#and then a few years ago just in passing conversion so casually so nonchalantly

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

Insomnia makes life particularly difficult. It’s one of those things you hope you’ll grow out of someday. And every so often, it can seem that way. But in Barry’s experience, it’s never quite stuck. He’d had a good few months prior to the mission; he’d been falling asleep fairly quickly, staying asleep for most of the night, and overall feeling about as well rested as he could have hoped to. Funny thing is, nobody ever mentioned just how shitty witnessing the destruction of your home plane could be for sleep. Barry thinks that should have made the pamphlets for sure. He knows all the tips and tricks and folk remedies and old wives’ tales for it and quite literally none of them have ever worked for him. So some nights he just wanders the deck of the ship. That’s his own kind of remedy, he supposes.

It’s on one of these treks up to the deck, on a night where any attempt to sleep is futile, that he catches the unmistakable sound of sniffling coming from the kitchen. This gives Barry pause. It’s not as though he expects everyone on the ship to sleep soundly through each night without fail. He’s run into each of them enough on various nights in the two years since their mission’s started. But he never tries to intrude on everyone’s space. Ship’s small enough as it is. He stands outside the doorway of the kitchen and waits. The sniffles continue and Barry can’t in good conscience just pass by.

He clears his throat to give a cursory warning to whoever’s trying to have a moment in the kitchen. As he passes through the doorway he hears another, more aggressive sniff.

“Oh, h-hey Barry, you’re up late,” Lucretia says nonchalantly. She’s hunched over a journal, not one of the one she records the mission in; it’s worn in a way that comes only after years of use and years of sticking notes and pictures and every thought imaginable into it. She taps her pen against the table, looking suddenly fidgety.

“Yeah. Can’t sleep. What about you?” He asks casually. He’s sure she knows he heard her crying and that the evidence is still on her face clear as day. He doesn’t want to push her to talk though. Like him, she’s been reluctant to let her walls down with the rest of the crew. Hell, the two of them are roommates and he thinks they’ve had perhaps four meaningful conversations. It’s not that either of them are unfriendly, they’re both quite cordial, in fact. They’re just not the best at vulnerability.

“Um yeah. Yeah, me neither.” She sniffs again and ducks her head, scribbling something quickly in her journal before slamming it shut.

“See, I can’t sleep just because my body won’t let me. Can’t tell if it’s too much on my mind or something else.” Barry pauses, seeing if she’ll take the bait. She doesn’t, electing instead to pick at her nails. He lets out a breath and says nothing. He shuffles over to the sink and inspects a glass before giving it a little rinse. He sets the glass down and decides to try another angle. “Did Taako say something to upset you? I get it, he can be a little abrasive sometimes but he’s not a bad dude.”

Lucretia looks up at him, a little puzzled. “No? I-I’m confused, I don’t know why you think I’m upset.”

“Lucretia, come on. You don’t have to tell me what’s going on but you also don’t have to deal with whatever it might be on your own. There’s no telling how long this whole thing’s going to go on so I feel like it’s going to be in all of our best interests to, at the very least, be a little more open with each other.”

Lucretia looks away and says nothing. She looks more agitated than she did moments ago.

Barry nods and begins searching around the cabinets. “So my dad died a while ago. Like, a long time ago. I was a baby. My mom died right around when I got to college. I didn’t have a ton of people to lose. Some would say I’m lucky that way. I don’t agree.” He finds a tin of tea and gives it a cursory sniff. He tilts his head in thought before nodding mostly to himself. A shining kettle sits on the counter. Barry fills it before switching on the stove and putting it in place. He clears his throat before continuing. “Uh, my very best friend in the world, Marta, was really the only person I talked to outside the Institute. Well, her and her family. We grew up together. She had a kid, about your age. Smart as shit. Bit of a troublemaker too. Marta and her husband named me the godfather which felt like a lot of responsibility. I mean, I couldn’t even keep plants alive. But I agreed, of course I did.” Barry’s gaze is fixed somewhere in the middle distance. He gives a rueful smile. “I was just at their house for dinner. The night of training I missed? Cap got pissed but I just…something told me to see them. And now I’m really glad I did.”

The kettle whistles and stirs Barry from his recollection. He gets to work prepping two cups of tea. Decaf, of course.

“I had two sisters.”

Barry doesn’t turn back but he pauses what he’s doing.

“Ayda and Rhea. Ayda was twelve. Rhea was six. I lost them. A-and my mom, too. My dad died about seven years ago. Um. My mom was really proud to see that I applied for this mission. Said it was about time I did something for myself. And I was proud of myself. Now I can’t help but wonder if this whole thing was a giant mistake.” Lucretia’s voice wavers and she feels immediately embarrassed. Barry’s the head science officer. He doesn’t want to hear her existential crisis or see the huge cloud of uncertainty hanging over her head.

Barry leaves the cups of tea on the counter to steep and instead joins Lucretia at the table. “I know this whole thing is bizarre and scary. And we’ve all lost a lot, some more than others. But I think, in a kind of twisted way, we’ve all gained a lot, too.”

Lucretia raises an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a breath and rests his chin on the palm of his hand. “Well, think about it like this. Magnus, you, and myself. We’ve all found ourselves in a highly unique position. I’d wager you and Magnus even more. See, for humans, each year we live is this precious, sacred thing. We get one hundred of them, max, usually. And we spend the first fifth of our life figuring out how to be a person. And then we spend another fifth worrying that we’re bad at being a person but faking it because we assume that’s what we have to do.” He laughs a little to himself and Lucretia follows suit. “And I haven’t made it through all the next fifth, but based on what I’ve experienced, it’s a lot of boring shit. But you and Magnus, you’re both being given a grace period. You’re in a kind of stasis. You’re learning and experiencing and growing while essentially remaining the same. And I do think you’re being robbed of some of the weirdest joys of humanity but you’re also getting extra time living without your lower back just hurting for literally no reason so it almost comes out even.”

“I have to say, Barry, I didn’t take you for the philosophical type.”

He grins at her. “Don’t tell anyone. Might put my hard science reputation in peril.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” she says solemnly before returning the grin.

Perhaps there’s no true remedy for insomnia. Perhaps there’s no true remedy for loneliness or nostalgia or fear. But if Barry’s figured anything out, friendship, understanding, and a little tea make for good band-aid solutions.

#taz #taz balance #tazb #the adventure zone #barry bluejeans #lucretia #I JUST CARE ABOUT THEIR FRIENDSHIP SO MUCH #listen listen listen barry is this like 50 or so year old human man who feels like he's never had the chance to really live his life #lucretia is this 18 or 19 or 20 year old who has barely started living let alone living for herself #reese writes #[also like. idk am i projecting by putting this like really kind older brother esque relationship here? maybe i am reader maybe i am!] #ask to tag

[a-simple-imagine]

An Afterthought pt.2

Synopsis: Maeve shows up on your doorstep one night all sad and what not then leaves. Now it’s your turn to try and make amends. 

Pairing: Queen Maeve x fem!reader

Words: 4.1+

A/N - Did someone call for an angsty part 2 to a story i put out almost a year ago?? I got a fair few requests for this so here it is. I hope you enjoy it sorry if you don’t. request are open btw.

Warning - Swearing, violence and a very brief mention of zombies. 

Part 1 

Thoughts about Maeve are more frequent as of late. What was once just a passing thought as you spotted her face on magazine covers or painted on walls now became bothersome. What exactly had brought her to your doorstep that night? It had just been so unexpected. It left you so painfully curious for answers. There had to be more to the story. Not to mention, you also found yourself missing here once again: more so than before. A deep ache that came from an old forgotten wound that had begun to heal through time. A week had passed before you decided to do something stupid. It's amazing what you can find out online these days.

A bright sun sat high in the sky which left the air dry and you feeling warm. The hustle and bustle of city life was always your least favourite thing about living here and it was even worse today. Crowds of people stand behind a barrier that was maned by a few security guards. Did these people not having anything better to do than gawk at supes all day? You had basically scrubbed the internet to find out where she would be today which lead to a Twitter thread between someone called @MAEVESWIFE and @maelander who were talking about a vought commercial being shot outside the tower today. Queen Maeve and Homelander would both be there. But at least you personally knew here unlike these guys. It was kind of cool how many people idolised them. Working your way through the crowd, you earned some very dirty looks for trying to get to the front. Homelander and Maeve were in fact stood before a crew of people and a few cameras, smiling brightly and saying something you couldn't quite hear. Maeve seemingly spots you among the crowd so you wave a little. It was hard to figure out if she was happy or furious but she signals for a break and charged towards you. The crowd erupts with excitement as the Queen herself graces them with her presence and Homelander trails behind her. The woman offers nothing but polite smiles to the adoring fans as she takes your hand leading you along the length of the barrier and over to the threshold. It was safe to say that just about everyone who was still standing behind the security guards was very pissed off that you were getting special treatment.

"What are you doing here?" She growls through gritted teeth and a plastered on smile that disappears once you're out of view from prying eyes.

"I wanted to see you after-"

"Who's this?" You both turn to him and then back to each other.

"Oh my god, it's Homelander," You express, plastering on your brightest smile. Tall, Muscular with an award-winning smile. Bright blue eyes and silky blonde hair. The one and only Homelander walks up beside the two of you. It was almost humbling to be standing before the leader of the seven. He was so powerful- they both were and you were nothing short of ordinary.

"This is a closed set,"

Maeve didn't seem to know what to say exactly so you take it upon yourself to introduce yourself to him as her friend. Although you weren't even sure you could call yourself that at this point. It was a complicated relationship and considering you had broken up, it was the most appropriate label.

"Oh, She has never mentioned you,"

You're about to answer when Maeve takes your arm abruptly and pulls you away from the man. "Will you give us a second,"

A little confused, you give him a little wave goodbye paired with an awkward little smile. His eyes seem to trail after you but you think nothing of it.

"He's taller than expected," You muse aloud as attention falls back to your ex-girlfriend. Arms crossed over her chest and with a less than favourable expression on her face, it's pretty clear she isn't happy. Now she knows what it's like to have an ex show up unannounced.

"What do you want?" Maeve whisper yells at you. "I'm a little busy."

"I know just..." A quick glance to Homelander who had returned to his adoring fans. He had superhearing so you were pretty sure he could still hear you anyway. "after the other night I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine."

"If everything was fine you wouldn't show up on my doorstep." A casual shrug of your shoulders. Maeve may be able to fake a smile for the cameras but it was always pretty obvious to you when she was lying to you.

"I said I'm fine. You need to leave."

"Maeve," A soft sigh leaves your lips and you take her hand in yours; brushing your thumb over the back of her hand. "You can talk to me."

"Leave," She growls, pulling her hand away. "Please."

"We need to talk about the other night- you at least owe me that."

With a deep breath, Maeve turns on her heel and begins to walk away. "I'm busy,"

For a moment you just watched her walk away then jogged after her. "Then we can talk later- you could come by tonight? I'll even make dinner."

"Fine. Now leave."

This time you let her walk away and continue making her little advertisement. You wouldn't admit to her that you stuck around a little longer. Even got a chance to talk to Homelander a little before heading home. Chill dude, if not a little intimidating. Maybe it had been a stupid idea to invite your ex-girlfriend over for dinner but you wanted to get to the bottom of all this. You were actually a little nervous for her to arrive. Cooking had never been your specialty but you wanted everything to be perfect. A quick stop on the way home to buy groceries, you worked on dinner since getting home. pacing around as you waited for her to arrive. And waited. And waited. and waited. Lucky for the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach, Maeve didn't show up. It probably should have been expected. She had never been the most reliable person unless she was saving the world apparently.

A loud bang has you stirring awake before the sun. It was probably just the neighbours; a loud groan as you bury your face into the covers to go back to sleep. But the banging doesn't stop and you soon realise it's your door. Rolling over, you check your phone to see it's four in the morning. What could anyone want at this time in the morning? Dragging yourself from under the protection of the duvet, you cautiously head to the door. Peaking through the peephole to see... Queen Maeve. "Just give me a chance."

A chance? You weren't sure she deserved any more of those but you still unlock the door and pull it open. Glancing over her as she offers up a smile. Does she ever wear anything other than her armour? "Chances comes after nine am." You protest putting what little strength you had into trying to close the door. It was effortless on her end to keep it open.

"You invited me over, remember?"

"I invited you over for dinner, Maeve. No sane person has dinner at four in the morning."

"I forgot I had a team-up with Black Noir- Just let me in."

With a defeated sigh, you step aside and retire to the couch. Slumped down against the cushions, your head falls back as your eyes flutter closed. The click of your door infers she follows you inside.

"Tired?"

"Mhmm." You hum, nodding nonchalantly.

"Do you want me to make you some coffee?" Maeve suggests and again, you nod. She was familiar with the apartment so she knew where everything was but it still felt a little odd to have her wandering around with such familiarity. Who just shows up this early for a serious talk? A silence comes between the two of you. She may have attempted to keep the conversation going in between asking if you wanted coffee and delivering it to you but you didn't notice. Sitting up as a hand is gently placed against your shoulder, she hands over a large mug.

Blowing gently over the top before you take a tentative sip; warmth radiated from the liquid as it slips down your throat. Maeve joins you, perching on the edge of the couch as if she was ready to leave again. Maybe she was now regretting her decision to visit. You were kind of regretting opening the door instead of just going back to sleep instead. Since you were up anyway, might as well make the most of it.

"I can- I can make you breakfast or something if you want? Since you... missed dinner."

"Oh great, yeah," Maeve responds.

"What would you like? Cereal, toast, pancakes maybe?"

"Pancakes would be great." Of course, they would. She had to pick the option that required the most effort. You didn't mind making her something as much as you just didn't want to get up.

"Alright just... give me a moment to wake up."

"You won't wake up if you keep trying to go back to sleep," A snarky remark that earned her a small smile, your middle finger shoots up in response. The two of you just sit in silence together and every few seconds or so you'd take a sip of the coffee she made. It was all feeling a little awkward. Placing the mug down on the coffee table, you rise and get started on making breakfast. Maeve moves from the couch to the kitchen table, fiddling with the little salt and pepper shakers that always resided there. You don't know what to say and clearly, neither does she.

"So... how are things?" You question as you whisk the mixture together.

"I'm fine, I guess" She shrugs a little. You can't help but sigh a little. "What?"

"Nothing," you insist, grabbing the frying pan and place it over a medium heat; Adding a blob of butter and some oil. "If you don't want to talk Maeve then why did you bother to come over?"

Placing down the salt and pepper shaker with a clink, her attention falls to you. "because you asked."

"Yeah, I asked to talk about the other night. You were clearly messed up."

"Why is it so hard to believe I was just looking to fuck?"  It was really hard to believe but rather that you just knew it wasn't true. You were pretty sure Maeve had her choice of partners should she require one. So why come to your door?

"Because I'm not stupid" You pour the mixture into the pan with a satisfying sizzle. "I know you well enough to know that's bull."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought."

Flipping the pancake over, you're taken back by her comment. Did you know Maeve as well as you thought? You had never expected her to just up and leave you one day and she did? She lived an entire superhero life that you knew nothing about. Maeve had always been pretty private when it came to that side of herself. You make another couple of pancakes before serving her up a plate.

"You aren't eating?"

"Too early," you return, taking up the seat opposite her. You watch as her fork pierce the surface of the pancake, cutting off a small piece and pop it into her mouth.

"Taste okay?"

"They're good," Mouth hidden behind the palm of her hand as she mumbled through her food. It lowered a moment later.  "I came over because my job is hard. I was the in the area, I was having a tough day."

"A tough day?" Getting any sort of details out of her was like pulling teeth. Why was she so reluctant to speak to you? If she didn't want to have this conversation she should have just no turned up like she hadn't for dinner. Would have saved the effort and you could be sleeping right now.

"Yeah,"

"That's that then." Hands slap against the table as you rise from the seat. No point in sticking around if this wasn't going anywhere.  "Case closed. When you're finished just leave the plate in the sink, I'm going back to bed."

"Seriously?"

"You woke me up at four am just to tell me you had a bad day. Shit, I have plenty of bad days, I don't show up at Vought tower." You start walking back towards your bedroom although your slow, hesitant even like you were just waiting for an excuse to turn back.

"I really was having a bad day," she repeats. "Really bad. And all I could think about was seeing you." And getting drunk, guess she just conveniently forgot about that part. There were many moments although brief where you were having a hard time and you thought about going to see Maeve. She used to be such a big part of your life it was almost an instinct to return to her for comfort. You never actually did obviously. As pathetic as her explanation was, it brought you back to the dining table. "Can I ask you something?"

"Depends."

"What's the worst thing you could ever imagine?"

"Huh?" What kind of question was that?

"Just answer it,"

Your mouth opens but no answer comes to mind at all. You were more curious about the reason behind it. It's too early for philosophical debates and it had nothing to do with anything you had been talking about. "uh, I don't know... post-apocalyptic zombie invasion, maybe?"

"Can you take this seriously?"

"I am," you huff. It was a stupid question anyway. "Zombies-"

"really freak you out, I remember." Strange thing to remember. It couldn't have come up in conversation often. It was a little funny the small things people remembered about each other. "I meant something that could actually happen though. I've seen some pretty fucked up shit."

"Like what?" She turns to you like she's about to say something but quickly stops herself. Continuing the eat the breakfast you so lovingly prepared. With the way she had been playing with her food, you suspected she no longer wanted it despite having hardly eaten any.

"Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be. Sometimes I wish I could just live a normal life or whatever"

"Nothing glamorous about a normal life," You stifle a yawn. "I think I'd rather be adored by millions and save the day but we aren't all lucky enough to have powers."

"Lucky," A bitter laugh. "I wouldn't call myself lucky."

"You're being so weird." You comment, a quirked brow.

"I would rather be adored by one person who truly means it."

"Guess that's all anyone wants. Supe or not."

Her eyes meet yours for a few seconds before dropping. Did she mean you? There was no doubt you had feelings for the woman and very much still did. But you can't imagine it's anything compared to the weirdos who worship the ground she walks on. They obviously didn't really know her and vice versa but still. There was an element of pureness that came with being so dedicated to someone. "You never answered my question."

"I don't know Maeve it's too early..." You grumble. "Do you want me to say something like war or famine or something?"

"Not unless it's the truth."

Everyone wished for world peace. Everyone wanted to feed the hungry. House the homeless. Basic answers that any decent person would come up with. It lacked originality. It lacked feeling. Everyone would probably have a more personal reason."What's yours?"

"Something happening to you... because of me."

"Really? That's the worst thing you can think of?" Didn't she just say she had seen a lot of messed up stuff and yet her concern resided with you? What did she think would happen? And didn't a broken heart technically count as something happening because of her? Shifting in your seat, you lean down onto the table before you. Thinking of your own answer. The worst thing you could imagine?

"I answered," she shrugs but doesn't elaborate. "Now you go."

"I guess... finding out you died," Should you admit something like that? "You're the strongest person I know. I still... care for you. I'm not sure I would handle it well- Is that a better answer?"

"It's sufficient."

"Sufficient? I really don't know what you want from me Maeve? I don't know what the worst thing is, okay? I'm too tired for this shit."

She places her cutlery carefully on the plate, pushing out her seat. "I should go."

"Maeve?"

"I'll go, you can go back to bed. I don't even know why I came here."

"No. Stay. I wanna talk."

" Let's just forget this ever happened." Brushing herself off, Maeve heads back towards the door. This whole back and forth was growing awfully tiresome. Every time you thought you scratched the surface of her mask, there was a new layer underneath more impenetrable than the last. Maybe you should just let her go? It'd be easier. It was probably for the best too but when she had shown up at your door the other night, you realised just how much you still wanted this. Still wanted her. She may have left you one day without any explanation but seeing her for the first time in a long time had brushed all rational thought aside. You were in love with her even now. Tears brimmed your eyes whether it was due to tiredness or a flush of emotions, it was unclear.

"If you walk out that door I'm done," You declare as confidently as you can. Hoping your sadness was hidden amongst the dim light that filled the entire room. "Don't bother showing up on my doorstep when you have a shitty day." Maeve pauses with her hand on the doorknob but only for a second before twisting the handle and pulling open the door. "Maeve...  just tell me what's going on with you, please."

"Everything I have done to you was to protect you." Final words as she leaves. The door clicking behind her. To protect you? From what? What was she even talking about anymore. Anger bubbles deep inside you and you find yourself charging after her. Bursting out into the chilly hallway, you catch her in the corner of your eye. She was leaning against the wall just outside your apartment basking in the flicker of the corridor light.

"Protect me from what?" You wonder quietly, taking a wary step closer. "I don't understand."

"...Homelander." Voice but a whisper mumbled into the darkness. Homelander? The Homelander? Why would you need protection from him, you didn't even know him? Plus he was like a beloved superhero and the last time you checked, superheroes were the good guys.

"You're scared of... the world's greatest superhero?"

"Never meet your heroes."

"Aren't you two like friends? You even dated him. Why are you scared of him?" Another step closer, you lay your hand tenderly on her shoulder. An attempt to support her even if you didn't understand the situation. "He didn't seem so bad when I met him yesterday. I actually spoke with him after."

"You spoke after? Why?" Maeve snarled swiftly making you back away a little only for her hand to snap around your wrist. Cold fingertips apply a deep pressure to your skin as if it's taking everything in her not to press harder. You swallow hard, confused by her anger. "I told you to leave"

"It- it's not a big deal. He just wanted to know more about us," Even you can hear the panic in your voice as you struggle to get the words out. It was a little embarrassing, to say the least, but you'd never really experienced this side of Maeve before. Her anger had never really been directed towards you.

"And you told him?"

"Yeah. He took it pretty well actually, I was surprised. "

"How can you be so fucking stupid?" Her grasp begins to stiffen around your wrist. Maeve was strong, inhumanly so. If she wanted to she could break every one of your bones like it was nothing. That never used to bother you so much but in this instance, your own weakness had never been more apparent.

"Maeve," You struggle against her grip, a pleading look as you meet the brown of her eyes. "...You're scaring me,"

Those magic words seemed to break the spell that had come over her and Maeve released you in an instant. Regret washing off her face in record time. "I'm sorry, okay- I'm sorry," You take a step back; the other hand rubbing at the wrist she just let go off. "I didn't mean to- I wouldn't hurt you."

"I... let's just go back inside." It's hard to pretend that didn't just happen. That Maeve didn't almost crush your wrist for doing the wrong thing. But it wasn't her fault, right? She just isn't herself at the moment. Her emotions got the best of her when she found out you told Homelander about your relationship. Warily, you hold out your hand in offering. It's a little shakey but you just hope she doesn't notice as she takes your hand and you lead the way back into your apartment. Shutting the door behind the two of you, you return to the couch. Sat on either ends so you're as far away as possible without being on the floor, things are feeling a little awkward now. You can't help but focus on your wrist, the feeling of her hand still lingers in a ghostly embrace. "I'm sorry I told Homelander about us."

"You didn't know..."Maeve lets out a heavy sigh as she turns to face you. "Homelander is a monster. He's hurt people just for looking at me funny- "

"Oh." A little surprising to hear. You had always kind of suspected Homelander was a bit of an arsehole but not that he was inherently a bad person. He saves people after all. You've seen him save people. He was basically on the news every other day or in the newspaper or trending on Twitter. There was no evidence to supporting Maeve's theory but you also had no reason not to trust her. She had no reason to lie to you.

"He's done atrocious things. He's made me do atrocious things. I was trying to protect you from him- and from myself,"

"...Why are you telling me this now?" Couldn't she have just told you all this from the beginning? It still didn't explain why she had just shown up the other day either? Clearly, something had happened between her and Homelander at least that's what you gathered from the context.

"To keep you safe," Maeve returns. "So you'll stop hating me."

"I could never hate you," An offer of a faint smile that may or may not betray you. When she had first left you, you were so filled with hatred but it was so hard to stay angry at her. You didn't hate her anymore but you couldn't say you were simply over it now. "It's not your fault."

"It is though- I put you in this situation. I let those people die,"

"What are you talking about? What people?" Every time Maeve opened her mouth you grew slightly more confused and you didn't know how to help. Watching her with an inquisitive eye, you notice as a tear or two begins to glide down her rose-tinted cheeks. It was enough to bring your walls crashing down. Whatever she was talking about must be really affecting her for her to start crying. A hand reaches out only to pull back as you remember what happened last time. You take a deep breath, sitting up a little straighter.

"I should have stood up to him but I was scared."

"Scared of Homelander," You repeat. Still trying to process the information.

"I don't want to be a monster like him." Against your better judgement, this time you shuffle closer and entice her into a soothing hug. Holding onto her tightly like you never wanted to let go because frankly, you didn't. Maeve was warm, she was safe. You wanted to offer her that same sense of comfort even if it was impossible. You wanted to drown in her affection.

"You're not a monster, Maeve" The other woman melts into your caring touch, burying her face in the crook of your neck. You were so used to confident, super-strong Maeve that it was a little weird to have her be so vulnerable. Especially sober. But even your words weren't enough to trick your brain into quelling that twinge of fear that now resides in you. "Whatever's going on, I'm gonna help you get through it. I promise."

#the boys #Queen Maeve #queen maeve x reader #queen maeve imagine #dominique mcelligott

[stardusttrashed]

Lovestruck

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Sasha x Connie 

Word Count: 4K

Part 2

“Have you ever seen a man that good-looking?” You hummed at Sasha’s comment, not even bothering to look up from your screen to see who she was referring to. “I mean, wow! He’s like a greek god or something.” 

Connie rolled his eyes in amusement at his girl’s rambles. “He does have nice eyebrows,” he joined in.

She whipped her head towards Connie with a dumbfounded smile. “Right?! He could probably cut someone with those cheekbones.” 

With a sigh, you looked up from your laptop, finally indulging the two. “Who’s the so-called Greek god,” you asked in an unamused tone. Your eyes followed Sasha’s finger through the fairly empty coffee shop until they landed on a man sitting alone by the window.

Sasha was right, which didn’t often happen unless it involved food. He was intimidatingly perfect, chiseled from his face to his body. The sunlight hung around him like a cloak, providing an angelic glow that shadowed his strong cheekbones and jawline. He leaned casually in the chair, his large frame towering over the plastic structure as his arm rested on the table. His hand loosely held onto the cup in front of him, ever ready to take another sip. His other hand held a book in the air. The book looked small in his hands like it was merely a phone. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he glanced up from his book, giving you a perfect view of his face. You couldn’t believe your eyes. More accurately, you couldn’t believe the cerulean eyes and incredibly thick eyebrows you saw. “You’re shitting me,” you breathed in disbelief. Sasha and Connie turned to face you with curious expressions. You bit back a girlish smile and shook your head, “it’s nothing.” You shrugged off their unconvinced looks and quickly added, “I just, uh, I used to have him as a teacher.”

Sasha’s eyes practically bulged out of her head at your words, “you’re telling me you had that-” she gestured to the man across the room, “- for a teacher, and I’m just now hearing about this?! How’d you even focus? What’d he teach? Was he always this good-looking? Does he still teach?” Connie opened his mouth to interject, but Sasha cut him off by placing her finger on his lips. “No, I’m going to Mystery inc. this and get to the bottom of this. She’s been withholding valuable information!”

You let out a chuckle and ducked your head in embarrassment. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you trailed off. “It was years ago. He probably doesn’t even remember me.” You tried to sound as carefree as possible despite the butterflies at the thought.

“That’s not what I-” Sasha quickly shut her mouth as another voice joined the conversation. 

“I thought it was you,” a smooth husky voice cut in. You looked up to see the greek god smiling gently at you. His thick eyebrows knitted together nervously when you didn’t reply after a moment. “Y/n, right?”

Your cheek warmed as your name fell from his lips. It fell from his lips so naturally like it belonged there, filling you with an indescribable warmth. “Mr. Smith,” you breathed as a giddy smile formed on your lips. “It’s been a while.” You wet your lips as you not so subtly looked him up and down. He was a lot more muscular now than he was a few years ago. He had practically doubled in size since you last saw him. The rolled-up sleeves of his off-white button-up shirt clung to his arms desperately. A few buttons were left open, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his collarbone. 

Sasha was right. He was nothing short of a greek god. He was enough to make statues envious.

The worry in Erwin’s face dissipated into a dreamy grin, “far too long.” You looked exactly like he remembered you, gorgeous. He cleared his throat as he looked down at the book in his hand. “I was passing by and saw you,” his icy blue eyes met yours. “I was going to ask if you would like to catch up, but I see you’re busy.”

“She’d love to,” Connie quickly answered for you, nudging Sasha under the table. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about us,” Sasha stammered as she rose from her seat. “We had things planned anyway.”

“Right,” you drawled, turning your attention towards the couple that was preparing to leave. 

“Yeah, so we’ll see ya later,” Connie hurriedly responded. His words spilled out like water from a broken dam as he gathered your stuff for you. You opened your mouth to protest, but you knew anything you said would only fall on deaf ears. Connie stood up and walked off hand and hand with Sasha.

You could hear their mischievous giggles until they were finally out of sight. You shook your head with a chuckle before looking back up at Erwin. “Well, Mr. Smith, it looks like you’re in luck. My schedule just so happened to free up.” You shrugged, flashing him a gentle smile, “what a coincidence.” 

“Looks like it was meant for us to catch up,” Erwin remarked with a nervous chuckle. He offered his hand to you, helping you out of your seat. He tucked his book under his arm, freeing his other hand so he could grab your bag for you before handing it to you.

A bashful smile graced your lips at his actions as you mumbled a quiet ‘thank you.’ You had always pictured him as quite a gentleman, but his chivalrous acts melted your heart. You walked by his side quietly until you reached a nearby park. Erwin led you under a tree, stopping you so he could lay his jacket on the ground for you to sit on.

