  I’m sorry, very sorry about the things I said…I want you to know that I didn’t mean it. I want us to go on like we were and forget about this.  I love you very much and I don’t want this or anything else to pull us apart.  

I know I make lots of mistakes; but, I try so hard to make you happy….All I ask in return is love and understanding…Please forgive me when I make you mad and try to think about the good things I do for you…I really do love you and I’m sorry I hurt you, really.

 The tenor of Greg’s notes and letters recommends to suspicion that he was becoming increasingly frustrated by Rhonda’s ostensible lack of reciprocity.  He would take the time — even class time when he was bored — throughout the day to write a note to be hurriedly delivered to Rhonda as he passed her in the hallway, while en route to other classes and activities that the two did not share. Periodically, he relied upon the “Mercury” services of a friend to discreetly pass along his impromptu messages, garnering little — if any — response from the girl he loved.  

“Rhonda just wasn’t that type of girl — she wasn’t very demonstrative of feelings,” Judy Hinson recollected.  “In fact, she was very private about them.  She wouldn’t even cry in front of us — and she hardly ever said, ‘I love you.’”

Perhaps Greg failed to understand that predilection or felt that he could somehow motivate Rhonda to become more responsive to him.  It is not surprising that he began to vent his frustration within pointed paragraphs:

…From now on, I’m not going to mention anything about you writing me a note at lunch. It’s up to you, anyway, and I can’t do anything about it.  If you want to write something you will and if you don’t you won’t.  But I’m not saying I don’t care, because I do care and I want you to write but I can’t make you.  So, it’s up to you…From 8:20 – 3:03, I see you every bit of 25 minutes…So, please understand why I want you to write during lunch. Ok?

With each passing day of the senior year, Greg McDowell seemed to grow more insecure about the relationship he had with Rhonda Hinson.  His increased uncertainty triggered a proportional surge of jealousy that commenced to subtly surface.  In one postal script appended to a note he admonishes, “Don’t flirt with the customer’s [sic] at work.”  But during one full-blown jealous conflagration, Greg became physically aggressive for which he later apologized — in a letter, of course:

Dear Rhoda,

I’m sorry and I apologized for pushing you. I really lost my temper and I’m sorry for being so stupid.  Please forgive me. Really, I’m sorry for pushing you. I just lost my temper. Please understand. I love you and you can do anything you want to me to get me back. I deserve it. I’m sorry I’m so jealous, but I can’t help it.  When I read the part about ‘love ya’ and ‘wish I’d gotten to know you a lot sooner’ and ‘see you at work this summer’ and ‘play tennis with you this summer,’ I naturally got upset. I hope you don’t care for him. If you don’t you shouldn’t mind me beating his ass.  

I love you,

Greg

In a series of reflective recollections that Judy Hinson penned on notebook paper, she proffered this observation:  “I think [Rhonda] enjoyed Greg’s being jealous and possessive [at first] but then I think she had gotten tired of his demanding to know everything she did — where she went, who she talked to — everything.”

One of the recurring themes articulated through the letters of Greg McDowell was his desire for Rhonda to return to being her ebullient, insouciant self subsequent to an argument or misunderstanding. Several times he cajoles her to be happy, to smile, and to be glad to see him.  In one of his short missives, Greg reassures Rhonda that he loves her and that it hurts him to see her “sad, upset, or worried.”  Then he appends a poignant postal script:  

“You’d better be happy and smile and be your usual self tonight or I’ll shoot you with my shotgun!”

Rhonda Hinson had approximately12 months to live.

[victimofthemusic]

Five Times Tony Stark Was a Good Dad (And One Time He Wasn’t) Pt. 3

Hello! No, you guys aren’t misreading this, it’s an actual update! It’s taken me a long time to get back into this story, my life has been very crazy and I’ll be honest, I haven’t written much in the last six to eight moths. However, I saw Infinity War and holy shit, did it place me back in this Universe. I’ve had the beginnings of this chapter to written out since the last update of this story and it took me this long to finish it. I’m not sure how happy I am with this chapter compared to the last two, but I think it fits. I know Peter has Super Spidey healing, but I’m such a sucker for these kinds of fics and I really wanted to write one. Thank you so much for the love and support of this series, Part 1 has well over 2,000 likes and Part 2 is working it’s way up to 700, that’s the most I’ve ever received on any of my stories and I’m completely blown away. I love each and every one of you. If you’re new to this series, you can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here. Also, I have one other Homecoming Fic, where you’re Tony Stark’s daughter and you get rescued by Spider-Man and that can be found here and a dating MJ Would Include request here. I hope you guys enjoy!! (:

P.S. If I missed anyone that wanted to be tagged in this, I’m so sorry! I’m posting this at 3 in the morning and trying to sort through all your kind messages and keep track who wants to be tagged is a bit of a challenge, I think I got all of you, but I apologize if I didn’t! 

~~~~~~~

It was an unusually quiet night around the Tower, Rhodey was upstate at the new Avengers facility for his weekend stint of physical therapy for his legs, Pepper was back in Malibu working on the new StarkPhone launch and Happy had followed her there for security, leaving Tony to his own devices.

When usually when left with nothing to do, he’d be down in the lab working on a project or tinkering with the Iron Man suit or rebuilding the transmission in one of the twenty cars that he owned. But, for some reason, he found himself in the living room, staring at an infomercial and occasionally replying to emails that he’d been neglecting over the week— choosing to spend time with Peter in the lab instead.

Ever since he invited Peter and his little friend into the lab a few weeks ago, Tony found that he didn’t really mind the kid’s company and what had originally started as a one time offer to appease his guilt, had turned into a three or four time a week thing. Sometimes the kid would come over and they’d screw around with upgrades to the Iron Man suit or they’d try to improve upon Peter’s web fluid—which, Tony admitted with no small amount of pride, was damn near impossible considering Peter’s original formula was damn near solid. That didn’t stop them from trying to make it stronger and last longer, but their attempts usually didn’t come out very successful, much to their collective frustration. And sometimes, when they were tired of messing with Iron Man or formula’s for new web fluid, Peter would wander off to a part of the lab table that had become his own little spot and catch up on his homework, occasionally asking for Tony’s input.

And Tony…didn’t really mind. He didn’t mind that Peter had slowly but surely became part of his daily routine and taking up a space in his life that Tony, once upon a time, didn’t really want to be fulfilled. He knew that Peter wasn't necessarily a child of his own biological making, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a sense of responsibility and dare he say it, an attachment to the kid that was more paternal than mentor like. He liked having the kid around him, in his lab, in this big Tower that got more lonely as the days went by without the other Avenger’s bustling around it—Sam teaching Vision and Wanda to cook in the kitchen, Natasha and Clint wrestling in the living room, Steve watching from the couch with exasperated amusement in between sketches, Thor polishing his hammer at the dinner table while Rhodey read the news paper and Bruce tinkering around in the lab with Tony.

Peter breathed life into this Tower that had been robbed of it when the Accords came into play and had divided the only family Tony had ever really been apart of. And damn if Tony didn’t love the kid for it.

So that’s why, sitting there, alone in his big and empty Tower, that Tony began to physically feel the kid’s absence.

He glanced down at his StarkWatch, biting his lip. It was 10:30, surely the kid wasn't that busy that if he were to, theoretically, call the kid and see if he wanted to come over tomorrow and work in the lab, maybe go to the new science exhibit at Museum of Natural History—he did, after all, have an in to the Research Library—grab a late lunch and come back and watch some movies with Vision and Rhodey, since it was still technically movie night even though the rest of the old team wasn't here and if it got too late, he could always crash in his room here and he could always take Peter to school Monday morning, as long as it was cool with Aunt Hottie—

“Sir, you have an incoming call from Ned Leeds,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, startling Tony out of his train of thought.

Curiosity piqued, Tony said with a wave of his hand, “Patch him through.”

A moment of silence and then the sound of loud music and laughter rang through the overhead speakers of the Tower, making Tony wince.

“Mr. Stark, sir, sorry to interrupt your evening, I’m sure you’re very busy, but may I just say that I think it’s totally awesome that your A.I. answers your phone calls—��

“Thanks, Guy In Chair, but—“

“Can she do like, a trace on the number and then like, a background check on the person—“

“—how’d you get my number? And, here’s the real question, how’d I get your number?”

“Oh, I got your number from Peter’s phone and I did a reverse phone hack and added myself into your contact list, in case of an emergency—“

“Lemme stop you there kid,” Tony said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off a headache, “you mean to tell me, you stole my number from Peter’s phone and managed to reverse hack into my phone, which, by the way, I don’t appreciate, and added your number to my phone on the off chance that I would need to call you? And why, may I ask, do you think that would ever be a possibility?”

The tell tale sign of a gulp could be heard over the line and Tony sighed in exasperation, “Was there a point to this conversation, Ned or—“

“Oh!” Ned exclaimed, “Yeah, sorry sir, um you see, it’s Peter—“

Tony’s heart most definitely didn’t stop working at that sentence and it didn’t seem like taking oxygen into his lungs suddenly became more difficult at the thought of Peter being in any sort of danger.

“Is he okay?” Tony demanded, sitting up straighter and summoning the suit.

“You see sir, I told everyone in our gym class that Peter knew Spiderman and then Liz—this really pretty senior that, like, half the school is in love with including Peter—mentioned she was having a party tonight at her house that basically the entire school was invited to and that we should stop by, which was so awesome because we’re only sophomore’s sir and not cool people—“

“If there’s a point here, Ned, I’m missing it, so you better get to it.” Tony demanded sharply.

