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ravencincaide · 4 months

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Something wrong

Summary: It was his job to notice things when it came to you, he just wished you’d be a little bit more cooperative than just hide everything behind short responses or ‘I’m fine’ smiles. Chuuya was going to find out anyway so why delay? OR Chuuya didn’t like your friends and you’ve just given him another reason to like them even less.

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Chuuya Nakahara

Inspired by request by anon: After hanging out with some friends she’s unusually quiet and not even special interest subjects seem to get her talking.

Warnings: Cursing and fluff- a little too sweet for my liking, shameless friends, protective and a little angry Chuuya, Sweetness?

Hope you enjoy~ ______________________________________________________________

Chuuya knew something was wrong the moment he pulled up by the cafe.

Normally he would have to park his bike, go inside, deal with your gawking friends who shamelessly checked him out and asked invasive questions and then politely yet firmly pull you away from them. If he failed in that task then he’d sit with a cup of irish coffee and a shot of espresso and pretend to be interested in the latest gossip of who slept or slapped who. Such minor things that would normally be way below him as an executive within the Port Mafia. Yet he’d do it, for you, and only for you.

So when he found you standing outside the cafe, leg propped up against the wall, staring blankly in front of you, he knew he was going to have to bribe, torture or kill someone. Preferably with his own hands. Calming his bloodlust ever so slightly Chuuya began with the proper first step when dealing with an unknown enemy; the assessment of said enemy or in his case assessing the damage said enemy had done to what was his.

“ Had a good day sweetheart?” Chuuya asked as he finally approached you after parking his bike a distance away. He was hiding his concern behind a tense smile and the shade of his top hat.

“ Lets just go” you mumbled, neither confirming nor denying his question. In response Chuuya stretched out his arm for you to take. You pried yourself away from the wall, came over and rested your hand on top of it. Your shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly as the familiar scent of him- coffee, cigarettes and leather filled your senses. But not for long; you tensed again as you heard the little ring of the cafe door. Then froze as the clacking of high heels and familiar giggles sounded behind you. It seemed awfully convenient that your friends would decide to leave the cafe at the very moment Chuuya came to get you. A fact that definitely didn’t slip Chuuya’s observation skills. His attention was entirely on you however; how you seemed to shy away from your friends instead of greeting or smiling at them. The way you suddenly found the ground very interesting.

“ Awww Nakahara-san how adorable it is that you’re picking up Y/N” one of the girls said and they giggled between each other as if sharing some inside joke. He felt you tense and noticed your reddening ears.

Chuuya could practically taste your sadness. Fucking Bitches.

Still he had to act polite before he burned the wrong bridges. It wasn’t like he cared what they thought of him but he needed to be careful of what they thought, did or said to and about you.

“ We’re in a bit of a hurry, excuse us” Chuuya reached up his hand and ever so slightly tipped his hat in their direction before turning his back to them. Then he began walking. As he heard them squeal and noticed you drag your feet, he dropped his right arm and wrapped it around your waist; bringing you closer to himself. His left hand found yours and held it gently. “ Cold m’precious?” he mumbled.

You shook your head slightly.

Then it was your anxiety and humiliation which made your body shiver against him. He tsk’ed under his breath and led you through the crowd, skillfully avoiding the masses and then down a much more secluded alleyway. A rarely-used shortcut towards the mall.

Silence dragged on between you two but for the sound of your shoes click-clacking against the cobblestones. Or the swoosh of his coat as you’d round a corner and then continue walking in the same awfully slow pace and deathly silence.

“ So wanna tell me about that new book you were reading this morning?” Chuuya’s eyes flickered down to you, for once hoping to hear anything and everything about the book that had you so engrossed; Spicy, corny or bad, he wanted to hear your sweet voice describe the best moments and clarify internal jokes. To see the blank look in your eyes disappear in favour of a passionate glint and bright smile. A happy expression- exactly what his girl was supposed to wear.

“ Mm not really” you replied with a heavy sigh, your gaze focused entirely on the cobblestones and where you set your feet. You acted as if you didn’t know that he’d shift gravity to make sure you didn’t stumble, let alone fall. And even if you did then he’d be there to catch you in a heartbeat.

Something was definitely off. Bad book? Character death? He somewhat understood. Thus he tried a safer topic; “ What about that author you like sweets? D– Delaney something?”

“ Joseph Delaney is dead.” you answered bluntly, shutting down any follow up questions or discussions about his works or what you loved so much about him.

Now Chuuya was certain that whatever happened in that cafe was personal.

“Doll, how about we jump into the bookstore on our way back? It’s been a long time since you’ve read me anything before bed” he smiled a little to himself secretly missing those precious bedtime moments with you. It wasn’t like he, a port mafia executive, needed them but–

“ Don’t pretend to care!” you suddenly snapped, making Chuuya’s eyes widen and his head snapped down to look at you, not sure if he heard you right.

“ Sweetheart–”

You just huffed and dropped his hand, crossing your arms over your chest, effectively silencing him. “ Please don’t act like stupid things like these are exciting for you! I get it, okay you don’t need to pretend anymore, or whatever” you continued walking, this time without his arms around you. You didn’t check whether he followed, didn’t even look at him, clearly fighting back tears of humiliation.

Silence lasted all of two seconds, followed by a dark; “ Okay which of those bitches said something to you?” Chuuya growled. His words made your eyes widen and you spun around to see your normally sweet boyfriend look ready to murder. The blue of his eyes was replaced by a burning red. He was adjusting his leather gloves with his mouth while his second hand checked his pockets, counting the number of bullets he carried on him. Those were usually a cleaner kill and delivered a much louder warning than smashing someone against the pavement.

You gaped as you realized he was serious and rushed back towards him. Then you gripped onto his arm with both of your own, barely halting his bullet-counting. “ Chuuya you can’t just go killing people!” you gasped, gripping onto his arm tighter “ Please?”

The ‘please’ worked better than any amount of strengths you could have used. Still it did not calm the clear bloodlust radiating off of him. “ Why not?” he huffed, almost pouting “ No one’s gonna trash m’girl and live”

You pulled his arm towards yourself and gripped his hand in between your own. “ Because they’re my ..friends, I really don’t want them dead. And also I don’t want this day to be ruined because of something small– especially us time” You flapped your eyelashes at him, a pleading look on your face.

Chuuya lasted all of five seconds against that look. “ mm’kay” he finally grumbled and buried his head in your shoulder. “ But you, sweetheart, need better friends” ,

You breathed a sigh of relief then felt your mischievous side take over for a brief second;“ Friends like Dazai?” you teased him ever so slightly.

Hearing your words, Chuuya let out a loud groan and pulled his head back from your shoulder, giving you the most unimpressed look he could manage. He was barely holding back the tirade about why Dazai was not his friend. Before he could start on it however, his attention was caught by the way you dragged your bottom lip between your pearly whites in slight nervousness.

This action gave him ideas. And the fact that you two were alone in a secluded alley did little to help soothe his imagination. Chuuya’s lips pulled up into a boyish grin as his hands found your waist and brought you closer; “ Just shut the hell up and kiss me, pretty girl.”

He watched you eagerly as you took your time before your lips finally met his in a tender kiss. Chuuya was certain he’d pull out the truth and what exactly they said to you sooner rather than later. And then it would be up to him to decide how they’d pay for their foolish foolish actions …

#bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara #chuuya request #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x yn #chuuya x you #chuuya angry #Chuuya protective #BF chuuya #chuuya fluff #bsd fluff #request answered

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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soulmarks (stobin)

Robin is born with bruises on her knees.

Her parents tell the story all the time. We were so worried, they say, but the doctors told us it was normal. Her soulmate must have just been learning to walk. That poor boy must have been quite the adventurer, the bruises never ceased!

As she gets older, the odd marks keep showing up. On her hips, her arms, her shins. She’s sure she’s leaving her fair share of marks on them, too. They’re clumsy, both of them.

When she’s eight, a set of fingers are clear around her wrist. Her parents look at each other sadly and murmur about things Robin doesn’t quite understand.

They ask her to tell them if she ever gets a mark like that again. None ever appear. Their relief is obvious.

Her mother sits her down. “When you meet your soulmate,” she tells Robin, “make sure he knows he is always welcome in our home.”

Robin thought it would be obvious. What’s hers is theirs, after all, and vise versa. Two halves of the same soul.

As she gets older, the idea rakes at her. Make sure he knows, her mother said. He is always welcome.

She doesn’t know if it would be the same, if her soulmate was a girl. They have to be. After all, Robin is realizing, there’s no way her soulmate is a boy.

When she’s fifteen, bruises appear on her face and knuckles and her mother shrieks at the sight of her. Robin just sits, quietly reeling. Girls don’t get in fights like this, she thinks numbly. Girls don’t…

That evening, three gashes scar across her body. Somehow she already knows they’ll be permanent. She cries herself to sleep.

She keeps her head down, and barely even hears about the fight Steve Harrington got into with Jonathan Byers. It doesn't matter. She’s got bigger concerns than Steve Harrington.

Things are quiet for the next year. Hardly any bruises, which makes her happy and upset in equal measure. She doesn’t know why the universe would do this to her. Why would it give her someone she can never fall in love with? Maybe the universe is homophobic, she thinks, but doesn’t laugh. It sure fucking feels like it.

She tries to leave less bruises on them, too, as an avoidance technique. It doesn’t work. She’s got soccer practice, and marching band, and she runs into a pole when a pretty girl smiles at her across the street. Dammit.

November comes back around, and with it, new marks.

They’re awful.

It starts out with a couple of scratches that look similar to the three from last year that she still wears. Then her mom has to watch, horrified, as new bruises appear on her face. When she pulls her shirt up, they’re on her ribs. Worse than they’ve ever been.

She pretends to be too sick to go to school for the two days it takes for them to fade, to avoid the questions and the gossip. Last year was bad enough, after someone started a rumor her soulmate was in a gang.

Something that doesn’t fade is the thin scar along her hairline. She pulls her hair down to cover it, and swears quietly at whoever the universe decided to gift her.

(She worries about them all the time.)

#soulmarks au #robin buckley #stobin as platonic soulmates #stranger things fanfic #HI i'm alive I’ve been writing and also trying to finish up my stobin lavender marriage fic #I swear I’m in the last sprint and then I’ll have a FINISHEDslurs work #there’s not enough stobin literal soulmates works out there #here’s my plan on how to fix that-

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niicevibe · 2 years

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𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐞𝐧 + 𝐘/𝐍 𝐇𝐂𝐬

While writing for Ryūken, I got a little in the feels about him... He was a little difficult to write for though, for sure. Really felt like I drifted here, but... c'est la vie. Also!!!? He has like, no headcanons on this site. Which is understandable, but sheesh.

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 @toofilthy (again, omg, it took this long... but at least it only took me three hours to work on today, haha! haha...)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of autopsying and minor character deaths.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I've left your position ambiguous again, just like I did for Uryū's headcanons, as well as your tenure at the hospital. Besides, you could've been a young patient when you first met Ryūken? He just gave off those big daddy Quincy vibes and you couldn't resist...

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

After the event that took place thanks to Juha Bach back in the nineties left him a single father while simultaneously claiming the lives of both his wife and the girl he once loved, Ryūken threw himself into his work and subconsciously swore off any semblance of romanticism.

Truly a first rate doctor with the best possible patient care in mind, perhaps it was thanks to this emotional suffering that allowed him to climb to the role of hospital director. But is it any consolation?

A trait that both of the Ishida men share is there lack of a need for romance, or perhaps in Uryū's particular case, should the prospect of a relationship come to pass him, his courting game is strong. And his prudish nature? Well, I'd like to believe he gets it from his father...

Looking back on that same history, Ryūken hasn't always been as cold as perceived by those around him. Having both a protector complex and a savior complex, and in wanting to marry someone for love and not out of obligation, he could easily prove to be quite the casanova should the effort not come out to be so... stick-up-the-butt-ish. It's a wonder how he took so much after his cold-hearted and goal-oriented mother, and how his father's kindness he inherited became the recessive trait.

It doesn't tend to show all too obviously. He isn't a doting father. How good of a husband he had been to Kanae is another story all together. They grew up with each other, with Kanae as his waiting hand. She was fond of him, and he was grateful for her. So, more likely than not, he wasn't doting, but he had enough care in his heart for the woman.

It's not something Ryūken cares to talk about, not even with himself, let alone with his son. It dwells in the darkest corner of his mind, how he couldn't figure out the cause of Kanae's coma. How he couldn't avenge her when she finally passed away.

But it is something he concerns himself with whenever you're around.

Emotions are burdening. But then again, if he hadn't been fueled by them the day he discovered that silver blood clot during Kanae's autopsy, he would've never been able to help his son and get that revenge he desired.

You knew him not to be a vengeful man. Not under normal circumstances. In his own silent and subtle way, the man loved his patients, his career, and dare you even speculate, his own son, despite the weird dynamic you discovered them to have. You note how naturally cautious and meticulous and focused Ryūken is with everything he does in his life. It was fascinating to you, in an awful, sad way.

All because the hospital gossip was too strong to ignore, you found yourself staring. And Ryūken Ishida isn't an easily swayed man, but... he's grown unnerved that the story of his wife's death was the reason for your newfound attention on him. He's also not the type to ignore that attention, you realize, when he's suddenly inviting you to eat with him in his office.

How could you say no to the director? And even more so, to a man you've found yourself thinking about for the majority of your day? Even when you return to the four walls of your home, Ryūken Ishida lives in your mind. You'd been content just seeing him around the four walls of the hospital, and now, he wants to sit down with you? Does he... think you've done something wrong?

As far back as you can remember, you don't recall anything you've done in your job to be something that's killed a patient... and when you inquire about this through the small sips from your juice box, he's calm in assuring you that that's not the case. But he wants to know why he's on the receiving end of your pitying glances.

It's the fact that he only thinks they are pitying glances that has you so shocked.

Though you have heard the rumours through the hospital that his son was emotionally obtuse before his partner set him straight, you can't help but express to the man how wrong he is. Which, apparently, is a rarity in itself.

You admit that, sure, you feel sadness for the man who had to autopsy his own wife to recuperate from his grief, for the man who couldn't save her life no matter how hard he tried. You tell him how much you wished the world to be more forgiving and less of the taking that it keeps seeming to do. Now, it's been so many years since you first watched him wandering the halls of his hospital, blue eyes as empty as the hands who failed to find any answers.

"It's not pity," you promise him. "Just compassion."

If he's surprised at your truth, he doesn't immediately show it. Understandably confused considering how little you've managed to interact with the man, but... he finds himself touched at the result of your candor.

There are often days where Ryūken forgoes eating normal meals, despite any stringent schedule keeping he makes attempts at. Almost always busy between any meetings or scheduled surgical procedures, he finds himself visited by you much more frequently, having brought homemade bento for the both of you, and on a much more daily basis. He doesn't speak his thanks, but you can tell in the subtle shift of softness his eyes take on when he looks at you versus anyone else in his life.

Your relationship, whether platonic or romantic, would start off incessantly slow, something you had both been content with due to the nature of your official meeting. For you to be more forward or more expectant in relationships is not something Ryūken minds. If not pressured nor at an impasse, he is normally a very calm individual, especially if you had been happy to show some patience of your own through things.

Ryūken seems like the kind of man to swear off any further attempts at relationships or courting, himself, and maybe not due to trauma, but to the frustration of his own fallibility regarding Kanae and Masaki. Not that there would be any chance of a similar thing ever happening to you like it did them, but without needing to outwardly admit it, Ryūken wouldn't be able to make it through an experience like that again.

He would not be a fan of obvious public displays of affection. Hand holding may be his limit (professionally). Other times, loosely linking arms while on a walk is something he would dare to manage. Subconsciously, his thoughts drift to what Uryū might think about him having a new partner, and should he see his father with you, how he might react. Would he feel betrayed? Some days, Ryūken thought he might be doing the same to Kanae's memory. But you've been respectful, patient throughout the whole ordeal.

Despite how much time had passed between then and the present, he would truly thrive in that understanding environment.