“Hope you’re not trying to impress me, Mr. Smith,” you giggled, sitting down on his suit jacket. Your hands absentmindedly busied themselves, smoothing out the wrinkles in his coat.

“Just doing what feels right.” He chortled as he sat beside you. “And it’s just Erwin.”

“Alright, just Erwin,” you joked in a silky voice. 

He laughed his first real laugh of the day, the sound coming from deep with his stomach. “Still as witty as ever.” His ocean eyes never left your face once, too stunned to look anywhere else. 

He could still remember the first time he laid eyes on you. You took his breath away from the very beginning. Every part of you intrigued him, from your looks to your brain. The way the sun shined off your melanin skin made you look like nothing short of a goddess in his eyes. The golden highlight was almost too much for him to take. There was a glow about you that he couldn’t find anywhere else no matter how hard he looked. It didn’t matter if you were outside or under the dead fluorescent lights of the classroom, you were a star, demanding attention without ever really trying. 

“Wow,” he breathed quietly after a moment. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

You giggled shyly and rolled your eyes. “Wish I could say the same about you. You look like you could give Chris Evans a run for his money.” You enjoyed the small blush spreading across his cheeks. “I’m serious. The Mr. Smith- er, Erwin I knew wasn’t as,” you trailed off, growing too embarrassed to continue. You looked down at your pants instead, picking at the threads.

Erwin was thankful you stopped yourself from continuing. He didn’t think his cheeks could handle any more compliments from you. Had you continued, he probably would’ve ended up looking like a tomato. “Thank you.” He scratched the back of his neck embarrassedly.

You fought back a cheeky smile as you noticed him timidly look away. Despite his outer appearance, he was a big softie. It was like being next to the big friendly giant. “So, what do you do for a living nowadays? You still a teacher?”

“I am actually, they made me one of the official creative writing professors. It doesn’t leave much free time for writing anymore, but I love it nonetheless.” He smiled wistfully as he watched the people walk past. A few quiet moments passed before he brought his attention back to you. “Y’know, I’ve seen a lot of bright students come and go, but none have been quite as amusing as you.” Erwin bit the inside of his cheek, hoping he wasn’t being too forward. 

You shrugged off his comment, oblivious to their hinting undertone, “we were a good class and your first class. Of course, we’re going to leave an impression on you.”

He hummed thoughtfully in reply as if that wasn’t what he was getting at. “What about you? What’d you end up doing?”

“I guess you can say I took after my favorite teacher and became a writer.” You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, gauging his reaction.

“I was your favorite teacher?” Erwin couldn’t help the bashful smile that forced its way onto his face. 

“Wow,” you dragged out dramatically with a teasing smile. You met Erwin’s steady gaze and playfully pushed his arm. It took every ounce of self-control not to leave your hand resting on his bicep. You pushed the thought aside, choosing to continue to tease him instead. “Someone’s cocky! You aren’t the only teacher I had who wrote.”

“Then who, if I may ask, was it?”

“Just some teacher, you probably wouldn’t know them. Y’know big campus and all.” You shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Right,” Erwin drawled out with an amused smile. “Well, just in case you ever need some help or a writing buddy-,” he fished around in his pockets before pulling his phone out, “-maybe I should give you my number.” His eyes flashed down to his phone. “Just assuming your favorite professor is busy or anything.” 

You chewed on your lip, fighting back a playful smile. “Of course, there’s no such thing as too many connections.” Erwin hummed in response, handing you his phone. Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers gently brushed against yours. 

“Ah,” you exclaimed once you caught sight of the time, “crap! I told him I told Eren I wouldn’t be late again.” You groaned, handing back the phone as you scrambled to your feet. “I’m sorry I have to go,” you sent Erwin an apologetic smile. “It was really nice catching up. We should do it again sometime! Ugh, hopefully, Armin is there to make sure  he doesn’t kill me.”

Erwin opened his mouth to remind you about the phone but decided against it at the last minute. “Be safe,” he called out to you as you ran off. He wasn’t even sure you had heard him, probably too caught up in rushing to hear clearly. His eyes followed your frame until it disappeared in the crowded streets. A disappointed sigh fell from his lips. Letting you leave the second time wasn’t any easier than the first. He thought maybe this time would be different. This time he would have the courage to ask you to stay without any restrictions. 

He chuckled at himself as he stood up and gathered his things. Here he was pitying himself over the fact that you had left again. Yet, fate had brought you together twice already. If he had the chance to see you again, he promised himself that he would let you walk away so easily. After all, they say third times the charm. 

***

“What is it,” Levi asked, earning a quiet hum from Erwin. He took a sip of tea before continuing. “You keep scanning the room like you’re looking for someone,” he noted. “You’ve barely paid attention to any conversation. Plus,” Levi set his cup down before leaning his chin on his hand, “you made us drive thirty minutes to go to a coffee shop even though you have one walking distance from your house. So, what’s so special about this place?” He leaned back in his chair, resting his elbow on the back of it. “Cause apparently, it’s not the coffee.”

Erwin looked down at his still full cup of coffee, which was now lukewarm at best. He chuckled embarrassedly, hoping the sudden warmth he was experiencing was just his imagination. His order was long forgotten, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of you. “Guess I’ve been caught,” he smiled embarrassedly.

“You’re kidding right,” Sasha yelled at you as you walked through the door. “You left Mr. Perfect without giving him your number.  To go be with Eren?” She looked to Connie with a baffled expression for support. “Am I the only one who sees how stupid that was?”

“Relax already,” you sighed. You had already gotten this speech before over text. You got it repeatedly, actually, at least once every day for the past week. “I know. I wasn’t thinking-.”

“Oh, I know,” she cut you off. “That’s like you having a perfectly juicy steak handed to you, just for you to reject it for a cold chicken nugget.”

“Eren is cute in his own way,” you tried to defend him only to be completely ignored. 

“Well, Armin is more like a steak too, just a little one,” Connie chimed in as he read the menu. 

“True. Wait, no, that’s not the point.” She stopped mid-rant to tell the cashier her order. “The point is she had-.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You paused to put in your order before following Sasha to your usual table. “I left Erwin to go meet up with Eren, who was fucking late anyways.”

“Yeah, sure, no worries. No need to pitch in or offer; I got it,” Connie grumbled as he paid. He trailed behind you and Sasha, plopping down in his usual spot with a childish huff. 

“Thank you, lovebug,” Sasha cooed, pecking his cheek. “You’re the best, unlike some people.” She glared playfully at you from the corner of her eye. 

You sighed melodramatically, practically rolling your eyes into the back of your head. “How long are you going to hold this over me?”

“She’ll think about the answer to that while you go get our drinks,” Connie answered for her with a devilish smirk. 

“Wow,” you drawled with a feigned hurt expression, “you too, Connie?” You shook your head disappointedly, “can’t trust no one.” You begrudgingly walked over to the counter where three drinks sat. You nearly dropped the cup in your hands as a familiar voice spoke up behind you. 

“Mind if I give you a hand?”  

“Erwin,” you gasp, jumping harder than you’d like. The scalding tea on your skin left little time for you to feel embarrassed. “Ah,” you hissed under your breath as you quickly placed the cup back on the counter. “Fuck.”

“Apologies,” Erwin quickly stepped in beside you, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Without thinking, he took your hand into his own, cradling it like you were made of glass. His warm hands were nothing in comparison to the rising heat in your cheeks as he gently wiped your hand with a napkin. “I just wanted to say ‘hi,’” he continued in a low bashful voice.

You couldn’t help the soft giggles that tumbled from your lips. There he was, being a big friendly giant again. You looked up at him for the first time, watching the way his brows furrowed with concern. “Well, I’m glad you did.” You gave his hand a grateful squeeze, “wasn’t sure if I’d get to see you again. I definitely need all the help I can get with my new project.”

“I- uh, well,” he stumbled over his words, quickly retracting his hand from yours. He carefully grabbed all three cups. “Where to?” He felt childish getting this flustered over just being around you. The small smile on your face was enough to send his heart into overtime. 

You plucked your cup from his hand, gingerly taking a sip. With a nod, you led him to your table. 

“Took you long en-ah!” Sasha’s eyes bulged out of her head as her eyes landed on the towering figure behind you. “What the hell,” she exclaimed, causing a few curious glances to be cast in her direction. “I- you,” she focused her gaze on you, “how’d you manage to find the greek god again?”

Your eyebrows shot up more in embarrassment than in surprise. Sasha was never once for subtleties, always the most outspoken one of the group. You set your cup down with a sigh. “I’m sorry about her,” you turned to him with an apologetic. “Erwin meet Sasha and Connie-,” you took their cups from his hands and set them on the table, “-Sasha and Connie meet Erwin.”

Connie nodded in acknowledgment, “feel free to sit with us.” You could tell he was trying to play it cool for your sake. Truth be told, Sasha had him just as invested in the man as she was. It probably wasn’t the healthiest, but it damn sure is fun. Who needed reality tv when they could just watch you?

Erwin could feel your hopefully expectant gaze focus on him, yet his eyes remained trained on Connie. Probably to keep him from turning any redder. He was already on the verge of becoming a tomato as it is. “I actually came here with a friend.” 

“Invite him over,” Sasha blurted out. She ignored the way you momentarily glared daggers at her for pushing the subject. “The more, the merrier.”

They both looked like they had turned to putty as Erwin chuckled quietly. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought they were the ones with a crush on him. Not that you had a crush on him. You just liked admiring the man and being around him. “Guys-.”

“So this is why you’ve been dragging me here every day,” a cold, unfamiliar voice cut in. His voice alone was enough to send chills down your spine. So much so that you nearly missed that he said Erwin was coming here every day. Even Sasha and Connie straightened up under his presence. “Interesting. Mind if I take a seat?”

You turned to the man, catching his piercing eyes finish looking you up and down. He was shorter and leaner than Erwin, but something about his presence made him seem like the more intimidating of the two. “Y-yeah, sure.” You paused for a while, allowing his words to register in your mind.

“Everyone, meet Levi,” Erwin broke the silence as he took a seat next to you. “Levi, meet Sasha, Connie, and Y/n.” 

“So you’ve been coming here every day,” you blurted out, getting the attention of everyone. You waited for an answer but only received a bashful smile. Your mind was moving a mile a minute. You were sure you were making a bigger deal of this than necessary. 

“Starting to think he doesn’t come here for the drinks,” Levi said smugly, answering for Erwin. “Or maybe I’m just imagining things,” he mumbled into his cup.

You took a seat between Levi and Erwin, your eyes never leaving his frame. 

“Y’know, I like this place a lot,” Sasha chimed in, barely able to hide her cheeky smile. “But I don’t think the scenery is great enough to make me come here every day.”

“I’ve definitely had better coffee,” Connie shrugged. 

“Tea is nothing to brag about either,” Levi agreed despite taking another sip from his cup.

You could feel the embarrassment radiating off of Erwin. With every new playfully dig, it seemed harder to get him to meet your gaze. His ocean eyes landed everywhere but on you. 

“That’s an interesting-looking napkin, huh,” you asked teasingly in a voice only he could hear. He glanced at you through the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Well, the prices are nice, though,” Sasha continued to tease slyly. You glanced over at Sasha with an exasperated glare, which she shrugged off. “So, Levi- was it- how do you know Erwin?”

“You’re loving this aren’t you,” Erwin groaned, finally bringing his eyes up to meet your own. He was enjoying every minute of looking at your playful smile, basking in the welcoming warmth. He shook his head with a chuckle, already knowing your answer from the mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Oh, every minute,” you giggled as you pointed a finger at his rosy cheeks. “Between you being a tomato and finding out Erwin the Greek god Smith came here looking for me-.” 

“Cocky much?” Erwin flashed a dashing smile, “who said I was looking for you?”

You nodded, holding back a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. How silly of me.” You took your phone out with a shrug, “guess there’s no point in asking for your number then.” Erwin opened his mouth as if he was about to protest but quickly closed it.  

“Hey,” Sasha interjected with a huff. “What’s the fun in making fun of you two if y’all just go into your own little la-la lands.” 

“We weren’t,” you stammered before getting cut off by Connie.

“Were. We had a whole conversation, and you two didn’t even notice,” he stated matter of factly with a shrug before his mischievous grin returned to his lips. “At least exchange phone numbers this time.”

You stared at him wide-eyed, far too embarrassed to glare or come up with a retort. Your mouth opened and closed a few times like a gasping fish before you decided to keep your mouth closed with a huff. Just as you were about to change the subject, you noticed Erwin reach for your phone lying on the table. 

“We were actually just getting to that,” Erwin replied with a cocky yet teasing grin. It was like someone flipped a switch on him. He was no longer this huge blushy and shy giant next to you. He exuded confidence but never crossed over into being cocky or egotistical. He took your phone in his hand and handed it to you so you could unlock it. “Y’know before we were interrupted from our ‘la la land’ and all.”

Sasha looked to you with a surprised expression as if asking for confirmation. You weren’t sure which was more shocking to her, that you were actually about to exchange numbers or that Erwin was finally retaliating. You mimicked Connie’s nonchalant shrug from a few moments ago as you unlocked your phone for Erwin. 

Everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats as Erwin typed in his contact information. Even Levi was visibly intrigued, though he tried to hide under his regular hardened and uninterested expression. Erwin didn’t notice anyone but you, however. All he could feel was your warmth beside him and your gaze locked on his hands. Having your undivided attention made him want to type even slower. 

“Geez, what are you, a turtle? Actually, I think I’ve seen turtles move faster,” you teased with a nervous chuckle. The sudden quiet atmosphere at the table was too much. You felt the need to say something. Was that the best? Probably not.

Erwin laughed a throaty laugh, “someone seems eager.” His eyes flitted up to yours, “guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were the same way in class. That’s probably why you were one of my favorites. But I feel the need to remind you,” he handed you your phone, “sometimes taking things slow is what makes it fun.”

The way he held your gaze sent your mind into a drunken-like daze. He was intoxicating in every way, completely taking over your mind until all you could think of was you and him. “Dealing with all these writing deadlines might’ve made me forget that.” You leaned closer, resting your chin in your palm. “Maybe I need a demonstration to help jog my memory.”

Erwin looked at you with a lopsided smirk. His eyes trailed down your face, landing on your lips longer than he intended. Every ounce of him wanted to take you up on the suggestion, but he wasn’t sure if you were being serious or just teasing. 

“There you two go again,” Levi interrupted. You quickly sat back in your chair, creating room between you and Erwin. You could faintly make out a small chuckle from Levi. “If you two wanted to be alone, all you had to do was ask.”

“N-no,” you quickly stammered. “It’s not like that.” You couldn’t help the heat rising to your cheeks. “It’s just-,” you glanced at Erwin with a small smile, “-it’s nice seeing one of my favorite teachers again.”

“I sure hope your classroom wasn’t filled with as much sexual tension,” Sasha murmured. 

Erwin raised an eyebrow in confusion. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but closed into a tight line. 

“On that note, I should get going.” You quickly rose from your seat, avoiding making eye contact with Erwin. “Got another meeting with Jeager-bomb.” Sasha practically rolled her eyes into the back of her head but kept her mouth shut. At least you got his number before running off again. “Bye, guys! Oh, and it was nice meeting you, Levi.” You finally let your fall on Erwin, who had a somewhat expectant look on his face. “I’ll call you the next time I need help,” you couldn’t fight the girlish smile tugging on your lips.

“I look forward to it.”

#snk erwin #erwin smith #erwin x you #erwin x y/n #erwin x reader #black reader #aot #aot levi #aot erwin #aot connie #aot conny #aot sasha #sasha braus #sasha x connie #connie springer #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #shingeki no kyoujin levi #attack on titan levi #Captain Levi #commander erwin #erwin smith imagine #erwin smith fluff #professor erwin #aot x black reader #Eren Jaeger #armin arlet #attack on titan

[floraliaison]

[ melodrama ] ― track i | homemade dynamite

political au. ushijima wakatoshi x fem! reader.

3.1 k 

masterlist. next.

If there’s any one word you would prefer people to describe you as, it would have to be unquestionably loyal.

After all, it’s just past seven, and you haven’t yet drunk enough whiskey as you would like to, but when Oikawa tells you about a new guy you must hate, you don’t even think twice before agreeing.

He shifts the drink in his hand, ice cubes clinking together while he side-eyes the group of men from across the veranda, no doubt burning holes into the back of his intended target’s head as he mutters, “And there he is.”

You whip your head to the right, not caring enough about subtlety because this is your house and you can and will look at whoever you damn please.

His directions don’t really help much, you soon realize, because there are a hundred and one of Eita’s friends huddled around the end of the buffet table where the drinks are located.

“There are a bunch of ‘he’s over there, Oiks. Which one?” you hiss under your breath, craning your neck to see if you can pick anyone out from the crowd.

There’s Leon, Kenjiro, Hayato, and a handful of other people you recognize but can’t recall the names of. All that matters is that they’re all annoying, and they’re all here.

You’d think Oikawa’s taste in men has improved in the six years you’ve been gone, but if he actually says it’s one of them then you’ve apparently thought wrong.

“The tall one, Y/N,” Oikawa says as though this is the most obvious thing in the world. His rings glint in the dim light as he discreetly points at one in the far back. “The one with the white jacket.”

Finally, you spot whoever it is he’s referring to, and the next thing out of your mouth is a crisp “What the fuck?”

Oikawa snorts in derision – why he would when he’s the laughingstock in this particular situation, you’ll never know, but that still doesn’t stop you from echoing the sound back.

“I leave my best friend alone for a few years, and when I come back you’re suddenly all broken-hearted about Ushijima Wakatoshi?” You say, equal parts incredulous and disappointed. Said best friend only shrugs in response, chugging the rest of his rum before slamming the empty glass down on the table.

“Save it, princess. Iwa’s already lectured me about the whole ‘you have terrible taste’ and ‘you should stop going after guys who you know are only going to break your heart’ thing,” he shoots back, his use of air quotes telling you that no, he didn’t – and probably still doesn’t – follow Iwaizumi’s advice. You roll your eyes, comeback already on the tip of your tongue, when —

“Hold on,” the boy next to you suddenly sits up straight, eyes wide open and staring at you. “How come you know him?”

“Well who doesn’t know him?”

Although you deliver it in a way that comes off as mildly sarcastic, all of his prominent social, athletic, and political embellishments have served to establish Ushijima Wakatoshi as a household name; both in Tokyo and throughout the rest of Japan.

But while that’s true, you for one can’t say that you know the man in the way that Oikawa is implying. Despite belonging in the same political circle, what with both your fathers’ professions, you have yet to properly interact outside of the social niceties required for the few parties and fundraisers you’ve seen him at.

From what you are able to discern the first few times you have been able to talk to him though, you are one hundred percent certain that you disliked the man to an almost frightening degree. His stoicism, apparent indifference and boundless pride rub off of you the wrong way, and you’ve been actively ignoring him at every meeting afterwards.

Your friend lets out another snort – you’ve half a mind to change his contact name to horse at this point – while you raise an eyebrow at his accusatory finger-wagging, almost daring him to say what’s so clearly on his mind.

Because despite wearing a short white number to stave off the summer heat that dominated the venue just hours prior, you have absolutely zero qualms about giving Tooru a thorough beat-down if necessary.

“There you guys are.”

Someone plops down into the vacant seat to your left, and when you turn to see a familiar, non-douchey face, you break into a smile.

“Hey, Haji,” you greet Iwaizumi as you lean against his side.

The faint blush that spreads across Oikawa’s face doesn’t escape you when you sneak a glance at him. Despite having his mind preoccupied by Ushijima, it looks like the brunette still hasn’t let go of his little crush on the final member of your trio. “Iwa-chaan, we waited forever. What took you so long?”

“Got lost, your house is fucking huge Y/N,” Iwaizumi explains, setting down his glass of his newest alcoholic concoction as he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Good thing I ran into your brother, few more minutes and I would’ve lost my mind in there.”

You snicker at him, a low mumble of “and you claim Tooru’s the stupid one” escaping you because honestly, your house isn’t that big. He might just not admit it but it’s common knowledge that Hajime’s a bit... directionally challenged, to say the least.

Ignoring the glare he sends your way, you nonchalantly pick up his drink and take a sip. “Ah, very nice. You really should consider bartending, Haji, you’ve got the talent for it,” you remark, handing Oikawa the glass for him to taste. 

Iwaizumi’s skill in mixing spirits was one the three of you discovered during one of your first parties, when you and Tooru had complained about how shitty the drinks were. Hajime, in a true gentlemanly fashion, had grabbed a couple of bottles off the counter and kept the two of you well-provided for for the remainder of the event. (and for every other event that came after it.)

The spiky-haired lawyer only rolls his eyes at your words, plucking the crystalware out of Oikawa’s hands before he could finish it off amidst the latter’s ungodliest of whines. “What were you doing anyway? Looked like you were discussing some deep stuff when I came in.”

You separate from him, putting your hands on your hips and adopting a haughty tone, “We are slandering Ushijima Wakatoshi, and his ways of ill-repute. You, by declaration of the Mistress, which is me, and by Friendship Code 70040, is hereby required to join as well.”

“I’ll pass, Wakatoshi’s cool,” Hajime comments around a sip of alcohol, and the casual use of Ushijima’s first name is enough to give you pause.

“Okay, first of all how are you on a first name basis with him and second, you’re a guy.” you exclaim, throwing your hands up for emphasis. “Of course you’d think that!”

“First question: I worked with him for a bit two years ago, not gonna say anything more because company rules, but we talked and he’s really nice,” Iwaizumi holds up two fingers. “Second, sure I am, but even your brother thinks so, too.”

“The world doesn’t just consist of Eita.”

“Alright, you both better shut it because the topic of your very heated conversation is heading right here,” Oikawa interrupts, poking you in the side and sending a look at Iwaizumi.

You groan in response and shake your head. Even during your time abroad, you’ve been unable to escape his presence; from the posters promoting his team for the 2014 World League to the numerous brand advertisements three years later, Wakatoshi was everywhere.

But - and you’ll never admit to this out loud, not ever - even though all you’ve seen of him was in print, on the television, and in the occasional social media update, you could never deny the fact that the man was handsome.

Tooru is attractive, as evidenced by the sheer number of his admirers in high school, Hajime has received his own fair share of confessions and Valentine’s Day chocolates, and you have to admit that your brother is objectively good-looking as well.

And while it’s a confession you have to make under duress, Wakatoshi is a completely different case altogether. You’d thought you were stunned when Miya Atsumu came to your offices to help promote the newly rolled-out banking app, but even he can’t really compare.

Nothing can really do with perfectly gelled olive hair, pristine three-piece suit slightly strained against a muscular build, and the undeniable aura that exuded power and demanded respect.

One would have to be practically blind not to feel attracted to Ushijima (but even then, you think that the timbre of his voice can still make anyone weak in the knees), but because you have no shame and are definitely not above pettiness, you maintain a disgusted-looking sneer as you watch him make his way to your table.

“Hey Toshi,” Oikawa says, the red from before making a reappearance as he takes in the newcomer with eager eyes.

“Good evening, Oikawa,” Ushijima replies, but it’s clear that his attention is focused elsewhere; namely, on you.

Your skin crawls at the weight of the stare he’s pinning on you, but you veto the urge to flip him off right then and there because that would be against proper decorum. Your patience is running thin though, and he needs something else to stare at immediately or so help him God you will do it.

“Wakatoshi,” Iwaizumi intervenes, bless him, and offers a hand towards the taller. “It’s been a long time.”

“Hajime,” Ushijima grasps the appendage and gives it a firm shake, but his gaze still hasn’t left you. ”It’s good to see you.” 

“Yo Ushiwaka! Get back over here!” One of the miscreants across the veranda calls out, standing beside what seems to be a set-up for a round of beer pong. You can’t help but make a face when you catch sight of it because what did they think this was, some messy Saturday night college party? These guys really had no taste.

Ushijima finally turns around to head back to his friends, but not without shooting you one last cursory glance over his shoulder; a glance that you dutifully avoid despite every single cell in your body pushing you to return it and have him catch sight of the hellfire burning in your gaze for doing whatever it is that he did to Tooru.

Because damn it, no one hurts your friends or family and gets away with it. Not even over your dead body, because God knows you will rise from the dead just to get retribution on their behalf.

The minute Wakatoshi’s out of earshot, you scoff into your glass of whiskey, hastily downing it in one go because you’d need more of it in your system if you wanted to survive tonight with him around.

In the entirety of your 26 years, never have you once thought yourself as unlucky. Horribly ill-timed, sure, but unlucky? Nope.

Or at least, not until tonight.

“If it isn’t Miss Semi,” a smooth baritone sounds from behind you, nearly causing you to drop the container you’re holding in surprise. “Good evening.”

You seethe, ready to give the person a piece of your mind for almost being the (however indirect) culprit to the destruction of a 20-year old piece of china, and you have the gall to be so confrontational because you actually know who it is. Only one person in this entire house can be in possession of a voice that deep.

True enough, when you turn, it is Ushijima Wakatoshi who stands at the entrance to your kitchen in all of his six-foot-three glory, eyebrow cocked in a perfect arch as he regards you. He’s holding an empty wineglass in his left hand, and it looks like he’s come in here to have it refilled.

You aren’t sure what exactly about the situation brings all the blood rushing to your face; be it the anger you feel at seeing him so callously walk into your kitchen like he owns it instead of going to the refreshments table outside, or the feeling of something else at the sight of him in only his deep purple dress shirt; sleeves rolled up and top two buttons undone.

That, along with the fact that his hair is now slightly tousled, leaves you thinking that he looks positively sinful, if not for the smirk that’s painted on his stupid face. That one tiny detail pushes you to choose the first, and safer, option.

You roll your eyes.

“Yes, hello Ushijima,” you respond drily, slamming the cabinet shut to punctuate your tone. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

He simply raises the glass in his hand in response, and you are unable to get a biting comment in about how he should instead look for a refill outside instead of in here like some privileged dick when he speaks.

“Congratulations on the announcement,” he begins, stepping beyond the threshold and into the kitchen, thick carpet muffling the sounds of his polished Italian leather shoes as he makes his way towards you.

When he gets dangerously close to the boundary of the minimum three-feet you need to have between you and him at all times, you briefly consider getting violent and chucking the bowl at him just to be done with it, but he seems to have other plans when he stops by the marble island, a full one inch away from your protective perimeter.

Looks like your grandmother’s favorite crucible will live to see another day.

You see him eye you expectantly from his position, and realize that you’ve yet to respond to his statement. “Thank you. I understand that the same is in order for you as well, what with your succession of Madame Junko’s position.”

He nods, less confirmatory and more ‘I’ve found your answer satisfactory,’ and you cannot suppress the white-hot lance of annoyance that shoots through you at the memory that comes barrelling along with the simple gesture.

Suddenly, you’re both no longer OS Post Holdings or The Ushijima Telegraph and Telephone Corporation’s newly appointed presidents and CEOs, but mere fifteen year olds attending middle school at the same time.

Ushijima has always been the star student, and while your father has pushed you to make friends with the quiet boy, you’ve never found it in yourself to brush aside the vast difference present in the way he looks at Wakatoshi, with eyes and gestures full of a soft sense of pride, and then at you, all strict words and interactions that feel more business related than anything else.

You’re not stupid, never was and never will; you know that your father wanted a son to follow in his footsteps. And although he had twins - a girl and a boy - he saw Eita as more of a disappointment because of his unwillingness to live the life the patriarch of the family wanted him to.

So while your brother pursued his dreams in the music industry, you were left to shoulder the responsibility that came with the Semi family name. You studied rigorously, honed your talents, and polished your social skills until you shined, determined to be the brightest gem in the industry and the daughter your father would be proud of.

But even though you were not stupid, you were definitely naive. Naive to have thought that he would be satisfied with what he had, naive to have thought that he wouldn’t look somewhere else to fulfill his own personal dreams.

And that’s how you first met Ushijima, the son of Governor Utsui and your father’s new protegee, as he so proudly told you over dinner with him one Thursday night.

The only thing that kept you from breaking down then were the years spent at etiquette lessons, so you settled instead on gripping your silverware until your knuckles turned white. You could feel Eita’s eyes on you from across the table, and you didn’t have to look to know that they were apologizing for something that he didn’t even do.

The other two males in the room seemed oblivious to your imminent spiral, happily talking with each other and discussing whatever it is that they deemed important, and the fire in your heart that burned for the olive-haired boy grew into a full-fledged inferno.

That day marked the beginning of your lifelong grudge against Wakatoshi, and you still haven’t given it up to this day.

“Attention! I would just like to thank everyone for coming tonight -”

Your dad’s booming voice is what breaks you out of your reverie, and you realize that you have been staring - glowering, really - at the object of your ire for far too long than what can be deemed normal.

An open bottle of Romanée-Conti rests on the countertop by his elbow, and his previously empty wineglass is now half-full, the deep red liquid catching the fluorescent lights as he idly swirls it around.

Much like his wine, there is also something swirling in his sharp eyes, but you neither need to or wish to know what it is. You let out a disgruntled huff before heading out to the living room, shooting him one final glare as you round the corner and disappear.

Wakatoshi sighs to the empty room before he too, decides to head on out and meet with Representative Semi - your and Eita’s father - to offer him his congratulations.

He finishes the drink in his hand, wine tasting oddly bittersweet as it goes down his throat, and as he exits the kitchen, he wonders for the nth time that night how come you seemed to hate him with such a passion.

He’s not stupid, not like the way everyone seems to think he is just because he’s blunt, but if it’s taken him this long to realize that your feelings towards him go much deeper than a simple dislike, then he thinks that he may never find out the real reason as to why.