“Right, anyway, we got invited and well, um, Peter was nervous and a senior handed us each a drink and Peter downed his and well, he’s really drunk and is about to swing through this house in his, you know, other identity and I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen to me and—“

“I’ll be there in five, try to stall him as best as you can.” Tony said quickly, ending the call.

He ensured that F.R.I.D.A.Y. had located the call before he summoned one of his cars to the location and he was off into the night, trying to quell the anger and shame that was boiling through his veins.

Anger, that the kid could be that stupid and utterly reckless, to risk his secret and the safety of his loved ones for kids he wouldn’t even waste another thought on after graduating high school.

And shame, because he knew what it was like to be Peter’s age and to want to be seen and seem cool by your peers. To want to fit in so desperately that you're willing to do almost anything to get it. Alcohol has cost Tony so many things in his life and he’d be damned if he let someone like Peter follow in his footsteps.

He made it to the party in three minutes, taking a moment to do the deep breathing exercises Bruce taught him, so he didn’t completely lose it on the kid and alert everyone to his sudden appearance at the party. He landed with a dull thud against the roof, alerting the intoxicated teenager that was attempting to don his suit a little too closely to edge of the roof for Tony’s heart to handle.

He really was quite the sight—he had the suit on backwards, well the half he had on, the other half was dangling pathetically in the evening breeze while Peter seemed to be trying to figure out how to get the rest of it on without jumping too far and falling off of the roof.

“Mr. Starkkkkk!” Peter slurred in greeting, eyes bright and blood shot with the alcohol, “What’re you doin’ here? Did you know there was go’na be a party here? Did Liz invite you—“

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tony demanded, completely ignoring Peter’s inquiry, lifting the faceplate of the Iron Man mask. He was doing everything in his power to keep his voice level and not shout like he so desperately wanted to, breathing exercises be damned.

Peter hiccuped, “”M trying to put my suit on because I told ev’ryone that ‘Piderman was go’na be here, but—hiccup—I got ‘istracted when I got here n’d now my head s’all—“ he made a waving gesture in the air, like that explained it all, which, to be fair, Tony did understand what he meant a little too well and it only added to the anger welling inside of him, “—weird, like it’s not part of my body n’d I was go’na swing through the house n’d be like ‘wasss up ev’rybody ‘m ‘Piderman’ and give Ned a fist bump so he looks like he’s cool too—“

“And how do you plan to do all of that when you can’t even get both legs in your suit, kid?”

Peter gazed dumbly back at him, before looking down and yeah, okay. Mr. Stark had a point.

He looked back up at Tony with unfocused eyes and with such a blatant uncaring shrug that only teenagers knew how to accomplish, that Tony snapped.

“Do you realize how stupid this is?” Tony said sharply, “Not only could you hurt yourself or someone else, you’re running the risk of outing yourself to your entire school! Who, I’m sure, have all their little smartphones with their little cameras and it’s only a matter of time before this would end up on YouTube, then the media would get a hold of it and then that’s it, kid, you’re no longer anonymous and you’ve put everyone you love in danger. Do you want that?”

Peter opened his mouth to reply but Tony couldn’t handle it, “Not uh, you don’t get to talk, the adult is talking,” he snapped, waving his hand as if he could physically swat the rebuttal on the kid’s tongue away, “Now, what you're going to do is get out of the suit, put your clothes back on and then you’re coming back to the Tower with me and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do it without any sort of complaint.”

Peter, thankfully, heeded Tony’s words and, after some struggling, managed to get the suit off and into his own clothes. He swayed slightly on the spot and Tony acted fast, tapping the center of Peter’s suit, summoning it back to the Tower and he scooped Peter up, cradling him like a baby against his chest. Peter rested his head gratefully against the cool armor, the world beginning to spin around him at an uncomfortable rate as he felt the repulsers of the suit ignite and Mr. Stark take off into the night.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., please send a text to Peter’s little friend and inform him there’s a car waiting for him outside and that it will escort him home and that if he doesn't leave that party in five minutes, it’ll be a phone call to his mother.” He heard Mr. Stark’s voice over the whooshing of the wind and Peter giggled. Who knew Mr. Drunken-Womanizing-Playboy-Tony Stark could be such a dad.

Iron Man, more like Iron Dad, Peter thought to himself, giggling.

His giggling came to an abrupt stop, however, when his stomach gave a uncomfortable lurch. Suddenly, the cool wind washing over his face felt suffocating and Peter could picture how high up they were, how small the buildings would be and how the only thing separating him from death was Mr. Stark’s gentle grip and his stomach gave another churn and then—

Oh no

“Uh, Tony, I—I—don’t feel so good—“

“Kid, I swear to god, if you toss your cookies all over this suit—“

He opened his mouth to reply, but instead of words, the tacos he and Ned split before the party came back up and he tried, he really tried to aim away from the suit, but there was only so much he could do when he was squished against Tony’s chest and suspended twenty-thousand feet into the air.

“Mr. Stark, I am so—“ Peter began, beyond mortified and feeling much more sober than he was five minutes ago, but Tony shook his head and Peter could feel the heat of his glare through the faceplate of the suit.

“Save it, kid. You’re lucky this is one of my older suits.”