In private, Ryūken might dare to share the odd chaste kiss with you. They'd serve to fuel him on those longer days he'd be unable to tear himself away from his office.

Ryūken would be a casual romantic. Being the busy, goal-oriented man he is, he'll have little time to be able to spend planning elaborate dates or trips, unless he truly got lucky. And perhaps your schedules might not overlap within a day-- in his stead, Ryūken might order something to be delivered to your doorstep. If he's unable to make it home, perhaps phone calls might not suffice anymore. The odd video chat might set him at ease.

Ryūken is not an open book, so unless he comes out and admits exactly what he's thinking behind his seemingly cold eyes, you might not ever know what's on his mind. Don't be afraid to prod him for answers every now and again; with his focus on everything else, he might not even think to explain himself.

#ehhh i did my best 👉🏻👈🏻#he's such a minor character comparatively; i hope i did him justice for you?#ryuken ishida #ishida ryuken #ryuken x reader #ryuken ishida x reader #ryuken ishida x y/n #ryuken ishida headcanons #ryuken ishida hcs #ryuken ishida x you #ryuken x you #bleach headcanons #bleach #bleach anime #🧺: bleach

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breaniebree · 1 year

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by all means dont answer this or wait to answer it till it doesnt seem to out of place because this doesnt have much of a place in the current state of the series and its unrelated to the chapter but is it odd that i sorta feel bad for harry that hes really got no one to talk about his sex life with? as a guy growing up it was always fun to talk about it with my buddies and hear their experiences with their girls and tell em about mine much the same way it appears with girls they all have their girl talk and tell their friends about their first times and bond over it or whatever you all call it. i know harry is a private bloke but its still nice to have someone to be open with that stuff with and get it out whether its excitement or concern or jsur wanting to relate. he cant talk to ron at least in too much detail cause ron gets weird, the only brothers he has are either ginnys older brothers or under the age of 2, remus is alright for questions but he gets awkward and wants to move on, tonks theo dean and seamus tease far too much and neville gets uncomfortable. i remember a scene where ron was in the hospital and the weasley brothers were all talking about their sex lives and teasing each other and if harry would have said a thing it would have been uncomfortable and they would have given him a good shut up thats our baby sister, which coming from a guy with a little sister i get. i dont want to hear about it too much but my brother in law was already 25 when i met him and has friends outside of the family so its different. no doubt harry has bigger issues and thats not what he would call a concern in his life especially since hes a mroe to himself guy but its clear he was really stoked about taking first steps and eventually going all the way with ginny and he never really got to share it with anyone outside of lightly mentioning it or asking his dad a few questions. ginny told theo the next day and gossiped with her friends and thats how everyone else was because thats normal, but wasnt it over a month before harry told anyone? and he only told ron because it slipped and remus because he was scared he wasnt performing good enough. took him over a month to tell a soul that he took a step hed been anticipating for years. makes me feel bad for the bloke and even more so that hes fine with it and that everyone else thinks its fine and blames it on him being private. so it may sound odd especially to you but i sorta feel bad for the bloke that he doesnt have anyone who wants to hear about that part of his life which is a big part of life in my opinon. i think its why harry blushes and gets embarrassed about that stuff so easily. he was raised in a family that are very open and teasing about sex and yet he oddly gets real embarrassed about the subject and ill tell you its because hes never been open about his sex life with anyone because nobody wants to hear about it unless its tonks or theo who really just want to take the mickey out of him. blokes got bigger issues but i do think thats why he doesnt like talking about it cause no ones ever cared about that part of his life enough to really want to know hows its going and how hes doing beyond a teasing standpoint

Hi, Anon,

All very valid points, but I also think some people just like to keep things private and Harry is one of them for the most part. Thank you!

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daniel-bruehl · 2 years

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this is gonna sound super weird but do you think someone like db would ever fall for a fat girl? It’s so frustrating to see even normal seeming people like him only ever be with super thin models (it’s the middle of the night and I should be sleeping ik)

hey dear, trust me I get it, I get the most random and unhealthy thoughts at night as well haha. to answer your question, it’s really hard for me to say because I obviously don’t know him. I have no idea where he stands with that bc we know very little about his private life and past relationships (which I feel like is a good thing actually!), and as far as i know he never really spoke about preferred body types etc., so it’s not really possible to come to any conclusion based on that.

see, given that I don’t know him but I want to believe that he is a good and kind man, I want to say yes. Like, I want this picture of him in my head that he does not primarily care too much about someone’s body and more about what else they have to offer, and to be honest, given how he usually articulates himself and the things he seems to care about (which we know of), I’d like to think there’s a possibility that that’s actually true :) I could think of other famous men of which I am like 100% sure they wouldn’t, but with him I’m not.

The nice thing about not knowing is that you also cannot know for sure he wouldn’t! Also, we have to consider that being in the spotlight of attention also puts a lot of pressure on what partner you are choosing bc you know people will gossip. I’m not saying this is the case here specifically, but generally I can imagine famous people would tend to openly date more “conventionally attractive” people because they offer less of a target for evil comments and they know they’d drag a “nonconventionally attractive” person into a potentially very hurtful and toxic environment if they go public. but that’s just some random thought of mine that I cannot back up with anything haha 🥴 another potential reason for famous people often being with these model-type of partners is that this kind of business leaves almost 0 room for people who are not fit, skinny, athletic, beautiful, etc. and given that that’s mostly the people they can connect to when it comes to shared experiences etc it kind of makes sense that every Hollywood couple looks perfectly beautiful bc they are a HOLLYWOOD couple and not some random couple that just happens to have found their way to Hollywood, like does that make sense??

So yeah, I guess we will never really know about Daniel’s attractions; sure, maybe he fell for Felicitas bc it’s the only body type he finds attractive, but most likely (at least in my head) he fell for her bc of her other amazing qualities and it just so happens that she’s thin. Like I said, that’s the nice thing about not knowing someone; you can have a picture of them in your head that exists for you and no one can take that away from you! so in my head he totally could fall for a fat person bc why the hell not?? Unless he explicitly says he wouldn’t, which I REALLY don’t think he ever would, that’s what I am going with, and I hope you can do so too! <3

I hope you get some good rest tonight nonnie & thank you for trusting me with your thoughts/concerns! ❤️

#sorry this has gotten so long but I feel like this is something that deserves more than a two sentence answer bc I know how these type #of insecurities can make you feel and doubt #anon ask #if this is formatted weirdly it’s my phone’s fault lol #thank you for asking/sharing! <3 #answered.#daniel brühl #idk how to tag this #let’s go with #maybe #cw fatphobia #?#just to be sure??

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deleuran33nance · 2 years

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novel She Becomes Glamorous After The Engagement Annulment - Chapter 452: Tanya's Birthday Is Wrong side bruise quote-p1

Epicfiction Mr.Yan - Chapter 452: Tanya's Birthday Is Wrong combative degree share-p1 Novel-She Becomes Glamorous After The Engagement Annulment-She Becomes Glamorous After The Engagement Annulment Chapter 452: Tanya's Birthday Is Wrong afterthought lunchroom Novel Karl Moore was overjoyed. He immediately had out a dark-colored greeting card from his bank account in pleasure and handed it to Tanya. "Tanya, this, this charge card is designed for you… You can aquire what you want! There's no minimize!" From the appearances from it, it experienced did the trick. Others sat facing each other well, sensing a bit uneasy. It was time for your butler and reporters to construct relations with each other so the reporters would stay away from growing gossip. Of course, anything was managed through the butler on his very own. "Indeed, indeed, I'm totally free!" Novel Karl Moore hurriedly shook his mind. "Not normally. Just once in a while. Occasionally… hehe…" Karl Moore reported, "Why must you will be making items a hardship on your little girl? Do you have to see her unhappy? Are you able to quit distressing your daughter's living?" She Becomes Glamorous After The Engagement Annulment "Oh yeah! will you need a family house? May I obtain you just one?" Section 452: Tanya's Birthday celebration Is Incorrect Because the particular person included obtained escaped, the reporters no more surrounded the Smiths' household. Karl Moore hurriedly shook his brain. "Not generally. Just once in a while. Occasionally… hehe…" Karl Moore stared at the black unit card on his fretting hand and searched up at Tanya again. He needed to say something, but Joel walked before him. "Mr. Moore, Tanya is to use me and doesn't absence everything. You don't have to bother about it for the present time." Nora investigated her. "You and also Hillary are merely less than a season away. When your mum gave birth to you in April, how did she birth to Hillary?" All others: "…" the cathedral of st. matthew the apostle Karl Moore was overjoyed. He immediately had out a black greeting card from his pants pocket in pleasure and handed it to Tanya. "Tanya, this, this card is perfect for you… You can purchase anything you want! There's no restriction!" She Becomes Glamorous After The Engagement Annulment Because he envisioned, Tanya was investigating Karl Moore by using a concerned confront. Even though her overall tone was uncomfortable, she agreed. His words amazed Tanya. "Will you be harmed frequently?" Although he want to give her all of the really like he acquired due over the past twenty years, she could no more maintain it. Karl Moore switched again and hurriedly sat in the lounger. "…" Tanya have also been amazed. "Then, what's happening?" And any person provide could easily do better than her lower back. Jill was amazed. She subconsciously pulled the knife rear. Really, he may have stepped in and settled Jill sooner. Joel got plenty of strategies to address someone as shameless as her. In the appearances than it, it obtained been working. Even though seeking over the internet, he seemed quite intelligent. Tanya's gaze landed on Karl Moore's torso. She expected, "Nora, are his traumas major?" Because the man or woman involved obtained escaped, the reporters not anymore surrounded the Smiths' home. Karl Moore changed rear and hurriedly sat on the furniture. Although hunting on the Internet, he seemed quite clever. Jill glared at him.

#ull #The Grand Elementalist #Some Objections To Socialism #what is the sto

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pies-writes-and-more · 3 years

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jealous

Word Count: 3,130

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: some insecurity angst (only a little though) but all fluff otherwise!

A/N: thank you for the help and love you two give me @satan-ruler-of-hells @thisnoodlewritesao3. Was having a shitty day so I queued this fic up to hopefully bring some smiles to people’s faces <3

Haikyuu Masterlist

Ushijima would never understand why people flocked to him the way they did during tournaments. No matter where the team went, there were people begging for answers to their invasive questions, people screaming in excitement as soon as they saw them, but why?

“You’re a big strong attractive dude, Ushi, I dunno what to tell ya. Not to mention, you’re the ace of a powerhouse school,” Tendō laughed when Ushijima asked him why. But it wasn’t like any of these girls knew him so why were they always asking for pictures?

But despite not really understanding, Ushijima often complied with the request for photos, standing there as stoic as ever, not even bothering to crack a smile. He didn’t want to make anyone upset and he felt like just going along with it might actually be easier than trying to run away.

But today, Tendō watched as one girl got prepared for a selfie, and surprised Ushijima with a kiss on the cheek for the photo. She squealed in excitement, thanking him even as she ran away. The two Shiratorizawa boys stood there in confusion, Tendō’s eyes looking around to make sure you weren’t around to experience that.

Ushijima stood there for a moment longer, his hand going up to his cheek and touching the place she had kissed him. Had that really just happened? How odd. Why would someone he had never even met before do something like that?

The thought left his mind as soon as it had entered, turning around to follow Tendō onto the court. But he noticed how his friend’s eyes seemed to glance around the hallway, as if looking for someone, then fall on him questioningly.

“What is it?” Ushijima asked, watching his friend’s eyes carefully.

Tendō just laughed and shook his head, “I’m just glad poor Y/N didn’t have to watch that. Can’t say I’d envy her.”

Ushijima’s brow tensed a little hearing those words, trying to comprehend Tendō’s words and tone, “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you’re constantly followed around by girls and you must see some of them all the time at every one of our tournaments. But you and Y/N haven’t had a lot of time to see each other now that practice is every day right? Plus... what girl wants to see her boyfriend get kissed by some random fangirl?” Tendō explained, holding his hands behind his head as they walked into the stadium courts.

Ushijima frowned a bit, still not fully comprehending. You knew that he was busy with volleyball and you knew he loved you, didn’t you? So why did it matter what some insignificant people thought? Or what some random person did for that matter? Sure, it was an uncomfortable kiss and was awkward but would it matter? He didn’t even know the girl.

Unbeknownst to either of them, the girl had posted the pic onto social media. Swarms of jealous students and gossip news reporters started to share the picture and repost it with the question “Is this Ushijima’s girlfriend?”

It didn’t take long for you to be tagged. One of your friend had sent the photo with a questioning keyboard smash, wondering if you had known.

You hadn’t.

You had been up in the stands when it all took place - you didn’t see Ushijima often before a game since he was usually stretching while you got there early to get good seats. You had been sitting up in the stands, talking to another friend of yours and some of the other players’ friends and family. But when you saw the picture, it was like everything around you started to move in slow motion.

Your heart felt like it was moving up your throat, your chest tightening. Who was this girl? Your fingers instantly clicked onto her profile, glancing at all of her public photos. She was gorgeous, thin, smart by the looks of it too. She even had a picture or her playing volleyball.

Something inside of you asked the question, “Would Ushijima be better off with someone like her?”

He wasn’t following her on social media, so he didn’t know who she was. It wasn’t uncommon for people to post their photos with Ushijima, but no fans had ever been so bold to kiss him for a picture before.

You couldn’t even remember the rest of the game. Your stomach was churning so much you thought you were going to be sick.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” Your friend asked when they realized you hadn’t cheered as loud as you normally did during the games. You quickly plastered on a smile, nodding quickly.

“I’ve got to head out early! Tell the boys I said congratulations!” You asked them as the game came to an end, your feet quickly moving out of the stadium before the crowds left.

Ushijima could’ve sworn you had been up in the stands and you always came to his games. So where were you? Why hadn’t you come down yet? He stood in the hallway, watching as crowds of people left. Loads of them congratulated him or tried to strike up a conversation with him. But not a single one of them was you.

“Oh Ushijima! Y/N asked me to say congratulations!” Someone smiled up at him giving a thumbs up. He recognized them, they were friends with you weren’t they? So you had been here...

Ushijima’s forehead creased ever so slightly, “Where is she?”

“She said she had to go for some reason! She didn’t look so good when she left to be honest. Maybe she was feeling sick?” Your friend shrugged and gave another wave before rushing off.

Ushijima glanced at his phone, finding no notifications from you. If you had been feeling sick, why wouldn’t you tell him?

“You alright there, Ushi?” Tendō called, slapping his shoulder playfully. “We won, it’s time to go! What’re you standing around for?” His head spun around, looking for the missing part of their trio. “Where’s Y/N? It’s almost time for our celebratory dinner!”

“She left,” was all he said with a frown.

Tendō sucked in some air nervously, glancing at his own phone and all the notifications he had gotten over the recent scandal photo. “Think it might have to do with this?” He asked, showing the post to his friend. “Didn’t you get tagged in it too? Seems like the whole team was.”

“I don’t have notifications for those apps,” Ushijima shrugged. “I get tagged in a lot of things and it gets annoying.”

Tendō pouted at this, realizing that’s why Ushijima never responded to the hilarious things he would send him.

Ushijima was still frowning, wondering why everyone seemed so concerned with his dating life. He scrolled through the notifications that Tendō had on his phone, news reporters questioning Ushijima’s relationship status, people from their school mentioning Y/N and curiously wondering if they had broken up.

All of this over some random girl? He glanced at her post a little closer, noting the caption read, “Ushi” with a little heart emoji next to it. He hadn’t been happy at all that some girl had decided to plant a kiss on his cheek but he never had the chance to tell her that before she ran off.

“Why would Y/N leave over that?” Ushijima finally spoke, glancing again at his own phone to see if maybe you had texted him in the last few minutes.

Tendō sighed and raised an eyebrow to him, “Ushijima, some people get jealous.”

Jealous. The word echoed in Ushijima’s mind as he tried to consider the possibility that you were jealous over someone whose name he didn’t even know.