The thought doesn’t deter him though, and when he catches sight of the back of your head while you talk animatedly to Oikawa Tooru, laughing your heart out as though you weren’t staring daggers at him just minutes ago, he thinks that he will gladly spend a lifetime figuring you out.

You are a mystery to him, and one that he will stop at nothing to crack.

[ note ]  ― and there we have it! first time we’re meeting the cast, and if the overly zealous descriptions about ushi isn’t enough to display how whipped i am for him then probably nothing ever will. hope you all like this one as much as i loved writing it <3

also this is dedicated to @cafemiya​ for giving me the push i needed to make this entire series. hi issy i love you bae 🥺💖

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima angst #ushijima fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #haikyuu x reader #hq ushijima #hq ushiwaka #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #ushijima x you #草花 #hqradiostation #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime #semi eita

[gravityunforgiven]

Right Where You Left Me (Kakashi x OC)

Pairings: Kakashi x OC, Jiraiya x Tsunade

Synopsis:

She was the daughter of a Legendary Sannin, He, a son of a disgraced shinobi. Fate brought them together but life tore them apart. Will they be able to take control of their destinies and find their way back to each other?

...Or will they be another victim of the cruel shinobi world they are both a part of?

Feel free to reblog!

Chapter Five

When Tsunade stepped outside the casino, she was frozen in her steps. She knew almost instantly that Akira was close by. She could still feel the faint but lingering presence of her chakra.

Akira’s here. She’s here.

There was no way Tsunade could have possibly mistaken Akira’s chakra for someone else’s. She may not have have seen her for a decade but Tsunade could never forget the familiarity of Akira’s presence. She knew it like the back of her hand. 

Akira’s chakra has always been a little different than of a normal shinobi largely due to the fact that wasn’t like the rest of them either. The uniqueness of her chakra was hidden in plain sight and would have been very obvious if one knows what to look for. 

By each passing second, Tsunade could feel herself sobering up. The sudden realization that her daughter was in such a close vicinity caught her off guard. She was suddenly overwhelmed by the emotions she had been trying to ignore for the past ten years. 

She wanted to see her. 

She had been meaning meaning to see Akira so many times in the last years that she had lost count of them. She had even gone as far as to reach the outskirts of their village only to turn back around and run for the hills. Tsunade just couldn’t face Akira. She was scared of what awaits her once she returned home, afraid of what Akira would say after she left her so many years ago.

She was terrified to be a burden for her daughter. It was never her intention to leave as long as she did, she only wanted to grieve properly and move on from Dan and Nawaki’s death but for some reason, a decade later, she was still grieving.

Tsunade didn’t exactly know what she was doing but she somehow found herself roaming around the unfamiliar village for the last person keeping her alive.

Just a glimpse. Just a glimpse then I’ll be gone. Tsunade kept repeating the words to herself. She had continously kept tabs on Akira through Jiraiya but there was nothing like seeing her in the flesh. 

Tsunade was well aware of the fact that she had hurt her daughter and she knew that her sudden return would cause her only more pain. She just couldn’t do that again. She just wasn’t ready to put Akira through all of that all over again. 

Though Tsunade could easily discern Akira’s chakra from a specific distance, she was certain that it was not the case for her daughter. Though it was clear that Akira was blessed with a remarkable skill in chakra control like her mother, Akira was just too young to remember Tsunade’s chakra. She was just so young.

It wasn’t long until Tsunade found her sitting on the bar of a sushi shop. Tsuande’s breath was caught in her throat. For a moment, the world around her disappeared and all she could see was her daughter. She was sitting on her own, her back faced Tsunade but there was no doubt in Tsunade’s mind that it was Akira. 

She knew it was her.

Her hair that used to reach her waist as a child now fell just a little past over her shoulder in waves of light blonde, a familiar Konoha issued cloak hung neatly on the back of her chair but Akira’s gaze was worlds away. She spun a chopstick in between her fingers as she stared at practically nothing.

Tsunade realized Akira was here on a mission. Tsunade almost scoffed at herself for thinking otherwise. Of course, she’s here on a mission. What was I expecting?

She would never admit it even to herself but a part of her still hoped that her worst fears hasn’t become a reality. Throughout the years, Jiraiya had relentlessly assured Tsunade that there was no reason for her to believe that Akira loathed her. He had told her that Akira understood why her mother left but she knew deep down that Akira must have hated her for leaving. She hated herself for leaving.

 What she did was cruel and selfish. But it was better than dragging Akira down with her to a pit of endless grieving and what ifs.

She had her glimpse of Akira. She had with her own two eyes how Akira had grown into an astonishing young woman. Tsunade knew she should leave. It was obvious that Akira was better off without her but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She knew she was being selfish yet again. Akira deserved so much better than her, she deserved a mother who can take care of her and not someone who needed taking care of.

Tsunade knew that the right thing to do was to keep her distance and she wasn’t sure if it was the  alcohol or just her but she found herself weaving hand signs and masking her appearance before closing the gap that separated her from her daughter. 

She had absolutely no idea what she was going to do when she sat on the stool next to Akira but the words came out of her mouth without her permission.

“You’re a long way from home.” Akira stopped mid-sip from her drink and looked at her right where the voice came from and found a woman clearly in her late 50s with graying hair and a smirk. 

For the second time that night,Tsunade’s breath was caught in her throat. When Akira’s eyes pierced into her own, for a split second, she saw Dan’s face instead. Even when Akira was young, people had told her how much they looked similar but seeing at her now, Tsunade thought how wrong all of them were. Akira had always been so much like Dan than she was of her. They just didn’t know him enough to see. 

Akira blinked a couple of times in confusion, unsure if she was the one being talked to by the unfamiliar woman. “I’m sorry?”

Instincts were suddenly taking over Akira’s entire body. She discreetly checked the shuriken holster on her left leg just in case the woman attacked.

“You’re Tsunade’s daughter.” She said as a matter of fact then casually orders a dish from the menu.

“Oh, no.” A defeated sigh escaped Akira’s lips. I know where this is going. She had encountered this conversation too many times than she wanted to remember. The resemblance between her and her mother kept giving away their relationship to the people Tsunade had a debt to.

“She owes you money doesn’t she?”

The woman chuckled, the lines on her face becoming more visible as she did so. “ She does actually.”

Akira shrugged nonchalantly, “I’m not paying for her.” Akira was definitely curious about the woman now. She seemed familiar, like they’ve met somewhere before though Akira was absolutely certain this was the first time she had ever seen the lady.

“Do I know you?” Akira’s eyes narrowed amd Tsunade’s heart skipped a beat.

“I used to know when you were younger.” That wasn’t exactly a lie in Tsunade’s part. She did know Akira as a child. Not anymore. The person sitting right next to her was completely different from the child who bid her goodbye on the village gates. That child was oblivious, unaware, still free from the gravity of her duties. This girl, no, this woman she was seeing bled of confidence and grace in ever action. Tsunade could see from her face how she had embraced her responsibilities wholeheartedly despite its burden. She had grown into someone Tsunade could only dream of becoming.

“Really?” Akira’s right eyebrow arched this time, still suspicious. So, Tsunade, still enamoured by the presence of her daughter, continued her cover story. She told her stories, facts only someone from the village would know and things no one would have known if they didn’t see Akira grow up. And true enough, Akira was convinced of her identity.

For what seemed like only a few minutes for Tsunade but hours in reality, the two exchanged stories with each other. It was much easier this way. To Akira, she was just a retired shinobi traveling the world, not someone living a life full of regrets. She told her stories of her time as a shinobi, the adventures, the missions, something she never had the chance to do when Akira was younger as she did not fully understood yet what it takes to become a shinobi. Still, she was careful to keep her cover on and noticed that Akira never mentioned any names. But still, it didn’t took long for Akira to succumb into the familiarity of the elder lady.

She didn’t have a lot of women in her life growing up. She had her friends for sure but Rin was gone, Kurenai was just only a few years older than her and even Kushina was not much older either. They were like her older sisters and Biwako Sarutobi became her honorary grandmother. The fact that the two most important women in her life died at the same night didn’t help at all. She didn’t have anyone to buy clothes with or talk to when her budding romance with Kakashi at the time became all too confusing. She went through all of these alone. Of course, she had Jiraiya but despite being the writer the Make Out Series, there were things only a fellow woman can understand.

As the older lady continued to speak next to her, Akira wondered if this is what it felt like to have a mother. The shinobi in her told her to shut up, pack her things and leave the woman who literally showed up from nowhere. She reminded herself that genjutsu was not exactly her strong suit but the other part of her was a little too assured that this woman was harmless and she was technically part of her old life. She was just so kind and she listened and laughed with her.

 They talked about the village and how much it has changed over the last few years. Tsunade told her abour her travels and the places she had visited and it came to her knowledge that Akira had dreamt to travel sthe world as well. Not for missions, but for herself. When Tsunade asked asked what was stopping her, Akira’s answer was short but it was more than enough for her to see the dedication that she has for the village. Like her father. 

“I guess I want to protext my people more than anything.” She answered with a shrug and a smile. Tsunade knew she meant each word from the look in her eyes alone. Akira told her how protecting the village was what she wants to do the most not because she needs to,but because she wants to. There was nothing else she would rather be than be a protector of her home.

“So you want to become Hokage, then? Is that what you want too?” Do you have his dream too?

Akira’s laugh filled the air. “No.” she chuckled. “I don’t really like paperwork.” This made Tsunade laugh herself. She guess that Akira had seen the mountains of paperwork from the Third Hokage and it did not look appealing to her either.

“ I prefer protecting the village from the outside. Besides, I’m better off at field work anyway.”

“Captain?” Their converstaion was interrupted by two seemingly normal shinobis to the normal eye but their all too familiar black cloaks immediately gave away their identities to Tsunade.

ANBU.

Akira quickly excused herself from their conversation and headed out. Tsunade was well aware of the fact that Akira had joined the ANBU at an age younger than what everyone was accustomed to but she was never informed that Akira had become a team captain. Both she and Jiraiya had been against the idea of Akira being an ANBU knowing how dangerous the missions they were sent to are but there was really nothing anyone could do when Akira sets her mind to something. All they could do was to watch and pray that she would come home every time.

The three talked in hushed tones but Tsunade heard enough to perceive that whatever their mission is, it was not going as planned. 

There was a moment of silence between the three as Akira contemplated what their next move would be.

“Tell the others we’re moving out on the first light.” Her command was curt but spoken with absolute finality. 

When Akira returned to her seat, there was a noticeable change in her mood. “Mission’s not going well, huh?” Tsunade asked though the answer was more than obvious by the look in Akira’s face.

Akira let out a deep and frustrated sigh. “I don’t really like long-term missions.”

“Someone waiting for you back home?” Tsunade took her chances and asked. She wondered if Akira had had the chance to fall in love yet. She hoped that Akira hadn’t yet as she wanted to be there for her daughter when she starts dating but the deep flush of red quickly spreading across Akira’s cheeks told her otherwise.

Oh.

Akira contemplated for a second wether she would divulge that information to the still annamed woman but before she could tell herself to stop, s smile was already forming on her lips.

“There is, actually.”

Man, I really should shut-up now.

Tsunade could see a gleam in Akira’s eyes as she told her how much this man means to her. All her worries from her mission seemed to disappear with the mention of the man. She looked incredibly happy and for that, Tsunade was beyond grateful. 

If you ever find yourself in the Land of Fire, You should come by to the village. I think he would love to meet you.” Akira says as she gestured for the bill.

Tsunade would love to meet him as well knowing that she is forever indebted to this person for bringing joy into her daughter’s life. 

The two women reached for the bill at the same time, and for a split second, their skins touched. All Tsunade could think about was heat.

Akira’s skin was abnormally hot against her. The medic ninja in her was sure that Akira had a fever of at least a hundred at the bare minimum. 

“I got this. It’s the least I could do for my mother.” Akira says, pulling out a couple of bills from her wallet.

“You’re sick.” Tsunade placed a hand on Akira’s forehead and confirmed that she was warmer than usual. 

Akira looked at her in confusion before dismissing her with a laugh. “I’m always warm.” She grinned. “That’s just me.” 

Tsunade knew it must have been an effect of being the Okami’s reincarnation she had developed while growing up. It wasn’t like this when Akira was a child or she would have instantly noticed it. 

Questions as to what else Akira may have developed plague Tsunade’s mind but she never had the chance to ask Akira because she was once again caught off guard when Akira placed her own Konoha issued cloak around Tsunade’s shoulders.

“Here. Looks like you need it more than I do.” Akira adjusted the cloak on Tsunade’s shoulder and zipped it into place. 

“But it’s cold out-“

“I’m always warm remember?” Akira held the entrance curtains of the shop out of the way for Tsunade.

The two of them stood outside the shop where the moon was already shining bright and the streets were lit with street lights. 

“You know between the two of us, you have more chances in seeing my mother more than I do.” Akira started. She knew that it was incredibly inappropriate to ask a favor from someone she had just met and whom she refuses to grace with her name but she was desperate. She had to see her mother even for a moment.

Akira had made it a point to not talk about Tsunade whenever Jiraiya was around knowing ythat the man was also having a hard time dealing with his own feelings and juggling his time between fulfilling his destiny and fathering Akira as much as he possibly can.

This woman was her last chance in order to talk to her mother and sparing Jiraiya.

“So if you ever see her, can you do me a favor and tell her to come home?” Akira looked straight into the eyes of her mother and Tsunade saw right through her and into the sadness Akira was trying so hard to conceal.

“Tell her that I understand that she doesn’t owe anything to me but I need to know-“ Akira’s voice broke.

“Tell her I need to know if it was me.” Akira forced a smile in her face. “I deserve at least that.”

I need to know if she left because I was different. Because I wasn’t like the others.

“Okay?”

“Of course.” There was nothing else Tsunade could say before Akira gave her one last smile - a smile that would haunt Tsunade for the rest of her days- before disappearing into the night with the hopes of seeing the kind woman once again 

Tsunade was left on the street on her own ince again with only her thoughts to accompany her. Of all the possible scenarios that had ran through her head, never did she once imagine that Akira woulld blame herself for the decisions she made.

It was never Akira, It was always her who had the problem.

She had always been perfect to Tsunade’s eyes from the moment she was born. She was the one good thing that happened in Tsunade’s life. She was her miracle.

Tsunade promised herself that she would tell Akira that herself.

—————

Tsunade found herself standing outside the window of her daughter’s rented room, her eyes brimmed with tears as the gravity of what she had done all those years ago finally sinked in.  

Akira blamed herself for something she had nothing to do with.

Just a few feet away from her, her daughter laid fast asleep on the futon. She was curled into a tight ball, the duvet only covering her lower body and the pillow that her head was supposed to be resting on, lay discarded on the floor. 

Tsunade couldn’t help but smile. The familiarity of the scene she was witnessing felt right. It felt like home. She had done this thousands of times before, back when the woman in front of her was nothing but a baby that can fit right into her arms, then a young child whose abilities were one of a kind she posed a danger to her own, and now, a fine kunoichi who had already surpassed her predecessors in every aspect. 

Yet despite that, Tsunade can still see the child she loved more than anyone or anything in the world. She can still see Dan in her. Akira may indeed inherited her mother’s looks but there was so much of Dan that lives in her.

She knew deep inside what she had to do. She needed to stop this nonsense. Dan may have been gone but he left her the most precious gift anyone could ask for and she was so busy tending to her own grief that she didn’t see who needed her the most. 

Tsunade knew she needed to come home.

She needed to come home to Akira.

But she was a little too late.

Way too late.

—————

A/N: Thank you for all the support! I really appreciate them more than you can imagine.

#kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi angst #kakashi x oc #naruto #naruto shippuden #jiraiya #dan x tsunade #jiraiya x tsunade #tsunade #kakashi x reader #kakashi fanfiction #anbu kakashi #angst #anime #senju #anime fanfiction #imagines #jiratsu #kakashi sensei #kakashi love #team kakashi #kakashi x y/n #love #kakashi fluff #kakashi headcanons #naruto headcanons #hatake #kakashi imagines #kakashi series

[wonderful-writes]

Oooh! For the Charlie Weasley prompt list, 5, 8, and 14, where the reader and charlie have lowkey had feelings for each other for a long time, but then he went to Romania, but finally the reader is about to go into their last year, and they're spending summer at the burrow when Charlie comes back and they talk about being together after the reader graduates

Next Year

Charlie Weasley x Reader

Summary: You had always been close to the Weasley family, and the second-oldest, dragon-loving brother was no exception. He was a few years ahead of you, tall, funny, and ruggedly handsome — all that you could ever want in a boy. It was a shame he didn’t feel the same way. But could one summer together at the Burrow change all that?

Prompts:

5) There’s always next year.

8) I never forgot you.

14) Is that my jumper?

“Y/N! Y/N! Over here!”

You turned to see Ginny Weasley calling to you from the entrance of the Burrow. At her side was a broom and a dustpan. Mrs. Weasley had probably asked her to sweep the front porch.

“Ginny!” you exclaimed, running over to her. You had apparated to the Burrow with nothing but a small suitcase, so it didn’t take long for you to reach her.

“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” the young red-headed girl gushed as she pulled you into a hug.

“Where is everybody?” you asked when she finally let go of you.

“Percy, Ron, and Harry are upstairs cleaning the bedrooms with Mum,” Ginny answered. “Hermione was helping me out here, but she went inside to grab paper towels for the windows.”

“And Fred and George?”

“They went out with Charlie. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.”

“Charlie’s here?” you asked in surprise. “I thought you said he wasn’t coming. In your letter.”

“Huh, I probably made a mistake,” she said. “I meant to write that Bill wasn’t coming home this summer, not Charlie.”

“Oh,” you said. Part of you was excited to see Charlie again, but another part of you dreaded it. You hadn’t seen him since the end of your fifth year at Hogwarts, an entire year ago. You had finished your fifth year when he finished his seventh, and he headed straight for Romania after that. He had left immediately after graduation, not even staying to spend one more summer with you.

It was not like he had any reason to spend another summer with you. You were only a family friend, after all. The Weasleys had loads of family friends, and you were no different. Charlie probably thought of you like he did Harry or Hermione. But you couldn’t help but wish that he thought of you as something more than that.

You were heartbroken when he left, but you didn’t let it show. You spent that summer with your family, who missed you dearly when you were away at school. You had a happy time, taking trips and enjoying the company of those you love, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Charlie was gone.

When fall came, you returned to Hogwarts to begin your sixth year. You had school to occupy you — and you were very busy with that, being your studious and ambitious self — but you never let go of the memory of Charlie Weasley. You often looked back at why you fell for him in the first place.

You had met in your first year and his third. As members of the same house, you saw each other frequently and became fast friends. Over the years, you became acquainted with the rest of the Weasley siblings and grew to consider them your second family. You spent parts of your school breaks at the Burrow, and your muggle parents became close friends with the Weasleys as well. It was hard not to fall for Charlie when you were constantly around him and his wonderful family.

Though he was two years older than you, he treated you like an equal, not like some bothersome younger sister. He was kind and respectful and had a love for animals. In your mind, he was perfect. But you never had the courage to tell him so. You were always too embarrassed about your crush and too scared that your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. He never showed any signs that he fancied you, so why would you humiliate yourself by admitting that you fancied him?

“I’ll take that for you, dear,” someone said, breaking you from your thoughts. You looked up to see that Arthur Weasley had come out of the house and was reaching for your suitcase.

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley!” you said, handing over the suitcase. “I assume I’ll be staying in Bill’s room since he’s not here?”

“Sure are,” he replied. “He’s been so busy at Gringotts. They just shipped him out to Egypt not even a week ago.” Mr. Weasley smiled broadly, clearly proud of his son.

“Wow, Egypt?” you marvel. “Bill must be some curse-breaker.”

“He sure is,” said Molly Weasley, joining the throng conversing on the front steps. “Hello, Y/N. How are you, dear?”

You stepped into Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched arms and told her that you had never been better. School was swell, your friends were keeping you sane, and there was nothing getting you down. She seemed happy at your reply and led the way back into the house.

Inside, you greeted Ron, Hermione, Harry and Percy. Unlike Ginny, whom you haven’t seen since Christmas holiday, you saw the four the them at school everyday. Percy was a year younger than you, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione were itty bitty soon-to-be second years. You were happy that Ginny would be starting at Hogwarts in the fall. Your last year would be her first, but at least you could go to school with her for one year.

For the rest of the day, you helped the family tidy up the house and prepare supper. When evening rolled around, Charlie, Fred, and George returned from wherever it was they went to. Fred and George said hello to you first, before heading upstairs to work on a new prank idea. Charlie was the last to approach you.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. “Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking up at him. He hadn’t changed a bit. Same messy red hair, same freckles dotting his face. He was as handsome as ever. You quickly looked away, feeling the heat creep up your neck. The last thing you wanted was to out yourself on having a crush on Charles Weasley, especially in front of Charlie himself and his family.

“Hey, Y/N!” called Ron. “Wanna play a game of chess before dinner?”

“Sure,” you answer gratefully. You wanted any excuse to distance yourself from Charlie. Being around him only intensified your feelings for him.

After a heated round of chess, which Ron, the strategic genius, obviously won, Mrs. Weasley announced that dinner was ready. Everyone took their seats at the table, you squeezing yourself in between George and Ginny. To your dismay, Charlie chose the chair directly across from you.

He flashed you a smile. You smiled back weakly before quickly looking down at your plate. Act normal, you told yourself. When you still went to school with Charlie, you had gotten the same nervous, fluttery feeling whenever you were around him. After he left to pursue his dream job in Romania, he wasn’t nearby to make your stomach do somersaults anymore. It had been a full year since you felt this dizzying feeling, and now it was all rushing back to you.

“You okay, Y/N?” asked Hermione, who was sitting next to Charlie.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Why aren’t you eating?”

You looked around and quickly realized that everyone had already piled food on top of their plates, but yours was still empty. How long had you been sitting there?

“Right,” you said as you picked up a serving spoon, about to dish mashed potatoes onto your plate. “I was thinking about someone, and I guess I zoned out for a bit.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow at you. “Who were you thinking about?”

You froze. You replayed your words and realized that you had accidentally said you were thinking about someone instead of something.

“Did I say someone?” you asked with a laugh, attempting to pass off your error as a simple mistake. “I meant something.”

“Sure you did,” Ginny teased, winking at you.

You rolled your eyes at her. You acted as if it was all a joke, but you were dying of embarrassment on the inside. You hoped you weren’t being too obvious.

“Pass me the green beans, Y/LN,” Charlie said.

You felt your face burning as you handed over the green beans. Even though you didn’t touch him, extending your hand that close to his sent electricity through you.

“Thank you,” Charlie said cheekily.

You spared him a glance, flashing him a smile. You were trying to act as casual as possible, but it was difficult when your stomach churned every time you looked at him. There was no denying to yourself that you were crushing hard.

After dinner was done, you helped Mrs. Weasley wash up. When everything was cleaned and put away, you headed over to the living room, where Fred, George, and Charlie were playing cards around the coffee table. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were talking upstairs, Percy was in his room reading, and the Weasley parents had decided to retire for the night.

“Can I play?” you asked, taking a seat next to Fred.

“Sure,” he answered, not looking up from his deck. “Next game.”

“So, where did you guys go earlier today?” you questioned.

“We just went to town,” George replied nonchalantly. “Fred and I needed to get some stuff for our next prank, and Charlie offered to take us.”

You hummed in response. It made you feel warm inside to know that Charlie was so attentive with his siblings. Family was very important to you, and you were glad it was important to him as well. Just another reason for you to fall even harder for him. Godric, why did he have to be so perfect?

The boys continued to play. The game finally ended when both Fred and Charlie ran out of cards, leaving George the winner. You began picking up the cards and shuffling them, preparing to deal them to everyone.

Before you could complete your task, however, George interrupted. “Actually, Fred and I are going upstairs to work on our new idea.”

Giving them a wave goodbye, you watched as the two younger boys got up from the coffee table and headed upstairs.

“You and me?” Charlie asked, a mischievous smile on his face

“Sure,” you replied.

You handed him his cards, and the two of you began to play. You were both concentrated on the game, and the only noise that could be heard was the sound of cards slapping on the table.

“So, how have you been?” Charlie asked, trying to make conversation.

“I’ve been good,” you responded. “You?”

“Never been better. Working at the dragon sanctuary has been a dream come true.”

You were genuinely happy to hear that he loved his job and his new life. Although, you wished you could be a bigger part of it. Charlie wasn’t much of a writer, and he hardly sent letters to his family, let alone his friends. You had written to him once when he was away, and he had responded. That was the extent of your communication over the last year. You didn’t bother to send another letter, fearing coming off as clingy or obsessed. When he failed to write to you again, you knew you had made the right decision.

“Wanna tell me more about Romania?” you asked, setting your cards down.

“Sure!” he answered enthusiastically. “But can we sit on the couch? My bum is sore from sitting on the floor.”

The two of you moved to the sofa and sat about a foot away from each other. He told you all about his experiences working with dragons. He went into detail about the training process, the proper way to handle a baby dragon, and the different breeds he got to study. You smiled as he talked, enjoying the way his eyes lit up whenever he discussed something he was passionate about.

“So, what about you?” he asked finally. “What have you been up to?”

“Well, I just finished my sixth year, which you already knew,” you said. “I aced most of my exams, I was invited into the Slug Club, and I’m currently working towards becoming Head Girl.”

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Charlie said. “You must be proud of yourself.”

“I am proud. Exhausted, but proud. Sometimes I wonder how I got this far. I look back at all the hard work I put in and still can’t figure out how I managed to do all that.”

“You’re pretty incredible,” said Charlie. “If anyone could accomplish that much, it would be you.” He paused. “Well, maybe also Percy. He’s a know-it-all.”

You blushed at his compliment. “Thanks, Charlie.” When you first told him about your achievements, you were worried he would think you were bragging. But his kind words put your fears at ease, reassuring you that it was okay to be happy for yourself and to want to share your goals and successes with others.

“You know, we should keep in touch more when I go back to Romania,” he said.

“Agreed. We hardly exchanged two letters in the past year.”

Charlie smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I sort of didn’t write to anyone at all. I mean, unless they wrote to me first.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him. “You were probably too busy taming dragons or something,” you teased.

“I never forgot you,” he said, as if he had to make sure you knew his lack of communication wasn’t personal.

You felt your breath hitch. You knew he was probably only saying because he felt guilty for not sending letters to someone who obviously wanted to, but you secretly wished he had meant something more by those words. Did he miss you when he was away? Or did he just feel bad for cutting off a family friend who was desperate for company? Could he sense how you felt about him?

“I know,” you said. “You don’t have to feel bad for not writing. I know it’s nothing against me.” You really hoped he didn’t pity you or think you were pathetic. Your Gryffindor confidence truly gave out on you when you were around him.

“I-it’s not that,” he stammered. “It’s just, well, um.”

“It’s just what?” you questioned. Since when did Charlie Weasley get so tongue-tied?

“I, uh, I want you to know that I never forgot about you,” he finally spitted out, red in the face. “You’re, you’re different to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Was Charlie Weasley, the boy you’ve been swooning over for years, confessing his feelings for you?

“Different how?” you asked, wanting him to get to the point. You needed to know how he felt about you, but you were slightly afraid of the outcome. What if it was all a misunderstanding? What if you had been reading the situation wrong, and he didn’t actually have feelings for you?

“Well, you’re like a friend,” Charlie began slowly. He seemed to have regained his natural confidence and composure. “But more than that.”

You stared at him, unable to speak.

“You’re like family,” he went on, “but I don’t see you as my sister or anything like that. I see you more as someone I could fancy, or rather, someone I do fancy.”

You were dumbstruck. The boy you were head-over-heels for actually liked you back. He had said it himself. He fancied you. No one else, you.

“Could you please say something?” Charlie asked.

You looked down to see him fidgeting with his hands. Was he really that anxious? The calmest person you knew was nervous around you?

“I can’t believe you just said that,” you said, looking him in the eyes. Those gorgeous brown eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, turning red again. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” you hurriedly told him. “I like you, too.”

“You do?” he asked, breaking into a grin that could make you melt into the ground.

“Yes, I do. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I never had the courage to say anything. I didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“Same here,” Charlie admitted. “I’ve liked you for a while, but it felt wrong of me to say so. You are my friend, after all. Plus, you’re two years younger than me.”

You nodded in agreement. You often questioned if it would be wrong to date someone who wasn’t your age. Would people think weirdly of you and Charlie if the two of you were in a relationship? Would either of you get in trouble?

You couldn’t help yourself from asking, “How long have you liked me for?” You were still flabbergasted and didn’t think you’d ever get over the news.

“Well, I’m not sure. Maybe since my sixth year? Although, it could’ve been before that. We were always such close friends that I didn’t notice when platonic feelings started to turn into something more.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get it. Although, I can’t say it was the same for me. My feelings for you weren’t gradual like that. I knew I liked you all at once. From the moment we first met, actually.”

“Oh, did you?” he teased. “Did you find me that charming?”

“Oh, shut it, you git,” you said while rolling your eyes at him. It felt nice to banter with him without the awkward tension from before. Knowing that he shared your feelings made it easier for you to talk to him.

“So, what now?” Charlie asked you. “Are we dating or...?”

“Well, you have to ask me out first, don’t you?” you said playfully, trying to hide your smile.

He let out a loud sigh. “If I must.”

“Go on,” you said with a smirk. You had missed his goofy side when you were apart from him.

“Y/N Y/LN, will you go out with me?” he asked dramatically.

You rolled your eyes again. “Yes, you doof. I will go out with you.”

He beamed. “Brilliant!”

You smiled back at him, reaching for his hands. You gripped his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. Those soft, brown eyes that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

“But what will your family think?” you questioned, finally breaking his gaze.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Will your family be okay with this?”