~~~~~~~~~~

They made it back to the Tower without another incident and once Tony was out of the ruined suit, he sent it off with DUM-E to get it hosed off, he sent Peter up to his room and he sent himself to the bar for a drink.

He eyed the bottle of bourbon, but thoughts of a drunk and stumbling Peter on a roof top made him opt for a bottle of water instead.

He collapsed on the couch, suddenly feeling everyone of his years and rubbing his temples to ward off the migraine that he could feel blooming behind his eyelids, he wondered, not for the first time, how he could've done this to his mother. Tony had started drinking right around Peter’s age, and at first, it had started as something to piss his father off, but he soon came to realize that alcohol numbed the pain and help hide the scars his father’s words had left behind. Drinking had turned to experimenting with drugs and if it wasn't for Rhodey, who’d pulled him back from the brink of every bender, he would’ve been dead before his twenty-first birthday.

His drinking and partying had put a strain on his relationship with his mother and did nothing but serve to be a source of shame for his father with all the headlines his drunken shenanigans had earned him.

And while Peter wasn’t his kid, not biologically or legally, he felt responsible for the kid. A sense of duty to steer this kid in the right direction and Tony would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t love the kid and care about his wellbeing.

Peter reminded him a lot of himself at fifteen. Always the smartest kid in the room, always interested in things that weren’t cool and struggling to find a place amongst his peers who teased him for being who he was. The difference, however, was that Peter was good. He was so inherently good and all the harsh things that this world had done to him had yet to diminish the purity and resolute kindness that radiated off of the kid in waves. Peter used his powers because he wanted to help people, Tony did it because he hoped, that maybe, for every life he saved, every act of good he did, it would serve as a penance for all the bad he had done to the world.

Peter was too good of a kid to turn out like Tony and it scared him to think of Peter following in his footsteps. Of making his mistakes. He knew, logically, that Peter was still a teenager. That he was going to make mistakes, but Tony couldn't help but feel disappointed in the kid anyways. He wanted Peter to be better than him, damn it. He had to be.

It was only eleven, but Tony felt beyond exhausted, so he made his way to his room, passing Peter’s along the way and he couldn't help but stop and peak in the doorway. He wanted to make sure that the kid actually made it to his room in one piece and didn’t drown himself in the shower.

Peter did manage to make it in bed on his own—sprawled out on top of the sheets in the Iron Man pajamas that Tony had bought him as a joke, he never expected the kid to actually wear them—and if the snores coming out of the kid said anything, he’d been passed out for a while.

Tony smiled, shaking his head before padding softly across the fluffy carpeting of Peter’s room, grabbing a blanket that was thrown across the love seat in the corner and gently draped it over Peter. He snuggled into the warmth, seeming to relax a bit more in his sleep and Tony brushed his bangs back from his forehead.

“Oh, you’re going to be in a world of pain tomorrow, kid,” Tony muttered, “I wouldn’t wish a first time hangover on anybody.”

Peter snuffled in his sleep, eyebrows furrowing as if he heard what Tony said.

Tony chuckled softly, shaking his head once more, “Good night, kid.” he whispered to the quiet room.

Peter rolled over on his stomach, burying his head in the pillows, mumbling in his sleep and Tony paused, because there’s no way that kid said what he thought he said—

“G’night, Irondad.”

Tony blamed the warm feeling in his chest on the alcohol that was still sitting, untouched, in the bottle downstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunlight, Peter decided, was literally the worst thing that world had invented. It burned every time he opened his eyes, threatening to fry his corneas right from his skull and it was only made worse by his Spidey-senses, which usually made every one of his senses feel like it had been dialed to eleven, but today, it felt like they’d been dialed to one hundred.

And it was only made worse by the high voltage electric guitar that was blaring from downstairs and Peter recognized it as one of the songs on Tony’s I’m Trying To Be Productive playlist he’d played in the lab.

Wait—

Peter glanced around at his surroundings and he realized he was in his room. But not in Queens, where his Very Worried Aunt would expecting him to be sleeping, safe and sound.

Instead, he was in his room.

In Stark Tower.

Which was in Manhattan.

And he had no idea how he ended up here.

Cursing colorfully, Peter flew out of bed and immediately regretted it—the room started to spin and his stomach churned dangerously, bile rising in his throat and threatening to come up all over the dark grey carpeting.

He took a second to breathe, fighting back the nausea and praying he wouldn’t ruin Tony’s carpet. Eventually, the restless ocean in his stomach mellowed out, the nausea turning into more of a bleh feeling.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y?” Peter asked hesitantly, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Parker?” The A.I. responded dutifully.

“What happened last night?” Peter asked, toeing the carpet and wondering if he really wanted to know that answer. Now that he was awake, the night was coming back to him in flashes and he prayed that some of those flashes were wrong.

“Mr. Stark received a call from Mr. Leeds last night at around 10:35 pm, informing him of your whereabouts and possible levels of intoxication and he flew to the residence of Ms. Liz Allan’s, where he encountered you, on her roof, attempting to put on your suit. He flew you to the Tower and provided a car to escort Mr. Leeds home.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

Peter nodded—which, come to find out, makes splitting headaches worse—and thought over all the information the A.I. had provided for him and while all of it fit, there was one thing that was missing and he hoped, beyond all belief, that it wasn't true.

“Did I—,” Peter cleared his throat, wishing he hadn’t, which seemed to be the running theme of today, “—did I by chance, possibly, when Tony flew me back to the Tower, which I’m assuming was in the Ironman suit, did I uh, you know, um—“

“Mr. Stark is headed up in the elevator, Mr. Parker.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. interrupted him.