“Wouldn’t you be jealous if you saw someone posting a similar photo of Y/N?” Tendō asked with a tilt to his head, curiously watching his friend’s expression.

Ushijima let the thought cross over his mind while the two of them walked to where the rest of the team had gathered. What if some dude had posted a picture of Y/N, kissed her cheek, and everyone had assumed they were together? He frowned and shook his head of the awful thought, now understanding that maybe jealousy was that pit in his stomach he was currently experiencing.

Although Coach Washijo growled a little in response, Ushijima insisted that he would not be joining the team for a celebratory dinner. When Goshiki asked Tendō where Ushijima was going, he’d just shrug and smile saying, “He’s off to be a good boyfriend.”

It must’ve been strange, seeing this tall man running around town, looking confused and frustrated. Numerous people around him glanced back at him, watching him with questioning eyes as he passed but Ushijima didn’t even noticed. He needed to make sure that you were okay.

You weren’t really sure why you left so quickly after the game was over. You knew the longer you waited to have this conversation with Ushijima, the more awkward you’d feel and the more upset that he’d be that you hadn’t brought it up sooner.

It’s not like you were mad at him or anything - how could you be? It wasn’t like he was the one kissing her, or that he had known she was going to do that - you knew it wasn’t the latter since Ushijima wasn’t all that big on PDA anyways so there was no way he’d be okay with it with some random girl... you hoped at least.

So if you weren’t mad, why did you run? You frowned as you tried to think of a good excuse, trying to tear apart the reasons for your behaviour. But all you could really think of is how insecure you had felt, seeing that picture. That girl was everything and you were... well what even were you?

Ushijima didn’t know how to beat around the bush - he didn’t know anything but being blunt and honest. So he had to be with you for a reason right? If he wanted to break up with you, he would’ve... right?

You groaned quietly, stuffing your face into the pillow you were holding into your lap. You needed to text him - he was probably wondering why you didn’t stay till after the game. But he hadn’t even texted you... hadn’t called... maybe he hadn’t noticed? You glanced at your phone one more time, as if waiting to see a notification you had missed or a text that you hadn’t heard the alert for.

Maybe you should just call him. Maybe if he hadn’t noticed, you both could just go out for food or have a nice night in and you could forget you ever saw that photo. You nodded slightly at your plan, moving your finger to call him.

But a knock on your door distracted you. You looked up at the sound, glancing between that and your phone.

You dragged yourself out of bed, starting to type out a very nonchalant casual text to Ushijima as you made your way downstairs. Though it was very obvious once you opened the door that the text wasn’t needed.

“Y/N.”

What was it about the way he said your name that sent chills down your spine?

You bit down on your lip nervously, realizing that all that time spent coming up with excuses was useless because here he was right in front of you, panting slightly, and you were drawing a blank.

“H-Hi, Ushijima,” you hesitated slightly, both standing there awkwardly until he nodded towards the inside of your house.

“Can I come in?” He asked softly, his voice more gentle than usual even with his heavy breathing.

You nodded slowly and let him in, watching as he tucked his shoes away and stood in front of you as if waiting for you to say something.

“So... congratulations on your win,” you offered after moments of silence.

His eyes just watched you, as if checking to make sure you were okay, “Your friend said you had to leave. They also mentioned you weren’t feeling well. Is that why you didn’t stay?”

You stuttered out some sort of syllables that were no where near to being words as your boyfriend placed his hand on your forehead, cupping your cheeks in his other hand, “You don’t feel feverish but you are a bit warm,” he stated quietly. “Would you like me to make you some soup?”

You shook your head quickly, stepping back from him slightly, “I’m okay, Ushijima, promise. My... stomach just didn’t feel right.”

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he watched you, “Your stomach?”

You nodded, staring at your feet. You should just be honest, shouldn’t you? Ushijima was always honest with you. But what if you were honest and he came to the same realization - that he could do better than you?

“So this has nothing to do with that Instagram post?” Ushijima’s voice was stiffer this time around, almost... awkward? He shifted on his feet, trying to get you to look at him but when you wouldn’t, he just gently put his fingers under your chin, lifting your gaze to his. “Please talk to me, darling.”

It was as if you had been hiding tears this whole time and didn’t even realize it. But the softness in his voice and his eyes, the way he touched you, just made your eyes start to tear up, “It’s stupid,” you admitted after a moment and Ushijima’s thumb wiped away a tear that escaped you. “I know you don’t even know her.”

He nodded in response, stepping a bit closer to you now, “I didn’t know she was going to do that,” he told you, confirming what you had already assumed. “But I’m sorry.”

You gave a little laughing, shaking your head, “Ushijima, you have nothing to be sorry for. I know you take pictures with your fans sometimes.”

“No, I’m sorry because I didn’t understand why you would be upset at it at first. But Tendō helped me understand. Please don’t go taking photos like that with other men,” Ushijima asked you and made you laugh again. “I... I wouldn’t like it.” He admitted shyly, his lips turning to a small smile as he watched you laugh.

“She’s rather pretty though,” you mumbled softly, finally wiping the rest of your tears that were building in your eyes. “I just... You two look really good together.”

Ushijima seemed to think about this, lifting his eyes up to the ceiling as he considered your words, “She’s not ugly.” He stated simply, finally looking back down at you. “But I have no feelings towards her.”

“Feelings can be developed,” you suggested, hating every word that was coming from your mouth. Why were you arguing for him to leave you? Why were you trying to convince him?

Ushijima gave a chuckle this time, patting your head softly, “Why would I want to develop feelings for anyone else when I have so many feelings for you? You have nothing to be jealous over, love.”

Ushijima always said things with such honesty and you knew he would never say anything he didn’t mean... but didn’t he know there were girls out there much better than you?

“You are the one I want to be with. Not anyone else. All those girls I see at my games all look the same. But when I look at you,” Ushijima let his thumb graze over your lips gently, a small smirk on his lips, “I have to remind myself to stop looking at you. I have to tell myself that I’m staring. Before we started dating, Tendō told me you might think I was creepy because I just couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

You giggled, trying to not focus on the tingles this man’s finger left on your lips, “Oh ya?”

Ushijima just nodded firmly and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. I couldn’t care less about anyone else. Do you trust me?”

The question hung in the air for a moment - you knew you did but how long would it be before he realized just how incredible he was?

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to shove down all of your anxieties.

He watched you and even though you were saying yes, there was something about the way you were standing that didn’t match with your words. Ushijima wasn’t the best at understanding people, but he knew you. “Everyone of those fans would stop coming up to me if I wasn’t as good at volleyball. One day, when I can’t play as well anymore, or if I ever get injured, all those fans will disappear. But the only one I’d still want with me is you. That’s how I know I love you.”

And even if it was just for a moment, all your anxieties stopped. You smiled to yourself and threw your arms around him into a tight hug. Ushijima’s massive arms wrapped around you as he pressed more kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “Next time, please talk to me honestly,” he whispered to you.

You nodded into his shoulder, closing your eyes tightly and murmuring back, “I love you too.”

The two of you would end up in your room, curled up with some show playing in the background before you’d sit up in realization, blinking at him in surprise, “Hang on, didn’t the team go for your celebration dinner?”

Ushijima shrugged and nodded, glancing at the time displayed on his phone screen, “Yeah they should be done soon. I imagine Tendō will text me to make sure you’re okay after.”

Your forehead creased in worry, staring at him, “Did... Did they drop you off on the way or something?”

Ushijima’s eyes shared your level of confusion, tilting his head as he tried to think about your question, “Why would they?”

“Ushijima, how the hell did you get here?” You asked with wide eyes, remembering how out of breath he was and wanting to hear the words from his lips.

“I ran,” he stated simply as if it was such a casual thing to do. “Is that important to know?”

“Babe, your tournament was across the city,” you gaped, mouth open slightly as your eyes widened even further. “That must’ve been such a long run, especially after a game!”

Ushijima thought for a moment, thinking about how the team had to take a bus to the games today, and how Y/N had to take transit. His mind tried to calculate the distance, though it wasn’t likely he’d get an answer. He just shrugged, thinking nothing of it as he settled back into your bed, “I could’ve gone farther,” was all he said as he pulled you in for some more cuddles, “as long as it was for you.”

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unwantedtomost · 3 years

Text

it had been months — sebastian stan

sebastian stan x fem!reader

word count: 4,401 words

summery: it had been nine months since you and your first real long term boyfriend broke up. but as they say, time makes the heart grow fonder ... and it also made the lust build up.

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, cheating, kind of a breeding kink at the end, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: i have never actually posted a whole thing on here before, so i hope this goes well. i know my writing can improve, but it’s pretty good i would say. enjoy!

It had been months since you had broken up with your long-term boyfriend. Your first long-term boyfriend you had since you arrived to the Hollywood scene. Nine months, to be exact. The same amount of time it would have been to carry a child. A hypothetical child. The same hypothetical child that ruined your relationship in the first place.

“You don’t want kids?” Sebastian questioned as soon as you entered the shared apartment. The topic of children came up at dinner with your shared friends. You, offhandedly said: “God, no,” with a laugh, not giving it a second thought. Not till now.

“Not really,” you said as you unzipped your heeled boots. “I never really have, not since I was younger.”

“Never?” He asked, heart starting to beat heavier.

You looked up to him, concerned when you saw his face. It was the same face he had on every time you guys got in a face, mixed with disappointment, maybe even hurt. You smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

“Maybe not never,” you said, putting your shoes away. “But not at least for ten years, maybe even longer. I mean, I am only twenty-two. I would like a good life without children before bringing them into the mix.”

Your warm smile and calm demeanor did nothing to elevate the tension, something inside you saying it did the exact opposite. He looked serious and upset, a combination you never saw much.

“In ten years I’ll be almost fifty,” Sebastian states.

“So? Guys never really stop shooting out good rounds. All my parts will still be intact by that time too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” You were confused. Why was he acting like this?

“I shouldn’t be old enough to be the kid’s grandfather.”

Anger started to bubble up as well. This tone that he had made you pissed off. He was talking like you were stupid like you didn’t get what he was saying. The brassiness you had in general not helping your temper.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started dating someone sixteen years younger than you,” you shot back.

Then the yelling started. Something that could have been a deep, meaningful conversation (one that frankly should have been had way before this point) turned into a full-blown fight. You both started going in at each other, picking at old scabs that you knew would hurt. That was the point, after all, you just wanted to hurt each other. Because you were mad and upset, you guessed, but by the end of it, you weren’t even sure.

The fighting ended two hours later, you sat, slumped on the couch, huffing. You tried to catch your breath from all the yelling. Your throat was hoarse, your cheeks sticky from dried tears.

“It seems like we’re not gonna work out then,” you said, numb.

“Seems so.”

And you left that night, grabbing nothing but your phone before making your way to your closest friend’s house.

After that, you cried for two months straight. You really thought that Sebastian was endgame. That you would be together forever. That you would be happy. Ever since you caught sight of him at your first audition, you felt that he was the one. Then the universe laughed maniacally as it showed you just how fucking wrong you were.

In the past nine months, you had seen him approximately sixteen times, most being in passing, a few being at parties, and one time being at a coffee shop that you both loved. You started to frequent it less after the breakup, too scared to bump into him. Little did you know, he was doing the same thing. The day you two saw each other was both of your first times in three months.

It was all stupid small talk until it wavered, forced laughs and fake smiles fading as the reality of the situation simmered in.

“Look, y/n—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You simply couldn’t. “It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian. I hope you have a good life.” You took a few steps before turning back around for a moment. He looked at you like he was expecting you to run into his arms and make everything go back to normal. “And I really hope you meet a girl that can give you what you need.”

He tried to reach out to you, but you wouldn’t let him. You simply walked away and left him, alone. That was the last time you had spoken to him.

It was five months after the breakup until you let your friends talk you into going out again. And that night you had run into none other than the Timothee Chalamet. Numbers were exchanged then the next thing you knew, you were naked in his hotel room. After that, you went through a bit of a “hoe stage.” Every two weeks you were on a cover of TMZ, E!, or any other celebrity gossip magazine that existed with a “possible new thing.” The people ranged from Tom Holland to Madison Beer, and no one knew what was true or not. After the first few batches came out, you stopped giving a shit. You were allowed to rebound with whomever or however you wanted to, and you were taking full advantage of that.

You were so busy juggling so many people that you hadn’t even thought about Sebastian. Not till right now. Your eyes catch his from across the ballroom that you’re currently in. Your pulse quickens rapidly, you feel like you might even faint. If it wasn’t for Timothee’s hand on your waist, you were sure you would have collapsed on the spot. You watched as Sebastian’s jaw clenched just like it did whenever you did something he disapproved of. Just like it did every time he gave into himself and read one of those stupid gossip sights and saw you all over whatever arm candy you had chosen for the week.

“I’ll be right back, okay babe?” Timothee said, kissing you on the cheek. He waited for you to nod before making his way to one of his friends.

You don’t know what to do and those beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with all that time ago refuse to leave yours. You feel like you want to cry, or scream, or throw up, but you know that you shouldn’t actually do any of those things. You’d draw attention and you don’t want any more people talking about you.

Luckily, one of your best friends, Elizabeth, pulls you into a tight hug and brings you back to earth. Her body feels warm and it makes you feel safe, the smell of her strawberry shampoo bringing you comfort.

“I know,” she said before you spoke. “I saw. Are you okay? I’ll leave with you right now if you want to.”

It takes you a minute to process everything, and even though you’re running everything through your mind, nothing really sinks in.

“I’ll be fine,” you say with conviction, though you don’t know if it’s true at all. “Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything.” You stop talking for a minute before smiling at Elizabeth. “Now, let’s go give the people what they want and take some pictures together.”

It had been two hours and the event was finally coming to a close. No more than forty-five minutes and the place would be cleared out. With that knowledge, you went to go take advantage of the free bar stocked up with expensive liquor. After schmoozing with people you did not even want to interact with, you deserve it.

“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke, please,” you say to the rather cute bartender, shoulders slumping.

As soon as the two shot glasses were in front of you, you downed them. It burned like hell and you could only imagine the ungodly face you made. You tried to chase it with the rum and coke, but it didn’t help much. You heard a gruff voice beside you order something, one that was very familiar. When you heard a chuckle, you knew for sure who was right next to you. You froze again, that same dizzy, sick feeling coming back. You turned your head slowly to see those big blue eyes for the second time tonight, your heart surely beating loud enough that anyone in a mile radius could hear it.

“You look beautiful tonight, y/n,” Sebastian said, leaning against the bar, facing you.

“You do too,” you blurt out. Face turning red after you realized that you’re fucking stupid. “I mean, you look—shit. You look very nice, Seb—Sebastian.”

You’re so flustered and red, you want to simply sink into the floor. For a moment, you wonder why he isn’t acting the same way. It could be that he had already had some to drink or maybe he was just better at controlling his emotion. And the thought that makes dread flow through you is that maybe he is just over you.

“Are you going to an after-party?” He asks, sipping from his glass.

“I don’t think so,” you say. You were supposed to go to one with Timothee, where you were finally going to announce that you two had become official, but now you just want to go home. “Are you?”

“Probably not,” he said simply. “I’ll just have a few more of these back home and go to bed.”

“Drinking alone is no fun,” you say, hinting. You know what you are trying to get across but you don’t know why. It’s like your mouth was moving before your brain could understand what you were doing.

“It’s not ideal,” he said. “But I really don’t have a date to drink with, unlike you.” He pointed towards Timothee talking to a director you hastily met.

“He’s not my date,” you shot out. “I mean, he is, but we’re not like, dating.” Why the fuck are you talking!?!?

“It’s none of my business,” Sebastian said. He didn’t sound mean, he sounded like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know … but we’re not … if you were wondering.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your elbow. “It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

He turned to start walking away but you called after him, making him turn back around. “Wait!” Once he was facing you, you felt like you were in a movie. “I could go for a drink.”

Sebastian smiled but his eyes dismissed you. “What are you doing, sugar?” He warned.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But don’t shut me down.”