“I’ve, uh, already told my parents about you,” you said sheepishly. “They’ve known I liked you for a long time, so they won’t have a problem with us dating. It’s your family I’m worried about.”

Charlie nodded. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell them? Not now, at least?”

“That would probably be best,” you agreed. “I don’t particularly want to deal with their judgement right now.”

Just then, the thudding of footsteps coming down the stairs could be heard.

“Charlie, Y/N, it’s bedtime!” Ron called from the landing. “Mum told me to tell you!”

“We’re coming, Ron!” Charlie shouted back. He turned to you. “So, I guess we’re keeping this a secret?”

“Guess so.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep as you laid in bed. You didn’t have to share Bill’s room with anybody, so you were utterly alone with your thoughts. Part of you was too excited to sleep. You couldn’t believe you were dating Charlie Weasley, the boy of your dreams. But part of you was also terrified of what the Weasleys would say once they found out. You already knew they liked you; you had been a friend of their children for a long time. And Charlie was their own son. But would a relationship be too much?

Aside from your worries about Charlie’s family, thoughts about how to make a relationship with him work also occupied your mind. He would be returning to the dragon reserve in Romania at the end of the summer, and you would be starting your last year at Hogwarts. Would you break up? Would you do long-distance? How would you make it work?

The next morning, everything proceeded as usual. You had breakfast with the Weasleys, along with Ron and Hermione, of course, and helped with the dishes afterward. You spent the rest of the day spending time with everyone, particularly Charlie. The two of you snuck off whenever you could, but it was difficult finding time to be alone with so many people at the Burrow.

The rest of the summer went accordingly. You spent your days playing games with the younger children, helping Mr. and Mrs. Weasley around the house, and enjoying quiet moments with Charlie. During your time alone, the two of you talked, made plans, and fell deeper in love with each other. You were infatuated with him, and he felt the same about you. Both of you dreaded the end of the summer, when you would eventually have to part ways.

You would miss the hot nights laying in the field, counting fireflies together. You would miss the sweet way you held each other’s hands underneath the dinner table. You would miss the rise and fall of his chest when he had fallen asleep on the banks of the nearby pond after a long afternoon of splashing around. You would miss the blush that crept up his cheeks when you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You would miss him, everything about him.

The last day of summer crept closer and closer. Before you knew it, it was your final night at the Burrow. You were set to leave with Percy, Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny early the next morning. A part of you was excited to finally start your last year at Hogwarts, knowing that this would bring you another step closer to your adult life. Some days, there was nothing you wanted more than to be done with school and to start working in the wizarding world. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be a healer or an auror or some other profession, but you knew you wanted to make a difference and do good things for others. But another part of you was saddened. You didn’t want to leave the warmth and comfort of the Burrow. You didn’t want the carefree summer days to be nothing but a distant memory. And you didn’t want your blossoming relationship with Charlie to come to a close either.

It was past midnight, and you were the only one awake. Having had trouble falling asleep, you had gone down to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. After downing your drink, you had decided to perch on the sofa to contemplate your current situation. Physically, you were exhausted from a long day of frolicking in the fields and slinging rocks into the pond, the perfect end to the perfect summer. Mentally, you were restless as thoughts ran wild through your head. What would happen when you returned to school and Charlie went back to Romania? Your body was telling you to sleep, but your mind was keeping you up. You would be able to sleep on the train the next day, anyway.

“Y/N?” a voice sounded through the silence. “Why are you up?”

You broke free of your thoughts and glanced up to see Charlie staring back at you from the foot of the stairs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged. “Went down for some water and decided to sit here.”

Charlie grinned before plopping down next to you. “Well, then, I’m glad I happened to wake up just now. We can have one more moment together before we both leave tomorrow.”

You smiled back at him. “I think one more moment with you is just what I need right now.”

“What’s on your mind, love?” he asked as he draped his arm around you.

You snuggled closer to his side. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about us. What’s going to happen after tomorrow?”

You peered into Charlie’s eyes and found that he looked utterly content, relaxed even. Was he not fazed by the idea of having to leave you?

“Well, you’re going back to school,” he began, “and I’m going back to the sanctuary.”

“But what about us?”

“We’ll do long-distance, I guess,” he answered with a shrug. “I don’t want to break up or anything.”

You smiled at that and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. You were glad he wasn’t too worried. It eased your nerves to see how well he was handling this. “I don’t want to break up either. But you better write me, you git.”

Charlie smirked. “Alright, I’ll write you.”

You punched him playfully. “You better.”

The two of you stayed on the couch for a while, just enjoying being close to each other. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic pounding soothed you, let you know that everything was going to be okay.

“Hey, is that my jumper?” Charlie finally spoke, gesturing to knitted red garment you wore.

You grinned sheepishly, looking down at the jumper that hung oversized on you. “I wanted to have a piece of you before we go our separate ways. I didn’t think you’d miss it too much. You have a bunch of them.”

“You can keep it, love,” he said with a grin. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” you replied happily. You knew he wouldn’t have minded you taking his jumper, but it was nice to hear him say it himself. Something about the way he said it looked better on you made you cling onto him even tighter.

You and Charlie fell asleep on the couch that night, entangled in each other’s arms. In the morning, you were awakened by the sound of stomping footsteps and rowdy laughter as the other children got ready to leave. Soon enough, Molly Weasley was ushering you and Charlie to get ready as well. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see the two of you sleeping on the sofa together. Like everyone else in the house, she knew of your relationship without having to be told.

Charlie decided to accompany you and rest of the returning Hogwarts troupe to the train station. He didn’t want to miss seeing you off, wanting to say goodbye one last time. By the time you reached Platform 9 3/4, it was finally hitting you that you would be leaving him again. But this time, it hurt a little less because you knew you wouldn’t be leaving behind an unrequited love. You would be leaving your boyfriend, someone who did feel the same way and would never stop caring about you no matter the distance.

Your goodbye was bittersweet. You were thrilled to be parting ways as two people who were dating at long last, but you were dismayed to leave him at all.

“Did you pack my jumper?” Charlie asked as he pulled you into one last hug.

“Sure did,” you grinned at him. “I’m going to miss you, Charlie.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, planting a kiss into your hair. “But there’s always next year.”

You finally pulled away and boarded the Hogwarts Express with the others. Sitting in between Ginny and Hermione, you waved out the window frantically as the train pulled out of the station. You continued to wave as the train continued to chug forward until the figures of Charlie, Molly, and Arthur Weasley became nothing but specks on the platform.

Tired from staying up late the night before, you allowed yourself to shut your eyes during the ride to school. As you were drifting off to sleep, the last words Charlie had said to you turned over and over again in your mind. But there’s always next year. He was right. Although you’d be apart for your last year at Hogwarts and his second year in Romania, you had your whole future ahead of you. You had the rest of your lives to be together, so it didn’t matter that you weren’t together now. You sank deeper and deeper into a peaceful slumber, letting the noise of the train inching along the tracks and the thoughts of your future with Charlie lull you to sleep.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x y/n #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #charlie weasley fanfiction #weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction

[malfoys-demigod]

Mistletoe

Draco Malfoy x Reader 

Summary: After 5 years in America, the reader comes back home to enjoy a party hosted by the Potters/Weasleys and maybe... a mistletoe surprise?

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! I’ve been busy but I’ve also been wanting to do a Draco fic. Enjoy and happy holidays (whichever event you celebrate!) It’s not the best but I hope you like it. 

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist @the--queen-of-hell @bbeauttyybbx

“Would you like a cup of tea with your frosted cupcake, madam?” asked the house elf. 

She shook her head, smiling politely, “I’d love a fresh cup of joe instead, thank you.”

The elf tilted his head, narrowing his confused eyes, “Pardon me, madam, but what exactly is a cup of joe?” 

Embarrassment started filling up the oxygen she was breathing as her eyes started growing bigger with realization that the term was not widely known in British soils. She chuckled to herself awkwardly, “Oh-”

“It’s a fresh cup of coffee, Hokey,” a voice from behind said, “I believe it’s an American saying.”

Hokey nodded, going back to his work as he started brewing Y/N’s coffee. While this was going on, she turned around, to meet the owner of the voice from behind. It turned out to be Draco Lucius Malfoy, who seemed to be casually smirking, placing both his hands on the pockets of his trousers, looking at her from top to bottom. 

“Well, well, well,” he happily said, “If it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Hello to you too, Draco Malfoy,” she nonchalantly greeted him, copying his gesture of calling you by her first and last name. “And how were you aware of this American slang?” she asked, crossing your arms. 

Draco’s smirk only got wider, when he took her cupcake, getting a small, smooth bite from it. “And why should I tell you?”

“Because I’d like to thank you, for saving me from utter embarrassment with my American customs.” she lied, as she just wanted to know how he could translate such an American saying for it was different in England. 

Draco leaned in, seeming as if he was actually going to tell her. She peered in as he said, “I have a better way for you to thank me.” Her utter disappointment in his reply resulted in her leaning back, slapping his arm forcefully. “Douche,” she muttered. As Draco winced in pain, laughing lightly, she took her coffee and made a bee-line to the other side of the room. 

She found familiar faces such as the hosts, Ginny and Harry Potter, with their best friends, Hermione and Ron Weasley. A wave of relief flushed on her face as she walked straight to them. “Hello, everyone,” she greeted relievingly. 

The group turned to Y/N, hugging her out, as they smiled at her merrily. “Enjoying the party, Y/N? It’s probably not the same as you do it in America, but it’s lovely, ain’t it?” Ron asked politely. 

“Nothing beats a traditional English party like having English turkey on Christmas Day, Ron.” she confidently replied, cheering her coffee mug with his. “Although I thought there would be more gentlemen in this part of the world.” she muttered loudly, giving them a confused face. 

“What exactly do you mean by that, Y/N?” Harry asked. 

Y/N shook her body, gesturing that she was shaking off bad vibes from her system. “Nothing much, only that Malfoy came up to me just a few minutes ago. Same old flirt to all, am I right?” 

There was a mix of emotional replies from the group, causing Y/N to get puzzled. Harry and Ron shook their heads at each other, smiling cheekily while Hermione and Ginny let out a small laugh with each other. 

Y/N narrowed her eyebrows, “I don’t understand. Is it really that funny?”

“Heavens no,” Hermione said, “You’re wrong, Y/N!” 

“Wrong?” the staggered girl asked, “What do you mean?”

“Go on, Harry,” Ron prompted his best friend, “Tell her!”

Harry nodded, looking at you, smiling cheerfully, “Ever since you’ve left for America, Draco slightly changed.”

You walked forward, interested in what Harry was saying, “Uh-huh, go on, Potter.”

“Well, he hasn’t been the same old flirt to many ever since YOU left.” Harry grinned. 

Despite not understanding what they were trying to tell her, she nodded confusingly, “Right,” she said, “Did something happen to him? Did he lose his memory? His charisma? Because earlier he seemed quite-”

“Goodness, Y/N!” Hermione exclaimed tiredly, “How could you possibly not get it?”

“Get what?” Y/N asked, surprised at Hermione’s tone of voice. 

“Can’t you tell that the reason he hasn’t been the same old flirst was because he only had eyes for you?” Ginny questioned her. 

“Catching a job in MACUSA meant catching an American boy from his point of view too,” Harry backed Ginny up. 

“You do have an American suitor, or not, Y/N?” Ron asked curiously. 

The flooding of information got Y/N to shake her head madly, as she waved off everything with her hands. “Not that I know of,” she teased lightly. Although, she wanted to go back to the topic the others seemed to be serious about. “But could you elaborate more on what you were talking about?” she asked, looking back at the rest. 

Hermione, tired of this play, rolled her eyes, “He’s only had eyes for you Y/N!” 

Y/N shook her head lightly with denial, “That’s absurd,” she chuckled lightly to herself, “That can’t be right.”

“How so?” Harry wondered. 

“I-I just never caught any visible signs,” she shrugged, her tone going higher. “He usually teased and flirted but I never really thought it would lead to any signs. And when he asked me to the Yule Ball? I thought he was joking!”

“That was bloody embarrassing on his end. Going with Parkinson while she went with who’s-his-face.” Ron muttered to Harry, who seemed to nod in agreement. 

Ginny shook her head, grinning at Y/N’s blind self, “Oh, Y/N, the things you made Malfoy go through.” Like a light-bulb that sparked on top of her head, she immediately grinned more, looking at Y/N. “Y/N, have you ever fancied him? You can’t just go around, letting him tease and flirt with you all those years without feeling something, right?”

Y/N looked down at the ground, quickly contemplating on her answer. She gulped, looking back up at the whole group, Ginny in particular. “Well, perhaps once or twice. But I always thought that it the idea of him and I wouldn’t happen. So, I never really went on about feeling something towards him.” 

“Well, we’re really glad you haven’t found yourself an American suitor during your five years at MACUSA. Malfoy’s changed, in a good way, and you two deserve each other.” Ron stated proudly. 

“Yeah?” Y/N asked, causing herself to smile. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, as the rest nodded. “You should probably head back to him. He’s by the drinks booth.” he nodded, motioning Y/N to turn and check that Draco was exactly where she left him. 

Y/N took a deep breath and started making her way back to Hokey’s booth, passing through the wave of many other familiar faces, who were filling up the whole floor. Draco was quietly drinking something from his cup, facing Hokey, who seemed to be busy to even bother ask if Draco wanted a refill of his drink. 

“Two glasses of your best champagne please, Hokey.” Y/N announced herself, leaning at the bar. This caught Draco’s attention, as his face was now livelier since Y/N was back. It was her turn to start the conversation with Draco, although he was quicker in terms of opening his mouth. 

“So,” he spoke, “I see you’re having a grand time but are you sure you can drink two glasses at once?” 

“I can’t,” she chuckled, “That’s why the other one is for you.” she reached for the glass Hokey served, giving it to Draco, who muttered a small thanks. 

“Also, I realized something.” she pointed out. 

“And what is that, dear Y/N?” he asked casually, looking at Y/N with such fascination. 

Y/N gulped quickly, knowing it was now or never. “Well I realized I was rude during our first encounter earlier.” 

“Rude?” he wondered, but chuckling. 

“Well yes!” she justified herself, “It’s highly assumptious that you were expressing a crude joke, which is something that you normally express and since I haven’t been used to that in sometime since I was in America, I may or may not have taken it in lightly and I called you a douche which I’m quite sorry-”

“Hang on, darling, take a breather first, you’re rambling.” Draco stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders with a confused smile. 

Y/N stopped as requested, looking at him with a tilted, uneasy head. 

Draco continued the minute he saw that she was cooling down. “Right,” he said, “Crude joke?” he highlighted the phrase she was rambling about. 

Y/N slowly nodded with a raised eyebrow. 

“I honestly don’t see what’s so crude about a mistletoe opportunity.” he thought, shaking his head. 

Y/N shook her head as well, but in confusion. “M-mistletoe opportunity?” 

“Yeah,” he laughed, pointing up at the ceiling. 

Y/N nervously looked up to see a hanging mistletoe, shining above the two. Hearing a small chuckle from Draco, she looked back at him, chuckling embarrassing as she stroked her hair. “Oh.” she said. “Draco I’m-”

Her apology was interrupted when Draco placed his hands on Y/N’s face, cupping her cheeks as he pulled in for a deep, passionate kiss as he took advantage of the mistletoe moment. 

Y/N’s uneasy figure started relaxing as she started kissing Draco back, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. 

Draco pulled back, grinning politely, looking at her soft, sweet eyes. “Thank goodness for the mistletoe or I wouldn’t have had the chance to do that.” 

“What a shame you couldn’t have planted one in our Hogwarts years while you were immensely head over heels for me as an adolescent.” she smirked, looking at his now-red cheeks. 

He looked down, smiling still, but shyly. “It’s a shame you couldn’t see how head over heels I was as an adolescent.” he chuckled, “I take it either the Weasley’s or Potter’s have told you?” he looked at her. 

Y/N nodded, giggling. “I guess it was never too late, right?” 

“Never.” he agreed, brushing back a strand of her hair back into the back of her ear. 

Y/N placed her hand on Draco’s forearm, which he brought down for her, now holding his hand. She looked down at his hand, squeezing it tight. When she looked up, she smiled. “Happy holiday’s, Draco.” 

“Happy holiday’s, Y/N and welcome back home. I missed you dearly.” he greeted, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

#draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy Imagines #Draco Malfoy x Y/n #Draco Malfoy fanfiction #Harry Potter x Reader #draco malfoy fluff #fluff

[lavendersuh]

soft smiles

lucas x reader | college au, fake dating | fluff | 2.3k words

Seeing as you are a sophomore in college, you probably should’ve gone to at least a few parties in the past year. You typically found yourself at the local bars with your friends. Your roommate, Yeri, was interested in one of the NCT frat boys, though, which is how you ended up here.

You didn’t really know what to expect from frat parties, but you knew NCT had a better reputation than most of the other fraternities around campus. That fact alone let you relax a bit. Typically your group of friends stuck together while at bars, but the girls were quick to find their own area in the house once you were through the door. The entire house was alive with music and people.

You stuck with Yeri and Wendy, opening a seltzer. Yeri is cozying up to one of the boys— you assumed this was the Doyoung boy she had gushed about— while Wendy is talking to his friends. You listen to the conversation while adding a bit of input, but mostly you observe the party happening around you, enjoying the atmosphere. 

Suddenly, there’s a weight across your shoulders, and you look to your left to find a tall boy standing next to you casually. You know your eyes must be very wide, confused as he stares down at you with a goofy grin. 

He remains with an aloof, happy smile on his face as he leans down to talk to you.

“Hey, don’t panic, okay? Just pretend I’m your boyfriend, some creep was staring at you.” he says, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

You nod, leaning into him a bit, feeling his warm chest against your side. His touch sends tingles along your spine. You can’t recall a time you were ever this close to a stranger. You look around and can’t seem to find anyone looking directly at you, but there are too many people in the crowd to be sure. 

You look back up to him as he takes a few gulps from his drink, joining in the conversation that Doyoung and Xiaojun are having. 

“How do I know you’re not the creep?” you question him. 

He squeezes your arm, “I’m in this frat,” he says, continuing, “That guy got kicked out of here last semester for messing with some girls’ drinks. Just stay cool, I’ve got it covered.”

He makes a motion with his hand, and you see two guys go up to another in the crowd. After a mild argument, they walk the guy out, nodding at him once they come back in. They stroll over to your group after grabbing a drink.

The party goes on around you, only a few people slightly disturbed by the encounter. The boys continue joking around and talking, and you catch Wendy slyly smiling at you, making you realize the situation you’re still in. 

As you try to slip away from the unknown boy, he links his hand in yours softly, before walking you a bit farther into the back of the house. The dim lights of the kitchen greet you with less of a crowd.

The boy turns around once he’s leaning against the counter, staring down at you, with that silly smile still across his face. His shoulders are broad, you notice, and he’s tall. Very tall. You glance down out of bashfulness, realizing your hand is still engulfed by his.

“I’m Yukhei, by the way, I’m a part of the frat.” he says, “Have you been here before? I feel like I would remember a pretty face like yours.”

You shake your head, your stomach alight with butterflies at his blatant flirting, “I usually go to bars more, but Yeri is into a guy here so…” 

He laughs at that, “Well this is the best place to be, in terms of frats, so your friend is very wise. The guys aren’t too bad either.” 

He attempts to give you a smouldering look, which makes you giggle a little too much. You pretend it’s because of the alcohol that’s started to enter your system instead of how attractive you find this boy standing in front of you.

He asks you a few more questions about your day, what you’re drinking tonight and more, all while adding little jokes and flirty pieces into the conversation. It’s been awhile since anyone has been interested in you, so you can’t help but smile at his comments.

Yukhei is just as enamored with you as you are with him, and you don’t realize how much time has passed until Wendy comes up to you asking if you could walk back to the dorms with her. Yeri was staying the night (which seemed like a good sign for her), and it was starting to get late. 

Wendy was giving you a knowing side eye as Yukhei bid you goodbye, offering a “Goodnight, darling,” with a bold kiss to your forehead. 

You have a soft smile the whole way home, as Wendy prods you for information on the boy you spent the evening talking to.

“He seems nice,” Wendy comments, “I don’t know a lot about him, but that’s better than knowing him as a playboy for something!” 

She seems more excited that you are, but she also clearly had quite a few more drinks. You make sure she’s situated in her room before leaving her. Walking back to your empty room, you fall asleep to the thought of deep brown eyes and a smile that’s stuck in your brain.

~~~

The next day, you’re woken up by Yeri coming back to your room. Soft light comes through your window, highlighting your roommate in last night’s clothes with a jacket over her shoulders.

“Good morning,” you mumble, stretching out from your warm blankets.

“Oh good you’re up!” she says, “Did you meet a guy last night?” 

The immediate question wakes you up more fully, knowing your roommate is about to interrogate you. She sits down excitedly on your bed, looking as you nod, “Yeah, kind of, how did you know?”

“I was eating some breakfast in the kitchen with Doyoung— who is amazing by the way— and a boy came in asking if I was friends with you!” 

“Yukhei?”

“Yes! Oh my god, you did meet a boy last night! Did you get his number? Are you going out? This is so exciting!” she squeals.

You grab a hold of her arms, in an attempt to calm down her crazy early morning energy. The girl was always more awake in the mornings than you; you don’t know how she did it.

You explain how you met Yukhei, with the weird guy and the long conversation afterwards. 

“That’s so sweet of him! And he seems like he might be interested,” Yeri wiggles her eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at her, “I doubt I will even see him that much, if ever. I’m sure he talks to a lot of girls.”

Yeri scolds you for brushing off the situation so easily, and then proceeds to excitedly tell you about her night. It looks like she finally has a boyfriend by the way things are going. With too much hope in your heart, you wonder what the future might hold for you, too.

~~~

Around a week later, you are getting a coffee at a cafe when you see your sort-of ex walk in. You don’t normally come to this cafe, so you were already a bit antsy with nerves, but now you are completely on edge as you wait for your order to be ready. 

You hadn’t really dated anyone yet, but you had talked to a few people since coming to university. The boy that had just walked in was the one you really thought would go somewhere. There were no hard feelings, but he eventually stopped talking to you after he mentioned he wasn’t looking for anything serious.

You really did not feel like making small talk with him. You look around frantically at the busy cafe, heading for the back, hoping there is a second exit. Unfortunately there isn’t, but before you turn around, you suddenly see a familiar face. 

You rush over to Yukhei’s table where he sits alone, sliding into the seat across from him.

“Um, hi, can I sit here? My sorta ex walked in and I don’t want to face him alone.” you say, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Yukhei has a wide eyed look on his face, but he softly smiles as he realizes who’s standing in front of him, and what you’re asking.

“Sure,” he says, “It’s no problem.”

You set your bag down next to you, noticing Yukhei’s abandoned airpods that sit next to his open laptop. He was definitely in an intense study mode, so you grab your own laptop to work on a few things, too. 

You sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, enjoying each others’ company while you work on homework. It’s hard to pay attention to your screen when you know your ex could be around. It’s even harder to pay attention knowing Yukhei is so near. Despite the way every fiber of your being knows that Yukhei is so close, you can feel your nerves start to calm down knowing that he is near. Every so often you glance up at Yukhei, just to see his eyes look away as if he was glancing at you too. 

“Y/N?” you hear behind you, and suddenly, Yukhei grabs your hand in his, stroking his thumb over your knuckles softly. 

You go to look behind you, but Yukhei squeezes your hand, reaching over to move a stray strand of hair into a different place. As he leans in slightly, he whispers, “Be cool, he’s coming over here.”

Your heartbeat was already doing overtime but his words made your emotions spiral even more. Oh God. 

You feel a looming presence over your shoulder, and you look up to see your sort-of ex standing over you, with a puzzled expression on his face. 

“How are you doing, Y/N? I haven’t seen you in forever.” he asks, striking up mild conversation like he didn’t ghost you five months ago.

You clear your throat before responding, “I’m doing good, how are you?” 

The conversation is as bland as a piece of bread, and you can barely keep your focus as Yukhei’s hand holds yours. His palms are warm and his thumb continues to stroke across the back of your hand. Finally your ex looks over at him, and how your hands are embraced.

“And who’s this?” he asks, attempting to come across nonchalantly, but failing to do so. 

You panic for a moment, unsure of what to say. You are never able to lie well, but you can’t help but wish you could say something that will make him jealous. No, not jealous, but maybe sad about what he had lost. You wanted to show him that you were doing good without him, as stupid as it sounded. But lying was not your forte, so you open your mouth to explain that Yukhei is just a friend, when you feel a squeeze in your hand.

“I’m her boyfriend.” 

You whip your head around to look at Yukhei with wide eyes, just as the boy next to you does the same. Yukhei just grins at you both with that cheeky grin that makes you smile a little bit too.

“I’m Yukhei,” he extends the hand that isn’t holding yours.

Your ex shakes his outstretched hand with a bit of a reluctant look. The conversation takes a bit of an awkward turn, given the entire situation. He leaves quickly after that.

As soon as you hear the bell on the cafe door chime with his departure, you remove your hand from Yukhei’s, while he smiles contentedly at you.

“Why did you do that?!” you exclaim. “I was going to tell him you were my friend…. It would’ve been fine!”

Yukhei looks at you like he’s got everything figured out, “I kinda wanted to make him jealous, that was alright, no?” he explains, “And now you have an excuse next time you see him!”

“What about when he sees you around with campus with some girl that’s not me?” you ask, as your mind goes through different scenarios, “I don’t expect you to halt your life to help me. And I’m not good with confrontation, Yukhei, I can’t lie very well.”

“If he sees me with some other girl or something, you can just say we stopped seeing each other. It should be fine though, I’m not dating anyone right now, it’s all good.”

You’re quiet for a moment, taken aback by Yukhei’s easy nature of thinking, as well as his generosity. You’ve barely had more than a few conversations with this guy, and he’s been more attentive than the last two guys that have shown interest in you.

You look up to see he’s already looking at you with a soft gleam in his eyes. Quietly, you ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

Yukhei’s eyes look away from yours, the tips of his ears turning red under the waviness of his hair. He casts a glance out through the window at the street. Eventually, he shakes his head, before turning back to you.

“You’re kinda cute, you know?” he says, trying to keep his voice casual, but his words only make you more flustered. “And like I said, I’m not dating anyone so....”

“So….?”

He sends you that smile that has your insides melting, “So maybe we could get dinner, see a movie…. Go on a date, sometime?” 

You smile at the idea, gathering the courage to ask for his number. You both agree to make some plans for the following week, through shy smiles and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

“And who knows,” he says, with a sly smile, “Maybe I could be your real boyfriend instead of your fake one.” 

#lucas x reader #lucas x you #yukhei x reader #yukhei x you #lucas #nct #wayv #wayv scenarios #my writing #nct scenarios #fake dating au #college au #lucas scenarios #neo-constellations

[quidfree]

prompts,.,, fem tdbk and a date gone very wrong ? ❤️

ohhhh my god anon. pump this shit directly into my veins i love this whole premise let’s go. also all inspired by whatever the fuck horikoshi was doing in this 

just so everyone is on the same page here, it is not a fucking date.

it’s lunch. a singular lunch. people do that shit all the time. even katsuki does lunch, sometimes. she went to that semi-shitty diner place with kirishima that one time when the food hall was shut because some dumbass first year exploded into goo or whatever. and todoroki does lunch, too- her and deku were on some shitty lunch date like a week ago, as evidenced by deku’s even shittier selfie of them having a grand old time doing whatever the fuck they do alone.

fuck, not a shitty lunch date. a shitty lunch. whatever.

the point is lunch is a normal non-date thing people do, and the fact katsuki and todoroki are maybe not the usual suspects for it is just circumstantial. it’s not like they planned it ahead of time, or made some big thing about it. they literally arranged for it in public, so obviously todoroki didn’t think there was anything weird about it. and there isn’t! they’re both going to be in tokyo on the same day, and todoroki’s always happy for any excuse to spend less time with her old man, and katsuki sure as fuck wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to avoid her hag of a birth-giver for a few blissful hours, so when todoroki had very nonchalantly gone ‘oh, bakugou, we could do lunch then”, it wasn’t like she had any real reason to tell her to go fuck herself. like, yeah, maybe a year ago, on principle, she would have, but even katsuki can only take so much trauma-bonding before she resigns herself to the reality that she’s stuck with half ‘n half for life, one way or another, and she may as well suck it up and approach civility because said moron is determined to ignore her open malice until she plays along anyways. they’re... you know, whatever. friends. or something. jesus.

the point being that it’s not a date, and the fact that she’s getting increasingly annoyed at her limited wardrobe is just because she would have packed more shit if the crone hadn’t insisted that they ‘pack light’ so they could get cheaper train tickets for less luggage. it’s just annoying that she can’t wear anything that’s not screaming holiday.

it occurs to her as she sits and scowls at her suitcase that her mother has been watching her from the doorframe for some undetermined amount of time, which is criminal mainly because she’s a goddamn hero-to-be and getting snuck up on by anyone is a blight upon her good name. she tries to disguise the ego damage dealt by glowering murderously in her progenitor’s direction.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“you know,” the she-devil says, cocking a hip, “if you want to borrow something nicer...”

“i wouldn’t be caught dead in your shitty clothes!” katsuki snarls, which prompts the witch to immediately scowl back.

“watch your damn mouth!”

“watch your waistline! no way in hell are we the same size!”