Shit

“On a scale of 1-10, how mad is he?” Peter asked meekly, glancing up at the ceiling.

“While my body scans show no outward signs of irritation, Sir’s heart rate is elevated and his blood pressure is higher than normal, so my estimate would be an 8.5.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered after a brief moment of hesitation and Peter couldn't decide if it was his imagination or if he just wanted someone on his team, but the A.I.’s voice sounded sympathetic and that was a bad sign when a computer felt bad for the wrath that was bound to rain upon him.

“On today’s episode of Peter Screw’s the Pooch, we talk about underage drinking and it’s adverse effects it has on young heroes and their abilities to think properly.”

The door to his room burst open and Peter winced at the noise of wood hitting dry wall, but that paled in comparison when he saw an angry Tony Stark standing in the doorway.

“And while we usually save questions from the audience for the end of the show, today, I think we can make an exception,” Tony continued, making his way into Peter’s room, a sarcastic smirk dancing on his lips and his usually kind eyes were on a low simmer, anger lurking in the shadows.

Peter gulped.

“To answer your question, Mr. Parker, yes, you did, in fact, regurgitate your tacos and cheap beer all over my Mark fifteen, after I kindly took time out of my night, to fly over to the suburbs of Queens, to a house full of your classmates, to save you, from possibly making one of the worst decisions of your teenage life.”

Peter winced at Tony’s steadily rising voice, one because it was making his headache worse and two, because, well, Tony was yelling at him.

“So, since I didn’t really get a coherent answer last night, what the HELL were you thinking?!” Tony demanded, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

Peter swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously, “I uh—“

But Tony cut him off, “Because I can tell you what you weren’t thinking. You weren’t thinking about the fact that if you flew into that house, drunk off your ass, might I add, you not only could’ve injured yourself, you could’ve hurt someone else. Or, more importantly, you could’ve exposed your secret to all your little classmates, who all have their little smartphones, with HD camera’s and access to the internet and you could’ve been the next viral sensation, which would blow your cover to the ENTIRE WORLD.”

Tony’s shout made Peter jump and shrink back from the rage in his voice, but he was so lost in his rant that he didn’t even notice, “Which, not only put you in danger, but all your little friends and your unusually attractive aunt.”

Peter’s eyes widened, “Oh god, aunt May, Tony—“

He waved him off, “Oh, now you’re thinking of someone besides yourself? Don’t worry, she thinks your sleeping over at Ned’s tonight because me, being the cool parent that I am, brought you here, instead of dropping you off at home last night and saved you from the verbal ass chewing of the century.”

Guilt swelled in Peter’s gut, eclipsing any nausea that had been lingering, and he dropped his eyes to the floor in shame.

“Seriously, Peter, what were you thinking?” Tony demanded and Peter could hear the exasperation and fatigue in his voice and his guilt increased ten fold.

If Peter was being honest with himself, he wasn't thinking. Not entirely, at least. He just wanted one night, one night, where he could be a normal teenager. Who went to parties and let loose and danced and didn’t have to worry about saving the city from weird thugs with Avenger’s masks and high tech weapons. Who didn’t have to worry about keeping up with homework and studying on top of late night patrols and keeping up a secret identity from his aunt who worked two jobs to supplement the lost income because her husband died in a robbery that Peter was too angry and bitter to stop. He wanted to fit in, to be cool and seen by the most beautiful girl in entire school.

He just wanted to be normal.

It all sounded so stupid, now that he thought it out.

Well.

“I just wanted to fit in.” Peter said softly, “The kids at school, they don’t see me, you know? I know it’s stupid, but I just wanted to know what it was like. To be cool. To be—“

“—normal.” Tony finished for him, voice unusually gentle and Peter glanced up at him hesitantly, nodding.

“Yeah.”

Tony sighed, rubbing his hand down his face, taking a seat next to Peter on the bed, “Kid, I get it. Maybe not the whole hero thing at fifteen, but when I was fifteen, I was in college, with kids that were older and cooler and I just wanted to fit in. But Pete,” Tony said softly, “drinking is never the answer.

For anything. Trust me kid, alcohol won’t solve any of your problems, they only create more problems. And they can lead to things that you’re not ready for.”

Tony glanced away from him, “Take it from someone who knows, it takes you down a path you’ll have a hell of a time getting off of. I know I have a hard time showing it, but kid…you mean a lot to me and I never want to get another phone call like the one I got last night, you hear me? I’m not kidding. If I ever hear about you doing something stupid that involves the suit, I’ll take it away from you and you won’t get it back.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest, but Tony shook his head, “No, I mean it. If you want to make it public that you’re Spiderman, you’ll do it when you’re older and on your own terms. It’s not going to be because you made a stupid choice when you were drunk and you exposed yourself to the entire world. This is for your safety as much as it is for mine and everyone else you care about.”

Peter sighed, “I understand. And I promise it won’t happen again. Especially if this is how I feel as a result.”