With a shared smile, he took your hand and you both left the party. On the car ride back to his apartment (that used to be your apartment), you thought briefly about how you would explain this to Timothee in the morning. Then you turned off your phone so you didn’t have to feel guilty if he decided to text you. Neither of you spoke much on the way. His hand never left its place on your thigh before you were finally there.

When he opened the door, you stumbled lightly into the apartment. Sebastian caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He lightly sat you down on the chair by the entrance (the same one you had sat at nine months ago). Once he had closed the door and put his things down, he came back to you to help slip off your heels.

“Are you already drunk?” He chuckled.

“No, just a wee bit tipsy.”

“Your ‘wee bit’ is usually a lotta bit.”

“Not this time, I really mean just a wee wee bit.” You suddenly burst out laughing at the fact you just said wee wee, giving away the fact that you are indeed close to being drunk.

“Maybe you don’t need anymore to drink,” Sebastian said.

“C’mon, Sebby, take that stick out of your ass,” you say, making him laugh. It makes you feel lighter like you weren’t fucking shit up again. Like you weren’t making a mistake you would regret in the morning.

You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, pouring both of you a glass of red wine. Your favorite and most expensive red wine, the one that you had left at the apartment after the breakup. You wondered if it was the same bottle, or if he had done the same thing he was doing with you with another girl. When he came back, he handed you the glass which you placed down on the coffee table, realizing you were still in a designer white dress that you didn’t own.

“Shit,” you muttered after your realization.

“What is it?”

“This isn’t my dress.”

His eyes wandered down your figure as he thought. “You can take that off and I can hang it up for you. I’m sure there’s something here you can wear.”

You nodded before he was walking towards the bedroom, the one you once shared. You followed after him through the small hall. You looked around the room, noticing how boring it looked now. None of your decorations you had were up anymore, but the small mural you once painted in the middle of the night was still in full view. Did he think about you every time he saw it? If he did, why didn’t he just paint over it?

Sebastian placed one of his shirts (that was your favorite one to wear) and a pair of shorts you had thought you lost on the bed.

“Well, you can get changed in here,” he stated before going for the door.

“Actually,” you called out, stopping him from leaving. “Can you unzip me please?”

He paused for a moment before nodding, slowly making his way back to you. The room went silent as he softly collected your hair and moved it to one side. Heat started to rise through your body at the close proximity he held. His hands grazed your shoulders momentarily before he steadily unzipped the expensive dress. You caught his eyes in the mirror in front of you, your cheeks immediately burning red. He finished unzipping the dress before helping you slide it off your arms. You had to cover your breasts with your arm since you hadn’t worn a bra. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body before, he knew his way around there better than you did, but not covering yourself just felt inappropriate. But, to be fair, the entire situation felt inappropriate. The dress fell to a pool around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lace black underwear, ones that Sebastian had bought for you one month before you broke up. You stepped out of the dress, eyes never leaving his. He bent down to pick it up, blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

“I’ll go lay this on the guest bed,” Sebastian said plainly before leaving the room and closing the door.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you let your arm fall. Even though you hadn’t even had a conversation with Sebastian in six months, being in that moment felt more intimate than anytime you had sex with Timothee—or anyone, for that matter. You pulled on the worn-out gray tee shirt that vaguely had ‘Coca-Cola’ printed across it before going out to the living room where you found Sebastian sipping on his wine, now dress in an old tee and grey sweatpants.

The next hour felt like a blur, it was filled with giggles and stupid comments. By the end of it, the wine bottle was empty and you two were officially wine drunk. Now, you were slumped on the couch (the one that you picked out), leaning towards Sebastian, hand dancing along the cushion space between you two.

“Have you realized we never had a goodbye?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” He asked, not wanting his guess to what you were talking about to be right.

“I mean, we had a fight and I left then we were done. There were no ‘this is for the best’ speeches or attempts at a goodbye kiss. One day there was an us and the next it was … nothing.” You looked up at him, an innocent yet quizzical look on your soft features.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said.

Not this shit again. “I know,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about anything. We’re not together anymore. We don’t even need to acknowledge each other’s existence anymore. But tonight, you did, and now we’re on your couch.”

“I don’t—” he started, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“We don’t have to talk about it then. But, I do have another question. Did you ever fuck anyone here?” The words flowed out before you could think any longer, nothing but courage and alcohol running through your body.

“What?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Sebastian. I just want to know if you ever fucked someone in my—our—this place.”

His eyes bore into yours as he spoke, voice sharp and clear. “No, y/n, I have never fucked anyone in this place. No one but you.”

That answer made you happy. This place, your place, was still pure. No random hookups had tramped through the place where you lived.

“Good,” you accidentally said out loud, making him upset.

“Why does it even matter? It’s not like you weren’t fucking those young things you were all over in public.” He started to get angry at the thought. “Who are you to question me about my sex life after you broke up with me then pranced around tabloid covers for months with different people each week?”

“Because this was our house, I just want to know it wasn’t tainted by blonde bitches with names you didn’t even remember in the fucking morning.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re the only blonde bitch I’ve fucked.”

Suddenly, your hand was moving and your palm was connecting with his face. It shocked both of you, making you both freeze in place. It took ten seconds before Sebastian grabbed the wrist you hit him with, yanking it so you were closer to him. So close you could feel his breath on your face.

“Slap me again and see what fucking happens, I dare you,” he spit out.

Then your heart was in your ass as your stomach erupted with butterflies and your panties soaked with arousal.

It was almost like you lost all control over your body as you smashed your lips against his. Your hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and tugging at the hair there. The intentional scruff on his face was harsh against your smooth skin, but it only elevated your pleasure. Sebastian’s hands went around the sides of your neck, one kind of cupping your face while the other was closer to the back to pull you closer. You felt like you needed to get closer to him, get as close as possible. You needed every single inch of him over every single part of yourself. Your leg swung, straddling him.

Without thinking, you rutted yourself against his thigh, a guttural moan coming from your lips as you did. It’s not like you hadn’t been touched in a while, you just got fucked a few days ago, but you hadn’t experienced something as hot as this in so long. It was rushed and needed, you felt like you would die if he stopped. Your hips absent-mindedly grinded down against his thigh again.

“Fuck, ride my thigh baby,” he ordered. You listened, slipping into your old ways. You continued to rut against his thigh as you kissed. He knew you were getting close by the moans you were letting out into the kiss. He pulled away from your lips, watching as you were losing yourself. “I want you to cum for me, sugar.”

Your hips slowed as your mind raced a mile a minute. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum from just his thigh. What would that do to his already inflated ego? It sounded like bullshit to give into him.

“No,” you mumbled out, your hips threatening to halt their movement.

“No?” He repeated.

You sat there for a minute, silent as his eyes frantically studied your face to see what the point was. He wondered if you wanted to stop, he would understand completely, but he knew that wasn’t what it was by the way you keep clenching your thighs together. Sebastian smirked as he realized what was really happening. He grabbed your hips and started to push you down on his thigh. The problem was that you wanted to cum, but you didn’t want to cum for him. Too bad he was determined on it.

You moaned loudly as he started to drag your hips. You were inching so close, the fact that you didn’t want to give in to the feeling made it feel like it was only becoming stronger. Your hands grabbed his old t-shirt as you frantically moved your hips back and forth. Your nose scrunched and your eyes shut tight, your mouth letting out a whisper of “oh fuck”s on a loop.

“That’s it,” you heard Sebastian say even though his voice sounded like it was miles away. “Cum like a good girl.”

Suddenly, all the pressure that was building up deep within your tummy snapped and you were on cloud 9. Your heat pulsed as you road out your orgasm, Sebastian's hands helping you immensely. It took a good minute of pants as you caught your breath before you opened your eyes and came back to reality.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered to him when you finally made eye contact again.

“I know,” he smirked. “Now be a good girl, sugar, and take off your pants.”

You questioned arguing with him more, but you decided not to. You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad. You stood up and pulled down your shorts, doing a little spin so Sebastian could marvel at how wonderful you looked.

“As beautiful as those look on you, darling, they’d look better on the floor.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you stripped out of the underwear as well, leaving you in nothing but an old grey t-shirt. You went back to your place on Sebastian’s lap, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. You felt like you were melting into him entirely as everything snapped back into place. Your hands roamed lower, palming him through his grey sweats. You smirked to yourself at the realization of how hard he was already and at the fact he wasn’t wearing boxers. He lifted his hips to help you pull down his pants. Just as you were getting ready to place his member in the place you wanted him the most, he halts your movement by grabbing your wrist.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom, y/n,” he warned. You frowned, upset that he had stopped you.

“I don’t care.”

“But you still have that IUD in, right?”

You grimaced because no, you did not. Your five years had run out two months ago and you hadn’t gotten around to making an appointment for a new one. You shook your head slowly side to side before he sighed. He went to pull you off of him but you stopped him by holding onto his shoulders

“I don’t care,” you repeated.

“Y/n, you know why can’t.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Besides the fact you could get pregnant?”

“I don’t care,” you said one more time. “I want you.”

He looked into your eyes, trying his best to decipher your intentions.

“Y/n …”

“Get me pregnant, Sebby,” you said, meaning it too. “I want you, I want your kids. Fuck, I want us back. I don’t care if that means kids and a white picket fence. I just want you.”

“Are you sure?”

In response, you slowly leaned down and your lips touched. It was nothing like the kisses you had shared preferably, it was slow and soft. He pulled you closer, finally letting you lower yourself down on him. You both let out loud moans as you sink down on his member.

It was like you had forgotten what making love felt like, probably because you did. In the past nine months since you had split, you hadn’t made love with anyone once. It was all just meaningless sex or hot fucking, but there was no love behind it. You didn’t love Timothee, you hadn’t loved any of your flings. Maybe it was because you never stopped loving Sebastian—you were almost sure it was because of that.

You moved up and down whilst Sebastian thrust up into you. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and praises from both ends. He started to kiss your neck as his thumb started to rub your clit. The multiple amounts of stimulation only brought you closer to your climax.

“I’m gonna, fuck—I’m close.”

“I know, babygirl,” he cooed. “Look at me.” You looked into his blue orbs, feeling your climax inching ever so closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,�� you whined out as your hips moved faster. “Cum inside me, Sebastian. Get me—fuck, god—put a fucking baby in me.”

With your confirmation, he flipped you on your back, thrusting harder. The hand that wasn’t toying with your clit interlaced with yours. Your grip on each other squeezed harder as you neared your finishes. You wrapped your legs around him as his hips started to stutter.

“Cum with me, baby,” Sebastian groaned.

You finally let the coil that built inside of you snap with his permission. Moments later, he busted inside of you, making you both yell out. He collapsed on top of you, trying his best not to crush you under his weight. You both panted for minutes before you finally spoke up.

“I love you,” you said. He lifted his head, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped.

“Neither did I,” Sebastian said. “Did you mean it, you want to have kids?”

“I want to do anything if it means I can be with you. Anything.”

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan smut #marvel smut #marvel men smut #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #fanfic #tfatws

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Note

Hello! Your Nikolai fic tranquility is so beautiful! Can you write more for Nikolai? Maybe the opposite with reader having a nightmare? Or whatever you want just please give me more! If you have a tagging list I'd love to be included btw :)

A/n hii!! first off,, thank you! i was a little nervous about writing him for the first time,, but i love him so much (even though i love a good villain/morally grey character in love i think nikolai would probably make the least toxic bf in the grishaverse lol)

you gave me a little too much freedom here lol bc i have so many ideas for him!! lowkey might need to give him a longer fic/series soon when i catch up with requests!! WOW THIS FIC IS SO LONG AND FOR WHAT

Summary: Reader is a handmaid who has grown up assisting Nikolai. Through the years, the two have developed a special relationship that most definitely breaks royal protocol--they’re best friends and rivals on a good day, and dangerously close to being something more the second either of them is remotely upset or extremely happy. Learning about the fact that Nikolai was almost engaged to Alina (a good friend of yours) and being reminded of the fact that as royalty Nikolai has many prospects (both serious women worthy of his title and women only suitable for trysts meant to relieve tension) has you both realizing something you should have years ago.

Word count: 31210

Warnings: disclaimer--may not be the most cannon thing ever,, but i wanted the ‘child of the help competes and falls in love with the child of royalty’ energy okay?? Lol

I could do a whole blurb series with this dynamic nikolai x reader,, like just stories of them growing up together and randomly realizing they might like each other romantically?? I probably shouldn’t rn but i ADORE this trope.

The perfection of the room is disappointing. Idle hands, idle thoughts--so I work to smooth out a perfect duvet. Still, the thoughts come--aggressive and unavoidable. It’s silly, maybe even sad, to feel possessive over something that’s never been yours, something that could never be yours, but the harder I fight off the feeling the stronger it grows. Jealousy is a weed growing quickly in my chest, vile roots planted firmly in my heart.

Normally my favorite part of the day would be waiting for Nikolai to return to his room in the palace after dinner and his evening duties. He’s always a bit softer in the evenings, during my last check-in of the day. I’m normally thrilled to be done organizing his room early because that means the second he arrives there will be no distraction. Most evenings, he’ll find me perched in the seat by his bed, reading. He’ll mock-scold me for daring to defy his orders and reading ahead from the book we both take turns reading aloud from each night. He then warns me that I better react exactly the way I did when I first read it or else. That threat is always followed by a gentle laugh.

Tonight I’m in no mood for our nightly banter or even our nightly reading. My mother had warned me of the dangers of getting too comfortable with the royal family. I should have heeded that warning when she first gave it to me, the morning she found Nikolai and I fast asleep on a couch in the library as children. The palace likes to bring up the children of the staff by training them to attend to the next generation of royals. It makes the staff more efficient, a lifetime of knowing what someone wants makes you better for them. It also creates some level of connection, making betrayal a little less likely. Nikolai and I might have taken it farther than most. But now I want a reminder of the way we’re supposed to be--maybe if I detach now the bleeding of my heart won’t kill me. That has to remain secret, because if I explain it to Nikolai something in me will break. The one line between us will be crossed.

This will be the sixth secret I’ve kept from Nikolai in my entire life.

The secrets:

I don’t know why I was picked for Nikolai. I wasn’t particularly skilled, but still, the day came when my mother was told that I now worked directly for the Lantsov boy. It’s an honor, a true one, but my mother had been a little nervous. To whom much is given, much is expected--and I detested Nikolai. Not for being a prince, but for being a prince who thought girls couldn’t race or fight.

The day my mother came looking for me because I never showed up for dinner and she found Nikolai and I attempting to fight in the way only a ten-year-old girl and eleven-year-old boy would, she had looked truly mortified. Nikolai had only laughed, either oblivious to my mother’s embarrassment or uncaring about it. He had then hugged me--an expression of care that had left me reeling. I saw him more as a rival than someone to tend to, but in that moment I saw him as a friend. Even more so when he told me he didn’t want me to go yet and that he was upset that so much of the day had been wasted by studies that kept him with boring people and away from me. And then he invited me to his lessons--my mother was quick to attempt to decline politely, but the desires of a prince at any age outweigh that of a mother.

After that, everyone kind of just stopped trying to remind us of our propriety. The tutor at first was concerned about my presence, but Nikolai remained stubborn. I wasn’t a big enough deal to cause an argument, so I began to attend lessons with him almost every day, only staying away when my mother needed aid with laundry or cleaning. His parents must have been somewhat aware of our friendship, but they must have been oblivious to our closeness because it was never mentioned.

My mother’s worry began to ease, she’d even started to take some pride when I’d come to our room proudly proclaiming that I scored two marks higher than Nikolai. She did, however, warn that it might be more tactful to let him score higher.

The comment was casual, just a suggestion, but it left me feeling wrong. It was the first time since we met that I had thought about our different statuses. I didn’t tell him--and that was the first secret I ever kept from him.

As we grew, we traded physical competition for academic rivalry, trying to best each other in both lessons and games of strategy like chess and cards. But with growing comes responsibility. Nikolai started to have obligations that were meant to be private. I couldn’t follow him at all times. But he’d always come back from locked door meetings grinning like he carried schoolyard gossip instead of government secrets. He shared everything with me, even when I playfully warned against it.