“why you little-”

the interruption at least reminds her that she is obsessing over her clothes ahead of meeting todoroki for lunch, which is so humiliating it kickstarts her brain again long enough to grab some normal shit and get the hell out of there.

on the walk she checks her phone again. the previous day she’d had to bite the bullet and make the first move, todoroki’s infamously terrible communication skills making themselves known once more, and their ensuing conversation had been so mortifying she’d nearly cancelled all-together.

to: Half ‘n half

Yo asshole are we still meeting tomorrow or what

I’m busy as shit

from: Half ‘n half

Yes. TS

to: Half ‘n half

What the fuck is TS

from: Half ‘n half

I was signing off.

to: Half ‘n half

SIGNING OFF ON YOUR OWN TEXT

YOU THINK I DONT KNOW YOUR DAMN NAME

from: Half ‘n half

[Pin attached]

Does here at 12.30 work for you?

to: Half ‘n half

Yeah whatever

Don’t be late

And don’t think I’m forgetting the fucking signing off thing

from: Half ‘n half

Glad you can make time for mockery in your busy as shit schedule.

the venue looks like some rich person shit, which she semi-expected, but it means a lot of people give her weird looks as she makes her way inside, probably on account of the shorts and t-shirt she’s wearing if not her general vibe. some old woman actually drags her purse to her, which makes katsuki sorely tempted to bare her teeth and maybe hiss for effect, though she settles for scowling and shoving her hands in her pockets. it’s 12.27, because she wasn’t going to be late but being any earlier would have given off some dubious impression that she’s eager to see todoroki, except now she kind of wishes she’d just come for 12.30 because if there’s some reservation bullshit she gets the feeling she’s going to start fighting with the waiting staff, and then-

“bakugou,” todoroki calls, from inside, raising a hand with unnecessary formality. “you made it.”

“course i made it,” katsuki grunts, absolutely not relieved as she by-passes the suspicious looking waiter to join her outside. “think i can’t ride the damn underground by myself?”

todoroki is wearing jeans cuffed at the ankles and a white t-shirt on top of which she’s thrown on an open button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and she looks casual and normal and incidentally kind of like they dressed to match, but the important part is that she doesn’t look dressed up at all, so katsuki was totally right about the non-date situation, and also isn’t the only one totally underdressed for the shitty venue.

“you look nice,” todoroki says then, completely shattering katsuki’s brief moment of reprieve. “i’ve never seen so much color on you.”

katsuki almost chokes on her own tongue, but the worst part is that the asshole seems completely nonchalant about the weird as shit observation, focused on her stool as she takes a seat on the balcony. which- what the actual fuck? since when does todoroki issue compliments unprompted- of the non-professional variety, at that? and what the fuck does she expect katsuki to say now- return the compliment? say thanks? is this whole thing some kind of exercise in psychological torture?

well, fuck it. she can’t look like a little bitch just because todoroki said something inanely positive. two can play that game.

“yeah. you look half decent yourself. did you hire someone to dress you for the occasion?”

todoroki blinks up at her in surprise, which is totally a win and would make her more smug if she could stop feeling so weird and prickly all over. for a dangerous moment todoroki seems on the verge of blushing, but miraculously the world rights itself and the usual deadpan persists, one brow quirking up in completely feigned ineptitude.

“there was a compliment somewhere in there, so thank you, i think. i thought we were past this vendetta.”

“we’ll be past this vendetta the day you burn your piece of shit hero suit,” katsuki retorts, back on familiar ground, and relaxes long enough to squint down at the menu.

this turns out to be a mistake.

“the fuck? is this whole thing in french?”

“oh,” todoroki says, after a beat. “that makes sense. i thought my english had deteriorated.”

“are you- you didn’t know? you recommended the place!”

“it was the nearest place to our hotel,” todoroki defends, now having the decency of looking slightly put out. “coq can’t mean what i think it means, can it?”

“that’s chicken, asshole,” katsuki hisses, flinging the menu down. “great, now we’re going to have to flag down one of the shithead waiters and ask for a japanese menu. excuse me! hey! yeah, i’m talking to- what the hell, did he just blow me off? hey, jackass! you with the shitty mustache!”

“sorry about that,” todoroki interjects, when mustache asshole turns an offended stare their way. “do you have the japanese menu?”

“we only serve the food in its authentic form,” mustachioed asshole says, with frigid self-satisfaction. “might i suggest google translate?”

“might i suggest my foot up your ass, you shitty-”

“that’s fine,” todoroki says, in a flat tone that implies otherwise. “we’ll make do.”

the waiter sniffs pretentiously as katsuki thinks about all the ways she could beat his ass into next tuesday, running an aggravated hand through her hair when the wind rustles it into her face. she’d half expect todoroki to suggest they fuck off elsewhere, but when she looks back her way she finds an ill-boding gleam of determination in her eyes despite the impassive set to her face, and it’s a testament to how fucked in the head ua has made katsuki that she feels a sort of sick thrill of recognition at the sight. todoroki’s in stubborn bitch mode.

“i’ll have this,” todoroki says, sure enough, pointing to the most expensive item on the menu. “and also this. and one of those.”

the waiter’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and todoroki looks unfazed in katsuki’s direction, tapping pointedly at a sleek black and red credit card in her wallet. “bakugou?”

well, if endeavour’s paying....

“sure,” katsuki says, slowly, and then turns her meanest smile the waiter’s way. “i want the frog legs.”

mustache clears his throat, attempts condescension. “we don’t serve that here.”

“you’re a gastronomique restaurant,” katsuki says very loudly, as other clients turn to stare, “and you don’t have fucking frog legs? is this a joke? does this napkin say authentic french cuisine or am i hallucinating?”

“i can ask the chef,” the waiter demurs, casting a nervous glance at the muttering snobs nearby, and attempts an ingratiating smile. “anything else for you, mademoiselle?”

“what did you just call me?”

once the ordering debacle is over, todoroki slants katsuki what may well be an apologetic glance, vaguely contrite frown sitting pretty atop her usual dead-eyed stare.

“i probably should have read up on the place ahead of time.”

katsuki is well within her rights to chew her head off, she thinks, but food’s on the way and she got to yell at the asshole who gave her the once-over when she came in, so she’s feeling forgiving, even in the face of todoroki’s annoyingly doll-faced apology. the bitch really has to do the bare minimum and she looks like a fucking kpop idol.

“yeah, whatever. i always knew you were a shitty ops planner.”

todoroki, who is an asshole, looks relieved at her generous forgiveness for all of a second before she quirks a brow. “between the two of us, i only count one person who has actually spoken the words ‘shoot first, ask questions later’.”

“that was in a training simulation,” katsuki protests, outraged. “and you know damn well the actors were annoying as shit!”

“i did find them slightly too committed to the role,” todoroki concedes neutrally, which totally means she agrees with katsuki 100% and is being precious about it. katsuki scoffs.

“least the view’s decent.”

“the-“ todoroki starts, in weirdly confused tones, until she follows katsuki’s gaze outward and nods in understanding. “oh, the skyline. yes.”

what else katsuki could have meant she doesn’t fucking know: they’re sitting pretty in the middle of tokyo. the only thing the hellhole of a restaurant has going for it at this point is the cityscape.

todoroki stares out into the distance for a good long moment, and with the breeze her negligently loose hair whips this way and that, red and white blur where the two halves mingle. instinctively katsuki itches to braid it flat so it doesn’t tangle. if todoroki asked her she’d tell her to just cut her damn hair into a bob or something- it’s not like icyhot has any attachment to her princess hair, and she’s got the obnoxious bone structure to pull off any length. not that she’d mention this last part. or that she’s given it much thought. it’s just fucking obvious.

if todoroki could keep her mouth shut throughout the rest of the meal, it could be sort of nice. tokyo skyline, and companionable silence, and presumably edible food. worse ways to kill some time, and way less incriminating than anything that may be said otherwise.

“i think this is the part where we make small talk,” todoroki says instead, sadist that she definitely is, as katsuki grimaces feelingly her way.

“no, we don’t.”

“well, we don’t. but this is the part where we should.”

“i don’t even believe you can last a minute of small talk, icyhot.”

todoroki looks pensive, mismatched eyes thoughtful. “...how has your day been?”

“uneventful,” katsuki says, combative, and eyes her watch. todoroki does not give.

“this place seems nice.”

“you don’t even think that.”

“how have you been finding tokyo?”

“noisy.”

“the weather seems-”

“no.”

“you look nice.”

“you said that already, dumbass,” katsuki grunts, palms crackling with sweat, and does not at all read into the way todoroki makes a stupid little movement with her mouth that could ungenerously be interpreted as a pout.

“well, i meant it, so i’m saying it twice.”

“give it up, half ‘n half, just ask me about training.”

“...how is your training?”

“i did this thing yesterday,” katsuki starts, leaning back in her chair, and from then launches into a very technical and barely exaggerated retelling of the batshit insane stunt she pulled off with her quirk the day prior. todoroki’s focused attention is gratifying, in a totally platonic non-weird way- it’s just that her parents couldn’t very well follow why exactly said stunt was as insane as it is, but todoroki obviously can, and also there’s that thing with todoroki where pulling a reaction out of her ice queen act is admittedly more satisfying than most people. it has jack shit to do with the fact katsuki’s got a very minor complex about todoroki paying her her dues, and even if it did then that’s entirely fucking reasonable considering she still hasn’t forgiven her for the sports fest incident. 

it is a little weird having todoroki’s sole focus on her outside of hero shit, though. it’s not like they really hang out one on one outside of school or work. it’s kind of- unnerving. yeah. unnerving, to be making prolonged eye contact, todoroki’s expression intent but not intense the way she gets in fight scenarios, frowning lightly because she has resting bitch face but apparently genuinely interested. it’s kind of a relief that todoroki asks questions- moves them safely into a conversation, so katsuki’s not just sitting there talking and sort of dry-throated. fucking waiter, leaving them water-less.

it’s fine. they talk about training, and quirks, and then todoroki pushes her hair behind her ears and leans forward to demonstrate on a small scale this thing she’s trying to do where she melts her ice and refreezes it in rapid succession so it causes what is essentially ice rain, but there’s logistics and shit that need to be worked out for it to work the way she’s thinking it might, and katsuki knows her thermal shit so they start scrawling maths over the napkins, and then bicker over the finer points of first year chemistry, so when the food actually arrives to interrupt them todoroki’s startled blink is weirdly relatable, like she also forgot where they were.

the waiter’s there and gone before they’re really recovered from the brief misplacement, which katsuki registers only when she looks down at her empty glass.

“goddamnit- how hard is it to bring us water?”

“they only offer sparkling,” todoroki says, gravely, then outpaces katsuki’s disgust by placing her hand over her glass, ice rising before she switches hands and melts it down. “tell me if the temperature’s off.”

intensely mollified and trying not to look it, katsuki sips it. “’s fine.”

“okay,” todoroki says, faintly pleased, and tilts her head to look down at her food. “i have no idea what any of this is.”

“moron,” katsuki snorts, except it comes out way fonder than it has any rights to, and from beneath the convenient curtain of hair todoroki’s smiling a little, so she hastily stabs a frog leg and gets to eating before anyone gets any ideas.

the actual meal goes okay-ish. most of the stuff todoroki ordered is extremely pretentious french cuisine, and todoroki secretly has the culinary adventurousness of a five year old, so it befalls katsuki to impatiently attempt every dish and pronounce it edible before todoroki will deign to brave it. she’s still trying to bully an unyielding todoroki into attempting the weird bird soup thing when there’s commotion nearby. it takes the both of them approximately three seconds to spring into work-mode; katsuki’s on her feet poised for a fight before she’s even consciously thought about it, scanning her peripherals, and she doesn’t even need to look to feel todoroki unconsciously covering her back, cool sting of air signalling her quirk at the ready. 

the commotion turns out just to be some old dumbass choking, relaxing them both out of their stances as she falls back to let todoroki ahead. they’re both uber-qualified for first aid shit, but she’s self-aware enough to know even todoroki’s bland reassurances are usually preferred to her bedside manner. unfortunately, the whole entourage seems to be braindead, because they’re all crowding the old guy in a panic while he chokes, his wife in shrieking hysterics.

“oh, my god, he’s choking! he’s choking! sugar-plum, stay with me!”

“fuck me,” katsuki mutters, unethically thinking that she would personally prefer choking to being married to someone who calls her sugar-plum, but todoroki’s pushing ahead with implacable calm, so she trudges after her anyways.

“excuse me. excuse me. i need access to your husband.”

“who are you? don’t touch him! help! get this woman off my husband!” wailing hysteric yells, bosom heaving dramatically. katsuki is starting to suspect she poisoned him on purpose or some shit, because no way does anyone talk like that in real life.

“she’s a fucking qualified first aid provider, lady, shut up and let her through!”

thankfully, the woman seems on the verge of an outrage aneurysm, which drags her focus away from suffocating her choking husband to dramatically pointing at katsuki long enough for todoroki to duck past her and reach the guy as he turns purple.

“how dare you speak to me that way? who do you think you are?”

“ma,” chinless moron number one says, clearing his throat. “i think that’s one of those future pros from TV.”

“what?”

“you know, ma,” chinless moron number two adds, glancing nervously between them. “the one that explodes things. you know. from UA.”

katsuki takes great pleasure in watching recognition dawn in the old cow’s beady eyes, but in any event there’s a hacking noise and then the old man’s coughing out a bone into his plate as todoroki steps noiselessly back from the table.

“he’s fine now. enjoy your dinner.”

“god, that was gross,” katsuki says, as they ignore the woman’s sputtering and return to their seats. todoroki tilts her head. 

“not really. if he’d thrown up it would have been.”

“not the choking guy,” katsuki scoffs, casting a glance back his way. “his wife. talk about theatrics.”

“she seemed more afraid of us than her husband dying.”

“for good reason,” katsuki mutters darkly, spreading out in her chair. “i hate civilians.”

“i don’t think she recognised us,” todoroki counters, pensive, and absent-mindedly takes a bite of the weird soup before she screws her face up like a betrayed kid. “oh. you didn’t say it was sweet.”

the look on her face thoroughly distracts katsuki from asking what other reason the pearl-clutcher could possibly have to be so terrified at the mere sight of them; instead, she chokes back a laugh, stifling a grin. “what are you, five?”

“i don’t think i like this,” todoroki says, mournful, which makes katsuki grin harder. she can’t help it- todoroki looking stupid is her kryptonite. 

“then don’t pick a restaurant where you can’t read the menu, next time.”

todoroki’s midway to looking up, but for some reason her expression transforms instantaneously, which makes katsuki reflexively try to quash her amusement. todoroki always gets weird when she’s smiling. 

“next time?”

motherfuck. obviously she didn’t mean next time like next time, she meant next time like- hypothetically, in the future, when todoroki’s on a lunch date with someone else. a lunch non-date. she’s just about stopped sputtering furiously long enough to try and express this sentiment when it occurs to her that todoroki seems- pleased, one eye soft sky-blue when katsuki accidentally meets it, and that draws her up short long enough that she ends up just muttering lamely to herself. fucking todoroki. 

on the heels of this utter embarrassment, she downs the rest of her water, scowls in a neat 180 at everything in sight, and wonders for the first time in her life how the fuck extras get through dates. not that this is one.

it’s fine. they’re done eating, and no one’s died, and katsuki is no longer fifteen and thus mostly trusts her ego to lick its wounds and recover from the ordeal. even if they stick around for desert that’s only another half hour of this to endure. as long as todoroki doesn’t make any sudden moves they’ll be fine.

...the problem is, of course, that sudden moves are todoroki’s modus operandi. katsuki has not forgotten the bitch calling them friends on national television in the same breath that she was vociferously denying them being anything of the sort. in todoroki’s fucked up brain, they’re always ten steps ahead of whatever they actually are- considering katsuki’s come around to privately acknowledging she’d take a couple more stakes through the gut for the asshole, in todoroki’s world they're practically hitched.

platonically. platonically practically hitched. this is not a thing, goddamnit. no matter the weird looks aizawa’s been giving them, or utsushimi’s nefarious schemes, or the alarming cardiopulmonary condition katsuki’s been developing of late. she’s not some shitty yuri protagonist pining over the nearest female bishōnen in her vicinity.

admittedly if she was to pine over anyone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be some guy, but that’s besides the point, since pretty damn near every person on earth is just some guy by her standards, regardless of gender. the fact that todoroki is not one of said people is entirely irrelevant.

her internal irritation is so distracting that she misses the tremors nearby until entirely too late, by which point todoroki’s stupidly perfect brows raise an incremental fraction and she goes: ‘oh’.

when todoroki goes ‘oh’, some shit is about to go down. 

katsuki turns slowly with an impending sense of doom, and sure enough, the sight that greets her is so nightmarish she seriously reconsiders whether the entire day has been just that. 

“don’t freak out,” a giant building-sized deku booms, apologetically, as his hideous giant face stares at them. “it’s just a quirk thing.”

it’s probably a good thing katsuki has gone speechless with outrage, since it permits todoroki’s constantly composed ass to ask useful questions katsuki probably would have coated in a fair amount more threats and cursing.

“midoriya. i didn’t know you were in tokyo.”

“well, i wasn’t meant to be,” deku says/booms like a foghorn, as the restaurant clientele shrieks and stampedes behind them. his sheepish expression is even more punchable when magnified. “it’s a long story. it’s almost sorted out now, though. i just saw you guys from over at the NPA office and thought i’d come ask if you maybe wouldn’t mind lending a hand? i wouldn’t ask but there’s going to be a lot of cleanup and your quirks would be really helpful to-”

“we’ll do it as long as you shut the fuck up,” katsuki yells, to cut him off, massaging her temples. “the monologuing’s bad enough when you’re not about to burst my fucking eardrums, jackass.”

“oh, sorry! i’m trying to be very quiet but this body’s just hard to get used to- thank you so much for helping, i didn’t mean to come bother you on break...”

“it’s fine,” todoroki says, and then seems to realise that her monotone doesn’t reach midoriya’s giant-ass ears and clears her throat, raising her voice to a shout. “it’s fine. let me go deal with the bill and then we’ll go.”

“sorry?” midoriya whisper-shouts, craning his monstrous head closer to them, the sight of which will haunt katsuki for the rest of her life. “i can’t hear what you’re saying!”

“she said she’s going to go pay for our nice fucking lunch,” katsuki hollers, with no small sense of satisfaction, as deku winces and todoroki slinks off. “since you want to come crashing it like a dipshit.”

“sorry, kacchan!” deku begs off, flapping hand gestures creating enough wind to knock over a nearby umbrella stand. “i just thought it would be a lot of help if you came to oversee the fall-out- especially with the building damage-”

“we’re good,” todoroki announces, to katsuki, apparently having given up on matching her in decibels. she’s got that classic hero look on her face, already in work mode, but just when katsuki’s about to do the same and jump into action, the look wavers a little and she frowns vaguely awkwardly. “thanks for doing lunch.”

“huh?” katsuki stutters, thrown, and then scowls at nothing in particular, stalling. todoroki’s the one who paid, albeit indirectly- it’s typically weird of her to be all formal about it all of a sudden, leaving katsuki to attempt to wriggle them out of the awkwardness of the moment. “i didn’t do shit except show up and eat, weirdo.”

“it’s been abnormally hard to show up and eat in the circumstances,” todoroki replies, a little wryly, and more concerningly a little resigned sounding. which is just unnatural, because todoroki may have expanded her range of emotions considerably since first year but resignation is not on her usual roster, and there’s nothing to be resigned about unless she had some kind of vested interest in this whole fiasco playing out any better than it did.

which she didn’t, obviously. katsuki’s been through this. she chose the nearest possible venue and rocked up in jeans and a t-shirt, and- and why is the fact that todoroki never dresses so normally out of class only now occurring to her, again?

she’d said ‘i think this is the part where we do small talk’. the part of what?

“yeah, whatever,” katsuki says, automatically, as her brain plays catch-up, which is the excuse she will forever stick to for what leaves her mouth next. “should have known you’d be a lousy date.”

todoroki goes ‘what?’ at the same moment deku does, ten times louder and more bug-eyed, which reminds katsuki that 1) deku is still there, 2) deku is still as big as his martyr complex, and 3) deku is the fucking worst, and allowing him to trap her into friendship is somehow responsible for this, she’s sure of it. 

“can we go handle this fucking mess or what?” katsuki snaps, instead of screaming or breaking deku’s very large nose or maybe self-immolating in abject humiliation, hands erupting into explosions as she jumps onto the balcony railing. maybe if she throws herself headfirst into the debris she’ll concuss herself and turn amnesiac. 

“um,” deku is saying, when she turns a withering glare his way. “um, yes! yes! yeah! let’s go do that!”

so she jumps skywards, explosions blasting her high into the air, and very scrupulously does not look towards the sounds of slick ice forming just behind her until todoroki skates into her peripheral vision, hair waving flag-like behind her. ahead there’s a building with a crater clean through it where deku must have erupted from, though when she turns to comment she finds him a fair deal behind them, lumbering pace slowed further as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything along the streets. instead her eyes lock on todoroki’s where the latter is staring at her, face unreadable, and she bristles hard enough to disrupt trajectory, correcting course rapidly before she plummets into an office.

“what?”

“i’m a lousy date,” todoroki repeats, neutrally, over the wind. katsuki grits her teeth.

“and what about it?”

she’s bracing for a lot, but not the horrible, sickening eye-crinkle thing todoroki does, dark eye twinkling even as her expression stays carefully impassive. “you think you can do better, then?”

“hah?”

“next time,” todoroki intones, very precisely, and then dips ahead like a complete coward as katsuki goes a color never previously visible to the human eye, sifting through about fifteen emotions before she decides to stick to outrage.

“what the hell? you suck at asking people out, icyhot!”

“you don’t have to say yes.”

“what, you think i can’t do better than this mess? you’re on, asshole.”

“i look forward to it,” todoroki says, gravely, and then there’s a collapsed building to handle and shit to do and if anyone wants to ask why katsuki is so especially gleeful in blowing shit up they wisely keep their mouths shut. she just likes the job, all right.

(for the record, it’s still not a date until katsuki says it is.)

#qui repond #qui ecrit #anon #prompts #tdbk #todobaku #fem todobaku #fem todo #fem baku

[oinkawa-bb]

synopsis: you're volunteering at the all-japan youth training camp, and you actually make some friendly admirers along the way. but there’s one black-haired, frowny setter boy who stands out the most to you.

word count: 1.3k

mentions: pure fluff, gender neutral volleyball player!reader, cw food/eating

even if it meant taking off a week from your own training, it was beyond exciting to volunteer for the all-japan youth training camp—but as much as you tried to remind yourself that this was a priceless opportunity, you were inevitably envious of those who would actually get to play this week.

so here you were, strolling towards the front of the ajinomoto national training center with your hands shoved deep into your winter coat pockets, a wool scarf engulfing the lower half of your face, and a scowl resting on your lips as you huff and puff against the itchy fabric, pondering about how great it would feel to be in uniform instead of typical winter clothing.

“someone’s a lil’ cold, aren’t they?”

you hear a man chuckle behind you, and you feel your cheeks burn up as you turn around and catch sight of a tall, blonde boy sporting a clean black undercut and a teasing smile. he walks quickly, but once he reaches you, he slows down to match your pace, taking his hands out of his tracksuit pockets to cross his arms.

“what’s a cutie like you doing here? it doesn’t look like yer here for the camp,” he remarks, leaning forwards to catch a peek of your frowning face shielded by  the hood of your coat. 

you mutter under your breath that you’re volunteering at the camp to catch balls and do some other dumb tasks rather than actually playing, and he smiles slyly.

“work hard then ‘cause you’ll still hav’ to keep up with me.”

you could’ve sworn that he winked at you before he nonchalantly sped up his pace and entered the building. what an ass, you thought to yourself, silently cursing him as you reach the front doors.

but as you enter the main gymnasium, the sight of the huge volleyball courts and the flat screen television live broadcasting the entire gym leave you speechless and forgetful of the encounter that occurred just moments ago. you can’t help but gape open-mouthed at your surroundings as you stand in the middle of the two courts and take in the sight of everything from the huge light fixtures dangling above to the multitude of players warming up. 

there’s a tap on your shoulder, and a boy with floppy chestnut hair and thick, round eyebrows is grinning sheepishly at you.

“are you lost?”

at this moment, your cheeks flare up again when you realize that you’re the only one in the whole gymnasium bundled up in thick winter clothing. and with that, you notice that many of the boys in the room are glaring at you confusedly too.

“oh no, i-i’m just a volunteer,”

you smile politely back at the boy, frantically pulling off your coat and scarf and bowing your head towards him. he looks like he’s about to introduce himself and extend his hand, but you’re already rushing towards the front of the gymnasium to meet with the coordinator and escape the eyes that seem to follow you everywhere.

quickly after the coach introduces himself and delivers a typical motivational spiel, the boys of the camp are warming up and playing practice sets. you stand at the end of one of the courts, intently following the ball with your eyes and thoroughly tracking the players and their next moves. 

as the morning progresses, you learn the names of many of the players—from atsumu the prick you met outside the training center to komori the sweet boy who initially asked if you were lost. but there’s one boy who draws your attention the most out of everyone in the room.

whether it’s admiration for his skill or just solely physical attraction or a combination of both, you can’t take your eyes off of tobio kageyama. 

so much so that one time the ball actually comes straight at your face and takes your eyes off of him for you. and unfortunately for you, the boys see this happen—so you’re almost certain that at this point they must think you’re an absolute fool. 

but you’re actually unaware of how some of them steal admirable glances at you during breaks or leave their fingers lingering over yours for a few seconds too long as you hand them a water bottle. or even the select few of them (looking at atsumu) that like to check your expression as soon as they pull off an impressive play.

the boys of the training camp think your intense game expression and devotion to the game is more adorable than anything, and so you actually slowly find yourself warming up to casual conversation with the ones who approach you.

actually, you warm up to nearly all of them except for kageyama—the first year player from karasuno with messy black hair and cold eyes focused on setting and really nothing else. 

honestly, it isn’t until lunch that he even takes notice of you. 

sitting alone at a table and sipping milk through a straw, the setter is caught off guard when his eyes meet yours. he’s a bit startled at first by your intense and enthusiastic glare, reminding him of a certain orange-haired doofus back at home. 

but when he processes that you’re just looking for a spot to sit, he absentmindedly scoots over and shifts his tray (even though the entire table he’s sitting at is empty). the poor boy blushes and glances down when he notices how dumb he probably appears to look, but what he doesn’t see is the grin that crosses your face as you approach his table.

you introduce yourself first, and before kageyama has the chance to introduce himself, you blabber that you know who he is and also how talented he is and now both of you sport flushed cheeks and the inability to make eye contact. 

however, as you attempt to make conversation and start talking about your own volleyball team and teammates, his ears perk up and he’s listening intently. 

and with that, your conversation begins to bounce back and forth as he starts to talk about his team too—about hinata “the wannabe ace” to tsukishima the “unnecessarily tall, four eyed jerk” to just about everyone else on his team. 

lunch goes by quickly that day. a little too quickly, in kageyama’s opinion.

but as the days go by, and with each lunch that passes, the two of you grow to know each other better—you learn about the time hinata served directly into kageyama’s head, and the two of you share a lot of good laughs about mishaps. your conversations even sometimes draw the attention of other guys at the camp who occasionally join you at the table, only to be deterred by the fact that kageyama’s eyes are only for you and vice versa.

when the final day of camp arrives, your friendship with kageyama is set in stone the moment you hand him an extra milk carton that you picked up from the lunch line. he feels the same warmth rush to his cheeks as it did the first day when you sat with him, and he murmurs his appreciation with his eyes avoiding yours, solely making eye contact with the cow on the milk carton. 

before practice ends that day, you muster up the courage to scribble your number down on the back of a paper, crumple it up, and shove it into kageyama’s palm in passing. 

“maybe i’ll see you around, country bumpkin?”

and as the tips of his ears go bright red and a soft smile graces his lips, you know this won’t be the last time you’ll hear from tobio kageyama.

#i'm really not confident about this guys but i tried😥 #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu writing #kageyama x reader #kageyama x you #kageyama fluff #kageyama scenario

[taeminstetrislips]

School Trip Series-Italy Pt. 1

Johnny, Jaehyun, Xiaojun, Sungchan, and Renjun x (fem)reader

Rome

You finally arrive at the Rome Ciampino Airport. The first official steps you take on Italian soil... or... concrete. Your group from school gathers together for a quick head count and then to the travel bus to pack your luggage. After gathering on the bus, you almost choose to sit next to a random girl you had become acquainted with earlier. This trip was put together by one of your college professors who offered to take the students from his European Art History classes. However, only a few from your specific class time chose to come and most of the people were from other class periods. Before you commit to a seat partner, you hear your name being called from the back of the bus. You look up to see that the voice belongs to Johnny. He’s so loud this early in the morning, probably because he’s already on his second coffee, but you’re grateful for the invitation and choose to sit next to him. He was sort of the class clown and you’re flattered that he remembers you. His group of friends had some familiar faces in it as well. Xiaojun was the one that always got picked on before class started and constantly asked the professor questions during the tests; Sungchan was quiet but you recognized his face and only remembered his name because of attendance every morning; and Renjun was one of the visual arts majors that always offered a really interesting perspective on the composition of paintings.

“Thanks for sitting with me, these losers all ditched me for each other. I was worried I would have to sit with that girl from class who doesn’t shower,” Johnny says, causing the memory to resurface of the girl when you sat next to her the first day. You even had to change the unofficial-official seating chart the next class period to avoid her. That definitely wouldn’t be an issue here because these guys smelled surprisingly good. You couldn’t pin down whose cologne it was that was so nice.

“Is she on this trip?” you ask.

“I thought so. Maybe it wasn’t her,” he responds. You stand up to look around for her quickly but can’t see much beyond the other students loading the bus. Your eyes land on the person sitting next to Xiaojun and realize you don’t recognize him.

“Hi, I don’t know you yet. My name is Y/n.” You hold out your hand to shake his and take in the way his dimples deepen as he smiles and introduces himself back to you.