Tony chuckled, ruffling Peter’s hair, “Hangover’s are a bitch, kid, if that’s not enough to make you want to wait to drink until you’re older, I don’t know what will.”

Tony stood up, “Alright, I’m gonna go order breakfast—what are you doing?”

Peter, who thought that the lecture was over and it was safe to go back to bed, propped himself up on his elbow, “Um, going back to bed? I wasn’t kidding, I really don’t feel good and I’m tired—“

“Oh no no no,” Tony tutted in disapproval, backing his way out of Peter’s room, “You’ve got a suit with your puke all over it, waiting to be cleaned in the lab and then you have homework to do and web fluid to make—“

“But—“ Peter looked longingly at the California king with it’s soft sheets and fluffy pillows and his body physically ached at the thought of leaving it.

“Or I can always call your aunt and tell her what really happened last night—“

“Coming!”

Tony smirked.

Iron Dad indeed.

~~~~~~~

Thank you guys for reading! I hope you enjoyed it and I’m excited to hear your feedback! Suggestions and requests are much appreciated! (: 

@jadepc @autumnhunter1 @randommemewithadream @rebbie444 @abaikgirl @fantabulousshipperfromcamelot @afittingdistraction @letsallsleepoverwork @pepperr-pottss @help-i-need-a-cool-username @onedaysomedaytoday @ileavechaosinmywake @bloop-da-loop @rachhhhhl @anniejglee @hiccup-is-left-handed @spid3rboy @bonza-bear @claraangi

#spiderman homecoming #Spider-Man: Homecoming #spiderman imagine #spiderman homecoming imagine #peter parker #peter parker imagine #tony stark #Iron Man #iron dad #dad!tony #superfamily #marvel cinematic universe #Marvel Community #Marvel Comics #The Avengers #Avengers #Son!Peter #spiderman #tom holland #tom holland imagine #Robert Downey Jr #MCU #avengers infinity war #infinity war

[hufflepuffmarlenemckinnon]

Letters from Spring Term 1981

An Excerpt from my Novel-Length Fanfic The Dog and the Duckling

Summary: Sirius is assigned to mentor Marlene Mckinnon when she joins The Order of the Phoenix. His perceptions of Hufflepuff house are drastically changed, and so is his life.

Rated Teen mostly for language and innuendo.

A/N: So most everyone who follows me will have gathered that I headcanon Marlene as Duck animagus for a lot of the fic I write. I decided to put some of the backstory of that up on Tumblr in case anyone was curious. I’ll keep these blurbs listed in chronological order on my Fic Masterlist.   Letters from Spring 1981 Dearest Sirius,

I’ve only been back at school for two weeks but I feel the sting of your absence more acutely than before. I guess that’s what I get for twisting your wand to kiss me. It’s a bit like if you’d never tasted treacle tart because you lived in some sort of desolate wasteland entirely devoid of treacle tart. Except you went on holiday to the land of treacle tart and now that you’re back home you feel a terrible void in the pit of your stomach where the treacle tart should be. I hope you enjoy that metaphor because now I find myself not only unkissed but hungry as well.

This reminds me, I have not yet told you of my most recent scrape with your very favorite person, Argus Filch. You have noted before that the key to a Hufflepuff having a good time is the kitchens. I was proving you right by enlisting the elves to bake gillyweed brownies, both for the personal enjoyment of myself and my dorm mates, and for attempting to share with unsuspecting professors. Sounds like a good use of a Saturday, right? It would have been if not for one serious flaw in my plans. The Hogwarts Elves are happy to prepare whatever I ask for and with whatever ingredients I provide, but they are the absolute worst at keeping it under wraps. So of course when Filch was lurking about, looking for fun to ruin, he smelled something suspicious in the kitchens and when he inquired of course those big eared baked good providing twits up and told him it was for me.

Luckily I get to serve my detention with Professor Sprout. She wasn’t even mad that I nicked her gillyweed. And I don’t mind helping her tend to her plants. The only real downside is the 6th year Ravenclaw who serves detention with me. Gilderoy Lockhart.  He’s in detention for carving out his own name in 20 foot letters on the Quidditch pitch and then sending up an image of his own face into the sky. That tells you just about all there is to know about Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart. Nonetheless, it’s a distraction from how much I miss you.

Do you think it would warrant sneaking into Hogwarts as Padfoot just to satisfy my overwhelming desire to kiss you again (and again and again…)? If you don’t I may get into even more trouble and I’ll break your record for most detentions in a single term. I know you hate to be shown up.

I love you more than is rational or good for my health.

-Your Devoted Duck, otherwise known as

Marlene Elfrida McKinnon

Dearest Duckling-

Your last letter shows a reckless disregard for the rules. I can’t even pretend I’m not impressed. And a little turned on.

I’m terribly sorry that you found yourself thwarted by the most Esteemed and Noble Caretaker, His Royal Filchness. Perhaps he would have benefited from your gillyweed brownies most of all, if you’d been generous enough to share with the likes of him. I wonder if argus Filch has ever had a fun time in his life.

Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart of Ravenclaw House sounds like a lively character. At least you haven’t been stuck with someone boring? Though I can imagine hearing him drone on about his own reflection would get tedious after the hilarity of it wore off. Is this the same poncey kid who sent himself 800 valentine’s back in my 7th Year? The name sounds familiar and I can imagine that kid progressing to gimmicks involving his own face in the sky.