He’d always step closer when I teased that perhaps he shouldn’t tell me everything. And then he’d say, “If I can’t trust you, then I can’t trust anyone--and I don’t want to live in a world like that.” Often, he’d give my hand a light squeeze before moving on like he had not said anything intimate.

On a day in which Nikolai was in one of those meetings, I became a woman. When I first saw the blood, I had been horrified--but my mother was quick to explain that it was natural. She said that I was now a woman, a wonderful thing, really--but a thing that came with obligations. She told me that I could no longer have the impromptu ‘sleepovers’ with Nikolai unless he ordered it. I told her he’s never ordered me to do anything for him.

She didn’t ease, something in her had started to become nervous again. My mother had recently started to act the way she did when Nikolai and I first became friends. I didn’t want to fall asleep in Nikolai’s bed while I was bleeding, but I didn’t want to never have another sleepover with him again. Especially not when she refused to explain why being a woman changed so much.

I had decided to avoid Nikolai as much as possible until the sting of my mother’s new rule faded. Unfortunately, that night Nikolai was extra talkative--excited as he insisted I stay for a little longer. Soon, I found his familiar good naturedness melting away my nerves and before I knew it I was laughing in the middle of the night. When my eyelids started to feel heavy, I had moved from the chair, ready to head back to my room.

Nikolai had looked at me oddly before he asked why would I leave so late when it would be easier for me to just sleepover? It was an innocent question, he did not know about my change and I had wanted to keep it that way.

I tried playing coy, but Nikolai has always had a talent for getting around my better judgement. I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but I remember him standing in front of me. It was the first time I noticed how much had actually changed over the years--he was now taller than me for the first time in his life. His hair had started to grow a little longer, golden and soft-looking--and his face seemed much more angular. But he had not lost his boyish charm.

“Y/n?” My name fell softly from his lips, and that was the first time I had ever noted the fullness of them. I didn’t understand why I considered that something worth noting. “Did I do something to make you mad at me?”

Perhaps I had been a little curt--nerves and hormones had left me not feeling like myself. I didn’t tell him about the bleeding, I couldn’t. That became the second secret I kept from him--but I did tell him that my mother had told me I was a woman now, and that women can’t have sleepovers. Not with those of the opposite gender. I made no effort to hide my confusion because I expected him to be as perplexed as I was. But he was not confused--in fact, he had the audacity to laugh. My face flushed, but I did not know why.

“Why is that funny?” Maybe he thought I was still too much of a child to be considered a woman. I assumed it a fair assumption, I had not grown the way he had--my shoulders had not become sturdier and I had not become particularly broader. Still, I would rather melt into the floor than tell him about the reason my mother now considered me a woman. “My mother did say that, and I don’t know what being a ‘woman’ has to do with staying in your room at night.” Something strange had crossed over his features then, something much more brooding than I was used to.

I had blinked at him as unexplained nerves pooled in my stomach. Perhaps that look would have been enough to keep me silent if he had managed to not grin. That self-assured grin that had always challenged me. “Well since you know everything about my mother now, maybe you can tell me why she’s been acting strange. She’s starting to act the way she did when we first became friends.” I expected him to at least pretend to be worried. Perhaps his parents had spoken to her and had mentioned wanting our friendship to end. But his grin had only grown. Pride left me angry. “She did say that I could stay if you ordered it--but I’m glad you’ve never ordered me to do anything, so I can leave right now because you’re acting as odd as her. I don’t understand what you could find funny about our friendship ending.”

He had stopped me from storming out of his room by placing one hand on the wall between me and the door. “Y/n, don’t be cross--I’ll explain it all, I promise.” Angry pride made me want to storm away from him, but curiosity and something unknown and warm kept me in place. “Do you remember when we read the play about the rival families, how the two main characters had kissed?”

I remembered that part of the play especially well. The concept of kissing so casually, outside of marriage, had been jarring to me. “Yes.”

“Now that we’re older, your mother must be worried that we might do that.” He paused before leaning against the arm he placed on the wall to keep me from leaving a little more. “Kiss.”

The clarification was not needed--in that brief pause, I had allowed myself to imagine no distance between our lips. Something in me burned with embarrassment when I realized that some part of me found the thought appealing. The only thing I wanted in that moment was assurance that Nikolai would never know I felt that. That was my third secret, and the weight of it was heavy against my chest.

Still, though, all of my confusion had not yet left. “Is there much harm in a kiss?”

The question had left an odd smile on his lips. “There’s potential harm in what it could lead to for the woman, but not so much for the man.” He exhaled slowly as my face tensed. He could always read me too well because he was quick to add, “What it could lead to isn’t a bad thing, it’s meant to be pleasurable, but it’s serious.” I did not understand, but a part of me was starting to grow okay with that. Nikolai’s voice had started to become lower than ever, and his gaze remained tense. Perhaps if I accepted the confusion for now, things could go back to normal. If the conversation ended, I could stop thinking of his lips and his hands and what it would mean for them to touch me. “It’s considered a vice, like drinking or gambling.” The additional comment helped more than it should have. A vice--not scary and not painful, but not something to indulge in. That’s enough explanation for now. “If you want to know, I won’t deny you.”

I appreciated the offer tremendously. The vice that comes after kissing is clearly something that’s been intentionally kept from me. It’s something he was privy to that I was not, and he offered it to me like so much else. But if knowledge that my mother feared us kissing made me think of his lips, then I doubted I could handle knowing what comes after kissing.

“I’ll let you know when I want to know, but I appreciate the offer.” It felt like a fair response. His snarky grin came back immediately. Irritation rooted itself in my stomach. I hated not knowing more than him for once, but I still had one question I could not relinquish. “But what does that vice have to do with orders?”

At that, his smugness faltered. “It’s not unheard of, for princes and handmaids--for a prince to obligate a handmaid in order to fulfill his vice. Though many handmaids fill the vice of their own will for benefits.

The explanation left him like a confession. I didn’t understand his hesitance--it’s not like he’d ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do. Even when I worked, he was hesitant to ask me to go out of my way to bring him a glass of water. And I couldn’t imagine gaining anything from offering Nikolai something I didn’t really understand. I wasn’t naive to the fact that my life had more privileges than many palace servants. “Oh.”

His eyes hardened. “You know I’d never--”

“I know.” It was finally easy to smile again. “I never thought otherwise.” Something in him seemed to ease at that, his eyes went from hard to warm in less than a second.

I had no more questions for him and I was also no longer a flight risk, but Nikolai did not move. He did not step back to create a more appropriate distance and he did not drop his arm. His gaze, however, did move--dropping downwards, and slightly away from my eyes. I did the same, my eyes falling to his lips.

The silence between us began to make me feel like something in me was in danger of overflowing. “Then I guess my mother is once again worrying for no reason.” Strangely, I did not feel the need to feel embarrassed about staring at his lips. “Because I would never particularly want to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov.”

The comment was meant to be teasing, a joke to clear away unknown tension. I should have known better than to challenge his pride because he instinctually moved his hand off the wall and beneath my chin. I did not flinch when he tilted my head upwards slightly with his fingers. “I could get you to want to kiss me if I wanted to.”

Three secrets in one night. I did not think I could bear a fourth one. “Hm…” The ground we treaded on felt unstable, but something in me trusted Nikolai to not let me falter. “I should--I should go before I give my mother anymore cause to worry.”

His fingers had brushed down my chin easily as he dropped his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

And that he did. The days passed without mention of the last time he asked me to sleepover. It was as if nothing had changed except now I found myself noting things I most definitely did not want to note. These didn’t feel like individual secrets because it felt easy to group each admirational thought into one secret. Soon, that became my new normal--easy banter, easy touches of hands, and easy yet silent admirations of his beauty.

I never wandered too hard about what the vice that kissing can lead to entailed. I didn't particularly want to know, but knowing that I could ask Nikolai at any time brought a sense of security to me. But besides that, I never thought of that conversation until the day I was asked to look for Nikolai because he was late for dinner.

That in itself was odd, most of the time when Nikolai was late it was because he was with you. I checked his room, two other rooms he was known to frequent, and then finally the library. First, I noticed a handmaid two years older than me. I was finally at an age when one begins to compare their beauty to those around them, and I recognized the girl as gorgeous. She was better endowed than me, physically, and she always seemed fun. And then I noticed Nikolai, standing closer to her than I’ve ever seen him stand to anyone. His expression was serious as the girl giggled.

Nikolai’s expression shifted from tense to shocked when he saw me. “Y/n.”

It took me a moment longer than it should have to realize what I had interrupted. Guilt and jealousy were quick to twist in my stomach. “Dinner--your parents sent me to look for you.”

He was quick to walk around the girl, who was quick to glare at me. I attempted to disappear down the hall after mumbling a quick apology, but Nikolai was faster than me.

“Y/n,” he did not hesitate to grab my wrist.

It shouldn’t have irked me the way it did, after all, neither of us had ever really hesitated to touch each other. I had always reached for him when I wanted him, and he had done the same. But the thought of the same hands that touched the most beautiful girl I had ever seen on me left me bitter in a way I didn’t understand.

Still, I pushed through all of that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, your mother asked me to look for you because she assumed you’d be with me when you were late to dinner. I didn’t think that there’d be--”

“You didn’t interrupt anything.” The words came out flat as his eyes took on the same quality they did the night he explained my mother’s concern to me. “Valaria wishes there was something to interrupt, but there wasn’t.”

Oh. I refused to let the correction inflate me. “Would you like me to not come to your room tonight?”

The offer felt awkward to make. “No,” the answer came quickly, “In fact, go there now--I want to see you right after dinner. I’ve missed you today.” The instruction left my face feeling warm. “We could read an extra chapter of our book if you’d like.”

Despite myself, I grinned. “Yes.”

“Looking forward to it.”

True to his word, Nikolai was quick to return to his room. He had come back to me eagerly, going out of his way to squeeze my shoulder as he entered the room.

I opened the book to the chapter we had left off on, but before I could start reading, Nikolai stopped me. “Sit next to me?”

The question came softly. It had been some time since we sat next to each other on his bed. Still, I moved off of the chair and to his bed. Something in me longed for the familiar closeness of childhood. I allowed him to play with my fingers as I read.

“You know you could take one night off from me if you wanted to.” The admission left me softly, part of unsure if he was still paying attention to my words. “She was pretty, it wouldn’t have hurt my feelings if you told me you wanted me to not come tonight.”

Nikolai exhaled easily, squeezing my fingers once. “I said I wanted to see you and I meant it.”

It took all of my energy to push past the way his words made my stomach leap. “In general, if you ever--”

Nikolai cut me off by laying his head on my lap the way he used to. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” It was the first time in years that he spoke to me in a way that acknowledged his authority. “Keep reading please.”

And that was the last time we had ever mentioned other handmaids in that context. The fifth secret I ever kept from him was the way I worried that one day that would change.

The door creaks open while I’m in the middle of fluffing an already pristine pillow. Nikolai steps into the room, but I continue to work.

“Darling,” he breathes too easily, “Today has been painful.” I straighten, looking at him as casually as I can manage. “And now I have to deal with you being mad at me.”

Damn him and his ability to read me with one look. “I’m not mad.”

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he sighs, stepping forward, “We’ve known each other too long for that.”

I press my lips together, irrational anger pushing itself into me at an odd angle. “We’ve also known each other too long to keep secrets.”

His eyebrows draw together, a look so quizzical I’m reminded of our schooling days. “What secrets have I kept from you?”

Mentioning that had been a mistake. I exhale as flatly as possible. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” My dismissal only has Nikolai’s expression hardening. I drop my gaze. “Unless you need something, I’m retiring my services for the evening.”

I take a reluctant step towards the door, eyes attached to the floor. “Y/n,” his voice is gentle. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired.” Please let that be at least somewhat believable. “I’m sure I’ll feel more like myself in the morning.” I take another step, a little more assured. Nikolai’s hand is on my shoulder before I can escape. “Nikolai--”

“Y/n,” his voice is that of velvet, “I can’t have you be mad at me. Not now.”

Sighing, I meet his gaze. The tiredness I see behind his eyes is almost enough to chase away my nerve. What I’d give to be able to melt into our familiar routine. “Then you should have told me you were almost engaged to a literal Saint--the same literal Saint who’s one of my closest friends.”

Nikolai’s expression shifts as his hand drops from my shoulder slowly, fingers brushing down my arm before he finally intertwines our fingers. I bite my tongue to avoid squeezing his hand, but I don’t move to separate us either. He studies me silently, eyebrows drawn together. The longer he stares, the more whatever turmoil he’s experiencing seems to dissipate. After a minute of silence, I can read his expression perfectly. His lips are pressed together in that coy way--the way he only looks when he’s suppressing a smile.

I loathe him for it. “Nikolai Lantsov, don’t you dare laugh--not after what you did. Do you have any idea what it felt like to have Alina casually mention the fact that you almost married her casually? Like that was common knowledge to everyone but me?”

My words break away the last of his self control. He grins, flashing his annoyingly perfect teeth. “Do you have any idea what it feels like for me to want nothing more than to see you and then you let me believe something may actually be wrong when the only issue is your jealousy?”

The amusement in his tone is like poison to me. I find the strength to jerk my hand away from him. “I am not jealous.” He laughs; I am further enraged. “I am not.” The genuineness of my anger must finally register on some level, because he tries to suppress his smile. “I have every right to be mad at my best friend for not telling me that he was almost married.”

“We didn’t exactly come close,” he manages, expression still much too light for my taste. “I’m glad for Alina’s sake, I’m not sure being a Saint would be enough to protect her.”

He is infuriating. “I’m not sure anything you have will be enough to protect you.”

Something in his gaze shifts, softening the tilt of his mouth. “I don’t doubt that.”

I don’t know what I expected from him--but not this. I thought he’d be at least somewhat apologetic. “You should have told me.”

“I would have if I felt it was significant.”

“I’m your best friend--your marriage is significant to me. And even though it’s not like you’re engaged to her right now, you should have told me. You know I talk to Alina all the time.”

He sighs once, a hint of apology threatening to ghost over his eyes. “If I knew not knowing would have upset you so much I would have told you. I was--I was just so excited to be around you again I didn’t see much relevance in anything that didn’t involve you.”

The intensity that Nikolai regards me with is enough to wither all of my fury. But without my anger, I am left spiraling in emotion that I’ve been pushing against for years. My mother’s warning about relationships with those above us rings in my ears--sharp and headache inducing. I am still when he reaches for my hand again, but I do no allow myself to return the gentle squeeze of his fingers.

“I’m not sure much outside of you has significance.” He’s giving me a look I am familiar with. A look he often uses to chase away my anger.

Without my anger, I have nothing to keep me from melting into him, indulging in his presence fully. It’s so easy with him and I blinded myself to the danger of that. He may not be marrying Alina, but one day he will marry someone. A person worthy of his status--and what would I be left doing? Washing their laundry? Tearing up when I dusted the library and came across a book we had read together? Enough damage has already been done--I need to cut myself with this blade now in hopes of making sure I can one day recover.

He will get married one day, and nothing will be the same. And that’s a good thing--he deserves the love of a princess or queen. I want his happiness, even if it’s not with me. But some vindictive part of me hopes that some part of him will miss me. That some part of him will be dulled without me.

I’m a fool--he will remember me as the handmaid from his youth. The girl who made him laugh once or twice before he grew up. I force my hand out of his grasp. “You can’t win me over with words every time.” I need to get out of here before he says something that makes me lose all resolve. “Tomorrow morning I’ll be here to prepare you for breakfast.”

“Y/n.”

I step forward, refusing to look at him. “Goodnight.”

He sighs, his hand quick to grab my arm. Before I can question him I feel myself pulled back. I expect him to pull me just close enough so that I have to meet his gaze. He continues, pulling me sharply before placing a quick hand on my shoulder, forcing me down. My back hits his bed.

I sit up as soon as the reality of what just happened seeps into my mind. “Nikolai, what in the Saints--”

“If you’re going to act like a child, I’m going to treat you like one.”