“Jaehyun,” he says. You sink back down into your seat after releasing his hand.

Johnny explains that all five of them were supposed to take the class together but Jaehyun’s schedule got changed somehow and he had to take it at a different time.

Xiaojun hugs Jaehyun from behind and says, “We missed him but it’s okay because we convinced him to come on the trip with us.”

“He even worked part-time with me at the front desk of the University Center to save up some money,” Sungchan chimes in.

As the bus lurches forward to start your journey, you start up a conversation by asking everyone what they major in and what year in college they were in. Your discussion is interrupted by your professor standing and announcing that he has a story.

“Now don’t be too worried but I may be a wanted criminal at our first location,” he begins. Multiple students interject with sounds of humor and surprise. You aren’t too shocked as he has often told your class stories of his rebellious past. It’s always the 400 level professors. “This happened a long time ago so don’t judge me too harshly. But, when I traveled to Rome the first time, I actually stole a small chunk of it.” A few students gasp. “Yes this is illegal. Please don’t do what I did, dear God. But I did get away with it.”

Some random person asks, “Why though?”

“Well you see there was this girl I was flirting with and long story short, I did it to impress her.” You can tell he’s a little embarrassed and most of the students are laughing at him. He says that the moral of the story is that airport security is better now than it was back in the 80s and you’ll probably be caught and arrested if you try to do it.

The trip doesn’t take too long and before you know it, you’re stepping out into beautiful Rome. You have a bit of a walk before you make it to the first stop: The Colosseum. Johnny stops abruptly and looks at the huge structure as if sizing it up.

“I think I could fit that in my luggage,” he says nonchalantly.

Sungchan pipes up, “What girl are you trying to impress Johnny? Y/n?”

“Yes,” Johnny looks at you, “Is it working?” You just respond by shaking your head no. He pretends to be upset by imitating a mad toddler and stomping his foot and pouting. The rest of the group just walks on without him. You can’t deny the architectural beauty of this ancient amphitheater. Smallish groups begin to form as you all start walking and exploring. The few of you choose to break off and head down to explore the tunnels underneath the exposed floor. Surprisingly there weren’t many visitors down there at that time besides you six. After a brief moment of walking and admiring it, Johnny abruptly pushes Renjun on the arm screaming, “You’re it!” before taking off into the distance for an abrupt game of tag. The others take off in different directions, turning behind corners and hiding wherever possible. Renjun complains first about not wanting to play but runs away anyway as soon as he catches a glimpse of Sungchan’s arm. You decide to hang back, letting them be unsure of whether or not you were joining the game. Soon you duck behind a wall and your heart starts pumping with the adrenaline of potentially being caught. Trying not to run too fast and be respectful. However, you end up stopping once Sungchan appears around the corner and chases after you. He grabs your shoulder and turns around to take off before you can tag him back. You take off after him anyway, still looking in each corridor for the other players. He manages to dip out of sight, but you spot Johnny peek his head out of one of the archways ahead. When he turns his head to look in your direction, you’re already running toward him, causing him to turn around another wall. Once you reach the passage that you thought he turned down you slow down to turn into it, only to be met with Jaehyun jumping out and scaring you. Your hands stretch out as if to block him. He must be unaware that you’re “it” because he grabs your wrists and pulls you deeper into his hiding spot, apologizing for scaring you and laughing simultaneously. His voice is pretty low when he laughs and you realize- oh my god- he has a dad laugh. It’s kind of wholesome though.

You ask, “Do you know who’s ‘it’ right now?”

He responds, “No I honestly have no clue,” then turns to look at you to be met with the evil look in your eyes.

“It’s me.” He tries to run from you but you’re already on his heels before you both see your professor walking toward you. You both immediately slow down your pace to a slow walk and do a bad job of acting casual as you pass him. Clearly out of breath, your professor walks past saying,

“Almost time to get going guys. And stay out of trouble,” before continuing on to look for other students. It’s hard to tell if he was judging you or not with his sunglasses on. Trying to hold back laughter, the two of you speed up to a fast walk and try to find the rest of your friend group. When you find Johnny, he’s already rounded up the gang.

You feel Jaehyun elbow you in the side and when you look to him in confusion, he just says, “You’re it,” and keeps walking. You jog to catch up with him pushing him as you pass him to meet up, shooting a look over your shoulder at him. He smirks, knowing this game isn’t over. You’re all guided back to the bus as you make your way to stop for lunch before your second destination. There’s a lingering exhilaration you feel as you never know when Jaehyun is going to “tag” you next. Sometimes he leans over to talk to Johnny, showing how easily he could just reach over and get you. When you get off the bus, he stands back and holds out an arm as if saying “ladies first.” With him right behind you, you feel the need to stay right up behind Johnny on the way out, but run into him once when you aren’t careful. You mutter an apology and he says it’s okay but you can feel a bit of heat run to your face in a blush.

Once off the bus, the large group is told that there are many restaurants and cafes in this area and we can choose whatever we like for lunch. Of course, your group sticks together as you make your way out to observe what looks good.

Sungchan jokes, “ We could always hit the Burger King we saw on the way back there.” You laugh, but Xiaojun is unamused.

He says, “There is no way the first meal I’m having in Rome, in Italy is going to be Burger King.”

“I think we kind of have to have pizza, right y/n?” Renjun inputs.

“I agree,” you say, pulling out the trusty old Google search of “pizza near me” So many options pop up and you offer a place that doesn’t seem to have prices too high. The guys all agree and you start your walk in that direction.

Once you arrive, the five of you are seated at the charming location and decide on two pizzas, one with seemingly inoffensive ingredients and one a little adventurous with pears and sweet gorgonzola. At first, you’re a bit hesitant to try the sweet pizza, thinking it will be like pineapple on pizza or something, but you can’t refuse when Xiaojun tries it and makes such a big deal of asking you to try while holding his slice out to you to take a bite. When you do, you understand his reaction because it really is very amazing. I mean, you should’ve expected this. It is real, authentic Italian pizza.

After finishing lunch, you make your way to the second location: The Spanish Steps. You can see that your group was running a little late because your professor quickly waved you all over toward the large group and explained that he was hoping to get a few group photos here because the location is so picturesque. Of course, you’d all be fighting for a spot but eventually after waiting a while, the professor was able to get someone to take a photo for all of you as you spread yourself out on the steps. He offered to also take pictures for any smaller groups or individuals who wanted a photo. You can see some people start to split off and pose for instagram feed pictures or take small group photos, then offer to take a picture for the guys.

Johnny protests saying, “Nuh-uh, you have to be in the picture too!” You can’t hide the smile on your face from feeling included while Johnny goes to ask your professor to take your photo. You all pose in a nice formation for the picture and then your professor counts down.

After he takes a few, he says, “Okay, now a funny one.”

They all try their best to do something funny or make a funny face. But you never know what to do during these so you look around at them for ideas and you’re just about to copy Sungchan’s peace sign and cheesy smile when you feel someone’s arms grab your back and behind the knees, sweeping you into a bridal style hold. It’s not until Jaehyun’s head sweeps under your arm that you realize it was him.

You look at him with a shocked expression and he doesn’t even glance at you while he smiles for the camera saying, “You’re it.”

Masterlist

There's part 1 of Italy! Let me know if you enjoyed this by liking or commenting on this post! Whichever trip photo and chapters get the most likes or comments are the ones I’ll update first so feel free to give me feedback! I’m thinking this will be sort of a choose-your-own adventure so you can read all the alternative endings with each member.

#nct #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #moodboard #schooltrip!AU #nct 127 #wayv #nct dream #Italy #johnny suh #Jaehyun #xiaojun #renjun #sungchan

[sweatpeeee]

Love potion AU (part2)

yo yo yo yo yooooooooo

wassup guys, I FINALLY have part 2 ready!!!!! It only took me forever. but yeah! I hope you guys enjoy! Thanks for all the love and support btw! thank you so much for 114 followers!!! genuinely so amazing! anyways with no further adieu, her is part 2 (hey that rhymed lmao)

Warnings: swearing, passing out, Peter being petty, Brad being concerned. and i think that’s it! LMK if I missed anything! :)

  It seemed the peter couldn’t suppress the giddy smile on his face, the boy basically skipping down the hallway with a tiny glass vial closed off with corkscrew twirling between his fingers. The substance glowed blue, but only when it was stirred did the liquid radiate. Peter felt his heart race at the thought of having MJ in his arms finally noticing and loving him the way he’s always dreamed. He imagined walking down the hall with his hand in Michelles as she leaned her on his shoulder, Peter’s ears burned red at these intrusive innocent thoughts that crossed his mind. His pace was fast to his locker, too excited at the power that the little container held. 

“What is that?” Peter felt his soul leave his body at the sudden question from his best friend who was breathing down his neck. Peter spun around gasping and clutching his chest.

“Ah! Ned! What the Hell?!?” Slowly feeling his body untense, his breathing still rapid. 

“What is that” Ned asked again nonchalantly as if he didn’t almost give his best friend a heart attack. 

“Oh, uh… it’s- you know... it’s web fluid-” Of course, Peter’s best friend knew he was lying-not mentioning that peter’s voice goes up six octaves when he lies. 

“You seem to forget that I am your best friend and that I have actually seen what your web fluid really looks like.” The boy with a bucket hat lifted up his brow unamused. 

“God, Fine I’ll tell you- but you have to promise me you wont get mad at me or tell anyone.” Peter whispered while leaning towards his friend. Ned leaned closer too, slightly giddy. 

“It’s a love potion-” The boy mutters, Ned shoots his head up, beyond shocked. 

“ No, No, no, no. I am NAWT letting you do that- nope-” The outburst caused many students to cast their gaze at the two boys, muttering a few insults that the bucket hat boy didn’t seem to pay attention to. 

“Ned, would you shut up??? Just listen-” Peters hands were waving around trying to get his friend to quiet down, “And you promised you wouldn’t get mad!-” 

“No! I am mad!  Because it’s about time I tell you how INSANE you sound!-” Ned began to whisper aggressively with teeth clenched shut, “I mean you cannot be serious! That's genuinely horrible, Peter and I’m deadass disappointed in you-” 

“What’s horrible?” The sudden quiet and soft voice broke their bickering- both boys froze with wide eyes and turned  towards you. Your books clutched to your chest, your fingers picking at your already damaged binder.

“Y/n! Hey! Uh… when did you get here?” Peter’s hand whipped behind his back to hide the substance that would help with his goal to win over a girls heart. 

“Um.. A few minutes ago- what were you guys talking about?” You sensed they were hiding something but couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You simply gave them a confused glance. Ned’s smile was strained but sweet nonetheless, peter sweating buckets next to him. 

“N-Nothing! Nope, nothing at all- just how… uh,” Ned glanced at Peter for any sort of help, the brunette shrugged helplessly, “Just how- how dumb-” Ned lands a pinch to Peter’s forearm- resulting in a wince and yelp from the boy, “-Peter is for not consulting with us about a…. OH- A movie night without us!” Ned grumbled between his clenched yet smiling state, “Right Pete?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course! Caught me ha ha… um yeah I just wanted to surprise you guys- you know what they say…. Surprises never come often!” He clears his throat… His palm sweaty from your perplexed gaze. 

“God, I forget how absolutely weird you guys are. Whatever- uh movie sounds great but I think I won't be able to make it-” You began backing up to head to your first period, unwilling to be around the boy you swooned over. It’s probably best you stayed away to avoid heartbreak. Plus, he was most likely going to invite MJ and you weren’t in the mood to see your crush drool over your best friend, that was until a figure placed their arm around your shoulders. 

“I think she means she can’t wait to have a movie night!” Speak of the devil. MJ dragged you back to the two boys who were still trying to act casual. 

“MJ, please- I really-” You muttered until the curly haired girl cut you off, 

“No, y/n- you can’t bail and expect things to stop being difficult- come on.” She muttered back, “so who’s house?” she smirked. You glanced at Peter, already becoming a flushed mess, his mouth tripping over his own tongue. 

“W-we can go to- to uh- to mine… if you guys want..-” You would’ve thought that stutter was adorable if only the reason wasn’t for your best friend's presence that was making him blush. 

“Cool. 8pm, no later.” and with that, she spins around and heads to class right as the bell rings.    

Y/n felt uneasy the rest of the day- feeling her stomach drop at the sheer thought of going to the movie night just to watch Peter drool over her best friend. 

As the final bell of the day rang, y/n gathered her things and headed to her locker in a hurry- in hopes to avoid her group of friends. She shuts her locker and spins towards the exit, only to run into someone- felt like a brick wall honestly. Looking up to meet the tall figures' eyes to apologize, your eyes widen. 

“Hey, Y/n!” The boy smirked looking down at you, showing his bright clean teeth.

“Oh, Brad- I’m so sorry I wasn’t even aware-”

“No! You’re all good! It was my fault I should’ve warned you or something-” Brad laughed, his eyes crinkling on the edges. You had to admit that Brad was very attractive. He has a strong build and was very kind, he always seemed to be very happy to be around you. Lately Brad has been hanging out with you during lunch or in between classes, He even offered to become your year long chemistry partner. You would even go as far as consider Brad a friend. 

“Well, sorry anyway” You looked down at your shoes before forcing yourself to look up at your eyes, “uh, how can I help you?” You couldn’t help but blush at his intense gaze. 

“Well, I swear I had it at the tip of my tongue but I seemed…” He smirked as he leaned his hand on the locker next to your head- you felt yourself shrink under him, “- to get lost in those beautiful y/e/c eyes of yours. I must’ve forgotten what I was trying to tell you.” your cheeks and ears burned red. 

“Oh god- Brad stop that-” You giggled as you ducked under his arm to walk towards the school doors. Brad followed with an easy strut, of course it didn’t take much to catch up to you- The dude was tall as hell. 

Brad let out a hearty laugh, now walking next to you, “now, you know I’m just teasing you y/n- I love the way you get all hot and bothered when I compliment you.” You just shook your head with a grin adorning your features, “Hey, is it ok if I walk you home?” You look up at the kind boy, happy at the idea that at least someone wants to be around you voluntarily.

“I mean-” right then you feel an arm drape over my shoulder and interrupt your conversation. 

“Hey, Brad! How’s it going dude,” MJ lets go of you for a second and gives him a bro hug. 

“Hey MJ, it’s going pretty good- Just chatting with this cutie. Wondering if I could walk her home today.” He flashed you a grin accompanied with a wink. Your face hot as you avoided MJ’s growing smirk. 

“Hey, you can walk with us- were all having a movie night at Peter’s if you want to come along?” Brad’s face seemed to light up at the suggestion, 

“Woah, hey seriously? That’d be awesome! Well, if it’s cool with you guys? You sure Peter won’t mind?” his brows furrowed in worry. 

“Of course not! Pete’s a chill dude, he won’t care at all.” 

----

“Can someone explain to me why the hell Brad Davis is walking behind us with our y/n?” Peter couldn’t keep the venomous words from leaving his mouth the second they were far enough from the pair behind them. 

MJ chuckled at his frustration as Ned watched with curious eyes as to why his friend was so pressed. 

“Would you relax, he just wants to be near Y/n because he likes her.” MJ bumps Peter in the shoulder with her own, making him stumble a bit with a grunt. 

“Ok but why y/n?” He mumbles

“Woah-” Ned gasps in shock to Peter’s words

“No, no- I didn’t mean-” 

“Peter, you have no right saying what y/n can and cannot do and in who she talks to.” MJ could’ve caused physical pain to that boy with the glare she was giving him. Peter grumbled to himself- knowing his crush was right. The thought of y/n and Brad flirting didn’t sit well with him. 

“Wait- so Brad is having a movie night with us?” Ned peered behind them to see Brad poking his finger towards y/n’s side making her burst in giggles and attempt to push Brad's fingers away.

“No” 

“Yes” 

 MJ and Peter share a glance. The curly haired brunette squints, “what was that, Peter?” Challenging him to repeat his statement. 

“God, fine.” It comes out as a Scoff. He just wanted to get home so he could set his plan in motion. He could already tell MJ was beginning to grow annoyed with him already. 

——

“Shh- Brad, you c-can’t say stuff like that!” Your sweet laughter started to get on Peter’s nerves. His knuckles white as he unlocks the door and pushes in. 

What the hell is so funny? Of course this plan is going to be ruined with them constantly giggling and flirting- 

“Yo- Pete! Is it chill if I use your bathroom?” Brad's voice reaches Peter as he slings his backpack next to the door, just the thought of Brad staying at his apartment, eating his snacks and flirting with his y/n- he stops himself, he must be getting too protective over his friends. 

“It’s fine-“ he mutters before hearing a door close in the direction of his bathroom, Peter crouches to the movie cabinet, scanning every CD for hopefully a star wars movie, “finally some peace and quiet around here-“ 

“You ok Pete?” Your soft voice startled him- his head spins to his right- meeting your soft gaze. 

“Y-yeah it’s all good.” Hoping she didn’t hear his relief of Brad's absence. 

“Are you sure? You seem really tense,” Peter couldn’t find an excuse, looking around for one until his eyes landed on MJ laughing about something with Ned. Y/n noticed, “oh… is it because of MJ?” Her mood drained, all that talking with Brad distracted her from why she really didn’t want to go over for movie night. 

MJ…. 

That has to be it- yeah, that’s why he’s irritated. He doesn’t want things to go wrong with MJ. 

He nods slightly. Y/n lips part, words she’s been itching to say about to leave her mouth before- 

“Hey, y/n! Check out this puppy wearing a lion costume!” Brad was holding up his phone in your direction. You glanced back then smiled at Peter and turned towards Brad. You smiled as the video played, a little smiling pout rested on your lips, Brad gazed at you- one would call them heart eyes, Peter would call it disgusting. Brad looked at Peter and winked. 

God this guy is insufferable. 

———-

30 minutes into Back to Future, Peter unwillingly agreed to watch after a stern glare from Ned, and Brad was quite cuddled up to y/n. Peter had no idea why he was acting the way he was, he just didn’t trust Brad to take care of her and treat her right, he seemed like a player to Peter. Peter shook the negative thoughts out of his head before deciding that he should now start setting his plan into motion. 

“Anyone want a drink?” Peter stood, straightening out his jeans. 

“Yeah I’d like one,” Brad nodded, still watching TV, then shifted his eye’s to Y/n, “ What about you, Y/n?” You looked up at Brad and smiled, a small nod. Peter could all but roll his eyes. 

“Ned? MJ?” His eyes silently pleading that his crush says yes. Ned nods, MJ contemplates then shrugs.  

Peter nearly runs to the kitchen, pulling out the glowing vile from his pocket. Setting out 4 cups, pouring in some kool-aid he made earlier in the morning. Slowly he lifts the pitcher, filling 3 cups generously except for the fourth one. He pops open the tube with the chemical, remembering distinctly what Mr. Strange had told him. 

Absolutely no more than 3 drops. Any more than 3 drops and we’ll have some serious problems. Do I make myself clear? 

“Just 3. No more than 3, you got this Peter.” Peter focused intently on the tube, watching as the liquid dripped…

One…

Two…

Thre-

“Yo! Peter! You good with those drinks?” 

Four-five-six….

Peter could’ve screamed. He could’ve ripped his hair out. But there he stood with his jaw on the floor, with a cup full of, not 3 but 6, drops of the enchantment. Brad came strolling in, grabbing the infected drink and a clean one- 

“WAIT BRAD- DONT!” Peter nearly trampled the guy- making Brad jolt and spill some of the drink in his shirt. 

“Jesus Peter! What the hell is your problem??” Brad set the cups down on the small table in the living room with the girls as he made his way to the restroom. 

“What happened?” MJ was about to get out of her seat to check out the noise. 

“N-nothing! Nothing!” Peter peered at his friends, meeting with concerned eyes, ”It’s all good! Brad just uh- he spilled some of the drink on his shirt- Hey Ned I need assistance-“ Peter spoke through his teeth, attempting to reassure the girls. Ned looked around confused as well as the two girls sharing perplexed glances. 

“Code Death Star” he harshly whispered- 

Bed shot up out of his seat and rushed with Peter to the kitchen. 

“What happened???” Ned whispers while he  avoided the puddle of kool aid on the floor. 

“Brad happened! I was just putting in the drops like Mr.Strange told me, then Brad scared me and 6 drops slipped in-“ 

“6 drops?!??” Ned was quickly muted by Peter's hand slapping over his mouth. 

“Shhh keep it down, dude-“ 

Ned rips Peter's hand off, “Dude we have no idea what that could do! What if she pukes for the rest of her life?? What if it does the exact opposite of making her like you?? What if she dies-“ 

“I don’t know what it could do! We just need to make sure that no one touches that drink!” Peter then sees from his peripheral vision, his spider senses going haywire, a Y/n stuck with a grimace on her face. 

A red cup in her hand. 

No… nonononononono- don’t tell me-

“ No offense Peter, but this shits disgusting- tastes like medicine if you ask me.” You gag lightly, “god- it’s got a horrible aftertaste too- I swear you’re out to kill me Peter” you giggle. Walking past them and throwing out the cup. 

Peter found this anything but funny- Neds eyes went wide- absolute shock ran through both of the boys. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” You began rubbing your cheeks and your lips. The boys staying stoic, “guys…?” You began getting worried.

“H-how much did you drink?” Peter's voice is 6 octaves higher, taking slow cautious steps towards you.

“I- I chugged it-“ Peter then grips your wrist and as if the whole world stopped, you could only see Peter. Your feelings increase ten fold. suddenly you feel absolutely dizzy. Your legs tremble at the sheer touch of his hand on your wrist, he’s tugging you towards his room and your head keeps spinning, you place your hand onto the wall for balance before being dragged once again. Your blurry vision sees Brad barely exit the restroom wiping his shirt- then glancing at you- eyebrows furrowed.

You shut your eyes tightly, hoping it helps with your focus, blinking rapidly. Your body grows hot- like you’re running a fever, but your feet and hands are freezing. You can hardly hear anything as Peter's distant voice soothes you, probably telling you to sit on his bed. You started falling into a state of drowsy sleep despite his voice sounding distressed.

 You pass out. 

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!” Peter was Whimpering and shaking your shoulders, pulling your eyelids open only to see the white of your eyes, iris rolled back, “oh god, please wake up Y/n! I need you awake!” Peter's heart was in absolute anguish, he felt a deep hole in his chest, he couldn’t breath. 

Panic attack. 

Ok, ok fuck- Ohmygod is she dead??? This was a mistake, god what the fuck did I do??? Fuck fuck fuck ok ok you need to calm down- what the hell am I having a panic attack right now??? ok ok 3 things- what can I see? Uh ok ok…. 

Peter glanced down at your unconscious body and started taking deep breaths. 

Ok ok I can see y/n’s…. smooth skin- uh I can… I can- I can see her favorite hair tie, I can see uh… her star wars shirt… ok good ok uh 3 things I can feel- 

He grasped her limp hand. His breaths are already regulating. 

I can feel her hand- a-and her pulse! Oh thank god I can feel her pulse….her bracelet. 

Ok and I can hear her breathing! I can hear cars outside, I can hear the movie from the living room. 

His heart rate goes down significantly. He’s at ease now. Ned barges in, startling Peter. About to speak before his eyes stop dead on an unconscious girl on Peter's bed. 

“Is she dead?!?” 

“No! No she’s ok! She’s just passed out!” Peter couldn’t bring himself to move from you- your hand still grasped tightly in his. He felt absolutely horrible, he’d never forgive himself for this. He only prayed that you woke up soon. 

“What’s going on?'' Brad's voice in the hallway, Peter runs to his door, holding it close to his body to stop Brad from looking inside. 

“Nothing Brad, mind your business-“ 

“No Peter! I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with me, but all I know is that you’re a sketchy little dude with some serious problems- Now I saw y/n and she didn’t look well- let me see her.” Brad attempted pushing open the door but Peter kept his grip on the door. His spider strength came quite in handy. 

“She's fine dude- she wasn’t feeling well so I took her to my room so she could rest!” Brad only glared down at Peter. His deathly stare was nearly intimidating but Peter wouldn’t cave,” I think you should go home.” Peter didn’t even try to hide the venomous tone this time. Brad was really getting on his nerves. 

“You’re up to something. Hiding things. And I’m sure that whatever it is you’re hiding,” Brad nods his head, signaling to you behind Peter, “you don’t want her finding out.” Brad slowly walks backwards, eyes never leaving Peter, “I’m on to you, Parker.” And with that Brad turned around and left the apartment, slamming the door. 

He sighed in relief, turning around to his best friend. 

“So now what?” 

————————————————————

aaaannnnnnnndddddd THAT’S part 2 errybody! Thanks for the love and support and I’ll do my best to get part 3 up sooner! 

taglist: @itscaminow @halparkebitch @missmulti @everyoneyoulovedies @le-yona @universeoffandoms @writeroutoftime @bluelida @yourbiggestspiderfan @marvel-moviesfan @zoerosethoughts @songbirdsingingthings @phrogtheguitarist @sophs-library @awesomebooklover17 @horanxholland @mystoragehatesme e @spideygirl2003

also lmk if the taglist is working :)

#peter parker fanfic #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter paker smut #peter parker angst #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland angst #tom holland imagine #peter parker au #MJ #nedleeds #michelle jones #spiderman #tony stark #Avengers #marvel #MCU #brad davis #x reader #peter parker imagines

[strangerobin]

Rue: Chapter 6 (Jasper Hale x OC)

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

Or

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

Part 6

A plan of sorts that leaves neither parties thrilled.

She was still waiting for a sign.

On occasions, Adeline felt watched and the unease in her heart refused to subside. Something was about to happen to break this faux peace, she was sure; but just what it was she had no clue. And the more time had passed, the more on edge and paranoid she got, going so far as to snapping at poor Loreen for the smallest of things. She hated herself more than ever.

In the end, the sign she had been waiting for came in the form of flowers.

Cornflowers to be exact.

A bouquet was left in the early morning on the doorsteps of their little shared house. No one had heard the deliverer. Anakin and Teddy were away, engaging in their own businesses. Loreen was still tucked safely in her little fort of plushies and rag dolls. Adeline had merely opened the door to enjoy some fresh air and was instead met with a bouquet of cornflowers arranged with utmost care.

Your eyes are the colour of cornflowers.

A man she loved once told her. So she was reminded of.

Holding the bouquet as far away from herself as possible, she chucked the bouquet straight into the trash and went about her day as if nothing happened. As if she wasn’t bouncing her leg non-stop while watching reruns on TV, or how distracted she was, or how Loreen kept shooting worried glances at her. As if she wasn’t practically vibrating anxiety off her being.

The flowers never stopped. Every morning a fresh batch was laid on the doorsteps, Loreen even managed to steal some and displayed them in a pretty little vase in her room. Out of spite, Adeline thought. She tried to stay vigilant and stand guard at the door, but then they would only appear elsewhere around the house. She knew then that there was no running from this.

Adeline would bet good money on who her secret admirer (stalker) was. She did not remember him as a stubborn man; but from the persistence of his action she had gathered what game he was playing at. This was an open challenge issued to her, a taunt, he wouldn’t confront her upfront. No, he was patient with his schemes and would strike only when the hour was ripe; he was the predator and her the prey now. And she was so so tempted to rise to the bait. But she must keep her cool, and not loose her mind. He might loose his interest in her yet.

In a century or two. Her treacherous mind taunted mercilessly.

Oh but how wrong was she.

The next taunt came the next day in the form of a book, Frankenstein.

Specifically, the exact copy of the cheap paperback edition she had left behind in Whitehorse months ago.

In a fit of hysterics, she threw open the front door and went all the way up to the front yard and bellowed into the empty countryside. “Leave me the fuck alone you sick bastard!”

Only later did she start to question.

How did he find her? How did he manage to track her down from Whitehorse to Minnesota and now Colorado? She was confident of her concealment ability.

So then, how?

*

From a distance, Jasper watched the girl sitting at the front porch, lacing up her roller skates. The child turned her heard, seemingly to answer someone inside the house before finishing up the rest of her laces. Then in trepidation she tested water with the first few step, before gaining confidence and propelling herself forward into the open road.

In her flowy sundress and a light cardigan, seemingly not minding the alpine chill, the child spread out her arms and laughed with her head thrown back, as if she were soaring amongst the wind instead. She seemed like any other child, if it weren’t for her scent, and that luminous skin in the morning light.

Jasper casually got out of his car and leaned against it, unsubtly observing the girl. That seemed to catch the child’s attention as she eyed him suspiciously while zipping past the first time; before turning round at the end of the drive and passing by again. If she was scared then she hardly showed it. After a few back and forth, she finally slowed a few meters from Jasper and regarded him cooly.

“Who are you?” Her asked in a sing-song voice. “If you’re here to sell cable or insurance or fire resistant something, we’re not interested.”

“Ah I see so you are the Madame of the house then, little lady.” Jasper chuckled and watched as the child pouted and crossed her arms, petulant at the name. Yes, she was like one of those children too smart for their own good, sharp witted but quick to anger. And much too trusting. “Fear not, I am only a friend. Tell me, do you live here with family?”

“Half siblings.” The child corrected.

“And is not your half-sister called Adeline?”

“And you are?”

“A long time... friend.” He hesitated after a second.

“Oh?” Now her voice was laced with suspicion.

Jasper smiled charismatically and exerted an air of reassurance over the child. “Do you think you can send a message from me to her?”

The child frowned, clearly reluctant. “Couldn’t you do it yourself? If you really are her friend. She’s in a mood these days and I don't want to cross anymore than I need to.”

“I don’t think she’d like to see me for now.” Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, as if he was not in fact stalking the said person, but simply had a disagreement with her over a conversation during bar night.

She narrowed her eyes at him again.

“What’s in this for me?”