Though I am loathe to be the cause of your expulsion, I find it impossible to say no to my little duck, I think I can probably manage to meet you by the willow like before, This coming Thursday after curfew. This time with less brewing difficult potions and more kissing. Use the map.

I love you more than Filch loves his cat,

-Your Sirius

Dearest Sirius,

Your last letter sounded really bleak. I’m sorry that I’m not there to bear the brunt of this war with you. I wish I’d left school early. I know it sounds nonsensical, because I’ve always gotten high marks, but I feel like it’s all so pointless when the world looks like it does. What does it matter if I get a transfiguration NEWT when we’re on the brink of a full on death eater takeover? I’ve come this far though and it’s only a few more months.

Which reminds me, I’ll have Easter week off as per usual and I wondered if I could come stay with you? I’d much prefer it that way. Staying at school is an option of course, and I could stay with my mum and dad. I just thought after last holiday it would be nice to have some time together where we aren’t interrupted by my various family members every 5 minutes. We weren’t really alone together at any point during that visit. Was that intentional? You’ll let me know what you think about my staying with you. I’m only about a meter and a half tall, thus I don’t take up much space. The only thing is that my hair has been known to attack.

Carolyn is still waxing lyrical about Mr. F. Prewett, despite your generously arranging for the pair to be at the same place at the same time. Now she refuses to shut up about how shiny his hair is up close. It is rather shiny. Much shinier than her fervent admirer, Barty Crouch Jr. His hair is not shiny in the least. He’s actually sort of creepy. I know his dad is the head of MLE and all, but he seems to be coming unhinged. He should probably join a drama troupe or something and get the attention that he clearly craves. Whatever he does, I hope it involves staying away from my friend. I put my best effort into dissuading his continued pestering just recently. This effort earned me a week of detentions.

Sometimes I think Professor McGonagall gives me detention just because she enjoys my company. I wish she would just ask me to tea or something. I’m feeling very persecuted. I’ve never once been caught in a broom cupboard tryst or the like (because you didn’t know that I existed when you were in school. Tragic). I’ve hardly ever blown anything up. Yet I’ve gotten 4 separate weeks of detentions with Professor McGonagall for various offenses this year. Then another 2 with Sprout. All I did this time was make Crouch grow bright pink hair out of his ears and nose if he got within 3 meters of Carolyn. Which inevitably he did. It was actually a fun bit of magic and I think McGonagall was secretly a little impressed. She asked after you yesterday. She said that you probably could benefit from a Hufflepuff in your life. I decided to take that as a compliment. She clearly has a soft spot for you. It’s sweet and all but could you please tell your other girlfriend to stop giving me these unjust detentions?

I miss you. If you were here I’d drag you to a broom cupboard and earn a 7th week of detentions.

I love you more than Gilderoy Lockhart loves Gilderoy Lockhart,

-Your Marlene

Dearest Duckling-

As far as your Easter holiday is concerned, you know that I’d never say no. I’ve already started a countdown that caused james to make a face. He’s probably just jealous because his life is consumed with changing nappies and being a responsible adult and I get to be young and in love.

I’ve spoken to Minerva about her subjecting you to All these detentions. You appear to be correct that she’s enjoying your time together. She says we are well matched and she approves but that if we should ever have a child that she’s retiring from the teaching profession.

Would our hypothetical offspring be a puppy or a duckling? Perhaps something in between? Would that be a niffler? That sounds about right. Nifflers can really cause a ruckus and perhaps Minerva would be right to avoid being subjected to that. Of course this is all assuming that you’d even want to have my nifflers. (That’s a sentence I never envisioned myself writing.)

On a graver note, I heard just yesterday about the disappearance of Gawain’s Fiancée and I felt sick. Edgar is clearly doing all he can, but it angers me that magical Law Enforcement refuses to devote any resources to investigating the disappearance of a squib. I told Gawain that I was willing to help in any way that I could. You might remind him that I genuinely mean that. I’m not above going on a mission that was not expressly assigned by Dumbledore. Your family is the biggest lot of Badgers I’ve ever encountered and i love them. Even Gawain.

I need to get back to work, James is giving me a look.

I love you and miss you to an undignified degree,

Sirius

#blackinnon #Sirius Black #sirius black x marlene mckinnon #fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #marlene mckinnon #marauders era #marauders fic

[music-my-angel]

A secret named anxiety disorder

Prompt - Hi I really adore your stories and writing style I was wondering if you could do one where Hayes Grier has a panic and anxiety disorder and Nash knows but recently Hayes has been hiding it and Nash thought it had gone away but it actually got worse and Hayes has a full blown panic attack and after that he has to explain. P.S – I was wondering if Cameron could be in this and sorry for bothering you 

Prompt - Hey! I saw a request about Hayes having a disorder and was wondering if u could maybe do that for my birthday on April 3! Loved the story line! Do u think u could possibly do it with the Jacks too though? If not that’s cool