I scoff, thoughts of escaping him put on hold by the principle of pride. Fine. I’ll beat him one last time, and then I’ll let us separate. I shove him. He laughs--of course this is funny to him. He got to keep fighting past the age of about eleven. His laughter adds to my anger, I move to shove him again, but he catches my wrist easily. I struggle against his hold, shoving him a third time with my still free hand. He pushes me slightly. That’s all it takes to unleash familiar habits.

Our small fight is hardly fair. He has all the advantage--more training, and he’s standing above me. When I finally make a move that might give me some success, Nikolai leans forward. He practically tackles me, his weight forcing me flat against the bed.

I move an arm, ready to push him off of me. Nikolai snags my wrists, holding them above my head. “This means I win.” I roll my eyes, anger returning.

“Let me go.”

He sighs tiredly, but the smugness radiating off of him is suffocating. “Admit that you were jealous.”

There are a lot of things I am willing to do for him--but never that. I cannot give him the one separation I still have. “I wasn’t.”

“Then why are you mad?”

I press my lips together. “I told you--”

“Do you really think you could lie to me?”

“You don’t know me that well.”

Nikolai moves his freehand, touching my chin as a way to ask me to look at him. I meet his gaze hesitantly. “Yes, I do, and that’s never bothered you before but it does now.”

Maybe this is a conversation better had bluntly. “It bothers me now because you’re too old to hold onto the daughter of a palace handmaid and I’m too old to pretend that our different statuses don’t matter.”

“Y/n,” he breathes, “Nothing’s changed. Status didn’t matter to me when we were children, and it doesn’t matter to me now.”

“You can afford to say things like that.”

“What good is my title if it means I can’t,” he pauses, eyes hesitant, “If I can’t keep things the same between us?”

I smile, the sadness of the look weighs on me and I can’t even see it. “Nikolai, you always knew things would change.”

“No, I--”

“You can’t tell me you think your future wife would like you having such a close relationship with a handmaid.” I press my lips together. “One day you’ll fall in love and get married and you’ll want me to leave your bedchamber as soon as dinner is over because you’ll be eager to spend time with your wife.” His gaze hardens. “And that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually a really good thi--”

The last syllable of my sentence dies in my throat. Nikolai, who must be possessed by something, leans down and presses his lips against mine. I beg myself to resist, but his gentleness is everything I’ve ever wanted. He releases my hands in favor of holding my face. That’s all it takes--my hands move without my permission, into his hair--pulling him closer to me. What am I doing? I’m insane. Placing my hands on his chest cautiously, I push just slightly. He’s quick to obey, pulling away while allowing his teeth to brush against my bottom lip.

I gape at him--taking in his now slightly swollen lips. “Nikolai.” He can’t do this to me. We’re friends. Despite the fact that I’ve loved him more than I should--we’re friends. “You’re being extremely unfair.”

He draws his eyebrows together, sitting up quickly and moving off of me. “I’m being unfair? I have spent my entire life loving y--”

I sit up, furious in a new way. “You have not!” This is the dumbest I have ever been. I move to stand, still feeling the softness of his lips against mine.

“Your tooth fell out.” The sharpness of his words forces me to still.

“What?”

I can’t bring myself to turn and look at him, but I’ve always been able to feel any heaviness he bears. The weight of it leaves little room for air in my lungs. “You were ten. I told you ‘girls couldn’t fight’ so you punched me in the face. That was the first time we ever fought--I didn’t mean to hit you in the face, but you moved. You moved and I hit you in the mouth and your last baby tooth fell out. I expected you to cry or get angry, but you just blinked at me and laughed. You were happy to lose your last baby tooth because it meant you were grown up. And then you smiled and asked me if you looked older. If anything, the gap in your smile made you look younger but I told you that you looked like a grown-up because I wanted you to keep smiling. Because your smile made me feel like I won something.” I turn on my heels, but I cannot meet his gaze. “That was the moment I fell in love with you--so don’t tell me I haven’t spent my entire life loving you.”

The weight of his words is harder to survive against than the heaviness of his feelings. “Nikolai, you know we can’t ever be together--”

“Why not?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I manage, voice low, “You almost married the Sun Summoner--”

“That was political--”

“Exactly, your marriage is meant to be political, and if it happens to be out of love--which is what I hope you get, because it is what you deserve--it will be to someone of status.”

Nikolai stands, the movement is that of a king, not the boy I know. “I do not want status or to love someone else--I want you.”

“I can’t take that from you--”

“You can’t take anything from me because I’ve already given it all to you.”

I press my lips together, heart tearing for him. “I love you too much to ruin you.”

My words seem to snap something in him because his eyes darken, the way he watches me adjusting accordingly. “You can’t ruin something that’s always been yours.”

I let myself smile. At him. At his words. At the foolish hope the child in me has clung to after all of these years. I reach for him thoughtlessly, because I have the right to. Because I’ve always had the right to. He’s quick to respond, kissing me with much more security than before.

This time, he pulls away of his own regard. “You still haven’t admitted that you were jealous.”

His teasing smugness isn’t as sour to me anymore. “I wasn’t.”

Nikolai pulls me towards him easily, lips threatening to brush against me, warm breath against my face. “Are you sure, darling? You were awfully quick to claim what’s yours.”

I roll my eyes, grinning so widely I’m surprised my face doesn’t yet hurt. “You’re the one that fell for a ten-year-old girl with a bloody mouth.”

When he smiles back at me, he places a hand on my hip, pulling me forward slightly. “That I did.” He pulls me forward slightly. "Does this mean you can sleep in here again?"

"If anything, this is more reason for me to sleep in another room." He rolls his eyes, pulling me even closer. "But I won't tell if you don't."

Nikolai leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Deal."

tags: @deardiarystuff @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone imagine #grisha #Grishaverse #grishaverse imagines #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader #shadow and bone netflix

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lady-of-glass-and-bone · 3 years

Text

Our Own Fairytale

For @autumnleaves1991-blog writer wednesday and @flightlessangelwings pride writing challenge.

Prompts: fairy tale and/or "I'm in love with you."

Pairing: Carrie White x female!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Carrie's mother is her own warning, angst-ish, mentions of bullying,

A/N: holy shit I love Carrie White with my whole heart and I just wanna hug her and give her all my love. That is all. What I listened to while writing: Don’t Say Goodbye - ALOK & Ilkay Sencan ft. Tove Lo / Physical - Dua Lipa / True Colors - Marina & The Diamonds

Sometimes, Carrie wondered what her life would have been like without you.

If your family hadn't moved into the house across the street from hers, if you both hadn't been the same age, if you hadn't ended up with nothing to do that first Summer while your ankle healed in it's cast.

Surely you would have found a group of kids (normal kids, her mind tells her, not like her) to run around and get into trouble you wouldn't be punished for with.

She wonders if those long days spent sitting on front porches and reading gossip magazines you’d snuck for her were all just a way for you to pass the time. If you really had as much fun as she did.

But even when school started and you went nervously but willingly onto the bus while she watched from her living room window, you waved at her. Smiling over your shoulder as you went.

Your smile always gave her butterflies, made her feel like she did when her mother was out and the house was calm.

Everyday she expected you to step off the bus onto the corner of the street and just walk right by her house, finally scared off by her mother or what the other kids at school had no doubt told you.

You seemed to be fearless though, in a way Carrie never dreamed she could be. You came by every day, rain or shine or snow and never let the shadow Margaret White cast in the doorway scare you off.

You never let the restrictions Ms. White (always oh so politely spoken) shrewdly laid down put you off.

Determined. That was what you were, Carrie decided one day. Not pig-headed or pushy or any other insult her mother tossed out about you. Just beautifully determined.

You wore what you wanted, did your hair the way you liked, and said what you felt, anyone who told you to pipe down and be a lady be damned.

It made Carrie less nervous when she was set to go to high school, the fact that you would be there beside her. You had been thrilled when she told you, practically lifting her off the ground in your excited hug.

The butterflies nearly threatened to spill out of her in words, words her mother said were a sin between two women. So she just held you tight and tried to burn the scent of your hair into her mind, the way your arms felt so right around her.

Then that awful day in the girls locker room happened. The blood, the taunting of the other girls, the fear. Why were they all laughing when she was dying?

All she wanted was you. You would know what to do, you would tell each and every one of them off for even snickering under their breath at her. But you weren't, gym wasn't a class you two shared and they all knew it.

Someone must have told you, taunted you with the story, because you had been waiting outside the principals office for her and Carrie had never seen you so furious as you demanded Ms Desjardin tell you what was going on.

That day you both walked home early, you insisted and Carrie had all but begged Ms Desjardin with her eyes to allow it.

It was a quiet walk, you gently promising to answer any questions Carrie had whenever she was ready to talk. Telling her you were there if she needed anything.

"I know" Carrie nodded, still looking intently down at the sidewalk.

"Hey, I really mean it" you tug lightly on her sleeve, getting her to meet your eyes "I know your mom doesn't talk to you about that kinda stuff and. . . I'm sorry I never asked if you knew about it or not. Today might not have happened."

Carrie can see the guilt now, hiding behind your concern and anger. She doesn't want you to feel responsible, not for this.

You make her feel safe, cared for beyond some obligation, you make her happy and it's suddenly like a torrent swirling in her chest, pulling her heart under in a riptide.

And it spills over, the butterflies bursting free.

"I'm- I'm in love with you."

Like always, she doesn't see your reaction coming, determined to be different.

"Yeah?" your smile is broad, growing by the second and it only gets wider when Carrie's cheeks flush red as she nods.

The butterflies have been replaced by the beating of birds wings against her ribcage, pounding and flapping erratically, clogging her throat.

"Good" you reach out to grasp her hand in yours "now I can ask you to prom early."

"Really? You would- you want to go with me?"

"Only if you want to" you nod at her wide eyes.

"Yes, that sounds wonderful" Carrie beams, letting out a laugh that sounds airy and free.

It's the most beautiful you've seen her, when she lets go like this, and you're determined to make her as happy as you can for as long as you can. For the rest of your lives if she wants. Like a fairytale.

#writer wednesday #jey's pride celebration 2k21 #carrie 1976 #carrie white #carrie white x female reader #carrie white x reader #slasher #slasher x reader #horror #carrie white imagine #carrie white drabble #duck did it

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christinebloodwrittings · 2 years

Text

Briefly Instant (Part Four)

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: Life is complicated, always moving and working in ways we can't comprehend. Between the bubbles and the heartache, an unfortunate encounter left a half-broken heart and a strong connection which separated this soulmates for a long time. Two sides of the story, two hearts that longed for each other painfully. One brief instant was enough to know.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight thalassophobia and anxiety.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

TH Taglist: @lucky-foxface @lokisprettygirl22 @criticaltrinket @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss

“What was that?” Emma was putting a few bags of snacks up on a shelf when she saw you come inside after that conversation, you just sighed and let that be her answer, “I’m guessing, just Tom being Tom” laughs erupted once again outside, Emma groaned at it and you just rolled your eyes.

“He wasn’t like this five years ago” he certainly wasn’t, “Fame did this to him, and although mother says it was a ‘slight change’ I still believe he needs someone to pull his head out of his ass sometimes” she made quotes with her fingers as you limited yourself to hum in acknowledgement, circulating the marble pattern of the isle with your finger, “Yeah, but you also changed after your projects” she glared at you for a second forcing you to let out an awkward laugh, “Just saying”.

She pointed at you and shook her head repeatedly, “Don’t be unfair, I met my husband and still am with him, against all odds. He meets a girl and can’t even last a year with her, except perhaps Taylor, but who knows, he doesn’t really share that kind of info with us” she looked sad, she was just being a concerned sibling.

She sighed, “We find out because the idiot gets himself in the covers of shitty gossip tabloids, mother is worried, and so we are Sarah and I” you placed your hand on top of hers, attempting to soothe her, she smiled at the contact, “Thank you, for listening” you went around the isle and hugged her, “Always”.

You saw Tom a total of three times, the first in the presentation, the second when you were entering your room to go to sleep, you swore you saw him smile at you, but not a normal smile. And the third was briefly for breakfast, Emma wanted to take the girls to town for breakfast so she only saw him half dressed, with a pair of pajama shorts, a half unbuttoned blouse that showed off his chest hair, and his brown curls without taming.

He was both hurt and surprised that his own sister wouldn’t join him for breakfast, but he was absorbed by his ‘cool façade’ and acted as it didn’t bothered him. Then quickly shifted to a shy and soft look when he saw you walk down behind the group, he saw you adverting your eyes from him and felt a little exposed.

Was there something about him that you didn’t liked? Maybe the shirt is a little too lose? Or his legs were too hairy? Under the hair thought he looked down on his shirt and promptly fixed the buttons. He was embarrassed, you saw him like that, he wasn’t expecting it, let alone that you wouldn’t even glance at him after seeing him like that.

Later when the sun was setting. You spent the whole day behind the group, quietly, paying attention to the conversations they had, like catching up on life stuff, Tom, how’s work, and how divine and sexy Tom looked that morning; family, and almost right away they went to the Tom subject.

You grew tired of sitting in silence, pretending to pay attention to what they said, so you decided to take a walk to the beach. Grabbed your bag and fill it with a towel, waterproof earphones, a bottle of water and a book, and just walked the million stairs down to the sand. You hesitated midway because you looked up and immediately regretted not choosing to stay at the pool, but you were already half way down and you weren’t coming up, but still you were going to have to go up the fucking stairs later.

It felt masochistic going to the beach even knowing that you hate the ocean, much more because you were wearing a bathing suit and you really intended to get in the water. All the memories came back almost as fast as when the waves retracted and crawled across the sand again.

"I'm going to regret this" your subconscious spoke for you but you paid little attention to it, more or less you sent it to hell. You hissed when the water hit your feet, it was freezing but then it was a little warm, so you slid the large turquoise beach wrap down your shoulders and threw it on top of your bag, which you left leaned against a rock.

The water was nice, it gave you goosebumps, but setting that aside you let it pull you deeper. The screams, you could still hear your own screams trying to call for help, nobody came because your mouth was full of water, they just wouldn't let you breathe, and in a desperate attempt to get some air, the water reached your lungs.

“Hey, hey, It’s okay, I got you” you remembered a stranger pulling you from the water, then your mother’s concerned look. Your father was frantic and immediately ran towards you to hug you, but your mother, she stayed silent, eyes open, but she never shifted nor flinched.

The water was thin, or so it felt on your fingertips. So quiet and peaceful. Like being asleep but slightly unconscious. You inhaled and plunged your head into the water, slowly coming out of it, exhaling calmly, all your anxieties washed away by the ocean.

“Enjoying the water?” because your head was under it you only heard a muffled ask tone, you opened your eyes and saw Tom wearing a pair of blue bathing shorts, “Sorry?” you swam a bit to stand up, since you didn’t really swam far away from where your feet reached the sand.

“I asked if you are enjoying the water, is it nice?” you nodded. His eyes wandered to your body, you were using a one piece bathing suit, so there really wasn’t much skin showing, except for the front cut that allowed a minimal view of the center of your breasts, but not much more than that.

“You mind if I join you?” he asked, then his eyes lighten up when you motioned your hand towards the water inviting him. He left his towel on the same rock you left your stuff on and walked until the water covered most of his torso, then he dive in far. After a few seconds it emerged from the water again, floating with its back towards you.

“I used to come here often as a child, now it’s too quiet” he closed his eyes, you just observed his slightly tense factions. Indeed he was gorgeous, if you didn’t knew he was a living being you would swear he was some kind of statue, sculpted by the best artist in the world that at some point saw an angel and recreated his image in stone.

“You don’t like silence? I find it peaceful” you sighed, taking in the salty smell. "Would you like to swim with me?" He was a little further away in the water with his hand stretched towards you, “Uh no, I’m good” of course he intended to go deeper, you were of a normal height and he was at least a head taller than you. He just swam towards you, he carefully took your hands into his and looked directly into your eyes, "You don’t know how to swim?" he softly asked, you just shook your head, “I do know, I just don't like to go too deep" you laughed nervously.