Jasper bowed his head respectfully. “Of course there will be payment on my part. I shall be forever in your debt.”

She pursed her lips and pondered on the request thoughtfully. “If I am to be messenger,” She began slowly. “I’d like a year’s worth of Ben and Jerry’s. And a year’s subscription of Netflix!” She looked so haughty then, so proud of herself for striking a deal that he had to chuckle.

“Oh little lady.” He said in between laughs, somehow adoring the sweet innocence of the child. “You drive a hard bargain don’t you? Yes of course I promise.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed. “Cross may heart and hope to die.”

That seemed to satisfy the child and she grinned cheekily at him, no doubt pleased with her little bargain of free ice cream and Netflix films.

“Here.” He produced from his pocket a single map. And handed it to the girl. She eyed it suspiciously before taking in gingerly, their hands briefly touching. If she noticed his ice cold skin then she did not make a remark.

Instead her eyes flickered back to him and she chewed on her lips thoughtfully before finally opening her mouth. “I hope... I hope whatever it is between the two of you, all will be well soon.”

Momentarily caught surprised, Jasper straightened his stance and looked to the house in the distance with longing and tenderness.

“Yes I hope so too.”

*

“Oh Lorie you’re finally back. Fun time roller skating?”

Adeline was sitting on the sofa, in a bathrobe with blankets wrapped all around herself up to her head flipping through the channels at top speed.

“I met a friend of yours down the street.” Loreen announced.

“Friend? What friend-”

“Jasper.”

She froze at the name.

“Come again?”

“Jasper was here and he wanted me to pass on a message to you.” Loreen stated as-a-matter-of-factly and handed over the old map. She scrutinised her sister; watched as her face blanched before being replaced by red hot fury.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Adeline bellowed, crumpling the map into a tight little wall. “Where is he? Is he still out there now?!”

Loreen shrugged, trying to convey the message that she was just as clueless as the other was. “I’m sure he’s only just left.”

Adeline bolted out of the doors at once.

“Jasper!” She yelled like a lunatic, and searched frantically, not giving a fig what the neighbours would think. She had other pressing matters to be concerned of.

How dare he! How dare he approached her family, especially her innocent sister! He had already shattered her little peaceful life! That she could tolerate, and she supposed to some extent, she was reaping what she had sowed years ago. But preying on her young sister like that! He had no right! Absolutely no right! How dare he!

Hidden under the shades of the woods she took off in a blur, trying to locate the man. But the faint smell she caught whiff of indicated that he had long since been gone.

Still livid, she stomped her way back to the house.

First the flowers, then the book and now this map. Jasper; yes she was finally going to acknowledge this, that he was the same man she had met all those years ago, and that yes he was a fucking vampire now! And one with no fucking sense of boundaries! His message was clear and simple.

Don’t think that you’ve been forgotten. I know where you are and I will find you, whatever it takes. Or you can come to me, on your terms. You know where to find me.

She spread the crumpled map out.

Washington.

It was a state map of fucking Washington!

Like a flame being doused with ice cold water, she finally realised her mistake all those months ago. The hybrid child she had met in the clearing… That was how he had come to know of her. There was no doubt of it now. The child must have told her coven of their meeting, and either he was part of the coven, or he was on intimate terms with them. Either way, she had damned herself that day when she had decided not to trust her instincts to stay inland. And like dominoes, a little push had unknowingly caused the whole system to collapse on its own, the shockwaves continuing to reverberate in the aftermath of the disastrous meeting.

Adeline cursed and screamed in frustration.

Stupid! Stupid! She was so stupid! What was she to do now?! Engage? And she would be falling right into his laps without a fight. Run? But for how long? He had proven himself more than capable of tracking her somehow, it would be all for naught. He had a coven; and she had only her siblings. Siblings whom never got involved with her affairs, nor did she wish to involve into the mess. And especially not her youngest.

Frustrated, she flipped the map to find an actual written message penned in impeccable cursive handwriting. Which got her blood boiling immediately.

Do you have what it takes?

Self-righteous bastard! Well she’ll show him!

Adeline was in and out of the house in a flash, clothes changed. “Addie where are you going?” Loreen was by the door, obviously concerned.

“I’m going.” Her reply was short, clipped.

“At least wait for Anakin or Teddy.”

“No Loreen. I have to go. You’ll be fine on your own right?” Adeline tried to smile to relieve the tension, but evidently the tight-lipped smile only succeeded in agitating her sister more.

“I suppose yes. But-"

“Stay safe dear. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And she was out.

She refused to address her other concerns; like what did he want by actively seeking her out, or how did he even find her when she had made sure all her tracks were concealed? What did it mean for the two of them now that the other was all along alive and well? What would it entail for either parties from here on? What would father even do should he learn of this?

All of the what ifs and hows and whys were all overshadowed by her high-strung emotions. Her action was spurred into motion and further fulled by her fury at her former lover. Really, she lacked even a concrete plan of engagement which she seemed to be forgetting repeatedly in favour of the raging anger within her.

One she had not felt in years now.

*

“Are you sure she’ll come?” Edward asked.

“I’m sure.” Was Jasper’s curt reply, even if the doubt was weighing heavily down on his heart. He was back in Forks, back with his family where there was still some semblance of safety and control.

For nights, he had sat outside of Adeline’s little house in his car, just thinking and formulating, the best ways to engage her. He could knock on her door right then and there, and no doubt she would lose her shit, and everything would be fucked. Or he could catch her attention and lure her out back to where he felt safest, and should she decide to come along with then he would engage accordingly. At that time it felt like a decent plan, but now that he was home, the plan seemed stupid. Either way seemed like it would end pretty badly. In the end, he had made his escape early, had not stayed to see Adeline’s reaction at his subtle message. For fear of rejection, for fear of being unable to bear the disappointment.

He was such a coward.

And now he watched as his brother grimaced and frowned, clearly hesitating whether to speak his mind out or not, before finally making his mind up. “It’s just… are you sure about this?”

“About what?” Jasper said feigning ignorance.

“You’re taunting her.” Edward stared him straight in the eye, somewhat sternly. “Is this any way to court the girl you like?”

“Well, says the man who stalked his then classmate in her bedroom every night.” He shot back with barb, clearly annoyed.

Edward’s face soured and immediately stalked off the other way.

Offended.

Jasper sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his tangled hair, emotions all over the place. He knew he was an unwelcome presence in the house lately, practically vibrating off anxiety within a mile radius and affecting anyone within. It made the others nervous, stressed even. And everyone avoided him like the plague.

Bella and Edward had taken Renesmee to their little cottage so that the little one would not be affected. Carlisle had taken to working long hour shifts at the hospital and God knows where Rose and Emmett were.

And Alice... Alice was distancing herself from him.

She had taken to avoiding him, bluntly. She was never in the same room as he was. Had stopped being affectionate like she used to. Their interactions were reduced to light pats on his shoulder, fleeting hand touches, tight-lipped smiles that never quite reached her eyes. She was clearly hurting regardless of what she proclaimed. And to make matters worse, it was fracturing the family.

Emmett’s the-devil-may-care attitude can be reassuring, but Rosalie’s disdain at him was dully noted. Bella was torn and Edward was still suspicious of Adeline but somewhat more understanding of his predicament, although apparently he had just pissed off his last comrade. Carlisle and Esme were only concerned for the two of them, no doubt wanting the best for the pair of them.

And there was nothing he could do.

Alice had made the decision for the two of them.

But it tortured him as much as it killed her. She was the light in his pitiful life for years, his beacon in the dark night. She would never forgive him for all his betrayals just as he could never forgive himself for being the one to hurt her,

And now it pained him just as much to think of Adeline, of his plan to lure her out. He had known her like the back of his own hand then. Though what an irony that felt now. The one he had meant to share his life with, ended up being the one he had known the least.

While she can be sweet and lively, her temper seemed to have a mind of its own. And her heart always dominated in any decisions she made. She was open to persuasion, but would never bend to anyone’s will by force. Would react badly and lash out if forced.

And he had forced her hand.

Adeline would come, she must. Because if she did not, what then? He could go back to Alice and begged for her to take him back or he could continue hunting Adeline down, but then what? He could not force her into anything against her will, he would not. While he was no saint, he certainly was no monster to force himself onto her. She had only need to say the words, with steel in her resolve and he would begone as she requested, forever.

And should she have changed?

It had been more one and a half century since their parting, he had changed much. How did he expect her to remain the same? How did he expect her to remain steadfast in their love? Or its lack thereof?

He was torn between being content with simple ordinariness, or pursuing something more, something all encompassing and consuming, but also elusive which might end up being a gamble for nothing.

Either required him to make a blind leap of faith, though one was certainly more perilous than the other.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." He finally admitted aloud to Edward's retreating form, watched as the man turned to look back at him with narrowed eyes. "I have the choice... I have the choice to move on like she did, or I can continue to pursue her to the ends of the world, like some psychopathic stalker vampire..."

"But you don't want to be neither." Edward sighed sympathetically.

"No."

"And yet you don't want to let her go either."

"No, I don't either."

Jasper shot his brother a bittersweet smile before lapsing into silence. It felt embarrassing to tell Edward of his inner most thoughts, but at the same time there was something cathartic in finally sharing with someone what he thought.

"If there's anything I learnt from being with Bella," Edward said after a moment of thought. "It's that every relationship requires the investment of both parties. It's useless if she doesn't reciprocate your feeling."

Jasper quirked his lips ruefully. "Alice seems to think otherwise."

"Alice can't see the hybrid's future."

"No but I told her we might be soulmates."

"Well are you?"

"I don't know... I think so."

Jasper looked up to see Edward with a smug smirk aimed at him. "Well what do we have here? The cold and calculating Major Whitlock stumped for once because he's confused what to do with his lover-"

"Edward!" He protested loudly.

Ed laughed with mirth before holding up his hands in surrender. "I digress." Then his demeanor turned serious again. "Like I said, it requires two people to be in love. A soulmate bond doesn't automatically make her fall in love with you and vice versa. At the end of the day, it's just a bond. It ties the two of you together in this life, you can feel her, might even need her. But at the end of the day, it's for the both of you to decide if the both of you want to purse a more serious relationship, no?"

Jasper looked away, not wanting to meet his brother's intense gaze.

Had he considered what she wanted?

He loved her, still. But did she want him in the same way?

"I... tell me what I should do then?"

The proposition pained him physically and mentally and Jasper closed his eyes and swallowed harshly.

But Edward only looked at him with a tenderness and pity in his eyes.

"Do what's right, brother. Don't make it a regret of yours for eternity."

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale imagine #twilight #twilight imagine

[fleeting-queen-of-pepperland]

Nowhere Girl

Paul McCartney x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: None, I think!

Word Count: 3K

A/N: So...I was listening to She’s Leaving Home and then I kind of remembered the whole train bit of “A Hard Day’s Night” and I came up with this! Hope you like it! xoxo 

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

The streets were nearly empty, covered in a thick fog that would remain there for the two hours left until sunrise. The air was mildly cold, and humid. The only moving thing was apparently the lone figure of a girl that hastily made her way down the street, attempting to reach the train station in a great hurry, constantly looking behind as if she expected someone to appear at any moment.

She walked in and walked over towards the counter, where the barely awake seller rested his head against the palm of his hand. 

“Good morning,” Y/n said politely, trying to rein herself and keep her voice from trembling. “One ticket, please,”

“Of course, darling,” the man replied with a kind smile. “where to?” 

“Where to?” she repeated the question, gazing upon the board that contained the arrivals and departures. The only fault in an otherwise flawless plan. The last thing in her mind was where she’d go if she succeeded. 

She needed it to be far away. However, the amount of money she had brought with her wasn’t quite enough for something as remote as she would’ve liked. Still, the feeling of proximity to the school made her stomach feel queasy. 

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows as another crazy scheme lit up in her brain. No crazier than the one she was partaking in at the moment, though. 

“Actually, I’ll think about it for a bit,” she replied, smiling at the man before her and walking away from the booth. The man’s sleepiness hadn’t gone unnoticed by her, and so she pretended to leave the station, just to hide around the corner and wait patiently for about ten minutes. 

Y/n covertly peeked around the corner and caught a glimpse of the ticket seller already asleep, his face seeming to melt over his hand as he rested his arm upon the counter. With a mischievous smile, the girl tiptoed her way past the ticket booth and onto the boarding platform. However small the station was, several trains stopped there either to refuel or as a quick connection on their way to their final destination, which was exactly what she needed. 

“Am I really going to do this?” she whispered to herself, a faint vapor coming out of her mouth as she exhaled deeply to give herself some courage. 

The sound of a train entering the station made her knees wobbly. 

“Alright, this is it. Now or never. Come on, Y/n, you’ve come too far to back out now.” 

As a matter of fact, she hadn’t objectively gone that far. It took her only twenty minutes to reach the station on foot, but as the doors opened before her and she took her first steps inside, mixing with the commuters that exited the train, in her mind, she’d well be boarding a ship to America. 

Quickly, Y/n slid inside one of the empty compartments and sat, smoothing her navy skirt in a nervous reflex. Oh, how she wished to sit by the window and gaze at the speeding landscape, but she had to be on the look for any approaching inspectors that could endanger her whole plan. 

As time passed, more people began filling the compartment. Fortunately, most of them were serious looking business people who were too busy reading the newspaper to mind her presence. Normally, she’d attempt to start a conversation, even if it was merely out of restlessness.  But she was too lost in her own thoughts for that. 

Even then, none of what was happening around her felt real. Two months back, Y/n was sitting in her dorm, perhaps reading one of the many photography magazines she secretly owned, and what she was doing now was nothing but a hopeful thought. 

She didn’t know what had finally pushed her to see it as a real possibility rather than the fantasy of a frustrated young girl, but one day she decided enough was enough, and if her parents refused to accept that being a housewife was not her ultimate goal in life, then she was left with no choice but to force them to acknowledge it by living her life on her own terms. 

A relieved smile bloomed on her lips, but it was short-lived as she heard a voice asking each passenger to hand in their ticket a couple of compartments ahead of hers. 

She immediately stood up and, attempting to look calm and collected, Y/n made her escape through the door and rushed down the hall, in the opposite direction of the voice and still unsure on where to go. 

Perhaps she could leave the train when it arrived at the next station?

No. That sounded too much like giving up, and she was fairly sure she hadn’t traveled far enough yet. She didn’t want to get cocky or underestimate the school’s authorities, nor her parents. She was, after all, an underage runaway.

As she turned around once more to make sure she wasn’t being followed, Y/n’s race was cut short when she collided with someone else. 

“Oh, sorry.” she promptly apologized. 

“It’s fine, are you alright?” a male voice replied. She looked up at him and nodded nonchalantly, the first thing about him that she noticed were his eyes, tawny and gentle, with large eyelashes. 

“Are you sure?” He spoke, just as gently and even sounding amused. “You look like you really are in a hurry and...well, I’m quite sure you can’t miss the train and we won’t get to the next station anytime soon.” 

Another set of steps approached them, the voice that accompanied them made Y/n instinctively look back before she tried to squirm around the untimely kind boy standing before her. 

“I’m alright. Excuse me, please.”

But he didn’t move. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and looked in the direction the voice came from before lowering his eyes back at her. It only took one moment for Y/n to realize he knew. However, he smiled mischievously and grabbed her hand before gesturing to the other side of the train. 

“Come on, follow me.”

Y/n didn’t think she had much of a choice. The space was limited, the time was running out and someone with such pretty eyes couldn’t possibly be that bad...right? 

Finally, both of them reached an empty cubicle. 

“Come on, get in.” he whispered and closed the door after her, casually leaning against it, discreetly blocking the view inside as the inspector finally appeared. 

“Ticket, please.” He requested. The boy nodded and took his ticket out. After checking it, the inspector moved as if to enter the compartment.

“Oh, there’s nobody else in there, mister.” he promptly said. “All of my friends went to get coffee a few moments ago, I’m just saving their seats. They must be in the next cart.”

“Is that so? Well, I better go check, then. Have a nice day.” 

The boy nodded his head to return his regards before walking back inside and smiling at the girl before him. 

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would.” 

“Thank you...” Y/n replied trailing off, realizing she didn’t know who she was thanking. “Sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” 

“I’m Paul. And don’t worry, it was nothing.”

“It was, believe me. I’m Y/n.” 

“Pleasure to meet you Y/n.” Paul responded, gifting her with a soft but nevertheless charming smile. 

Y/n just returned the gesture and leaned back on her seat, intertwining her fingers and resting her hands on her lap with a relieved sigh. Although she expected him to leave immediately after, Paul didn’t move. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how does a girl like you end up traveling alone without a ticket?” 

Y/n hesitated. She wondered whether telling him the whole story was a good idea. A part of her was afraid he’d tell once the word of her escape came around, knowing very well they’d start looking for her the minute they realized she was missing. The sun was starting to slowly rise, meaning the classes would soon begin and since absences were uncommon and promptly looked into, it wouldn’t take long for them to begin the search. 

However, Y/n felt strangely compelled to come clean. He had already helped her no questions asked, and he kept looking at her with true interest and even a bit of concern. Besides, there was something familiar about his face that she couldn’t quite recognize, as if she had seen him before, however impossible that appeared.  Finally, she gave in. 

“I ran away.” she answered “I am -was- a student at Saint Catherine’s. It’s this all-girls Catholic boarding school nearby. My parents enrolled me about two years ago, but I couldn’t stand being there for one more minute.”

“Nuns don’t particularly stand out when it comes to having fun, do they?” he quipped with a lopsided grin. 

“It was madness! No music other than those awful chants, no books that didn’t belong to the syllabus, let alone magazines...no, that was not my place.”

“So you ran away,” he stated, an approving and even gingerly impressed gleam took over his eyes. Y/n pressed her lips together tightly and nodded. 

“So,” she continued, slowly regaining her cheerful disposition. “Business or pleasure?” 

“You could say both, I think.” Paul affirmed, straightening his back with a boyishly smug smirk. “Me and me friends are on our way to play on a television show,” 

“Oh, so you’re in a band?” Y/n replied in awe before pursing her lips and looking down at her hands bashfully “I’d ask if it’s anything I’ve heard, but I’m a little bit out of date on music.” 

“Didn’t you girls find ways to sneak things inside?” he inquired, that playful smile tugging at the edge of his lips again. 

“Of course we did! But they never lasted long. The number of snitches was surprisingly large, and I didn’t want to end up locked inside the chapel praying for forgiveness because of Little Richard.” 

“And how did you wound up there? I thought Saint Catherine’s was for...how do they call them?” he cleared his throat and faked the accent of a grumpy, old man, going as far as curving his lips down and frowning to get in character. “Immoral, misled, no-good hussies.”  

Y/n bursted out laughing at his silly interpretation, covering her mouth with the back of her hand and shaking her head. 

“Well,” she breathed out after her laughter slowly died down. “Wait, so you have heard of Saint Catherine’s?” 

“Sort of. My friend John used to go out with a girl back home. It started to get quite serious until he found out she had her fair share of lads sneaking in and out of her bedroom window. Last thing we knew of her, she was sent to Saint Catherine’s. I can’t remember her name, I just remember she was missing a chunk of her tooth, right here.” Paul pointed to the edge of his front tooth, and Y/n gasped, amused. 

“Oh my god, that’s Chippy Charlie!” 

This time it was Paul who couldn’t help but laugh at the nickname. With that specific detail, there was no way it could’ve been anybody else. He tried to stop snickering, but couldn’t as Y/n continued. 

“She is still the worst! She is the Patron Saint of Snitches of Saint Catherine’s, I swear, it’s like she gets paid for it! I was tempted to pull a prank on her as my parting gift, but she wasn’t worth the unnecessary risk. But, you know, whether a girl is or not a misguided hussy depends a lot on whom you ask. My one-way ticket was telling my parents I only intended to get married after I made it as a photographer, because I’d hate to marry some twat who believes I depend on him for anything at all. And they lost their plot.” 

Paul remained silent, obviously pondering what she had just said as the girl before him intrigued him more and more. When he opened his mouth to reply, a new choir of voices was heard approaching them.

“...know where the bloody hell did he go? I thought I told you to stay together!” 

“Come on, Eppy, aren’t you making a fuss over this? It’s not like Paul could get lost on the train.” A second voice replied with a trace of mockery. 

“And even if he did, I don’t understand why we had to come with you to look for him,” a third voice complained, to which the first one snapped. 

“Because I now know that I can’t leave any of you alone or you’ll just do as you please!” 

“Don’t we do that even when we’re not alone?” 

Paul cursed under his breath and looked over at Y/n.

“Alright, ready to return the favor?” She looked at him questioningly and shook her head, unsure of what he meant. So, he hurried to explain. 

“Just tell them there’s nobody in here but you, alright?” 

Without giving her further explanations, Paul looked around and finally found a spot right next to the door where he could hide, the door itself preventing whoever came in from spotting him. Y/n quickly turned to the window and took the most natural and aloof pose she could think of, until she heard the door being opened and the first voice, which belonged to a suit-clad man in his thirties  with small, worried eyes, addressed her. 

“Sorry to disturb you Miss, but have you seen a young man walking by this cart?” 

“No, I don’t think I have, I’m sorry.” Y/n replied with a soft shrug and an apologetic grin, to which the man nodded understandingly and retreated a bit. 

“Wait, Brian, wouldn’t it be a better idea for us to wait for you in this cart while you look for Paul? After all, we’d hate to slow you down.” the second boy trailing behind him said, smiling flirtatiously at Y/n. However, Brian was having none of it. 

“Of course you’d like that, wouldn't you, John? Come on, let’s go.” 

despite the evident disappointment on his face, John begrudgingly followed until the four men disappeared through the door that led to the following cart.

“Alright, the coast is clear.” Y/n said as Paul left his hiding place and returned to his seat, this time choosing the one next to her. 

“Thanks.” he said, “They’re great but sometimes I need a break from them, you know?” 

“Who were they? Was that the John you mentioned earlier?” Y/n inquired. 

“That’s him. The whole band, really. And Brian, our manager.” 

They remained in silence for a moment, both of them looking out of the window thoughtfully until the first buildings began appearing, silently announcing the end of the train’s journey as it began approaching the city. Y/n felt her stomach flip at the prospect of being alone in such a big place, surrounded by thousands of strangers and having essentially nowhere to go. She hadn't doubted her plan as much as she did right then. 

“So...for how long will you be staying here?” she asked, absentmindedly tapping her fingertips against the cold glass. 

“I don’t know. Perhaps two or three days. We’re on tour so I don’t think we’ll be here for long. What about you?” 

“I don’t know,” she finally replied with a long sigh. “I brought some photographs I took with a smuggled camera with me. It’s the closest thing to a portfolio I’ve got.” 

Shortly after it entered the station, the engine came to a sudden halt. Both of them stood up and made their way out into the hall until they finally reached a door and left the train. 

“Well...it was nice meeting you, Paul.” Y/n said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and looking around with a tense smile, attempting to hide how overwhelming the city truly was to her. 

“Good luck, Y/n.” he replied, returning her smile, with an almost imperceptible glint of sadness in his eyes. She made her way around him and began walking away. However, she hadn’t given ten steps when someone lightly tapped her shoulder. She turned around to find Paul standing before her with a sheepish smile. 

“Hi,” he said, uneasily rubbing the back of his head. “Listen, I was thinking...I might know a couple of people who could help you out. You know, with the photography thing and all that.”

He took a scrap of paper out of his pocket and handed it over to her. The name of a hotel and a room number was scribbled on it. 

“Just call me when you’ve found a place to stay, tell me the address and I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning so you can meet them. If that’s alright with you, I mean.” 

“Really?” Y/n asked, looking at him with wide eyes. He nodded with a soft smile and shrugged dismissively. However, she couldn’t help but tackle him in a hug, throwing her arms around his neck and quickly pecking his cheek when she pulled away. 

“Thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing,” he assured, clearing his throat and scratching the bridge of his nose nonchalantly in an attempt to hide the blush that crept onto his cheeks. “Just...call me, alright?” 

“I will. Until then, see you.” Y/n said with a huge smile across her cheek, hugging him one last time for just one second before pulling away and turning around as fast as she could to keep him from noticing she was equally flustered from the whole ordeal. 

When she was a little bit far, Y/n turned around and waved at him before the crowd engulfed her. 

Somehow, the city didn’t look as big and scary as it did just minutes before. There was just one thing picking on her brain: she was certain she had seen Paul somewhere before. But where? There was no way she could’ve seen him whilst being inside Saint Catherine’s. The only males in there were the boys from the magazines the other girls smuggled in. 

Unless…

Y/n stopped in her tracks and furrowed her eyebrows. Yet, no memory came immediately to her mind, and as the woman behind her loudly cleared her throat to urge her to keep walking, she decided to put it to bed. She’d remember eventually. 

Back at the platform, Paul was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard his name being called from behind. He turned around to find his three bandmates rushing towards him. The shortest one approached him and placed a hand on his back, shoving him forward. 

“Paul, what are you doing here in the open? There’s a crowd coming this way and they’ll skin us alive if we don’t hurry. Bri is waiting for us with a car, come on.”

John looked in the same direction Paul had been gazing at and smirked.

“Alright, who was that?” 

“What? Who? Nobody. Let’s go, we don’t want to keep good old Eppy waiting.”

“Oh, no, we’re not going anywhere until you tell me, so you better hurry.” 

“Just a girl I met on the train. She wants to be a photographer and I told her I’d introduce her to someone who might be able to help her.” 

“Can we talk about this in the car?” Ringo asked again urgently. 

“But Paul, dear, you don’t know any photographers.” John retorted, ignoring Ringo and smirking mockingly. Paul smirked back, feeling more confident and shrugged as he began walking away.  

“Well, Brian must know someone. I’ll just ask him.” 

“And since when did you become Sir Paul McCartney, defender of the helpless?” 

He insisted, following his friend no matter how much he tried to quicken his pace. Paul didn’t reply, and an even wider smile began taking over the other boy’s features. 

“Oh, I see. You fancy her, don’t you?”

“Come off it! I barely know her, we just met.” Paul argued, mentally cursing how easily he was blushing at his bandmate’s words, knowing very well he wouldn’t just let it pass. 

“Alright, alright, but if you do meet her again, say you introduce her to us, your dearest friends, would you mind if I took her out for coffee?” 

As he was just saying this to playfully mess with his friend, John was extremely entertained by Paul’s expression when he turned to look at him. 

“Oh, piss off Lennon.” he muttered before running off to the back of the station to meet Brian. 

“Aye, aye, cap’n!” John exclaimed, laughing loudly before rushing after his friend, the four figures once again making their way across the platform to avoid the inevitable crowd of maniacs that was probably waiting for them at the main exit.  

#paul mccartney #thebeatles #classic rock #rock #60s #paulmcartneyimagine #readerinsert #paulmccartneyxreader #paul mccartney x reader #beatlemania #beatlemaniac #fem reader #beatles #beatlesimagines #paulmccartneyreaderinsert

[katnissmellarkkk]

Gravity

Hi! Okay, so here’s chapter two of my growing back together story, inspired by the prompt “I won’t hurt you” @rosegardeninwinter sent me. I also posted this fic on AO3 under the title Gravity (like the Sara Bareilles song), if that’s where you prefer to read. And here’s a link to chapter one of this fic if you wanna read and haven’t yet.

Also I know I said in my first author’s note that there will be three chapters, but there might be a bit more.... we love an over-writer, right? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to post every part of a multi chapter fic on here? Or just post the link to it on AO3? But for now I posted it in its entirety on here 😊.

Anyways, hope you like it! And thanks to anyone who reads! 💖💖💖

/

A couple months later.

We slide back after that. I don't know if that night-the night he had a nightmare that I died and we slept locked in each other's embrace-moved too quickly for Peeta or if he thought he was protecting me from him, but when morning light came, he was gone from the bed.

I didn't see him again until the following evening, helping Haymitch feed his rambunctious geese in the yard. He didn't speak to me for four more days after that, and when he did, it was to ask what kind of bread I wanted him to bring for lunch the next day.

I pretended to his face that it didn't hurt. That waking up in a cold, empty bed, in a house he all but abandoned until I had evacuated, that sleeping in his arms and awaking so abruptly alone, didn't hurt. I did what I had taught myself to do as a child and I turned my features into an indifferent mask, shutting off all access to my emotions. Destroying any possibility of anyone witnessing my vulnerabilities.

But I knew deep down, it did hurt. It hurt badly.

I didn't speak to him directly the first week he showed up for lunch and to work on the memory book again. I got by fine without addressing him directly, as Haymitch somehow sensed the bubbling tension between us and stayed sober just enough to remain alert for all our shared meals. He helped with the memory book, helped by adding in a snarky comment here or there to reel our focuses onto him instead of each other.

I wanted to say thank you but I never knew how. I doubt Haymitch needs me to verbalize it anyway. One night, as he follows behind Peeta to leave, his hand grazes my shoulder and gives it a squeeze and I know he's much more aware of the dynamic between his old tributes than he leads on.

But weeks after the night in question, the night that set Peeta and my friendship back months, we receive a telegraph from Effie. A telegraph that shakes the small amount of stability we've managed to build in the time since the war.

Apparently President Paylor has decided to move forward with arena destruction, an idea mentioned a few times by Plutarch on Caesar's talk show. An idea I didn't take seriously until now.

Paylor has decided to build a memorial for each of the arenas, for each year the games ever took place, to immortalize our history, so Panem can never forget how cruel and inhumane things once were. But first, she wants to eliminate the actual Hunger Games arenas, once and for all, before putting the memorials in their place.

My initial thought, months ago when Delly showed me Plutarch and Caesar discussing the idea, was that this would takes years to happen.

I was, once again, so clearly wrong. The plans have been expedited and the order in which each arena will be decimated has been swiftly decided.