 ------

Having grown up together, Nash knew everything about his little brother. From Hayes’s first girlfriend to the boy’s biggest fears, Nash knew all about it. But most importantly he also knew about the boy’s medical condition. From childhood itself, Hayes suffered from anxiety disorder. Nash made sure to always look after the boy, provide a safe environment for the boy and mainly, if a panic attack could be avoided, Nash tried his best not to let Hayes suffer from one. Besides this, he also kept his little brother’s anxiety disorder a secret from others as per the boy’s wishes.

------

Usually nothing escaped Nash’s eyes when it came to his little brother. But this time, he happened to miss the signs of anxiety that his little brother emitted.

For the past three days, there had been only one last pill that remained out of his medicine box and it was most needed for his anxiety but still Hayes refrained from letting his brother know about it.

The Grier brothers had been busy with Jack G., Jack J. and Cameron as they worked on a new collaboration. The three boys had even been staying over at their place for two nights now.

Not wanting them to know about his anxiety disorder, Hayes didn’t utter a word about his medicines and instead kept the last pill for when the situation goes out of hand.

------

It hadn’t taken long for the situation to go awry though. As Hayes wasn’t keeping up regularly with his medications, the boy was literally on the edge with his anxiety. The rush regarding the video and the stress during these days had the boy inching closer to a panic attack. And unfortunately it took quite a while for Nash to catch on what was going on. The stress, the rush, the fear of keeping his anxiety disorder at bay and missing out on his medications played against Hayes and his secret was soon out.

------

It happened one early morning when everything seemed to be going against Hayes. He woke up a bit earlier than before and could already feel the tension brewing along. Jack J and Cameron arguing about the collaboration didn’t make thing easier for Hayes. But mostly, the absence of his brother had him a little concerned. Before he could even ask where his brother was, Jack G was pulling him to come break up the argument between the other two. The loud noises combined with his already conflicted feelings had the boy slipping into a panic attack right when Jack J shouted at Cameron.

------

“Stop it… Stop… Please just stop…” Hayes shouted as he backed away from the boys, already sliding down the wall to rock back on his heels.

“Hayes, you okay?” Jack G asked the boy as he crouched down to look at the boy when he reached out to him, Hayes let out another shout and tried backing away further if it was possible.

“Is he having a panic attack?” Jack J asked.

“Looks like it. Someone call Nash and back away a bit. Let him have some space” Cameron instructed. He crouched down in front of the boy, trying to gently coax him out of the panic attack.

But the boy looked far lost in his panic to even hear the boys.

------

It didn’t take far long for Nash to come home. He had gone out to clear his mind, leaving Jack J and Cameron to end their arguments on their own. He had been on his way back home when Jack G called him to inform him about Hayes’s panic attack. And the sight that awaited Nash had his heart breaking.

“Hayes, hey, it’s me. I’m here now. It’s okay. Just breathe kiddo. I got you.” Nash tried to coax the boy.

It did take some time but finally Hayes was starting to react to Nash’s voice.

“Nash” Hayes asked and when Nash reached out to him, Hayes willingly threw himself in Nash’s arms.

Tightening his arms around his baby brother, Nash could only sigh and let himself be relieved by the boy’s breathing returning to normal.

------

Once the boy finally calmed down enough, Nash looked up to the worried but questioning looks around him.

“There’s a medicine box on the counter. Get me the box” Nash said.

Jack J brought the box and Nash had to sigh again when he saw only one pill left.

“You should have told me there’s only one left. I thought your anxiety was under control. This means you missed out on the medications for some days, right?” Nash asked the boy.

“Sorry” Hayes could only mumble as he let Nash help him take the last pill.

“Let’s get you to bed. You need some rest” Nash said and was glad for Cameron to help him with taking Hayes to his room.

Once the boy was asleep, Nash knew he has some questions to answer.

------

“So, he has anxiety disorders” Jack J stated.

“Is it going to be a problem?” the question from Nash coming out a bit rougher than intended.

“Not really but why hide it from us?” Jack G asked.

“You know the kid. He feels like you’d all judge him or treat him differently if you knew this” Nash mumbled.

“Kid’s like our little brother. We all adore him, man. There’s gonna be no difference now” Cameron assured Nash. Squeezing the boy’s shoulder, Cameron added, “We’re here for you too, dude. If ever you need help.”

For once, Nash felt like he wasn’t alone. He had friends to help him out, to help him watch out for his little brother.

------

When Hayes finally woke up, he braced himself for the questions or for the boys to start behaving differently but it never came. The boys were there with a cup of coffee waiting for and to start filming. The collaboration was more fun filled rather than nervy as the boys realized that they shouldn’t stress either Hayes or themselves. In the end, Hayes noticed that nothing much had changed apart from the fact that now along with Nash, he had three other friends to watch his back. His secret was finally out but it didn’t change much in his life.

------

A/N

Hope you all like it.

#magcon #oneshot #hayes centric #nash #cameron #jack j #jack g