"What if you hold on to me? I won't let you go, I promise" you denied again, if Emma caught you like that with her brother she would get mad at you, you couldn't afford the consequences.

But at the same time, his gentle touch, his skin so soft; from one moment to the next he drew your body to his. With ease he fitted his arm under your knees and with his other arm affirmed your back so that you did not go sideways. His chin rested on your head as it fell on his collarbones.

As he walked deeper, a brief image of the accident flashed through your eyes, this made you surround his neck with your arms, your face now hidden on his shoulder. Without you noticing, you were shaking, but he did notice and it worried him a lot.

"Please don’t leave me! Don't leave me alone!"

He remembered that shaking person, a sentiment so natural yet unknown to him overpowered his doubts, he held you even tighter and stepped back until he was out of the water completely. You were lost in the memories of what happened, you quickly hugged yourself when Tom placed you back on your feet to get your towel.

“Shh, It’s alright darling, I got you” he cooed as he wrapped you on your towel and hugged you close to him, “I’m not leaving you”. What an odd thing to say, you thought, but it calmed you. His caresses, like being back in your father's arms. How much security and tranquility it gave you to hear him say that he was with you, for you always, unconditionally.

"Oh my sweet” you didn’t even realized when you started crying, “It was my fault I shouldn’t’ve pushed you into something you had your reasons to avoid” he brushed away your tears with his thumbs.

You were about to throw yourself at him, but then you thought, Yeah, exactly, he pushed you into remembering that hell, he was the one at fault!

You stepped away from him grabbed your stuff and started walking to the stairs to get back to the house. "Y/n? Y/n please" he walked behind you, "Leave me alone Tom, I mean it" you grabbed his towel and threw it to him, he catch it after it hit his chest.

"Y/n, please it's not that big of a deal" you just kept walking "For me it is, you...” ‘you confuse me!’ you heard yourself in your thoughts and got a little worried.

You made it up to your room, your heart was everywhere in your body, you were scared and surprised about the fact that your heat was pooling all the desire his intense gaze and loving touch provoked. You liked it, how? Why?

You just met him, how can he confuse you so much? the way he saw you, how he spoke, how did he know what to do? how did he do with other women? maybe it was a move to seduce?

You were so sure, you love Oscar, the way he makes you feel, but would it be enough? Not even when you were young did you have this feeling, not even Oscar made you feel so at peace with a simple touch, why the hell did it feel so natural and nostalgic, in a strange way.

Tom also came back up, worried about what exactly it was that put you in such a bad mood, you were shaking and from one moment to the next you threw a towel at him.

"I saw that" Emma looked furious, she had her arms crossed in front of her chest, "Look, it's not what it seems" he tried to explain the situation but she didn't want to know anything about it, "I don't care what you do with the others, but don’t do it with my friend! You have already done this to me several times before, Thomas" he plunged into guilt, it is true that there were times he dated girls who were her friends but he didn't think she cared so much about you, “Please don't Take away my friend” She was serious, her words cut deep into his heart, however Tom wasn't going to let you go so easily.

He let his guard down once, he wouldn't do it again.

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k3lynn · 3 years

Text

already won — kenma kozume

kenma kozume x f!reader oneshot

- cw: jealous kenma, insecure kenma, like one or two cuss words, reassurence. barely angsty but very fluffy- more comedic than anything. shows more of the angry-kitty kenma than the shy-kitty kenma

- summary: 1.3k | kenma gets jealous after someone confesses their feelings for you

- this is my first oneshot ahh- please tell me what you think! also check out my masterlist (will frequently add more stuff) thank you for reading! this is a female reader but I will gladly do gender neutral or male!

back to haikyuu masterlist

Kenma walked down Nekoma High’s hallways, only passing a couple of students as most chose to stay in class during their break. In one hand, he held a bag with two apple pie flavored umaibo bars, and in the other, his phone.

Normally, he would be confident enough in his reflexes to never look up from his device and also not bump into someone, but he stared so intensely at his phone that he barely had time to react before he crashed into Yamamoto, sending himself flying to the ground.

“Pudding Head-“ the other second year loudly announced. “what’s got you so distracted man?”

In between getting up and muttering curses at gravity for letting him fall, Kenma softly spoke “Im heading off to Y/n’s class, she needs to speak with me.”

“In person? Must be prettyyyyy serious-“ he turned to see Kenma’s worried face “I mean it’s probably nothing!”

But Kenma just stared at him with a deadpanned expression.

“Wanna share an umaibo bar?”

“No.”

Despite knowing Tora meant no real harm, Kenma couldn’t help but almost (Almost, he swears) let his words get to him. The two of you have been dating for nearly a year, and your relationship seems perfectly okay to him. One or two dumb arguments, but nothing you both didn’t get through together. He knows you still love him.

What if it’s me-

And Kenma stopped his negative train of thought right there. No point getting nervous over something that hasn’t happened yet. He reasoned with himself.

As if the gods were playing some cruel joke on the poor boy, two girls came gossiping from around the corner, oblivious to the fact he was there. If it weren’t for the sound of your name, Kenma would have never listened into the conversation.

“Did you hear about what was on Y/n’s desk this morning?”

“That first years love letter right, I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend though- do you think she’ll replace him?”

“That quiet setter on the volleyball team? I would barely consider him a boyfr-“

Interrupted by a soft thud and a crinkle, the girls turned around and squeeled in fright to see nothing but a plastic bag. Kenma didn’t let himself hear anymore before he started sprinting to your classroom. Darting across hallways, racing around corners, and even scurrying around a very confused Kuroo, who has never seen Kenma run outside of Volleyball.

He barely let himself breathe before sliding open the door to your classroom and barging in, pausing only when he realized the amount of startled faces looking straight at him. Not one to fancy all the attention, his eyes danced around the students until he finally made eye contact with you.

He quickly motioned for you to go outside before slowly closing the door. Kenma leaned his back againts the wall and took a deep breath. It wasn’t until you emerged from outside the classroom that he looked up.

Your typically-stoic boyfriend just came running into your classroom as if he witnessed a murder, so it’s safe to say you were a bit concerned at what he was about to say. Although once Kenma explained what he had overheard, you couldn’t help and giggle at the realization.

“So you’re jealous of the first year huh.”

“Don’t tease...”

With a sigh, you took his hand in one of yours, and used the other to tilt his chin up and look at you. If you couldn’t see the blush on his cheeks before, then you could definitely see it now.

“Want to talk about it babe?”

He wouldn’t be able to play his way out of this, Kenma had no choice but to be direct with how he felt.

“I know you love me, and you do everything you can to show me that-“

You nodded.

“but I’m terrified at the idea that one day you’ll find someone that’s better in expressing their feelings than me. Like with a love letter.”

He quietly finished. There was silence for only a moment before your arms found their place around his small shoulders, pulling him into a warm hug which he happily returned. He was so comfortable in your embrace that he had almost forgotten what he came for.

“Can I just start off by saying I’m really proud of you?” Your voice cut straight through the hushed air. “It takes a lot out of anyone to be able to say what they feel. I know it can be a bit more difficult for you.”

And yet you still try and do it when necessary. Kenma I know you love me too. You have nothing to worry about.”

Kenma wasn’t one to cry in public, but, this did make him come close.

It wouldn’t help his current situation, but curiousity got the best of him-

“Can I read the letter?”

You grinned a bit before handing it over to him, holding in a laugh from seeing his distasteful face and hearing the small curses he swore under his breath.

With how hard he gripped the paper, you were sure it would easily tear.

“He wants to meet you in the front courtyard after school to hear your answer.”

“I know, I’m planning on going.”

“Good idea, go break his heart.”

“No Kenma, I’m going to let him down slowly. Feelings are delicate and deserve to be respected.”

“His feelings don’t deserve jack shit.”

“Kenma!” You loudly chuckled. His monotoned voice making his choice of language even funnier-

“Whatever” his hands came down to grip your waist before giving you a shy kiss on the shoulder.

“I’ll beat the competition.” He muttered into your neck.

“Am I one of your games now?” You teased.

“Beep boop beep boop” he poked at your back.

“Kenma?”

“Yeah?”

You pull him back a bit to place a small kiss on the tip of his nose “You’ve already won.”

Bonus:

Kenma should have known Kuroo’s “disguises”, if you could even call them that, wouldn’t work. The trench coat and large hat the both of them wore did them no mercy in the hot Tokyo sun, and instead brought them more attention to ongoing passer-biers who probably thought they were up to some illegal activities.

Out of nowhere, Tora came aggressively crashing into the bushes that hid Kuroo and Kenma, adorned with his own form of camouflage that consisted of a simple fake mustache and sunglasses, holding a familiar looking plastic bag.

“I came as soon as I got your message Kuroo-san, care for an umaibo bar?”

“Hey that’s-“

“Shush Pudding boy it’s starting.”

The three of them pull out a pair of binoculars, aiming it towards you, sitting on the bench but standing up once you see a sheepish boy, who you assumed sent the letter, walk towards you.

You gave him a sorry looking smile before speaking with him. From this distance, Kenma could just make out the words “flattered but... boyfriend and... great guy...” satisfied at the view of you handing him his letter back.

The first year looked a bit deflated but nevertheless seemed happy to be talking with his crush. Kuroo and Tora backed up a bit at the image of Kenma’s frustration. They could have sworn they saw flames-

“Hey Kenma,” Kuroo spoke between munches “didn’t YN just make it clear she was in love with you or something”

“yeah” Kenma sighed.

“Why are we here then?”

“To make sure this creep doesn’t try anything with my girlfriend.”

“Oi Kenma,” Kuroo gave him a good slap on the back, and from behind the binoculars, Kenma glared. The three boys turned back to the scene, just in time to see you giving him a handshake.

“He’s practically holding her hand.”

“Kenma-“

#kenma x reader #kenma smut #kenma imagine #kenma headcanons #kenma scenario #kenma kozume #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#anime #kenma oneshot #Kenma oneshots #nekoma #nekoma x reader

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,” Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

#my fic #ballet au #pjo #pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #goooooooooooooooooooood morning all!

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

heyheyhey idk if u do req but love your dad tom stuff! PLZ PLZ do tom helping his kids with homework but cant do it and reader has to help and its all fluffy 😩💕

ye im down to do req and this had me going completely ott cos its v cute (and a lot less angsty than what ive written recently aha) so apologies for my ramblings:

Summary: tom has the kids for a day and maths homework throws a spanner in the works - tomhollandxreader

implied smut + v slight reference to porn but basically just fluff I promise xox

\\\\\\\\\\\\///////////

Tom had dealt with a lot of whining today. Nova and Leo were the absolute joys of his life, there was no doubt about it. Of course, he also loved you a hell of a lot too - sometimes to his detriment though, hence the position he was in now.

You’d had a busy week at work and he had been away for the first half of it - leaving you as an almost single mother to a 5 and a 7 year old. So completely fairly, you’d asked if he wouldn’t mind watching the kids for a the day on Sunday, allowing you to go to a friends baby shower. There was no answer but to agree, Tom loved quality time with the kids and he wanted you to kick back and relax with you friends too.

However the afternoon had not been nearly as idealistic as it were supposed to be in his head. You had left him only one real job (apart from the unavoidable essentials of keeping the kids alive with food and water, something you’d hope he need not be reminded about now). Really it shouldn’t of been that hard, it was just each kid had two pieces of homework. After convincing and cajoling the kids into sitting at the table which he’d already set up with Nova’s ‘Liverpool FC’ and Leo’s ‘captain marvels’ pencil case, the English was easy.

In fact 5 year old Leo took great joy out of writing a poem with his Dad, which basically involved trying to rhyme any word with another - especially when he tried to convince Tom that all his completely fictitious words were real and worked together. A personal favourite had been ‘snakes’ and ‘palakes’ which Leo was convinced meant pancakes - arguing so vehemently Tom almost started to doubt himself on basic English.

Thankfully though his eldest and most sensibly child eventually took him out his misery. If anyone had any control over the Holland boys, Leo and Tom - it was the Holland girls. You and Nova had both boys completely under you spell, often taking advantage of the fact too. It was only when Nova got bored of hearing Tom and Leo mock arguing, interspersed with the little boys giggles that Tom tried his absolute hardest to keep a straight face at, that she swooped in.

“Stop being silly Leo, mummy told you he’s not good at school!” She looked oh so innocent, eyes immediately flicking down to continue the little short story she was happily going on with. In response Tom scowled, knowing your highly curious and intelligent daughter had asked you (for one reason or another) why he was not so academic. Yet instead of Leo bursting out laughing, instead he just nodded and accepted it too - making Tom scowl even more. Not even Leo thought it was a joke.

So apart from his children apparently taking pity on his simple mind, it was all going smoothly. Perhaps, due to the thankful fact your children had inherited their brains from their mother - something Tom was forever thankful for, until he was shamed for his substandard intellect in the family. Then again though, he was Spiderman. So take that.

Until Nova brought out her maths sheet. Then the afternoon quickly descended into chaos. It was fractions, something she hadn’t quite grasped from school yet - a concept that still hurt her head somewhat. Normally though it’d be fine, she’d bring the sheet to you and the two of you used ‘ girl power’ to figure it out… you prior experience as a tutor while in uni helping you know how to break through to her.

Unfortunately Tom didn’t share this same experience. Nor did Tom share a maths qualification… something that had evaded him completely during his schooling career. Of course, it had never been a particular issue, acting didn’t require the use of maths and algebra and Tom was in a very lucky position of being able to pay someone to manage his finances from a very young age. So no, dividing 2/3 and 3/7 didn’t come the most naturally to him. Or at all to be quite honest.

“I CANT DO IT AND GRACE IN MY CLASS COULD!” For context, Grace was one of her school friends, who forever liked to compare herself to the young Holland - especially because she was normally ahead. Nova had gone from quiet frustration, staring at the questions with her tongue sticking out slightly, to one of pure rage - yelling at her dad with tears in her eyes. Nova was normally incredibly intuitive, she always found it difficult when she couldn’t do something. Now, with a ‘teacher’ who was more useless than her - the frustrations inevitably bubbled over.

“Hey, we can work it out, just calm-“

“YOU CANT DO IT EITHER YOUR STUPID “ She was just young and frustrated, Tom tried not to take it personally but … it wasn’t always easy. Chiefly because this was the height of offensive statement Nova knew - this was her version of adult explicit language.

“Nova you can’t be rude.” He used his stern voice, something Tom very rarely used with his little girl. Though he never wanted to upset her, neither did he want her to think it was ever okay to be so rude to anyone like that- no matter how crappy at maths they were. It hurt him to do so but it was necessary - life lessons about the importance of being kind needed to be learnt. And it worked… if what Tom was aiming for was his beautiful baby girl’s eyes to brim with sparkling tears, her bottom lip quivering slightly.

Instantly Tom’s eyebrows drooped, trying to fight his natural reaction to scoop her onto his knee and reassure her everything was okay. But as you had lectured him many a time before, he had to put his foot down once in a while. So instead, the father and daughter were locked in a silence and intense eye contact, until Nova hesitantly began to speak.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” During which, Nova shoved her chair back, making it screech against the tiled floors uglily before running off up the stairs. Tom knew she was crying a lot. Knew this was going to take a bit of fixing.

With a sigh of his daughters name, Tom popped his head into the living to check on Leo who had already finished all his stuff. Seeing him completely zombified in front of ‘paw patrol’ on TV, Tom trudged up the stairs. He knew where she was, when Nova was upset she always hid in the corner of her wardrobe and cried in the darkness. So after steadying himself with a little internal monologue of how to approach the situation Tom walked in and sat down beside the wardrobe - knocking on the door slightly.

“Nova… can we talk please?” All he heard was sniffing echoing from the wooden chamber until she tried to shout through the door.

“Go-go… go away daddy.” It broke his heart, the way her voice wavered, making Tom pout - gently letting his head fall against the wardrobe doors.