All that alone doesn't sound terrible. I'd like to see those death pits crushed, burned, torn down, eradicated, or all of the above, by any means necessary. Only downside, initially, is that this will extend me—and Peeta and potentially all the other victors—remaining in the forefront of the public's mind.

Since the war, all I've ever wanted was for everyone in the country to forget who I am. I don't want to be known anymore. I just want to be left alone, to a quiet and peaceful and relatively simple life, without anyone ever recognizing me again. Without anyone thinking of me as the girl on fire, as the Mockingjay, as the sixteen-year-old who volunteered for a sister who was doomed to death anyway.

But, of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch.

Plutarch thinks it would be great to have the living victors be there—televised—in the Capitol and see the arenas before they're bulldozed.

Even with this dreadful proposition, I thought I had time to think of a way out of it. When Effie first sent the telegraph, I thought that I would have years before having to worry about going back to the places where my nightmares started.

Well, some of my nightmares, that is.

After all, it takes time to destroy something as large and as vast as an arena-excluding the way I destroyed the one in the Quell, that is. I figured-I rationalized, really-that by the time they got to number Seventy-Four, I would have a solid excuse to get out of attending.

I guess though they wished to start with the big years and the first decade of the Hunger Games wasn't very eventful, apparently—lucky them—so the first arena they wish to bid farewell to is the one from the second Quarter Quell. The Fiftieth Hunger Games. The one that was so strikingly beautiful and almost entirely poisonous.

The year Haymitch Abernathy, from the lowly District Twelve, won.

And being also from Twelve, my presence, along with Peeta's, suddenly became of the utmost importance as well.

At first, I still try to opt out of the event. Even after Effie chastises me over the phone, like not a day has passed since she was my escort, and even after my mother claims in her letter that it could be cathartic for me, I do not relent.

Delly and Thom and a few of the others in the community, like Kanon who runs the candy shop two stores away from the bakery, and Greta, who helps with the dusting and mopping all over town, try to say that it could be good for me. Greasy Sae claims it can't be worse than actually living through the games, and I silently appreciate her much more blatant statement than the comforting platitudes others try to provide me.

But it all falls on deaf ears in the end.

Because the only person I truly listen to is Peeta. Even bitter and wounded, the only person I really hear is him.

Unfortunately, as irritating as it is sometimes, his voice will always reach me when others can't.

But we don't ever have an actual conversation about it. Five days after Effie calls to announce the news, to tell me unequivocally that my presence is requested, Peeta sways me to go with just a look.

He comes over later than usual and brings extra bread and pastries to go with the deer meat I hunted. We feast silently, the air between us still incredibly awkward, when, without warning, our old mentor comes crashing through the door unceremoniously.

I don't know how much alcohol he consumed, but it's enough to knock even someone with Haymitch's tolerance off his feet.

By the end of the hour, the older man is practically beating his head into the wall of my dining room, screaming the names of dead children and about force fields and axes. And from across the kitchen table, Peeta touches my arm—the first time he's voluntarily touched me in weeks—and my eyes meet his, blue pouring into gray, and silently he begs me to go for the goodbye ceremony to Haymitch's arena.

And I give in. Not just for him. But also, in large part, to repay the caustic, miserable drunk that kept us alive. To support the unpredictable, temperamental man that I do consider my family somehow.

The ceremony is set to take place weeks later and the time does little to alleviate my anxiety. Peeta and me still don't speak much, but come time for lunch or dinner, there he is, in my house like clockwork.

When I point out, a few days before we're due at the train station, that there's a very realistic possibility that the Capitol won't let me go to the ceremony, Peeta casually says, "I already cleared that with Effie and Plutarch."

I shoot him a look of surprise. "You did?"

Shrugging nonchalantly before turning back to the rabbit on his plate, he murmurs quietly, "Thought it'd give you one less thing to worry about."

The ceremony is nothing like I expect. Somehow I figured there would be an obnoxiously large television crew, loud speakers, prepared speeches on written cards, awkward directions and crowds upon crowds of people surrounding us, asking pointed questions, shooting invasive stares and pressing for reactions to their nosy accusations. I expected those accusations to be directed at me and Peeta especially.

Instead, there's none of those things. There's no crowd at all, it's just us victors. Just Enobaria, Johanna, Annie, the three of us from Twelve and Beetee—who I still can't make myself so much as look at, reminded of my sister's absence and his role in it every time we so much as stand in five feet vicinity of each other.

The camera crew consists of Mitchell, Pollux and Cressida, along with two unfamiliar, but seemingly non-threatening faces. There's no directions, no prompting, not close ups or reshoots.

All that happens is Paylor makes a statement that the crew films, stating that the arenas will be destroyed one by one, and in the place of each there will be an individual memorial made, as we victors stand in an unorganized, crooked line that will surely make Effie cringe when she sees the footage on television later.

It's almost peaceful, I think to myself in surprise, as I look around at the location. The sky is a stunning cobalt, even more brilliant in person than in the video Peeta and I watched on the train so long ago. The meadow looks like the grass is fresh, like it was just watered yesterday. The mountain is so breathtaking I have to physically tear my eyes away from it and even the woods look rather cozy. Or maybe that part is just me.

There's also arraignments of flowers, just like in the footage we watched, that spill every which way, filling our noses with soothing, floral scents. It feels unnatural to say about a place set up for murder, but with the deadly poisons lurking at every turn eviscerated, I almost can find this arena truly beautiful.

Of course though, it's not my arena.

It's Haymitch's and he looks like he's about to be sick. He's white-knuckled it for a few days without any sort of drink—to my, Peeta's and, even Effie's, visible shock—and I can see plainly now that he's absolutely regretting it. His eyes are hallow and wild at the same time and I can see his shaking palms beneath the sleeves of his jacket as he stares out at the source of his every nightmare for the last quarter century.

It shocks me that he didn't find a way out of this. Actually, it shocks me still that these ceremonies are even possible.

I never knew they kept arenas after the games were over each year. I never realized they kept all seventy-four death pits, haunted by child sacrifice, the way you keep old vases on a shelf.

At this point though, it's just another thing to add onto the growing list of horrific and unthinkable issues that the Capitol doesn't even grasp. Keeping the haunted graveyards of children as souvenirs shouldn't sit right with anyone, I don't care how you're raised.

I tell myself to not be so quick to judge, as I can't know who I'd be if I had been born in the Capitol instead of the districts. Still, the idea of condoning the things they have without remorse or shame seems unthinkable.

I'm torn out of my thoughts when Cressida speaks. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Haymitch, before we finish filming?"

Once again, catching me off-guard entirely—he's full of all sorts of surprises evidently—Haymitch clears his throat and looks down at his leather boots before speaking. "Ardor. Garnett. Dolan. Silver. Ryker. Artemis. Slayte. Pistol. Lex. Mac. Lumen. Gig. Brook. Aqua. Mary. Ripley. Lyme. Watt. Rocky. Gio. Belle. Raven. Kia. Mecko. Barker. Jack. Holly. Briar. Essie. Stitch. Coco. Paul. Mira. Miller. Coop. Harvey. Butch. Cutter. Bea. Skinna. Basil. Sunny. Rip. Spring. Oaker. Terra. Maysilee." He lists off the names in a way that is so matter-of-fact that it would almost be robotic if it weren't for the hoarseness in his tone that grows stronger with every name he utters. He hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Corentine. Alannah. Alastar."

There's a long stretch of silence, where no one speaks, no one blinks, no one even breathes. We all know instinctively who these people are—I know solely from Maysilee Donner's name being called—but we still wait until Haymitch speaks again, to confirm our assumption.

"Those are the names of all the people this arena killed." His eyes grow glassy and his brow furrows in anger as he fights desperately to repress his emotions, and suddenly I have the strangest urge to hug my mentor, to make him feel better like he tried to do for me once when Peeta was stuck in the Capitol and I was distraught. But I know it wouldn't be appreciated or wanted, and quite honestly I'm glad for that, because I don't even know what to say.

The last three names Haymitch said stick in my head for some reason I can't explain other than an odd gut feeling. But then he speaks again, an in a voice growing gruffer by the second, he says right into the camera, "that's every single person who was killed because of the second Quarter Quell."

And, like I should have known all along, it hits me the last three names are the names of his family who were murdered to punish him for the stunt with the forcefield.

The last three names are the murders of the last people he loved. Until me and Peeta came along.

As if his thoughts matched mine, Haymitch suddenly shakes his head and his eyes widen again as he stares past all the rest of us, as he continues to take in the exact place in which life as he knew it, twenty-six years ago, was altered forever.

His reaction is more understandable and genuine than I imagined he would ever allow it to be, especially on camera, and I want to say something but me and him both aren't good at saying anything, and I find myself looking to Peeta, hoping he'd know what to do.

Peeta doesn't meet my gaze though. He's solely focused on our mentor and just when he opens his mouth to speak, the older man to suddenly shake his head in our general direction and clears his throat.

"I'm done. Tell Plutarch I'm done with this crap. Just hurry up and bulldoze this place so I can go back to Twelve," is all he says to Cressida as he storms off, but his voice is rough and caustic once again, and I can only hope he recovers from this event soon enough.

Somehow, witnessing Haymitch relive his games, even through the shield he so obviously puts up to the outside world, triggers me though. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water as I look around at the meadow, at the mountain, at the golden cornucopia, and wonder how anyone could build a place where kids would eventually go to die? How could anyone have ever been so inhumane? How could a country just accept it? How did we live for so long with the Hunger Games overtaking our lives and still remained complicit? I don't understand. The more time passes, the more days I'm separated from the war and from the old world and the old way of life, I just can't comprehend anymore how we ever lived in a place so horrific.

I feel my eyes spill over and I'm grateful that Cressida has stopped filming already, because if Plutarch saw any tears on film, he would make certain it ended up on television.

I wipe my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to go about it as subtly as I can, hoping no one else notices. For the most part, I'm golden. Enobaria is already exiting, with Beetee following not far behind. Jo's back is to me while she speaks to Annie, though as per usual, she seems to be irritated.

Of course, it's too much to ask for everyone to remain oblivious to my waterworks. Even as I rid myself of them before they become widely noticeable, I feel Peeta's eyes train on me and know, despite the distance between us for the last few weeks, he isn't going to ignore my upset.

To my surprise though, he doesn't speak. He doesn't utter a single syllable.

Instead, I feel his large, warm palm slip into mine and squeeze tightly, lacing our fingers together, in a way we have done thousands of times before. Like two puzzle pieces coming together to complete a picture, like two indivisible teammates that will fight against anything that is thrown their way, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other, his hand grasps mine with a vengeance and I know I won't be the one who let's go.

He's still holding my hand when we board the train, hours later.

//

A couple weeks later.

"Yes, Mrs. Greenstead, I will get the chocolate nut loaf and a platter of the cranberry cookies wrapped up for you... Yes, it will be ready by the time you arrive... No, I promise they won't be cold," Peeta assures through the bakery telephone—a new addition that Thom and his wife thought was necessary to run a proper bakery. So necessary they bought it for Peeta as an opening gift.

It's not that the gesture wasn't nice or that Peeta didn't deeply appreciate it. I personally saw that he did, wholeheartedly.

But seeing it on the wall every day was just another reminder to me of my own personal vendetta against the integration between the Capitol's way of life and the districts'.

The only place telephones used to exist, outside of the Capitol limits, was the houses in Victor's Villiage, and if I'm being honest, I wish it would have stayed that way.

Maybe I'm being selfish, as I happen to still reside inside a house that once belonged to the said village, therefore I already had experienced this luxury prior to the new world. But I just can't make myself break the association between the items that had recently become readily available for all and the horror that was the Capitol.

Still though, the change was inescapable Telephones, cameras, heating pads, curling irons, quick bake ovens, cars and so many other items, were all growing in popularly across each district. Not that I was able to see a lot of these changes personally. But letters from Annie and my mom, and the occasional—unprompted and yet still begrudged—call from Jo, all kept me informed. Sometimes more informed than I wished to be.

Maybe I would feel entirely different if these inventions were brand new to me. But they aren't. I'd seen and used every one of them before. Their novelty had always been lost on me, perhaps because my only experience them was while inside the Capitol, surrounded by tacky colors and strong rose scents and itchy materials, headed for a death match, my life and the lives of those I cared always at great risk.

Of course, the new item in the bakery did make some things easier. Days like today are a perfect example.

Harvest Day is only one day away and everyone is coming in for their breads and their desserts. Peeta says it was always one of the most popular days, for as long as he can remember. Only difference is, before the war only Peacekeepers and town folks could afford to purchase anything. And generally, most citizens who even did come in, could only purchase a limited amount of items.

Not now. I don't know where everyone in Twelve was coming up with the money or if Peeta's prices are just a drastic drop from that of his mother's, but today, I swear I've seen every citizen in town inside the bakery.

Makes me glad that the portrait of me is hanging in the back, where no one else can see it. As pretty as it may be, as talented as Peeta is, I don't want a giant version of me displayed for all to see.

"Here you are," I politely say, handing two loaves of warm bread to a man who must be new to Twelve, as I've never seen him before. I'm debating on asking if he moved here recently when he passes a bill to me over the top of the pastry display.

"Thank you, hon." He smiles at me, looking at me a little too closely for my liking, as he swiftly walks out the door. His exit is met with the arrival of Val, a boy Peeta and I went to school with, who definitely was more Peeta's crowd than mine.

Val is a regular customer at the bakery, having always genuinely liked the Mellark family. His parents owned a small carpentry shop four spaces down from the bakery, and even with both them dead, he and his two sisters rebuilt the store, taking over their parents' legacy.

Peeta though is more focused on me now than Val's order. "Give me a second," he calls to his old friend, a little less polite than he had been all morning. "Katniss, what's wrong?" He asks urgently, seeing the look in my eyes.

I shake my head and push away the anxiety threatening to close in on me. "Nothing, just..." I hesitate, not even wanting to say it. Peeta's gaze refuses to lessen though and I sigh before finally mumbling, "That guy. He creeped me out. The way he was looking at me so closely..."

Peeta's hand touches my arm for a brief moment before pulling it away, making it obvious that he regrets the small act of even so much as touching me. But his words are still calming and they relax me a little. "He's gone now, Katniss. And if he scares you, I won't let him come back, okay? There's nothing anyone can do to you or me anymore. We're safe."

I nod, knowing the words like the back of my hand at this point, as it's the same mantra we always repeat to each other, every time one of us begins to panic or flail. But still, I open my mouth to refuse his offer. I don't want Peeta to turn away any sort of business. Not with the unpredictability and uncertainty this new world still rests on. We never know if the bakery will sell anything tomorrow or if all sort of income will soon dry up.

And we're the lucky ones, financially speaking, who were rich before the war and allowed—in a generous declaration by President Paylor—to keep the entirety of our money after. I don't have to imagine the anxiety others in the country must be in, knowing the curse of poverty all too well. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.

"I don't want you to turn away people," I say quietly. "Not on my account. You need business to keep this place afloat."

"I have plenty of money, Katniss," he reminds me, a little darker than I expect. "And I'd rather you feel safe than own a popular shop."

His words unexpectedly touch me, unexpectedly cut right down to the depth of my bones, exposing my soft underbelly. I'm about to do something stupid, like touch his hand, when Val makes his presence known again. "Your shop is already the most popular in the district," he points out, not even a little ashamed for having listened to our conversation. "And besides, why don't you just look at the guy's name? Maybe you can look him up, see if he's alright or not."

Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "That's a good idea, Val, thank you." As he moves towards the register to, I can only suppose, look for the man's receipt with his name and signature, he gestures to his school friend. "Katniss can get your order."

I shoot him a glare, only half kidding. I did come to help out, here and there, today but I did not intend to be an actual expected employee. For free, no less.

Instead of saying anything though, I just grab Val his three cinnamon rolls, his two snack cakes, four bagels, white chocolate donut and a loaf with raisins and cranberries.

Val, like Delly Cartwright, was always one of the few people in Twelve who had a few pounds to spare.

Peeta has a type of friend.

"Found it," Peeta now calls, bringing over a slip of paper to where I'm handing Val his three bags of treats. "His name was Rod Catamaran."

Me and Val, for the first time perhaps, exchange a look between us. "That's an odd name for Twelve."

"I've never even heard that name before."

"He may not even be from Twelve, guys," Peeta says.

I roll my eyes. "Because a bombed out district is really a tourist attraction."

"Hey, none of that," Thom calls as he walks through the front door of the bakery, with Kanon Bagley on his heels. "We've rebuilt this place beautifully and negativity is not appreciated here."

"Yeah, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, teasing me. I'm about to kick him in his only real leg, as we're the only two behind the counter and no one else will see, when Kanon speaks up.

"Can I buy a couple of pastries?"

"Of course," Peeta says kindly, walking around me to personally grab the two items Kanon requests.

Kanon is new to Twelve. One of the few new additions this place gained after all that went down. He's a large man in his early twenties, with dark skin and dark hair and eyes to match. But the only times I've ever interacted with him, he's quiet as a mouse, his eyes a little forlorn at all times and he offers more discounts then he should at the candy shop he recently opened next to the bakery.

He's from District Eleven originally and it takes no real critical thinking to realize he had a hard life, even before the war.

I'm far too familiar with the look of scars etched across the eyes. So is Peeta.

That's why, when Kanon looks down at the money in his hand and realizes he doesn't have enough to afford both pastries, Peeta immediately brushes it off. "That's okay, they're on the house," he instantly promises, handing the small bag over to Kanon with a gentle smile.

"No, I don't want to take it without-"

"I made way too much," Peeta insists, lying outright to make it appear Kanon would be doing him a favor. I know he didn't make too much, because we've been flying through everything today and keeping the ovens hot in case more is needed.

Still though, I back up the fib. "He did. We've been wondering all day how we were gonna sell enough stuff so we don't have to feed the leftovers to Haymitch's geese."

Kanon glances between us shyly, before taking the bag from Peeta's hand and slipping the few dollars he does have into his pocket again. "Thank you," he says softly and turns to leave.

Thom pats Kanon on the back as he passes him, before turning to follow. When the other man isn't looking, he turns back to us subtly and mouths, "thank you."

I wanted to tell him not to thank me. I only watched Peeta make this food, I didn't assist by any stretch of the imagination. I didn't own the bakery or do anything with the money or finances. It was not my choice to give things away for free.

But I'm far too focused on the boy in front of me to say any of that. The boy with the bread, the boy who isn't really a boy anymore. The boy who just gave away food for no reward at all, even on the most demanding and strenuous day all year for his business. The boy who just showed Kanon Bagley the same kindness I begged someone-anyone-to show me at eleven-years-old and not one single person did.

Except for him. He did for me all those years ago what he did for Kanon just now, and I suddenly have the most inexplicable, irrepressible urge to kiss Peeta right then and there, in the middle of the bakery.

I don't, however, and it's for once not because I lost my courage. It's because the door swings open again, just as Val exits right behind Kanon and Thom.

It's the same man from earlier. "Hi," Peeta greets, this time not at all sweet. Clearly recognizing the man as the one who made me nervous before. "Can I help you?"

"Yes," the man affirms, his tone brighter than you'd expect given our chilly reception. And our blatant wariness for anyone new. "I forgot to get a pecan butter cake before?"

There is a beat where me and Peeta exchange a look, before I awkwardly move towards the display case and begin to pack up his item. Peeta waits for me to decide to help the man before starting to ring him up.

"That was a nice thing you both just did," the man says as he patiently watches me fold the white waxy paper over his pastry. "For that guy."

"You were watching?" Is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.

"Only for a moment," he explains, his tone still friendly. Either he doesn't know how to read people at all or he's the most even keeled person in Panem.

Because I know I'm being rude, to a man who maybe doesn't even deserve it, I force myself to say one thing conversational. "This is my mom's favorite dessert," I offer, gesturing to his cake.

The man raises his eyebrows in an act that looks almost feigned. "Really?"

I instantly regret trying to be even slightly pleasant. Even his mannerisms seem fake. I'm contemplating if I should say anything else or go hide in the back room with the warm ovens and my portrait, when Peeta presses a button and the register dings.

He's about to say the total when the strange man shakes his head and hands to me directly an unfamiliar bill over the display case. "Have a nice day, you two," he calls, grabbing his cake and swiftly walking out.

It's not until he's gone, not until I have a moment to process the second weird encounter with the odd person, that I even glance down at the crisp bill he handed me.

It's a bill with a larger number on the back than I've ever personally seen before. I knew these kinds of dollars existed—I'm sure I could have gotten plenty after my first games—but I'd never seen one in the flesh.

Peeta sees my reaction. "What is it?" His voice sounds alarmed and he's stepping closer to me, but all I can do is gasp out his name.

"Peeta, look." I hold up the bill and point to the number on the back.

His eyes widen too, taking in the amount with a dizzy smile. Of both relief that nothing's wrong and excitement at the digit.

"Do you think it was a mistake?" I ask suddenly, looking over my shoulder towards the window, wondering if we should track the man down and give him his money back, before he evaporates into thin air.

"No?" Peeta shakes his head, the wheels in his mind turning quicker than mine. His face turns to that of elation, as the large bill takes some pressure off the bakery's sales. "No, he said he saw us give Kanon a break. He was giving us something in return."

I'm about to say something else, I don't even know what, but it all flies out of my head when Peeta suddenly wraps his arms around my waist and swiftly pulls me into his embrace.

My entire body goes into lockdown and hypervigilance at the same time. I can't move an inch but it feels like every nerve in my body is abruptly tingling and on fire.

My sweater lifts up slightly and his bare arms graze my lower back, eliciting a shiver to run involuntarily down my spine as his face buries into my hair.

I wrap my arms around his neck after a beat when I can make myself move again, and I feel him smile against my skin. I'm so glad at that moment he's holding me up, because if he wasn't supporting my weight I'd probably crash to the floor, unable to even feel my legs beneath me.

And, as a rush of heat shoots out from the place where Peeta's lips brush my collarbone, I suddenly feel only gratitude, not irritation, at the strange Rod Catamaran.

//

Four days later.

The world surrounding me is green. Green and brown and fire-bitten and scorched. Every which way I spin, there's embers soaring from that direction too, waiting to lick me with their burning flames, ready to decimate me once and for all.

But through the smoke and haze, I still can see between the trees two blonde braids. I still can see a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. I still can see her shirt that's come untucked in the back, creating a duck tail that I desperately want to fix.

Just as I notice her, she whirls around to face me, her blue eyes big and bright and terrified. "Katniss!" She screams, the same way she did the last day she was alive. "Katniss, help! They're coming!"

I don't know who's coming or what's happening or where we even are, but all I feel is relief somehow. Relief that she's here, that I'm in her presence again, that she's almost within my reach. Instinctively I call out, "Prim!" Just so I can finally get a response to the name I've been shouting into oblivion for almost a year now.

"Katniss, help me!" She cries again and then looks over her shoulder. She's not talking about the fire between us, as it doesn't seem too intent on heading towards her.

I don't know what's coming or who she's afraid of, but my instincts now go into overdrive. My body suddenly snaps into alert and I whip my head around, to see if I can find an opening in the fire closing in on me, if I can find a way to get to the sister I lost what feels like only yesterday, if I can find a way to save her this time.

There's no gap in the fire though. It's crowded around me, front, back and side to side. The more seconds that pass by, the closer the fire folds into my proximity, and I have to brace myself before making a split-second decision.

But it's not really a decision at all. Prim needs me and I cannot fail her. I have to save her this time.

I take a bold step directly into the fire, with every intention of running through it somehow. Of running past the wild embers, scorching myself no doubt, but still making it over to my distressed, frightened little sister. But it doesn't work like I expect.

But really, does anything?

These flames are nothing like the fires I've encountered before. And I've been around more fire in my life than anyone ever should.

No, these flames don't burn me. They don't hurt me or put me through agony or singe me to pieces. They don't melt off my makeshift coat of skin and they don't further decimate it either.

Instead the fire feels like almost nothing. Like something almost itchy, something almost irritating, something almost painful. Something that make me want to squirm and scream and escape all at the same time.

Which is real ironic considering what else it seems these flames do.

They seem to hold me into place. The second I'm in their hold, instead of the horrific pain I thought I'd be in, I'm trapped in a series of almost nothing.

I'm not in excruciating pain physically, but seeing my sister standing ten feet from me, and not being able to move any closer, not being able to protect her from whatever she's terrified of, is worse than any amount of injury this fire could have inflicted.

"Katniss!" Prim screams now, her voice only growing in its frantic nature. "Help! Why won't you come help me?"

I try to scream, try to tell her I want to but I can't move. But it turns out that these flames also paralyze vocal muscles.

"Peeta's dying!" Prim yelps out, looking behind her again, her hands beginning to shake in a way she almost never let them in life. She always tried to keep it together, to remain calm and rational in a crisis.

Her words elicit something entirely new inside of me though. "Peeta?" I yell in confusion, my voice suddenly no longer paralyzed.

"They're killing him! Katniss, please, why won't you come here? We need you!" Prim is close to hysterical now and frankly, so am I.

"I'm trying! I just," I move my hands down my body, trying to push the flames away as they rises up to my chest, trying to just break free from these fiery chains once and for all. "The fire, Prim! I can't get out of the fire."

Prim's voice drops then, loses all source of fear, every ounce of panic. Loses any semblance of emotion. "Katniss, there is no fire," she states blankly, her eyes looking directly at the embers covering my stomach and legs. "There's nothing there."

I just look at her for a moment, completely speechless. Her words are inconceivable, her eyes are haunted now, her facial expression is unrecognizable. Even her voice doesn't sound like hers anymore.

Before I can comprehend what's happening, in the distance a gunshot goes off.

Prim delicately glances over her shoulder now, her blue eyes cold as ice. "He's dead," she informs clinically, before sighing deeply, her tone almost disappointed. "And so am I."

I don't know what happens next or how it occurs, but I fly upwards in my bed with such a start, I give myself whiplash.

I hear a loud screeching noise hanging in the air, a hoarse trepidation that almost makes me feel better. I don't know why but someone else screaming in the middle of the night gives me hope, as sick as that may be.

Only it's not someone else, I realize, as my throat burns raw. I realize with startling clarity that I'm the only making all the noise. I'm the one shaking so tremendously. I'm the one who is sobbing.

"Shhh," a voice whispers against the darkness, and I flail involuntarily at the shock. "Sorry, sorry," Peeta instantly apologizes, his hands gripping my arms with a little too much intensity, trying to still my shaking. "It's okay, Katniss, you were just having a nightmare."

His words do precious little to calm me down though. "She was there," I cry, the image, the feeling, of Prim standing only ten feet from me and not being able to reach her too painful for me to unsee.

"Who was there?" He asks tenderly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Katniss, breathe."

I don't even bother listening to his advise. I haven't exhaled since I was eleven. "Prim was there. She was begging me to save her and then I couldn't, I was trapped but-but," I cut myself off, unable to form coherent words and thoughts any longer.

Peeta gets the gist though. "Come here," he whispers and pulls me into his arms, like he used to on the train, when my nightmares woke us both three times a night. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says softly now, and rubs my back in a way that elicits goosebumps. His way of trying to soothe my shaking. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"You died too," I blurt out then. I don't even know why I feel inclined to tell him.

"What?"

"I was stuck and I couldn't speak and then Prim said you were going to die and I got scared enough that I could talk again and I thought-I thought," I stumble breathlessly, my tears pouring out against his shoulder now.

I feel his lips touch my cheek and I'm too upset to revel in the feeling of blood rushing there. "It was just a nightmare," he promises.

But my sentiment is unfinished. "I thought I could break free, that I could-"

"Katniss," he halts, still holding me in his embrace, rocking me slightly. "It wasn't real. I promise you, it wasn't real."

Those words, the words so often said to him by me, ring a bell that I didn't want to ring. It snaps me back into reality abruptly and without warning, I feel like my chest is going to collapse.

Because this means Prim wasn't really there, that she still is as dead as she was yesterday, that I still watched her explode into pieces all over the bombsite in the Capitol.

I still failed to protect her.

Peeta pulls back slightly then and rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Katniss," he says again, trying to calm my trembles by rubbing my arms up and down.

"How are you in my house?" I realize, with an intense sudden clarity. "How are you here? Are you real or am I still-"

He quickly puts me out of my misery. "You gave me a key, remember? A long time ago? We gave each other keys to our houses."

Oh. Right. I forgot all about that when he had his nightmare, didn't I?

Good thing he's an idiot who keeps his door unlocked at night.

He's explaining further before I can think to ask. "I heard you having a nightmare from my house. That's why I rushed over here."

I'm caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "Sorry, I really don't know what brought it on."

"Hey," he quietly reprimands, lifting my chin now to meet eye contact. "Don't apologize. No one understands nightmares like me."

I nod, accepting his words, though still a little uncomfortable with screaming for all the district to hear at two in the morning.

Then again, our entire neighborhood is Haymitch and the two of us, and our mentor was drinking like a fish last night so really, the only person who could have heard me is already sitting directly in my eye line.

To punctuate his words, when I don't respond verbally, he lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips tenderly.

And I don't know what comes over me or why. I don't know if it's because we've been growing closer again lately or if I just haven't felt his arms around me since days ago in the bakery and I miss the feel of it desperately, but I find myself abruptly throwing my body around his before I can talk myself out of it.

He catches me easily, like he anticipated my reaction and sways me for a long moment, until my breathing begins to even itself out.

"Will you stay?" I rasp into his neck, as I feel his hand tangles in my matted locks.

"Always."

#everlark #thg #the hunger games #everlark fic #fanfic #prompt #everlark fanfic #fanfiction #growing back together #userreese #i think thats what you meant when you said to tag you???? #gravity ♥️ 🌅 🥖