“I don’t want you to be upset beautiful…. And you did apologise which I appreciate. You know why Daddy got angry right?” Her sniffles heightened before she muttered a quiet ‘yes’. “And you are sorry? Because that might’ve made me really sad too.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Then that’s good and we don’t need to cry. You want a cuddle little one?” Before Tom could even properly get up the door was being pushed open by her little hands, revealing a tear stained face and big glassy eyes looking up at her Dad. Swiftly Tom scooped her up and out of the cupboard, whispering to her while she buried her face in his chest.

“Oh come here my little bean.”

//////////////////////

When you came home late that evening, only mildly exhausted from spending the whole day gossiping with your girls, it was weirdly quiet. All the lights were out in the front room, which made you close the door gently, thinking Tom had managed to exhaust the kids - and himself in the process. With a relieved sigh at the peace you pattered into the kitchen to get yourself a drink (it had been a little concern that Tom would’ve worked the kids into a hyperactive and delerious state that kept them up long past bedtime - which ultimately you’d have to deal with). The house was remarkably silent and though it was clear from the littered toys everywhere that it had indeed been Tom alone in charge, everything seemed pretty okay.

It was only as you were about to head upstairs to join your hubby in bed that you realised the study light was still on, streaming through the small crack in the doorframe. Assuming Tom had just neglected to turn it off, in otherwords Tom being Tom, you nudged it open with your hand. Surprisingly though, there was your husband, hunched over the desk, looking almost angrily focused - between the computer screen and a piece of paper below him. Normally you would’ve just assumed it was another script sent over or an edit Harry had sent of another screenplay they were writing together.

But no, the blatant red flag was the screen that you could see. A screen on YouTube, of a man pointing at a whiteboard of fractions.

So with a soft wrist you wrapped your knuckled on the side of the door, even if you had technically already entered the room. The reaction had you stifling a laugh, it was as if you’d caught him watching something *less PG* the way he jumped out his seat, closing the browser immediately.

“Love!! I -er … didn’t know you’d got back?”

“I just did.” You smiled gently, while walking into stand behind his chair, wrapping your arms round his neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Soooo…. what’ca doingggg” The glee in your voice was evident, making Tom groan and shut his eyes.

“I hate you, you know that right?”

“No you don’t… but you were watching a primary school video on fractions, if I’m not so mistaken?” He sighed deeply, making a point of turning the paper with his scribbles over to obscure it.

“Nova’s homework.. she couldn’t do it and neither could I, so then she basically screamed at me for being thick and udseless and then had a breakdown.”

Now you felt guilty. This was a bit of a sore spot with Tom, he always for some reason felt inferior because of his academic ability. Which was stupid- mainly because he was the most clever and talented man you’d ever met. Just…. Just not at fraction.

“Oh T… you could’ve just left it for me to do with her, I don’t mind.”

“That’s not the point Y/n.” He snapped a little, shrugging your arms off him and spinning in the chair so he could face you. “She’s my daughter and I should be able to help her! It’s not like it’s that hard, it’s just I’m unbelievable thick.”

“Tom stop. Look - you can do this I assure you, it’s just been a long old time ‘kay? Your rusty and that’s only natural.”

“I really don’t think I could ev-“

“Can I teach you? It’s just the method and then I promise you’ll get it.”

It took a bit of persuasion but eventually Tom agreed, letting you pull the corner chair forward to beside his desk so you could demonstrate it to him. To be fair, he really could do it- just a bit of familiarising on the ‘stick-change-flip’ method. The way the lightbulb moment literally caused his face to light up; scurrying to do the question for himself, tongue sticking out in the process; then presenting it to you proudly - well it had you melting in your seat.

“See! That took all of 5 minutes and you got it.” You elbowed his side by leaning forward in the chair, which instead of letting go, Tom reached and caught, before pulling you up and round. You landed with you bum perched on the edge of the mahogany desk, Tom now stood up- his legs in-between your parted thighs - your feet hooking round the back of knees.

“It’s all down to my incredibly talented teacher.”

“No…. No I really don’t think it is” You mused with a soft voice, fingers instinctively going to the nape of his neck - twirling the little curls round your fingertips.

“Well even so… I think I could teach you a thing or two too.” Never one to mull on anything, Tom’s tone had immediately switched to something a lot more… mischievous.

“Not even going to ask about my day? Wheres the chat mr smooth?” He had to repress the grin at your smirk because as much as you infuriated the hell out of him - you also had this weird ability of making him feel so entranced and helpless. He relented with a sarcastic chime.

“Fine, how was your day love.”

“Good…. but I have a feeling you’re about to make it a whole lot better.”

That was all the signals he needed to lean forward, in doing so forcing you back until your back landed completely on the cool wood. His lips feathered yours, both hands pinned either side of your head.

“Oh darling… you have no idea.”

#tom holland #tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #fluff #Tom Holland angst

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prfctethereal · 3 years

Text

ghostin. | james potter

thank u, next x marauders

alexa, play ghostin by ariana grande

pairing: james potter x reader, remus lupin x reader, james potter x lily potter

summary: a recounting of the events that lead up to james and lily’s death, and the guilt you hold with it

word count: 2,510

warnings: mentions of death, mentions of anxiety, jily death

a/n: this is the first fic in my thank u next x marauders series. i hope everyone enjoys it. - kennedy

***

Ever since I knew what love was, there had only been one person in my heart. Only one person could make me laugh, could make me smile, could make me feel pure ecstasy, but he was just out of reach.

Our friendship blossomed beautifully throughout our years at Hogwarts. Those evenings in the library spent gossiping, chatting, arms thrown around each other, bathing in each other’s presence. Something so special that was ours. Every moment spent with him was one I remembered forever, locked away in the darkest depths of my soul, knowing that it was for my eye’s only.

James Potter and I were close, exceptionally close. He had been my first friend I met at Hogwarts and was certainly not my last. Though I met others, the connection I made with James never faltered. That was the problem. I admired him too much.

It wasn’t my fault when the time we spent with each other changed. It wasn’t my fault when my eyes lingered over his a little longer than I intended to. It wasn’t my fault that my stomach fluttered everytime his fingers brushed over mine. I didn’t intend on falling in love with him, but I did.

Yet, James never looked at me that way. I endured it, year after year, watching him pine after perfect Lily Evans, the most gorgeous, charming girl in our year. James was in love with her, instead of me. Unfortunately, we were still close as anything, which let him confide in me all this time.

Sixth year. Lying across James’ lap, I carefully flicked through the pages of my potions book, unable to complete my homework, but feeling the need to be productive. Feeling the need to be close to James. Moments had passed and we were the only ones left in the common room. My eyes had drifted away from my book and flickered upwards towards his face.

The faint light of the fireplace illuminated his features. His soft hazel eyes shone bright, with flecks of blue and green shining in the light. Shadows cast down on his face, accentuating his features. My hand played gently with his hair unconsciously as I tried desperately hard to concentrate on my work, but I couldn’t. But nothing good can last forever.

“[Y/N]?” James muttered softly, breaking my ever so strong attention from his face. I fluttered my eyelids self consciously, turning back towards my book. “Hm?” I answered, acting calm, even though my heart was beating out of my chest. His voice was soft and gentle, soothing my anxious thoughts.

“Do you think Lily knows how much I love her?” And in that moment, my heart shattered into a million pieces. It was that moment that I knew that my love for James was unrequited. I met his eyes in that moment and I searched them for anything I could find, desperation hoping for something, even if I didn’t quite know what I was looking for.

“H-how much do you love her?” I stumbled over my words, my voice croaking out as I held back the emotion I felt. Something flickered in James’ eyes at that moment, but was swept away by a grin the size of Jupiter creeping up his cheeks.

“More than anything.” He said. Whatever love that was showing in James’ eyes weren’t for me and would never be for me. Lying in James’ lap, I decided that I needed to push down any feelings I felt for him, for the good of my own heart. I couldn’t love James any longer.

So I settled. Remus Lupin was one of James’ friends, naturally making him one of mine. Not long after James and Lily had finally gotten together, I noticed eyes lingering on me, the same way I had looked at James. Well, the same way I still looked at James.

Remus was quaint, soft, and supportive. He was comfortable. He may not have been everything I had ever dreamed of but he truly looked at me as if I was his world, and I loved him. I wasn’t in love with him, like I was with James, but I loved him.

***

Halloween. 1981. Warm air drifted in through the window of my home that I shared with Remus. Nervously, I sipped quietly on my tea, palming through an old edition of the Daily Prophet from a few days ago, toying anxiously with the engagement ring around my finger.

Of course I said yes when Remus got down on one knee; I would’ve been foolish not to. His pleading eyes looking up at me with admiration and affection melted my heart. Before I registered the situation, the words fell out of my mouth. Now, I had a wedding to plan, one with the man I didn’t love.

The dining room table was littered with bits and pieces for our wedding. Cloths and cards picked out specifically, each with the intention of pleasing the eye. In front of me laid the sketch of the dress I was supposed to wear, the one I drew when I was just a little girl, who dreamed of her big day in white. A tear fell down my cheek as I remembered that I could never wear that dress to my own wedding. Lily had fallen in love with the same dress and asked if she could use the design for her own wedding dress. Sheepishly, I agree, immediately regretting. Not only did Lily marry the man I loved but she married him in the dress I loved too.

The memories of James and Lily’s day came flooding back into my head. A bright day in the summer of 1978 was filled with joy as I helped pin Lily’s dress a few hours before she would be walking down the aisle. I had my work cut out as I perfected Lily’s gown, certain on having her look like a princess. Her auburn hair was pulled gently into an elegant bun at the back of her head. Green eyes gleamed with excitement as she thumbed the soft material of the dress cascading down her. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would look like in the dress. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would look like walking down the aisle instead.

“It’s absolutely gorgeous, [Y/N]. I love it more than anything.” Lily gasped as she looked at herself in the mirror. More than anything. The words stung deeply, my hand wiping across my cheek to stop a tear from rolling down. Lily’s face dropped as she saw my solemn state.

“What’s wrong?” Lily crouched down next to me, resting her hand on my back, gently tracing circles to calm me down. Looking back at her, I smiled, not wanting to ruin her day.

“You just look so beautiful.” I lied through my teeth, standing up from my position and heading for the door. “I just need to grab some more pins and I’ll be back.” I muttered while racing out of the room.

Tears were pouring down my face now like a thunderstorm. I tried to compose myself but I couldn’t, running away, far away, the destination unclear in my mind. The next thing I knew, I had bumped into a person, falling into their arms. Unsure of who it was, I stayed in their arms, falling to the ground, about to pass out from exhaustion.

As I looked up, my eyes met the eyes of none other than the groom himself. Concern boiled up in his irises as he looked down at me. Smiling as I felt his fingers stroke the soft skin of my arms reassuring me, he helped me up to a standing position, keeping one arm firm on my waist so I didn’t topple over again.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, love?” The nickname James used hurt more than he could imagine, but I kept smiling, not wanting to ruin his special day.

“She looks so beautiful,” I started, talking about Lily, his future wife. “She looks like a goddess, I just know I’ll never get to look like that.” I tried to laugh to lighten the tension but it only resulted in James pulling me into an inviting hug.

“Don’t say that.” James whispered, his soft voice sending goosebumps down my spine. “One day when you get married, you will too.”

A moment passed as I just stayed in James’ arms, not wanting to let go. The moment was ruined unfortunately when James spoke again. “Remus is one lucky guy.”

My heart dropped, pulling away awkwardly, tucking my arms close to my side. “Haha, yeah, um, Lily is one lucky girl.”

In a flash, my eyes looked up to meet James. His grasp had pulled me close to him once again, my eyes darting from his eyes to his lips repeatedly, his doing the same. I was so close to him; an inch or two closer and we would’ve kissed “Where’s Lily?” A voice from down the hall snapped up both out of our trance. James immediately pushed me away from his body, looking for the source of the noise. From around the corner, Sirius appeared, all dressed up in his best man tuxedo. I smiled naturally, heading off to look for Lily, the girl who was about to marry the love of my life.

Looking back at that day, I could’ve said something. I could’ve objected to the union, but seeing the look on James’ face when he saw Lily walk down the aisle was priceless. I would’ve been a criminal to rob James of that happiness. So I had stayed silent in the pews. I said nothing.

A few tears had fallen on the table, pulling me back to the present. It was Halloween. By now, all the trick or treaters had dispersed, leaving a quiet hum of the tree breeze alone. Remus would be home soon from a meeting with the Order. Yet, he should’ve been home an hour ago. Anxiety rushed through my veins, until I heard a knock at the door. I relaxed, opening the door.

Instead of seeing my normally happy, calm husband, I saw my husband, puffy eyed, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. Then, he collapsed on the ground outside the door. Rushing to him, I enveloped him in a gentle hug, letting him sob into my neck.

It had been a few months since I last saw Remus cry like this, which made me on edge. Last time he was in this state, someone had died. Now I was just waiting for the news.

Yet, he kept crying. For at least ten minutes, he sobbed into my shoulder, the warm wind passing us every now and then. After a moment, he pulled away and stood up with no words, leaving me on the ground. I followed him, putting the kettle on.

Remus sat wordless on the couch, playing with the ring on his finger like I had been doing not long before. As I brought him a cup of tea, I sat beside him, waiting for him to start speaking, but he never did. All he did was place his hand on my thigh, tenderly stroking it as he looked blankly into the darkness of our house.

“I’m sorry darling.” He eventually spoke, turning to look me in my eyes for the first time that evening. I reacted to his voice, pulling him in close to me. My arm draped over his shoulders, tugging Remus closer to my side. “James and Lily are dead.”

My face dropped. My heart ached. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t process what Remus was saying. My arm fell from his side as I pulled away from his touch. He called out to me but my head didn’t register his words. Hazily, I stood up, needing to be away from him. Nothing seemed right.

Seemingly in a drunken state, I walked up the staircase and found my way into our joined bed. I was sure that Remus was calling to me but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t respond.

That’s when the tears started falling. Curled up in my bed, I pulled the cover to wipe my eyes, but it was pointless. What was once silent tears was a full on breakdown. My eyes were puffy and crimson, dry as a desert. Throat hoarse from screaming, no proper words could come out my mouth. I was empty.

The man who had stolen my heart, the man whom I loved dearly, was dead. He was the one who spent all those long nights talking to me. He was the one who held my hand when I was too anxious to stand in front of a crowd. He was the one who supported me throughout the strife we went through from the order. He was the one who grounded me when I was distressed. And he was gone.

My bed had never felt colder. My heart had never felt emptier. I was alone.After what felt like hours, the door to my bedroom opened, a small light blinding my eyes. I didn’t move or even speak as Remus slipped under the covers next to me. I was unable to do anything as he whispered that he loved me and kissed me on my forehead.

***

Morning broke and the reality of everything had yet to settle in. I had expected that James and Lily’s death would have plagued my nightmares but the opposite effect had happened. My night was full of dreams of James and I, memories of the time we had spent together coming back to me. Memories that I once thought I had lost.

The spot next to me in bed was empty when I turned around so I knew Remus must’ve been downstairs. Quietly, I slipped out of the duvet and trotted downstairs. I didn’t even say good morning as Remus placed a cup of tea in front of me when I sat at the dining table. My eyes darted away, not wanting to face all our wedding planning. It all just felt wrong.

Remus picked up on my hesitation and sat down next to me, sighing. He wasn’t dumb. He knew that I didn’t love him the way he loved me. He knew that my heart was reserved for someone that wasn’t him. He knew that I was in love with James, and so he said so.

“I know you were in love with him.” Remus broke the uncomfortable silence, grabbing my attention. My lip quivered, my eyes threatened to spill out more tears, but he pressed on. “I knew you will never love me the way you loved James, so please [Y/N], tell me.”

“Tell you what.” I mumbled, not daring to look Remus in the eyes, which rubbed salt further into the wound.

“I won’t press you on, as I know you’re hurting, but please, I have to know.” He paused, looking for the right words to say.

“Do you still want to marry me?”

#harry potter #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #James potter #James potter x reader #James potter fluff #James potter angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #James potter x you #remus lupin x you

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